by Janet Dailey
"No. I don't want anything," she refused irritably.
Mrs. Digby, the miner's wife who had been standing silently by, pursed her lips in temper. "Miss Reynolds was thoughtful enough to bring you the coffee. The least you can do is thank her."
"I'm sorry. All I can think about is Tom," the woman began in a frightened kind of explanation.
"All you can think about is yourself," Mrs. Digby criticized.
"Please," Glenna didn't think Mrs. Digby was handling the situation properly.
But the miner's wife paid no attention to her. "Do you think you're the only one whose man is in there? Miss Reynolds has a man in there—Bruce Hawkins—and you don't see her standing around feeling sorry for herself. She's trying to help. You have two little babies here and look who is making sure they have something to eat."
When Glenna saw that the woman's words had shocked Mrs. Cummins into an awareness of her children, she understood the woman's tactics. When soft words failed, a figurative slap in the face usually worked. It was now.
"Is it true?" Mrs. Cummins searched Glenna's face, seeing someone else's plight other than just her own. "Is your man really in there, too?"
"Yes." It was a small, deceit. After all, she did truly care about Bruce even if "her man" was too strong a description. "He is." There was no harm in a white lie.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know." She reached for the coffee Glenna had brought. "Thank you…for everything."
"It's all right." When she handed her the cup, she noticed a fourth long shadow intruding on the ones they cast. She turned to see Jett standing to one side, and pivoted to take a step toward him. A question leaped into her eyes as she scanned the impenetrable mask of his features, but a brief shake of his head told her there was no news.
"I came out for some fresh air," he said in explanation of his presence.
Taking a cigarette from his shirt pocket, he bent his head to the flame of his lighter. Glenna took the last few steps to be closer to him. She found it difficult to talk; all her thoughts were overshadowed by the knowledge that men were trapped in the mountain beneath them. It almost seemed wrong that her pulse should quicken because she was near him.
"The accident happened when they were installing an air duct to make it safer to work in the mine," she murmured. "There's a certain irony in that."
She knew instantly that she had chosen the wrong subject. She could almost see Jett shut her the rest of the way out. If he had sought her out, as she suspected, it had been to escape talk of the accident and the rescue efforts.
"Jett." She didn't know how to reach him so she turned away instead. "Hannah may need me. I'd better go in."
He said nothing when she walked away.
Chapter Twelve
TWENTY MINUTES LATER Jett entered the building and went directly to the private office, never glancing Glenna's way. She squared her shoulders and helped the plump housekeeper rearrange the buffet table into a snack counter. A few stragglers came in to eat some of the remaining sandwiches.
At half-past ten her father came out of the private office and stopped to pass on the message, "Jett wants some coffee. Take him a sandwich, too," he added. "He hasn't eaten anything."
"I will," she said as he continued on his way to the washrooms.
With a cup of coffee balanced on the sturdy paper plate, she knocked on the inner office door. There was a curt response, granting her permission to enter. Jett barely glanced up when she entered, seated at his desk and bent over an array of papers and diagrams.
"I brought you some coffee and something to eat," Glenna said and set it down on a small cleared space on the desk top. She discovered there was no one else in the room as he reached for the coffee, but showed no interest in the sandwich. "You need something. Dad said you haven't eaten."
Her voice seemed to make no impression on him, his concentration not wavering from the papers he was studying. Jett took a sip of the coffee and set it back down to lean an elbow on the desk and rub a hand across his mouth and chin.
"That's where they've got to be if they are alive," he declared aloud, his jaw hardening. A wave of grim exasperation broke over him. "Dammit, right in the bowels of the mountain!"
"Bruce called it a womb," Glenna remembered, this time claiming Jett's attention. She was drawn to the window that overlooked the mine yard, its dusty panes creating a haze. "He said he felt safe inside it, safe and protected. I know he isn't afraid, and that helps me."
The squeak of the swivel chair told her Jett had risen. "I promise you it won't be his tomb, Glenna." He came to stand beside her by the window. "I'll get him out of there."
She lifted her gaze to him, a smile touching her mouth. "I know you will." She knew it as surely as she knew her own name. Some powerful force seemed to flow between them in that moment—until Jett shut it off by looking out the window. Disappointed, yet knowing this was not the appropriate time to press a personal issue, she glanced at his desk and the untouched sandwich. "Is there anything I can get you? Anything you want, Jett?"
His head turned to slide her a hard and hungry glance. "I want you, Glenna." He reached out to possessively take her hand and draw her toward him. His gaze ran roughly over her face. "I want what you can give me. What only you can give me."
She didn't know what he meant, but when his mouth moved hungrily onto hers, she gave him the only thing she possessed—all of her love. It flowed from the wild singing of her heart, a searing rapture that knew no end.
Yet there was something desperate in his need, something raw and aching that a single kiss couldn't satisfy. His hands were all over her—stroking, feeling, caressing yet never able to get their fill of her. Through it all her senses clamored with the desires he aroused. They quivered through her every nerve end like concentric circles in a pond, each ripple as perfect and delightful as the first.
A knock on the door she had left ajar brought the embrace to an abrupt end. Before the shutters fell to block out his expression, Glenna saw the glitter of wildness in his eyes and was shaken by the force of it.
