The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  "Thank you for one of the best dates I've ever had," Ginny said.

  She smiled and squeezed his hand.

  "Let's do this again."

  CHAPTER 58: GINNY

  Snoqualmie Falls, Washington – Monday, July 27, 1964

  The trail from the top of the 268-foot falls to the bottom was short, steep, and eminently rewarding. Though Ginny had been to Snoqualmie once before, she had never seen it like this. The river and its surroundings were bolder, wilder, and refreshingly less developed.

  Ginny had arrived at the falls at ten thirty, armed only with Virginia Jorgenson's Leica M3, a notepad, and skills honed in a high-school journalism class. Nana had instructed her only to "make the most of the day" by capturing nature and its admirers in perfect harmony.

  She encountered no problems with nature. The river, rocks, and foliage cooperated as freely and pleasantly as a swimsuit model that had yet to develop an attitude. She was amazed at how much she could capture with limited equipment and restricted mobility.

  Ginny found the admirers a bit more difficult. Those who didn't turn away from the camera offered poses, expressions, and gestures that were decidedly unfit for publication in the state's largest newspaper. After an hour of fits and frowns, Ginny decided to pop on a 90-millimeter lens and capture her human subjects from afar.

  She achieved her best results near the bottom of the falls, where wide eyes and smiles were as common as headscarves, horn-rimmed glasses, and bouffant hair. People could be remarkably photogenic when they didn't know a photographer was stalking them.

  For that reason alone, Ginny decided to stay at river level for nearly an hour. She found a comfortable spot atop a large boulder, snapped photos when anything of interest wandered in range, and enjoyed lunch from a sack. She had long since made her peace with paper bags.

  She was disappointed to see fewer than fifty people during that time but not surprised. This was a workday. People from Seattle and Tacoma came here on weekends. Those from St. Louis and St. Paul came when they could. From the shirts and hats she saw from atop the rock, the tourists outnumbered the locals four to one.

  Ginny spent most of the fifty minutes working and eating but not all. She saved some time to enjoy the sights and even more time to think. There was nothing like the sound of rushing water to push the mind in pleasant places and even some that were not so nice.

  As she sat on the rock and later worked her way up the half-mile trail, Ginny thought not only of her agenda for the day but also her agenda for the rest of the summer. She thought about how she would spend her final weeks in 1964 and how she would say goodbye to the people and places that had become surprisingly important to her in less than three months.

  More than anything, though, Ginny thought about James, their immensely enjoyable date at the drive-in, and the doors it had opened. When she thought about the friend and coworker she had neglected for so long, she thought not about what she had missed but about what she could still do. She would not waste a minute with him in the stretch run.

  Ginny returned to her work halfway up the trail. She captured a toddler blowing bubbles, a boy holding a balloon, and a man with a pipe who seemed as old as the falls itself. In each instance, she shot her subjects from the side, with the moving water clearly visible in the distance. In doing so she was able to capture man and nature as Virginia had wanted her to. These pictures, she decided, would deliver the goods.

  When she finished snapping her fourth roll of film at the top of the trail, Ginny popped in another roll for good measure and walked to the gift shop. She didn't expect to find any new photo ops but figured she'd at least give the place a look before boarding the bus home. If she could capture a happy child shaking a snow globe or squeezing a teddy bear, the time spent in the store would be more than worth it.

  As Ginny wandered through a sea of souvenirs, she thought again about the people she had met in 1964. She thought about the family across the street, her coworkers at the grocery store, and the water-polo player she didn't quite know what to do with.

  Her problem with the polo player was really a problem with their relationship. She and Steve were moving in different directions, something that had become painfully obvious on the drive back from Portland. For most of the first hour, they had done little more than argue over whether to spend Saturday night in a motel.

  Though it was clear Steve liked her intellect and personality, it was just as clear he liked her physical attributes a whole lot more. He hadn't been pleased to learn that their NC-17 relationship had been downgraded, at least temporarily, to PG-13. He wanted more from her at a time she wanted less from him. That, she concluded, was not a recipe for summer bliss.

  Ginny snapped a few photos inside the gift shop, much to the annoyance of a female clerk, and then stepped outside. In the distance she could see the driver of her bus put a few items in the storage compartments on the side of the vehicle. She had ten minutes before the shuttle motored its way back to the university district.

  Deciding to take the scenic route to the bus, Ginny wandered through the parking lot and saw a college-age couple kissing while leaning on the side of a Corvette Stingray. Just the sight of them made her think about her first few dates with Steve. How long ago that seemed.

  She took a few photos of the couple – from a safe distance, of course – and then turned her attention to another part of the lot. As luck would have it, she found yet another couple putting the final touches on a pleasant summer day at Snoqualmie Falls.

  This couple also reminded her of Steve but not in a good way. The older man groped the younger woman like someone who clearly appreciated her body more than whatever passed for a brain under her haystack of hair. Ginny took a few photos of the unsettling scene, put the Leica M3 in a leather camera case, and began walking toward the bus.

