The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  Ginny smiled sheepishly.

  "Well . . . maybe."

  "Ugh! I can't believe you thought that."

  "Why? It's not like you haven't done it before."

  Katie glared at her sister.

  "This is different, Ginny. The time is different. The circumstances are different. Mike is different. He's a nice guy, a really nice guy. What don't you get?"

  "Don't get so defensive. I thought I was doing you a favor."

  Katie gave Ginny a softer glance.

  "Thank you," Katie said. "I know you meant well, but trust me when I say you didn't need to stay away last night. You won't need to stay away any night."

  "Why do you say that?" Ginny asked. "I thought you liked Mike."

  "I do."

  "Does he like you?"

  "Yes. He does."

  "So what's the problem?"

  "The problem is that we're going home in four months. You said we don't have time to get serious with anyone – and I agree. We don't. We also don't have the right to disrupt any lives. If I start something with Mike, or anyone else, I will disrupt a life. I don't want to do that."

  Ginny sighed.

  "I don't either," she said. "I'm sorry."

  "There's no need to apologize, Gin. You were right the other day when you said we should have fun here. I'm trying to have fun. I really am. But I refuse to be irresponsible. I made a promise to myself when we got here that I would leave this time exactly as I found it, and I intend to keep it."

  Ginny could see from Katie's hard stare and folded arms that she meant every word. She could also see from a subtle frown that her sister was distressed.

  "Is something wrong?" Ginny asked.

  Katie lowered her eyes.

  "Yes."

  "Well? What is it?"

  Katie looked away. She stared at a wall for a moment before returning to Ginny.

  "I'm having trouble keeping my promise."

  Ginny studied her twin again. She saw defeat, not defiance.

  "I know that look, Katie. Something happened. What happened last night?"

  Katie did not reply.

  "Katie?"

  "Mike kissed me on our walk."

  "So? Boys do that, you know," Ginny said.

  "I know. But …"

  "But what?"

  Katie looked down.

  "I kissed him back."

  She glanced at Ginny.

  "Hard."

  CHAPTER 21: KATIE

  Monday, May 11, 1964

  "We have a spill on Aisle 11. Can a courtesy clerk please report?"

  Katie scanned the front of Greer's Grocery from her temporary post at Checkout 3 and saw two things: the absence of other courtesy clerks and Pete Benson, the manager in charge, holding a public-address microphone at Checkout 1. He looked at the new hire and smiled.

  "Thanks, Katie," he said.

  Katie finished loading a small sack of groceries for a middle-aged man, nodded to Paula, the checker, and started walking toward the back of the store and a broom closet. She didn't mind cleaning up messes on Aisle 4 or Aisle 12, where piles of flour or puddles of milk usually awaited, but she did mind cleaning up messes on Aisle 11. Spilled soda meant broken glass.

  When she reached the broom closet, she was surprised to see that the bucket and the mop had already been taken. So had the broom and the dustpan. She stepped out of the back room, walked to Aisle 11, and saw a sight that brought a smile to her face.

  "Want some help with that?" Katie asked. "It's quiet up front. I don't think Pete and Paula will need me for a while."

  Mike Hayes answered the question without looking up. With a broom in one hand and a dustpan in the other, he focused on scooping up the remains of a cola bottle that had succumbed to a tragic fall.

  "No. I think I've got it."

  "Are you sure?"

  Mike looked up.

  "Katie?"

  "You were expecting someone else?"

  "I thought you were Ginny. You talk the same."

  "Twins tend to do that."

  Mike grinned.

  "You definitely have the same sass," he said. "I thought she was stacking soup cans."

  "She was until about five minutes ago. She's on her break."

  Katie smiled sweetly and raised an eyebrow.

  "Would you like me to get her instead?"

  "No, thank you." Mike said. He laughed. "She'd just boss me around."

  "She's not that bad."

  "Yes, she is."

  Katie laughed.

  "OK. She is."

