Joel sighed and put a hand on Katie's shoulder.
"I had to see you. I've been going insane the past few weeks. You were the only one I could talk to about you know what without being committed to a funny farm. But even then, I wasn't sure you wouldn't treat me like a loon. How did you know?"
Katie smiled sweetly.
"I was there when Grace read your letter. I read every word," she said. "But I wasn't sure it wasn't all a bunch of hooey until the year you were born. When Ginny told me that your parents had named you Joel, then I knew."
Katie moved her head, as if looking for something, and then glanced at Joel.
"May I sit? I don't have much energy these days."
"Of course," Joel said. He escorted Mrs. Saito to a nearby bench, sat at her side, and extended an arm. "Can I get you anything?"
"No. I'm fine. I just need to sit."
"You read my letter?"
"I did, right after Grace. It was just after Pearl Harbor was attacked."
Joel closed his eyes and dropped his head.
"I'm sorry I left like I did. I just knew I couldn't stay."
"I understood," Katie said, putting a hand on his knee. "Grace did too. She had difficulty at first believing the time-travel thing. That required quite a leap. But then there was Pearl Harbor and that coin. They gave your story the ring of truth."
"That means a lot to me to hear that."
Katie smiled and squeezed Joel's forearm.
"So you came all the way from Portland just to give me a gift?"
"Of course not. I wanted to see you!" she said with a hearty laugh. "I figured by now you might remember me and that it might be less stressful for you to meet me here. This is such a beautiful place. I assume your family knows nothing of your experience."
"No one does. They'd lock me up if I told them the truth."
Katie put her cane to the side and reached into a large purse. After digging around for a moment, she pulled out an envelope that contained a card and a snapshot.
"Happy graduation."
Joel looked at the card, laughed, and then examined a picture he had taken in July 1941. Ginny, Grace, Linda, and Katie, arm in arm, smiled for the photographer before his unforgettable date with Linda at Lake Wilderness. He took a deep breath and stared into the distance.
"I remember that day as if it were yesterday. You were perfect, all of you: four gorgeous, happy, amazing women. Who could forget that?" He kissed Katie on the cheek. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
Joel looked past his friend to the traffic on the Prom. It had not diminished. But as far as he was concerned, the world that moment had a population of two.
"Katie, what became of Grace?"
The old woman grabbed her cane, tapped it on the cement, and then held it upright in her left hand. She clearly was gathering strength for a difficult discussion.
"I knew you would ask. It is one reason I had to come here and talk to you in person." She patted his knee and got teary. "I'm afraid there is not a lot to say. Grace left Seattle shortly after you did. She said nothing could ever be the same without you. So she just left. She took your departure hard, very hard. I did not hear from her again for quite some time. She loved you, Joel. We all did."
"Is she still alive?"
"She is. But her situation is not good now. It is not good at all. But before I say more, I want you to meet my husband. He is back at the hotel. Come."
CHAPTER 70
The sitting room at the Oceanfront Inn was meant not for sitting but for gawking. The plush furniture, fountains, artwork, plants, and rugs were so over the top Joel had to wonder why anyone went outside. According to a plaque on the wall, most of the furnishings had belonged to a turn-of-the-last-century railroad baron. But Joel saw at least a few pieces that could have come directly from Carter's Furniture and Appliance.
Clinging tightly to Joel's left arm, Katie directed her escort to a mahogany-framed sofa upholstered in silk. Settling in at one end, she pulled a cell phone from her large purse, pressed a few buttons, and spoke.
"We're here."
Joel sat down, looked at the figure in the flowered dress, and saw two women: the talkative, vibrant college girl who had a quip for every situation and a dignified matron no doubt forged by a lifetime of challenges. He suspected that she had hit some tough times after Pearl Harbor but was just as certain that she had overcome any adversity that history and misguided people had thrown her way.
He was about to ask her a question when he saw her eyes dart to the doorway separating the sitting room from the hotel's lobby. Katie extended an arm and asked Joel to help her up. When they got to their feet, they walked to the middle of the room and awaited the man who had built the impressive house on Portland's west side.