His broad shoulders and back blocked her from the view of the interloper. Jett turned his head to the side, but didn't turn around to see who it was.
"What is it?" he snapped over his shoulder.
"There's a phone call on line two…about that equipment—you wanted to know whether it was available or not," was the answer.
Glenna heard the sigh rip through him, heavy and long. The grip of his fingers loosened on her arms, gradually letting her go altogether, "All right. I'll take it." He left her to walk to the desk and pick up the phone, punching the second button for the incoming call. "Yes."
Their moment of privacy was gone. The present situation had reclaimed its priority. Glenna slipped quietly out of the room, inwardly radiant with the emotions Jett had aroused yet confused by his attitude.
The embrace seemed to have left her with a keener perception because she immediately noticed the tiredness in her father's face, something that had escaped her notice only moments before. He was on his way into the office so it was natural for their paths to meet as she was coming out.
"Are you all right, dad?" Her concern was instant.
"I'm fine," he insisted, but on a weary note.
"Don't overdo it," Glenna warned. "Get some rest. Isn't it enough that I have to keep wondering about Bruce? Don't make me start worrying about you, too."
"Glenna is right." Jett's voice came from a few feet behind her. He had the coffee cup she had brought him in his hand. "Sack out on the couch, Orin, and get some rest. I'll wake you if anything develops. I want that ambulance outside used for the men in the mine, not you."
Her father glanced at the green vinyl couch in the outer office. "Maybe I'll lie down for a little while," he conceded to his tiredness.
"The equipment?" Glenna referred to the phone call he'd taken before she left.
"It's on its way." He left the office, walking past her. "The coffee is cold." Jett walked to the long
table and poured a fresh cup from the urn. Someone came in and immediately sought out Jett to make a report. Within a few minutes he was surrounded by people. Glenna walked to desk to take up a post answering the telephones.
Around midnight the activity slackened. The strain and the late hour began to take their toll on Glenna. She found a straight-backed chair in a quiet corner and settled onto it, resting her head against the wall. It wasn't long before she dozed off. She had a wonderful dream. Jett was carrying her in his arms again, and putting her in his bed, lightly kissing her.
The first gray light of dawn wakened her, but her senses were slow to leave behind the dream. The aromatic scent of Jeff's after-shave and the pungent blend of tobacco mixed to make the smell that belonged uniquely to him. With her eyes closed she could feel the rich fabric of his suit jacket against her cheek, the texture of it and the scent of him surrounding her. It was several seconds before she realized she was lying down, not seated in the chair propped against the wall.
Glenna opened her eyes slowly. She was on the couch in the private office. His suit jacket was folded to make a pillow for her head. It hadn't been a dream. Jett had carried her in here and laid her down, slipping off her shoes and leaving the sensation of a soft kiss to linger on her lips.
"Good morning." Jett was standing beside his desk, leaning on it while several others, her father among them, studied papers spread in front of them. Jett was half turned to watch her, but the others only glanced her way. His face was haggard and drawn frown no sleep, a dark stubble of beard shadowing the lean hollows of his cheeks, but a slow smile spread across his mouth. A warm reckless gleam was in his ebony eyes, catching at her heart.
"Better have some coffee," he advised.
"Yes," she murmured and sat up, wiping the sleep from her face. He sent him a secret smile left over from her dream. She sobered quickly as she remembered the reason they were all gathered in this place. "Is there any news?"
The special look was erased from his expression, replaced with a cool aloofness. "No. Nothing." Jett turned his back on her, focussing his attention on the quiet discussion of the other men.
Sighing over the loss of that brief intimacy Glenna rose and went to the washroom in the outer area to freshen up. No one had made fresh coffee since late last night, so she put on a fresh pot. By the time it had finished Hannah arrived. This time she brought pans of homemade sweet rolls, still warm from the oven.
Whether it was the aroma of hot rolls or freshly perked coffee, or simply the starting of a new day, a crowd of people invaded the building. Workers, families, and members of the news media arrived to learn the progress that had been made during the night, if any.
Before the rolls and coffee were gone, Glenna fixed a large tray to carry to the men closeted in the inner office. Her appearance broke up the discussion under way, especially when they saw what she brought.
While she was passing out the coffee and rolls, one of Jett's advisers said, "The reporters are going to want a press conference, an update on our progress. We won't be able to put them off for long."
"Schedule it for seven o'clock." Jett rubbed a hand over his beard and glanced around the room. "Does anybody have a razor?"
A razor was found as well as a clean shirt. The outer office was transformed into a makeshift conference room, complete with television lights and microphone stands. Glenna sat back in a corner of the large room where she was out of the way of the proceedings.
Promptly at seven Jett came out of the office accompanied by three other men. The first was in work-stained clothes, the man physically superintending the rescue efforts. The other two were the key advisers Jett had brought with him. These three read the prepared statements and fielded the questions from the reporters while Jett remained in the background.
At the very last a reporter put a question directly to him. "Mr. Coulson, would you explain why you are personally directing this rescue? Don't you have any qualified people working for you who could handle the operation?"