  As she approached a group of people who gathered near the bus, she sighed and shook her head. It was clear now that she had entered into her relationship with Steve far too quickly and had given into him far too easily.

  Ginny didn't know what she would say to him when next they met, but she knew that the topic of discussion would not be where they would spend the weekend together. She decided right then that permanent boundaries would have to be set. She did not want to spend the next few weeks listening to him try to coax her back into his bed.

  She also decided that it was time to turn her attention to more important things, like getting back to the magic mirror and resuming her old, comfortable, familiar life in 2020. Romance with anyone was now a luxury she could not afford.

  It was time to look beyond September and start thinking long-term. Her future was guys with cell phones, not guys with Stingrays. It was time, she thought, to get real and move on.

  CHAPTER 59: GINNY

  Seattle, Washington – Friday, July 31, 1964

  Ginny dropped a sugar cube in her cup and stirred it with a stick. She typically didn't like adding anything to her coffee, but she had grown seriously fond of the bite-sized sweeteners. That was more than she could say about pointed questions from relentless questioners.

  "Why have you been avoiding me?" Steve asked.

  "I haven't been avoiding you. I've been busy."

  "I called Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday and left messages with Katie. Are you telling me she didn't give them to you?"

  "She did."

  Ginny was tempted to say otherwise, but she didn't want to drag her twin further into her troubles. Katie had already done plenty by taking the messages and covering for her sister. She had told Steve each night that Ginny had been working at Greer's when, in fact, she had been sitting in her lounge chair watching Petticoat Junction, The Virginian, or Perry Mason.

  "If you got the messages, then why didn't you call me back?" Steve asked.

  "I didn't call you because I've been busy – and because I've been trying to figure out how to tell you something."

  "What's that?"

  "I don't want to sleep with y
ou anymore. We can still go out. We can still have fun, but from now on the fun stops at first base," Ginny said. She lowered her voice. "There will be no more sex or fooling around of any kind."

  Ginny knew the second Steve lifted his head and sighed that she had his attention. She didn't want to be blunt, particularly in a public place like Benny's, a diner just west of the campus, but she felt she didn't have a choice. She wanted to be free of at least this complication.

  "Why are you doing this?" Steve asked. "I thought we had something good going."

  Ginny looked away for a moment and scanned the room for eavesdroppers. She found two: a middle-aged man who smiled and hoisted his cup and an elderly woman who frowned and shook her head. She decided to lower her voice again.

  "We did have something good going," Ginny said. "We still do, I think. I like you. I just don't want to have sex anymore."

  Steve pushed away his coffee cup.

  "That makes no sense, Ginny. If we still like each other, why can't we continue as before? People don't downgrade relationships."

  "Sure they do. They do it all the time when they know the relationship will have to end."

  "Why does this have to end? Even if you don't come to Boston, we can still date when I return. I'll be back for Christmas and spring break and the summer. You don't have to do this."

  Ginny put her hand on his arm. She decided it was time to try a different approach.

  "I do though. Katie and I have decided to return to Thousand Oaks. We're leaving the second week of September. I won't be here when you get back, so we might as well slow things down now," she said. "Don't you see that this is for the best?"

  "No. I don't."

  Ginny pondered a follow-up but couldn't think of anything that would push the conversation forward. She had said what she'd wanted to say. Steve just didn't like hearing it.

  "You're not seeing another guy, are you?"

  Ginny froze. She hadn't expected that question.

  "This is not about another guy," she said.

  "That's not what I asked. I asked if you were seeing another guy."

  Ginny wrestled with both anger and fear as she realized what Steve had done. Like a good lawyer-to-be, he had paid attention to detail and backed her into a corner. She would now have to lie about James or risk an emotional explosion in a public place. She took the expedient route.

  "I'm not seeing another guy."

  Steve nodded.

  "I believe you. That doesn't mean I'm giving up. It just means I believe you."

  Ginny sighed. The crisis had passed.

  "I'm glad."

  "So does this mean we can still date?" Steve asked.

  Ginny studied Steve's face and tried to determine whether he was really conceding or simply buying time. She was OK with going out but not with going through this song and dance again.

  "I think I said that."

  "What are you doing tonight?"

  I'm going out for ice cream with James.

  "I'm busy," Ginny said.

  "What are you doing tomorrow night?"

  "I'm busy again. I'm going camping with my landlords. We'll be back Sunday night."

  "What about next weekend?"

  Ginny sighed. She wanted more than ever to walk through the mirror but knew she'd have to wait. Unless she was willing to make a clean break today, she'd have to make concessions.

  "I don't want to commit to anything now, but I suppose we could do something Friday after I get off work."

  Steve nodded.

  "OK. If that's the way it has to be – at least for now – then that's the way it has to be."

  Steve reached across the table and grabbed her hands.

  "I know I can be difficult at times – and possessive and defensive and hot-headed – but it's only because I don't want to lose you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Ginny."

  Steve tightened his grip on her hands.

  "I love you."

  CHAPTER 60: KATIE

  Saturday, August 1, 1964

  Katie stared out her passenger-side window and let her mind drift as the Impala rolled through the neon-filled streets of Seattle. There was something particularly useful, she thought, about this endless blur of lights. It was mesmerizing and distracting. It was just the kind of thing she needed to forget about a speech she didn't want to give.

