Ginny couldn't disagree. Whether looking at the patio or the pool area or the lawn that extended to the lake, she saw the same thing: guests with drinks staggering from place to place. Graduation parties, like large wedding receptions, brought out the best and worst in people.
"I'm afraid one of the others is your dad. Here he comes now."
Ginny put on her best plastic smile as Richard Carrington, martini in hand, bumped and excused his way through a gaggle of guests to the edge of the yard, where his college-graduate son and his high-school-graduate girlfriend had carved out a quiet space.
"Steven, there you are. I've been looking for you."
"What up, Dad?"
"Bill is taking pictures inside. He wants to get a few of you and Connie."
Steve turned to Ginny.
"Bill Owen is a family friend. He owns a photography studio in Kirkland."
Steve looked at his father.
"Can he wait?"
"I suppose he can," Richard said with a slight slur. He glanced at Ginny like a wolf sizing up a lamb. "Well, hello there, little lady. You look awfully pretty tonight. Is that a new dress?"
Ginny wanted to put the drunkard in his place with a wisecrack but instead fortified her smile. She hated small talk with people like Richard but knew it was the price she had to pay to date the man holding her hand.
"It is, Mr. Carrington. I bought it yesterday."
"It thought that might be the case," Richard said. "I must say that if I hadn't seen you standing next to my son, I might have mistaken you for your equally lovely sister. She's wearing the same dress tonight."
"You're very observant, sir. You won't miss a thing in Olympia."
Steve smiled nervously and tightened his grip on Ginny's hand.
"What did I tell you, son? She's a keeper."
Richard gulped the remainder of his cocktail and clumsily turned to face the lake. He put his free hand to his forehead and squinted as the light from the setting sun hit his eyes.
"I see your mother's found another crisis to fret over. She's arguing with the caterer. I'd better step in before they draw pistols," Richard said. He glanced at Ginny. "It was nice seeing you again, Miss Smith. I'm sure we'll meet again."
"It's inevitable, sir."
Richard cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to determine whether Ginny had just needled him, but he didn't say another word. He instead gave his son and his girl a five-martini salute and walked slowly and unsteadily toward his wife.
"I hope your dad's not driving anywhere tonight," Ginny said.
"He's not," Steve said. "He'll probably stagger into his room around ten, fall on the bed, and sleep until noon. Then he'll walk into the kitchen, see the bills my mom has rung up, and start drinking again."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be. My dad is actually a stand-up guy most of the time. He just likes to get loaded at events like this and try to forget his troubles."
"I didn't think families like yours had troubles," Ginny said.
"That's where you're wrong. We have nothing but troubles."
She couldn't argue with that either. If she had parents like Richard and Joyce and a sister like Connie, she'd probably hit the martinis too.
Ginny glanced at the French doors that served as the portal to the backyard party and saw new guests arrive. They ranged from teenage girls who had probably come to see Connie to men in their fifties who had come to see both graduates or fill up on booze and food.
"Shouldn't you be mingling?" Ginny asked.
"I should," Steve said.
"So why aren't you?"
"I'm not because I'd rather spend a quiet moment with you than shake another hand."
Ginny looked at his face.
"These people came to see you, Steve."
"Some of them did. Most are here to see my sister. She has more friends than Elizabeth Taylor. Even some of my friends are her friends," Steve said. "Take a look."
Steve pointed to a spot about twenty yards away, where Dean Price, the Young Republican from Ellensburg, was hitting on Connie Carrington. Three other visibly interested fraternity brothers stood nearby.
"I see what you mean," Ginny said. "What do you want to do then?"
"We could mingle some more, if that's what you want. I'm sure there are a lot of people here who'd like to meet you," Steve said. "Or – and I'm just throwing this out there – we could gas up the Stingray and go for a drive. I've always wanted to get lost in the mountains."
Ginny turned her head and looked at Steve coyly.
"Haven't we had this conversation?"
"We have," Steve said. He smiled. "I've just heard that it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind and wanted to know if you had changed yours."
Ginny laughed.
"I'll give you style points for that."
"Does that mean you've changed your mind?"
"It means I think we should date a little longer before I succumb to your charms."
Steve chuckled.
"That sounds like a no."
"It is, for now."
Ginny admitted she had mixed thoughts on the matter. She definitely didn't have any moral qualms about "getting lost in the mountains." She liked Steve Carrington as much as any guy she had ever dated, including the Ex-Boyfriend Who Must Not Be Named, but she wasn't so sure that getting physical now was a bright idea. She was a short-timer in 1964, a person who would soon depart for a distant future. If she caved on this, she might cave on anything.
Ginny tightened her hold on Steve's hand, pulled him close, and looked up at his face. She expected to see a cocky frat boy who wanted to start a summer fling at the earliest opportunity – a fling that would invariably end the moment he left for law school. What she saw instead was a young man who appeared disappointed and resigned but not at all upset.
Grateful that she didn't have to debate the matter further, Ginny lifted her head and kissed him gently on the lips. When that elicited a sad smile, she kissed him again.
"I just want a little more time. OK?"