  Katie watched as Mike, crouched near the floor, tried to sweep glass into the dustpan while holding the bottom of the broomstick. The stick moved back and forth like a golf pin in a stiff breeze.

  "Let me at least hold the dustpan," she said.

  "Be my guest."

  Mike stood up and got out of the way as Katie moved toward a small pile of glass, lowered herself to the floor, and grabbed hold of the metal dustpan. He quickly swept the pile into the pan, stepped back, and rested the broom against a shelf loaded with six-packs of cream soda. He then grabbed the mop and went about mopping up the puddles on the floor.

  "I called you yesterday," Mike said.

  "Oh, yeah? When?"

  "It was around six. I left a message with the clerk in the motel office. I guess he never gave it to you."

  "He didn't," Katie said.

  "Did you go somewhere yesterday?"

  Katie shook her head.

  "No. We watched TV most of the day. The only time we left the room was to eat lunch and dinner. We were gone at six. I'm sorry I missed your call."

  "That's all right. I didn't have anything urgent to say. I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed Saturday night. I can't stop thinking about it."

  Katie stood up, placed the dustpan on top of a stack of wooden crates, and turned to Mike. A hundred mostly conflicting thoughts swirled through her mind.

  "Neither can I," she said.

  "Did you have fun?" Mike asked.

  "You know I did."

  Mike cocked his head.

  "Then why the glum face?"

  Katie sighed.

  "It's complicated."

  "Complicated?"

  "Yes, complicated."

  "Do you have a boyfriend back home?" Mike asked.

  "No. It's nothing like that."

  "Then what is it?"

  Katie looked away for a moment and stared into space. If she had known that a trip to Aisle 11 would mean having a conversation she wanted to avoid, she might have asked Ginny to clean up the mess. She simply was not prepared to answer Mike's question – at least in any detail.

  "I can't really talk about it."

  Katie glanced at Mike and saw both hurt and confusion. She wanted to tell him the truth but knew that the truth would only invite even more problems.

  "Does it have anything to do with me?"

  Yes.

  "No. It's a personal thing. It's just something I have to work out."

  "You can tell me anything, Katie. I won't bite. I might kiss your head off, but I won't bite. I promise."

  She laughed.

  "I believe you."

  "You sure you don't want to talk about it?" Mike asked.

  "I'm sure."

  Mike scanned the aisle, as if checking for customers or coworkers, and then returned his full attention to Katie. He placed his hand on hers, which she rested on the stack of crates.

  "I don't know what's bothering you, Katie. I wish I did. I just know I want to see you again. I want to see you tomorrow and the next day and the next."

  "I know."

  "Can you at least answer one thing?" Mike asked.

  "I'll try."

  "Do you want to go out this weekend?"

  Katie pondered the question. Of course she wanted to go out. She wanted to enjoy this gentle soul's company as often as she could for as long as she could. The issue was whether she should use this opportunity to set boundaries or let
the spring and summer run their course.

  "Let me think about it. OK?"

  Mike nodded.

  She pulled her hand from his just as a figure approached from the back of the store. The person wore an expression that made Katie glad that she and Mike had finished their business.

  "I heard there was a messy situation in the pop aisle," Ginny said. She grinned. "Anything I can do to help?"

  CHAPTER 22: GINNY

  Wednesday, May 13, 1964

  The first thing Ginny noticed was the stares.

  The friendly stares weren't hard to find. Frequent, lasting, and usually accompanied by smiles and whispers, they were delivered in droves by the men of Zeta Alpha Rho. Steve Carrington's fraternity brothers appeared to approve of his special guest.

  The unfriendly stares were harder to spot and sometimes more difficult to decipher, but they were no less unnerving. The women of Kappa Delta Alpha who considered Ginny a prospective pledge saw her as a curiosity. Those who considered her as competition saw her as a threat.

  Perhaps sensing her discomfort around groups, Steve guided Ginny through his palatial fraternity house to a patio and lawn in back, where thirty to forty more collegians ate barbecued hamburgers and danced to "Do You Love Me" by the Contours. He stopped when they finally reached a relatively quiet spot on the edge of the patio.