  She turned to her left to face the driver and saw a young man who apparently had his own problems to ponder. Mike had been conspicuously quiet all evening, speaking only when prompted and only about the most general of topics. He had not wanted to talk on the drive to dinner or at the theater and definitely not on the drive back. Something clearly was wrong.

  Katie had hoped for better circumstances, but she knew there was no good way or time to tell a boy you loved that you had to end a relationship and then leave his life forever. Delivering bad news was never easy. Delivering it to Mike Hayes on a night like this would be excruciating.

  "Are you OK, Mike?" Katie asked as they entered the university district, "You haven't said much all night."

  "I'm fine," he said. "I'm just a little tired."

  Katie knew that much was true. Mike had worked double shifts the past four days to help cover for two courtesy clerks taking vacation leave. He had nodded off at least once at dinner and twice in the theater. The sadness in his eyes, however, suggested that there was more behind his quiet demeanor than simple fatigue.

  Katie thought again about her mission as Mike turned onto Dalton Avenue and began the final mile to the duplex. Though she was disappointed she hadn't been able to join Ginny and the Jorgensons on their camping trip to Lake Chelan, she was glad she had the apartment to herself. She would need some quiet time, perhaps a lot, to tell Mike all the things he needed to know.

  Part of her, of course, wanted to procrastinate a little longer. There was nothing quite as satisfying as putting off an unpleasant task indefinitely. But she knew that to put this off much longer would simply make matters worse. If Ginny was able pull back from Steve, she could certainly do so with Mike. Or at least she hoped she could.

  Three minutes later Mike pulled into the duplex driveway, put the Impala in park, and turned off the ignition. He stared through the windshield for about a minute before turning to Katie.

  "Did you have a good time tonight?" he asked.

  Katie grabbed his hand.

  "Yes, I had a good time. I always have a good time with you."

  "I hope you mean it. I know I haven't been great company."

  "I do mean it," Katie said. "I'm a little concerned that you've been so quiet, but that hasn't ruined my evening. I enjoyed dinner and the movie, I enjoyed the drive, and I'm hoping I can enjoy some more of your company tonight."

  "You want to talk?"

  Katie nodded.

  "There are things I have to tell you, things that can't wait," she said. "Let's not talk about them here though. Let's go inside."

  "OK."

  Katie stepped out of the car and into the cool summer night and walked a few steps to Unit A. When Mike joined her on the front step, she turned the key, opened the door, and let him in.

  "Let's sit on the sofa," she said. "Do you want anything to eat or drink?"

  "No."

  Katie watched Mike drape his windbreaker over the top of Ginny's chair, wander over to the couch, and sit down. She considered turning on the overhead light and putting on some music but ultimately decided against both.

  She'd had her fill of light and distraction on the ride back. All she wanted now was the serenity that came with sitting in a dark, quiet living room. She sat next to Mike.

  "It's quiet here without Ginny," Katie said.

  Mike laughed.

  "It's quiet everywhere without Ginny."

  "Now, now, don't pick on my sister."

  "I'm not," Mike said. "Believe it or not, I like her."

  "I know you do."

  Katie grabbed Mike's hand, the one wrapped around her shoulder, a
nd then burrowed into his side. For the next five minutes she enjoyed the blissful silence, forgot about her unpleasant task, and succumbed to happy thoughts.

  "This reminds me of the night of the party. It's dark. It's quiet. We're together on the couch," Katie said. "The only difference is that we're vertical."

  Mike laughed again.

  "You're not going to quit, are you?"

  "I might when I see a smile, but not before."

  "How's this?"

  Mike smiled sadly.

  "That's better. It's not perfect, but it's better," she said. "I like to see you smile."

  Katie closed her eyes, hugged Mike tightly, and let her mind drift again. She tried to think of pleasant things – and only pleasant things – but didn't succeed. She thought about what she had to say and questioned why she had to say it at all. She silently cursed the forces that had conspired to ruin this perfect moment and take away the love of a lifetime.

  Mike broke the silence ten minutes later.

  "You said you had something to tell me?"

  "I did."

  Katie took a breath, sat up straight, and looked at Mike. She could see curiosity in his eyes, but not alarm. She considered that a good thing, though at this point it really didn't matter. The alarm would come soon enough.

  "Well, go ahead and say what you have to say," Mike said.

  Katie grabbed Mike's hand, pulled it from her shoulder, and kissed it before dropping it to her lap. She knew the gesture wouldn't mean a thing in the long run, but she wanted to give him one last reminder that she really did love him.

  "Remember that day when we sat at the picnic table by Greer's and I told you that Ginny and I might move back to California?"

  "I remember."

  Katie paused for a few seconds as a wave of nausea swept through her. When it passed, she took another breath, and squeezed his hand.

  "Well, I think we're going to do it. We're going to go home."

  "You mean move back for good?"

  Katie nodded.

  "We're planning to leave sometime in the second week of September."