Steve nodded.
"Take all the time you need," he said.
Ginny put her hands on his shoulders and went back a third time.
"Happy graduation."
CHAPTER 43: VIRGINIA
Seattle, Washington – Sunday, June 14, 1964
From her revolving perch five hundred feet in the air, Virginia Jorgenson had one of the best views of Seattle in Seattle. Even on a cloudy day, the view from the Space Needle restaurant was hard to beat. On this day, however, she cared less about looking at Lake Union or the waterfront or even the Olympics than the two women who were and would be her great-granddaughters.
"Is something wrong, Mrs. Jorgenson?" Ginny asked. "You keep staring at us."
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I can't get over how much you girls look like Grace. Every time I see you I drift back to my college days and the times I spent with your mother. How I miss her so."
"She missed you too. She talked about you often after she and my father told us about their time together in 1941. She mentioned you more than anyone else."
Virginia chewed on that morsel along with a piece of salmon she had lifted from her plate. She figured that Grace had missed her, but it was still nice to hear it from an authoritative source.
"What did she say?"
Ginny glanced at Katie, who sat to her right. When she got the nod she apparently sought, she returned her attention to the woman on the other side of the table.
"She said you saved her life. She said you carried her through her freshman year socially and helped her work through her grief."
"Your mother was a mess for months," Virginia said. "Then again, who wouldn't be after losing their parents so violently and senselessly?"
"She's over it now," Ginny said.
"I imagine she is. As they say, time heals all wounds."
"That's not why though. She's over it now because her parents are still alive."
Virgini
a spilled her water.
"They're what?"
"They're alive," Ginny said. "Edith is too."
Ginny and Katie told Virginia how Grace Vandenberg Smith had traveled to 1918, met William Vandenberg and Lucille Green as unmarried adults, and five months later pushed them through a time portal to 2002. Then they told her how Edith Green had walked through the same portal the next day to join her twin sister, future brother-in-law, and Grace in a new century.
"That is too fantastic to even imagine," Virginia said. "I attended Edith's funeral four years ago. I've seen the graves of all three."
"The graves might be there, but the people are still alive – at least in 2020. Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Bill have four kids and live in Boise. Grandpa Bill's a pastor there. Aunt Edith and her husband Vince Pearson are lawyers in San Francisco. They have two kids."
Virginia put her hands to her head. She could feel a migraine coming on."
"So the original Lucy, Bill, and Edith never lived?"
"Oh, they lived. They just lived in a different time stream. That's how my dad explained it," Ginny said. "He calls the new Lucy, Bill, and Edith versions two-point-oh."
"Two point what?"
"Two-point-oh. That's what we call software updates."
"What's software?" Virginia asked.
"I think we should probably save that for another day," Ginny said.
Virginia laughed.
"I agree. You can tell me about the future later. All I want now is a simple confirmation of the particulars. This is all very confusing."
"I know," Ginny said.
"From what I understand, this all started with your father," Virginia said. "Am I right?"
"You're right."
Virginia continued.
"Joel entered a mine in Montana in the year 2000, came out of that mine in 1941, and hopped a train to Seattle, where he met Tom Carter, Grace, and me. He then went back to 2000 the day after Pearl Harbor was attacked. Is that correct?"
"Correct," Ginny said.
"Your mother then went through that same mine and joined him in 2000. They were married soon after and then, according to the items in Katie's purse, had you girls the next year."
"You're batting a thousand."
"Am I also correct to assume that no one else did any time traveling until Grace entered that theater restroom in 2002 and went back to 1918?"
"Yes."
"What about after she returned to 2002 with her parents and Edith? Did anyone else take a spin in one of these time machines?"
"No," Ginny said. "That was it until Katie and me."
"So there are seven of you, all in one family."
"There are seven of us, Mrs. Jorgenson. We're the Wallendas of time travel."
Virginia laughed and sighed. Realizing that even the condensed family history was more than she could handle, she decided to save the details for later and simply enjoy the ride.
"It sounds like it, Ginny. It certainly sounds like it. As for 'Mrs. Jorgenson,' I think it's time we improved on that. 'Mrs. Jorgenson' sounds so formal."
"What should we call you?" Katie asked.
"I'm not sure. Virginia seems too informal and great-grandma too verbose."
"How about 'Nana'?" Ginny asked. "That's what some kids call their grandmothers."
Virginia laughed.
"Shouldn't you reserve that title for Cindy? If I recall correctly, she's the one who will be your grandmother."
"She will," Ginny said. "But I still like the name. What do you think, Katie?"
Katie grinned.
"I think our landlord has a new nickname," Katie said.
"Very well," Virginia said. "'Nana' it is. Just don't use it around my husband or children."
"Why is that?" Ginny asked.
"Because, dear girl, I haven't told them who you really are. I'm not sure I will either. My family life is exciting enough without adding time travel to the mix," Virginia said. "It's why I waited so long to talk to you again. I wanted to speak to you at length and learn what I could before dragging others into the mix. I honestly don't know how Joe or the kids would react."