  "So what do you think? Are you ready to enroll?" Steve asked.

  Ginny smiled and nodded.

  "I was ready two weeks ago."

  Ginny laughed to herself as she considered the statement. Two weeks earlier she was ready not only to enroll in this university but also to attend it in the seemingly distant year of 2020. She had found almost as much irony and nostalgia on her campus tour as she did now at this Midweek Mixer, where her father's fraternity entertained her mother's sorority.

  "I figured as much," Steve said.

  Ginny slipped her hand inside Steve's but didn't immediately reply. She instead continued to watch and listen and try to make sense of this strange time the calendar called 1964. For several minutes she stood and watched men in sweaters and slacks mingle with women in sweaters and pleated skirts and talk about Barry Goldwater, civil rights, and "that band from England."

  "Thank you," Ginny said.

  "Thank you for what?"

  Ginny tightened her hold on his hand and met his gaze.

  "Thank you for showing me around the campus. Thank you for ditching your class," she said. "You didn't have to do that."

  "Yeah, I did. I knew this was important to you. As for sociology, I'll survive," Steve said. "I'm almost certain they won't hold my degree for skipping a lecture."

  Steve waved to an acquaintance in the distance and then turned to Ginny.

  "So you had a good time today, huh?"

  "I had a great time," Ginny said.

  "That's awesome. What did you like best?"

  Ginny pondered the question before answering. In all honesty, there were many things she liked about one of the best afternoons of her life. She liked the long stroll through the heart of the campus, eating lunch in the student union, and even meeting a student who was close friends with the folk trio Peter, Paul, and Mary. Best of all, though, she liked spending time with a graduating senior who seemed almost too good to be true.

  "I can't narrow it down," Ginny said. "It's all been fun, even this. Do you often throw parties on Wednesday nights?"

  "No. This is rare. We do this maybe once or twice a year."

  Ginny looked around the patio and saw boys with beers hit on girls with glasses of wine. The men tried to impress the women with tall tales and their knowledge of the world. The women tried to impress the men with fawning smiles and timely giggles. Put differently, little had changed among the eighteen-to-twenty-two set in fifty-six years.

  "Then I guess this is my lucky night," Ginny said.

  She grinned mischievously.

  "I guess so."

  Steve peered over the shoulders of a fraternity brother toward a food table at the other end of the patio. A few feet away, another well-dressed man put a new 45-rpm record on a turntable that looked like it belonged in the Smithsonian. Within seconds "Louie Louie" by the Kingsmen blared through two large speakers and several couples hit the dance floor.

  "It looks like the food line is thinning," Steve said. "Do you want to get something to eat?"

  "Maybe later," Ginny said. "Right now I just want to stand here and take it all in."

  Steve nodded and started to say something but stopped when two men and a woman approached. All wore sweaters and smiles.

  "There you are," one of the men said. He had his arm around the woman. "I've been looking for you."

  Steve gently guided Ginny a few steps back to make room for the newcomers.

  "I heard you had a new friend and wanted to meet her," the man said.

  "Haven't you met enough people tonight?" Steve asked.

  "You can never meet enough people."

  "I suppose not," Steve said with a gentle laugh. He glanced at Ginny. "I guess we're done hiding."

  "That's OK," Ginny said.

  Steve pulled his hand from Ginny's and raised it to her shoulder. When he had the attention of the others, he introduced them in the order in which they stood.

  "Ginny, this is Dean Price, Bill Brooks, and his fiancée Janice Bailey. Dean, Bill, and Janice, this is Ginny Smith."

  Ginny shook three hands and exchanged minor pleasantries.

  "Dean is a sophomore from Ellensburg who is very active in student government," Steve said. "In fact, I think he just got elected president of the College Republicans."

  "It was vice president, actually," Dean said, "but who counts vices?"

  I do, Ginny thought.

  She forced a smile.

  "That's impressive," Ginny said.