Jett moved to the microphones, but before he responded to the question, Glenna saw his gaze seek her out in the far corner of the room. "The three men with me are very highly qualified and extremely capable. They have answered your technical and, sometimes, very pointed questions for the past twenty minutes. I believe that proves their ability."
"But you didn't answer my question," the reporter reminded him.
"No, I didn't answer it," Jett agreed with a taunting half-smile. "Because if I was in Huntington, you would ask why I was there when six men are trapped in one of my mines." His barbed retort brought a moment of silence to the room. He glanced around it and announced, "That's all the questions for now."
Jett and the other three men shouldered their way through the crush of reporters trying to have one last question answered before they disappeared into the private office, but their clamoring voices were ignored. It was a full quarter of an hour before the bulk of the news media gathered their gear and left.
An hour later things had returned to normal—at least as normal as they had been the night before, with telephones endlessly ringing and people forever coming in and out of the building. Glenna wasn't sure the exact minute the atmosphere changed, but it started as a thin thread of excitement flowing in from outside.
Everyone seemed to notice at the same moment that the voices of the waiting people seemed louder with a certain cheerfulness in the sound. The building buzzed with questions. From a window someone saw the rescue operation's superintendent crossing the yard to the building. The word instantly flashed that he was smiling. It brought everyone to their feet and the men out of the inner office.
Unconsciously Glenna gravitated to Jett's side, afraid to anticipate the news yet silently doing so. When the door opened to the man, a white smile was showing in his coal-dusted face.
"They're alive," he announced. "The second unit punched into an unblocked air shaft and made contact."
Cheers went up around her, but Glenna dug her fingers into Jett's forearm, needing his strength and support. "How many?" she asked the all-important question.
"Six. All six of them!" he confirmed. "Hawkins said there was one broken leg, but the only other injuries were minor bruises."
She went weak with relief and turned into Jett, hugging her arms around his waist and burying her head against his chest. "Thank God. Thank God," was all she could whisper. She felt the answering tightness of his arms around her and the pressure of his cheek against her hair. Then his hands slid to her shoulders to push her from him. She looked up, beaming with the good news. "They're alive," Glenna repeated under his probing gaze.
His hands moved to pull her arms from around him and hold her hands in front of him, but when Jett spoke it was to quiet everyone. "Let's save the celebration until we have them out of there." A sobered chorus of agreement followed his suggestion. "When will that be, Frank?" he asked the man.
"Hell, we'll make it by noon!" the man declared on a decisive note of optimism.
"Don't take any chances," Jett cautioned. "Do it safely."
"Yes, sir."
"There's still work to do." Jett broke up the party, sending them back to their individual duties. Glenna received a brief glance before he let her go to return to his office with his select group.
With the uncertainty removed, the atmosphere in the building was much lighter. People talked louder, joked, and found more reasons to laugh. The high spirits were infectious.
Most of the four hours passed swiftly, then dragged at the last when it started to stretch into five. As the moment of final success drew closer everyone was outside waiting for the moment when the rescued miners emerged. Jett was one of the last to come out, but he didn't join Glenna standing with her father on the fringe of the anxious families.
Two ambulance attendants waited close to the mine entrance with a stretcher for the one injured miner with the broken leg. It was one of them with a closer view who raised the shout, "They're coming!"
As expected the injured man was first, carried in the saddle of two men's arms. Glenna stretched on tiptoe for a glimpse of Bruce, wanting to see for herself that he was safe and unharmed. He was one of the last to come out.
With all the other families hurrying forward to greet their menfolk, it seemed the natural thing for Glenna to do the same. A wide but tired smile spread across Bruce's face when he saw her approach. He dragged off the hard miner's hat and narrowed his eyes against the bright sunlight.
Laughing and crying at the same time, Glenna ignored his coal-blackened clothes to hug him, not caring that the dust on his cheeks rubbed off onto hers. There were so many voices, she couldn't hear hers or his above the others. When Bruce kissed her, she kissed him back. But when his mouth hardened to demand passion, she stiffened in resistance and drew away. A troubled light entered her eyes, making them more gray than green. Bruce probed her expression, his smile fading.
"I'm glad you're safe, Bruce. I—"
"You don't have to say anything." He shook his head to check her explanation and loosened the arms that held her. "It's all right." His gaze drifted beyond her to scan the crowd, stopping once on a target. Then he took her hand, turning her around. "Come on."
He laced his fingers with hers so she was walking beside him. It was several steps before she realized he had a specific destination, and that destination was Jett. She felt the piercing stab of Jett's gaze knife into her, but he turned away before they reached him.
"Coulson!" Bruce called out to stop him.
Glenna was stunned by the harsh and savage light that glittered in Jett's sidelong glance. "I got him out for you, Glenna." His voice was a low angry sound. "Don't ask for more than that."
She was shaken by the suppressed violence that rumbled through his voice. His features were set in rock-hard lines, but there was no mask to conceal the bitter rage under their expressionless surface.
Jett's reaction only made Bruce smile with a wry twist of his mouth. He took Glenna's hand and extended it to Jett. "I believe she belongs to you," Bruce said as calmly as if he was returning lost property.