"Joel Smith, this is my husband, Walter Saito."
The men shook hands.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Joel. Katherine has told me much about you."
"I'll bet she has," Joel said. "It's a pleasure to meet you too."
The three walked to the back of the room to the couch and a facing armchair. Joel and Katie sat on the sofa. Walter took the chair.
Joel studied the man who had married Katie Kobayashi. No more than five feet seven, he had thinning hair, discolored skin, and the slow gait of a typical octogenarian. He also wore casual attire: cream-colored slacks and a green polo shirt that bore the name of a country club that Joel had passed driving through Portland. But Joel could immediately tell that Walter Saito was a man of substance.
"I met Walter the year after you left – at Camp Minidoka in Idaho. His family and mine were interred there for the duration of the war," Katie said.
"I'm so sorry," Joel said. "I can't imagine what that was like."
"There is no need to apologize. You did not put us there. But you did help us rebuild our lives when we got out."
Katie turned toward her husband and gave him a knowing nod. She watched intently as Walter pulled an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Joel.
"What is this?" Joel asked.
"This is your real graduation present," Katie said.
Joel opened the envelope and saw a check, made out in his name, for ten thousand dollars. He frowned, shook his head, and then looked at the elderly couple.
"I can't take this. This is a ridiculous sum."
"It's a pittance. I can never repay what you did for me, for both of us."
"I gave you some cash, Katie, that's all."
"To you, it may have been nothing. But to me, it was everything. After the war, I used the money to put Walter through law school. When he got out, he represented many Japanese who had lost their homes and businesses – including my parents. We created a foundation that still helps Nisei and Sansei, the children and grandchildren of those who came to this country. We've done much good with very little."
Joel smiled, threw an arm over Katie's shoulders, and pulled her in. He felt a lot less like a failure than he had a few hours earlier.
"I'm glad I could help."
"It wasn't just the money either," Katie said.
"What do you mean?"
"You gave me advice. You told me to keep my faith in humanity and never give up on those who might injure me through ignorance. I was very bitter when I entered the camp. I was angry with people I did not know. But I remembered your words and channeled that anger in a positive direction."
When Joel heard the testimonial, he wanted to put Katherine Kobayashi Saito in a box and take her home to Frank and Cindy. He wanted to show his parents that his greatest accomplishment in life had not been graduating from college but rather influencing a giant of a woman.
"You're incredible," he said.
"Perhaps," Katie said. "But I am a woman with regrets, many regrets. I cried the day Grace left Seattle. I had grown so fond of both of you and, just like that, you were gone. I questioned whether I could have done more to keep you together. I blamed myself for adding to your troubles. There is so much I wanted
for you. It saddened me greatly that you were not able to grow old together and experience the treasures of married life."
"I wanted those things too," Joel said. "Believe me. But I think I did the right thing."
"I know you did. You thought of others before yourself."
Joel gave Katie another hug. He looked at Walter and gave him a glance that said they had both done right by befriending this woman. Then he sighed and mentally prepared himself for the subject that was on all of their minds.
"Katie, tell me about Grace."
The old woman lifted her head, stared briefly at a painting on the wall, and then turned to face Joel. She offered a thin smile that betrayed not joy but deep sadness.
"As I said, it was years before I saw her again. She contacted me out of the blue. She wasn't what I had expected. We did not have as much in common as we had in college. But we still had a bond. She was troubled and frightened but had the same spirit I had always admired. And, of course, she never forgot you. She would speak of little else. She never married, you know. You were the love of her life."
Joel closed his eyes and took a breath. This was the other side of the ledger. For all the good he had done Katie and her husband, he had clearly done wrong to another. He remembered his first day in 1941, the walk down Gold Mine Road, and his vow not to alter the lives and fortunes of others. He wondered if it were possible to screw up the life of Grace Vandenberg more than he had done in only six months. The bull in the china shop had broken a lot of dishes.
"You said she was still alive. Where is she? I want to see her again."
"And so you shall."
Katie looked at her husband and nodded.
"Walter, please bring her in."