  Steve continued.

  "Bill is a graduating senior. Like me, he's planning to attend law school back east in the fall. Unlike me, he's planning to get married this summer."

  "Congratulations," Ginny said.

  "Thank you," Bill said.

  "Janice, of course, is Bill's lovely bride-to-be. Janice is a past president of Kappa Delta Alpha, a future lawyer herself, and crackerjack tennis player."

  "Steve exaggerates, as I'm sure you've discovered, but he means well," Janice said.

  She offered Ginny a smile and a glance that projected both sincerity and warmth.

  "As for Ginny, she just moved to Seattle from Thousand Oaks, California. She and her twin sister are working at Greer's Grocery. They're trying to save enough money to attend the university in the fall."

  "You're a twin?" Dean asked. "You mean there are two of you?"

  Down, boy.

  "There are two of me," Ginny said pleasantly. "My sister Katie is working tonight."

  "I'd like to meet her," Dean said.

  "I'll see if I can arrange it."

  "I'm looking forward to it."

  "I'm curious about something," Janice said. "If you enrolled this fall, would you enroll as a freshman?"

  "I would," Ginny said.

  "So you recently graduated from high school?"

  Ginny didn't need a road map to see where this was going.

  "I graduated last year."

  Janice smiled at Ginny and then shifted her attention to Steve Carrington, cradle robber. When she raised an eyebrow, he blushed.

  "My sister and I decided to work a year before attending college," Ginny said. "I assume you allow students to do that here."

  "Oh, we do," Janice said. "I apologize for the questions. I just wanted to make sure that you, as an incoming freshman, knew about rush. I'm sure the ladies of Kappa Delta Alpha would love to consider you – and your sister – as prospective pledges."

  They should. We're legacies!

  "That's nice to hear. Katie and I are planning to participate in rush."

  "That's wonderful," Janice said. "I won't be here, of course. I'll be in New York trying to keep this g
uy on the straight and narrow, but I'd be happy to put in a good word for you."

  "I'd like that," Ginny said.

  Ginny meant it too. She knew a good word in 1964 probably wouldn't hold a lot of weight during rush week 2020, but it might. She laughed to herself as she imagined the possibilities.

  "Well, I won't keep you any longer," Janice said. "I'm sure you would much rather spend a night like this talking to Mister Carrington."

  Ginny smiled when she saw the word "Mister" trigger another blush. She would have to encourage Steve at least once or twice to apply for Social Security benefits.

  "It was nice meeting you," Janice said.

  "You too," Ginny replied.

  Ginny shook three hands and watched the trio drift off to other people and presumably less mundane conversations. When the three disappeared from sight, she turned to Steve.

  "Well, that was interesting," Ginny said. She offered a playful glance. "Your friend Janice wasn't very subtle."

  Steve laughed.

  "She never is."

  "Can I ask you a question?"

  "Go ahead."

  "Are you bothered by our age difference?"

  "Nope. Not at all."

  "Are you bothered by the fact you're dating a hitchhiker with a high school diploma?"

  Steve laughed again.

  "Nope. Not at all."

  He smiled and threw his arm around Ginny.

  "Of course, my opinion isn't the only one that matters."

  "What does that mean?"

  He sighed.

  "What it means, my dear, is that I want you to meet my parents."

  CHAPTER 23: GINNY

  Thursday, May 14, 1964

  "Ouch!" Ginny cried.

  "What did you do?"

  "I cut my finger on this razor blade of a grocery bag. They should ban these things."

  "Are you all right?" Katie asked.

  Ginny looked at her index finger and saw a tiny drop of blood form at the tip.

  "Call 9-1-1, Katie. Tell the dispatcher I need a good-looking medic to patch me up."

  Katie laughed.

  "I'll get a bandage."

  "Don't bother. I'll keep licking it," Ginny said. She continued placing brown paper bags in their designated slots at Checkout 5. "If it grosses out the customers, I'll just say I'm donating to the Red Cross."