"I'm OK with keeping our identities secret," Ginny said. "I had a chance to tell Cindy who I was the other night, when she gave me the cookies, but I didn't. I didn't think it was a good idea. I still don't."
Virginia glanced at Katie.
"Do you feel the same way?"
"I do," Katie said. "We haven't even told our friends. Ginny and I have talked about this a dozen times and agree that it's probably best to leave things as they are."
Virginia paused as a waiter brought her a new glass of water and placed a dessert menu on the table. When he left, she resumed the conversation.
"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I think it would be best if the three of us kept a lid on this, at least for the time being."
Virginia grabbed the dessert menu and gave it a once over. When she found what she was looking for, she put the menu on the table and looked at Katie.
"I'm considering chocolate cheesecake for dessert. What do you think?"
"I like your priorities," Katie said.
"Ginny?"
"I think Nana rocks."
Virginia laughed.
"I'll take that as two yeses."
When the waiter returned, Virginia ordered three slices of cheesecake. When he left, she gazed at her great-granddaughters with eyes that were decidedly less animated.
"What's the matter?" Ginny asked. "You seem sad all of a sudden."
"I am, Ginny. I am."
"Why?"
"I'm sad because I'm growing attached to both of you and suspect you won't be around much longer."
"Why do you say that?" Ginny asked.
"Call it common sense," Virginia said. "You girls are remarkably composed for people who have been torn from everything you have ever known. That suggests one of two things: that you don't miss your family and friends or you expect to return to them soon. I think we all know the answer."
The twins looked at each other and then lowered their eyes.
"You're very perceptive," Ginny said. "We are planning to go home."
"I thought so," Virginia said. "Can you provide a few details about your plans?"
Ginny nodded.
"I'll tell you everything – at least everything I know," Ginny said. She took a deep breath. "Katie and I left the future on our nineteenth birthday: September 11, 2020. We attended that country fair in Maple Valley, walked into an attraction called the House of Mirrors, and walked out in this time. We think one of the mirrors in that house, a big one that hangs alone on a wall, is our ticket back. When the fair returns in September, we expect to walk through that mirror and return to 2020 as if we had never been gone."
"So you've been here since last September?"
"No. We've been here since May 2," Ginny said. "I don't know why we came out on May 2. I just believe that we'll have a chance to go back in September."
"Why are you so confident?" Virginia asked.
"There are two reasons. The first is that time travel seems to work that way. When Dad went through the mine in Montana, he returned to the same time he had left. When Mom went through the restroom in the theater, she did the same."
"What is the second reason?"
Ginny again glanced at Katie before proceeding. It was clear to Virginia that these two acted as a team and had probably done so their entire lives.
"The second reason is that we were told we'd have a chance to go back. Before we entered the House of Mirrors, we went to see a fortune-teller. She told us that we would go on 'a strange, mysterious journey,' an 'adventure like no other,'" Ginny said. "When she realized that the 'adventure' might be something like this, she gave us our money back and pleaded with us to go home. But we didn't listen. We went to the House of Mirrors and ended up here."
"But she did say you would have a chance to return."
Ginny nodded.
"She did. She was clear about that.
But she was also clear about another thing."
"What's that?" Virginia asked.
"She said we'd have one opportunity to go back – and only one," Ginny said. "If we didn't take that opportunity, then our 'a strange, mysterious journey' would be a one-way trip."
CHAPTER 44: KATIE
Sunday, June 21, 1964
If there was one thing Katie Smith, compulsive cleaner, liked about boring tasks, it's that they freed her mind to think about not-so-boring things – like the handsome young man she could see through the kitchen window. She waved to Mike as he helped his brother-in-law remove a dead tree from Mary Hayes' backyard.
As she scrubbed dinner dishes in a sink full of bubbles, however, she found herself thinking less about the young man and more about whether the dish soap she was using was actually as tough on grease as it was soft on hands. She laughed to herself. Nineteen sixty-four was turning her into June Cleaver.
"Do you need any help with the dishes?" Mary asked. "I'd be happy to jump in."
"I think we can finish them, Mrs. Hayes. You go relax."
Patricia Hayes Anderson, wife, mother, and the second half of the Smith-Anderson dishwashing team, glanced to her left and smiled. Then she peeked over her shoulder at the woman who had raised her, a woman who appeared even more fatigued than usual.
"She's right, Mom. We're OK. Why don't you rest for a while or check on Erin? She's due for a change."
Mary stared at her son's girlfriend and her oldest child and gave each an I-know-when-I'm-not-wanted look. She started to speak but stopped abruptly when a baby began crying in the living room. She smiled sadly at the dishwashers.
"I guess I'm needed elsewhere," Mary said. "You two have a nice talk."
Katie watched Mary as she removed her apron, hung it on a hook, and slowly walked toward the doorway. She turned to face Patsy the second Mary disappeared around a corner.
"How is your mom doing?" Katie asked.
"She's doing as well as can be expected. The chemo has left her pretty weak, but she's tough. My mom's the toughest person I know. If anyone can beat this, she can."
The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5) Page 20