The older man got out of the chair, paused, and gave his wife a serious glance, as if to ask, "Do you really want to do this?" Seeing no change in her expression, he walked to the entrance, opened the door, and disappeared from sight.
"She's here?" Joel asked.
"She's here," Katie answered. "But before you see her, I want you to open your mind. I want you to remember her as she was, when we were all at our best. She may not be what you expect. Nineteen forty-one was a long time ago."
Joel got off the couch and extended an arm to Katie, who had already collected her cane and purse. He helped her up and then escorted her to the open space in the sitting room, where they stood on a plush oriental rug and waited.
When Walter returned a minute later, he had a woman on his arm. He guided her slowly through the arched doorway and toward the center of the room, but he stopped when she pulled up, released his arm, and turned to face the others fifteen feet way.
Following several seconds of awkward silence, Katie stepped away from Joel and gave him some space. She looked at Grace and then at Joel and spoke.
"I believe you two know each other."
For a moment Joel could do nothing but stare. He instantly recognized the wistful eyes and tentative smile. They would stand out from Astoria. He also recognized a blue gingham dress he had last seen on a memorable night in a dark little house that no longer existed. But nothing else met his expectations. Katie, now beaming with a look that screamed "payback," had painted a grotesquely misleading picture. The woman before him did not appear physically frail or emotionally broken. She was radiant, fit, and breathtaking.
She was twenty-one years old.
"It's you," Joel said.
"It's me."
Joel looked at the Vision of Forty-Seventh Street with shock and awe. Even dressed modestly with tears streaming down her face, she could not have looked more beautiful. He gazed at her a little longer – long enough to truly make sense of what he saw. Somehow, someway she had made it.
When Grace raced forward, Joel rushed to meet her. He gave her the hug and kiss he should have delivered that rainy night, the hug and kiss that should have preceded a run to Montana and a shared future that was always in the stars. He pulled back, shook his head, and repeated the greeting.
"I'm so sorry, Grace. I can't even find the words."
"Then don't," Grace said, wiping her eyes. "Don't apologize. I understand why you left. Just tell me I haven't made a mistake. Tell me you love me."
Joel smiled broadly and laughed to himself. Even now, after all he had done, she gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Are you kidding? I love you so much it hurts. I've thought of nothing else since I left. I've been miserable." He grabbed her hands. "It's really you."
"It's really me," Grace said.
"But how?"
"I opened your card on December 7 and flew to Helena that night with money Katie gave me. I said goodbye to Aunt Edith and Ginny and left. Your letter was like a road map."
Joel looked at her face – her smiling, teary, honest face – and tried to read more, but he could not. There was something missing, something that did not make sense.
"But it's not possible. It's not. Even if you left in time, you could not have known where to go. I never named the mine. There must be hundreds in Montana."
"There are thousands," Grace said. "But there was only one Buick dealer in Helena. He remembered you and where he'd picked you up. He was very helpful."
Joel smiled at Grace and then at Katie. He thought of her Oscar-worthy setup of this incredible scene and wondered what he could ever do to repay her. Then he thought of the other woman who was surely in the room, the one who had a stake in all of their lives, the one he should have heeded in the first place.
"Beneath that delicate exterior is a strong, resolute woman who does nothing halfway. Never take her for granted and never underestimate her. She will amaze."
Grace pulled her hands from Joel's and then put them on his face. She met his eyes, smiled, and gave him a tender kiss that brought a different kind of closure.
"You left me some crumbs," she said, "and I picked them up."
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
A novel, like many worthwhile pursuits, is a team project, and this work is no exception. Many thanks go to Cheryl Heldt, Jon Johnson, and Diana Zimmerman for proofing the manuscript in its formative stages; to Amy Heldt for enriching the final draft in countless ways; and to Aaron Yost for providing the critical eye of a professional editor. I am also grateful to Podium Publishing for producing The Mine's creative cover and to several organizations for research assistance, including the Army Historical Foundation, Clatsop County Historical Society, National Park Service, Oregon Historical Society, Seattle Public Library, Selective Service System, and Washington State Library.
The Mine (Northwest Passage Book 1) Page 28
