The Mirror (Northwest Passage Book 5)

by John A. Heldt

  Katie couldn't blame Mary for trying to keep the teenagers together. She wanted the same outcome. She wanted to keep Mike, but she knew she wouldn't be able to unless he willingly traded a dying mother for the potentially frightening world of 2020. She couldn't see that happening under any circumstances.

  So Katie focused instead on the next best thing. If she couldn't stay with Mike, she would give Mary the impression she would. The question was whether she could fool this perceptive woman for another month when she blushed at the mere suggestion of something like sex.

  Katie got her answer when she looked at Mary. She held the woman's gaze for nearly ten seconds before her eyes started to water and she had to turn away.

  Some actress you are.

  Katie looked around the room for a box of tissues. When she didn't see one, she decided to head to the bathroom. She started to get out of her chair but quickly sat down when she heard someone open the front door.

  "I was right," Mike said as he rushed into the room. He removed his jacket and pulled two small boxes from a pocket. "They had a whole drawer full of candles."

  Mike stepped to the edge of the table, smiled at the women, and opened the boxes of red peppermint-striped candles. When he finished counting out forty-four candles, he arranged them in two concentric circles on top of the chocolate cake.

  "Do you want some help lighting them?" Katie asked.

  "No. I want to light them all."

  Katie didn't have to ask why. She remembered the time she had placed and lit the candles on her mother's cake – a privilege that, for a ten-year-old, was tantamount to lighting the Olympic flame. She could only imagine how important the same task was to Mike on a night like this.

  Three minutes, a book of matches, and two singed fingers later, Mike blew out the last match and gently pushed the cake in front of Mary. He pulled his chair next to his mother's, sat down, and reached for a Kodak Hawkeye Instamatic camera he had left on the table.

  Katie waited for Mike to meet her gaze and studied his face for a moment. She could see from the tears in his eyes that the fuss over the candles was nothing more than an attempt to divert attention from the Reaper in the room. Now that he had the candles, he seemed less sure of himself and far more vulnerable. Katie mouthed, "I love you," and offered a supportive smile.

  Mike smiled sadly at Katie and handed her the camera.

  "Take at least three," Mike said. "I'm not very photogenic."

  Katie nodded but didn't speak. In the time it had taken Mike to light the candles, she had succumbed to the emotion of the moment. Her voice was nearly as useless as her eyes, which had predictably turned to mush. She stood up and took a picture, then a second, and then a third.

  When Mike asked for one more, she took four. She went to the end of the roll. She knew this might be the last time these two were photographed together and wanted to do it right. When she was finished, she handed the camera back to Mike and sat down.

  "You think you got a good one?" Mike asked.

  "Yeah," Katie whispered. "I do."

  Mike sighed and nodded.

  "Thanks."

  Mike put his arm around Mary and turned to face her.

  "I lit forty-four candles, Mom. Forty-four. There are still four in the box. I'm going to save those candles and the ones on the cake," Mike said as his voice started to crack.

  Katie's eyes finally gave.

  "I'm going to save them all, because we're going to do this next year and the next and the next. We're going to do this until you're old and gray. I promise."

  Mike kissed his mother on the cheek.

  "Happy birthday."

  CHAPTER 63: GINNY

  Sunday, August 9, 1964

  They came to Lake Washington to see the fastest watercraft in the world – flying boats with names like Miss Bardahl, Mariner Too, and Tahoe Miss. Numbering in the tens of thousands, they came to the "Sayres Pits," as some called Stan S. Sayres Memorial Park, because they wanted sun, fun, and entertainment in one of the Seattle's quintessential summer venues.

  Ginny Smith, however, came simply to hang out with her new extended family and the courtesy-clerk friend who was quickly becoming more than just a friend. She thought about that family and that friend as she sat with both on a grassy slope overlooking the lake.

  "I had fun last night," Ginny said to James. "I've never been a wrestling fan, but I admit last night was fun. I especially liked the guy who squeezed the life out of his opponents."

  "Harry the Hugger?" James asked.

  "He's the one."

  A younger voice interrupted.

  "You saw Harry the Hugger? No fair."

  Ginny turned to her right and saw her high-school-bound grandmother issue a hard stare. Cindy Jorgenson, arms folded, was not pleased.

  "We would have taken you if you had just asked," Ginny said. "I didn't know you liked pro wrestling."

  "I love it. My dad took me once a few years ago," Cindy said. "Mom doesn't like me going to things like that though. She considers wrestling 'common' and 'pointless.'"

  "Don't forget stupid, Cindy," Virginia said from a few feet away. "Wrestling is also stupid."

  Ginny smiled.

  "I guess you'll have to wait until you're a little older to go again."

  Ginny glanced at Nana and Joe, hoping to find a reaction. She instead saw two middle-aged parents staring at the lake, where the hydro planes sped by at more than 110 miles per hour.

  "What else do you like, Cindy?" Ginny asked.

  "I like music."

  "Do you like the Beatles?"

  "Everybody does, even first-graders," Cindy said.

  "You probably want to go to the concert, don't you?"

  Cindy nodded.

  "I do too," Ginny said. "Katie and I tried to get tickets the other day, but the man at the ticket booth said the concert was sold out."

  "My friend Angie has tickets," Cindy said. "She showed them to me yesterday."

  "Do you know how she got them?" James asked.

  Cindy nodded again.

  "She said her dad got them for her."

  "What does your friend's dad do?" James asked.

  "He's a promoter. I'm not sure what that is, but I know he pulls a lot of strings."

  Ginny laughed to herself. She could spend an entire year in the company of this girl and not get bored. She glanced at James, who seemed lost in his thoughts, and then returned her attention to the fourteen-year-old.

  "You never told me about your time at church camp, Cindy," Ginny said. "Did you see that good-looking boy there?"

  "Which one?"

  Ginny bit her lip. The girl had game.

  "Frank Smith."

  Ginny glanced again at Virginia and this time saw her smile. She could see that Nana knew all about Frank Smith and probably at least minimally approved of the young man who would eventually sire her beloved friend and grandson.

  "I saw him," Cindy said matter-of-factly.

  "Well … did you talk to him?"

  Cindy turned red.

  "I talked to him a few times."

  "I'll bet they were good talks."

  Cindy nodded. The red deepened.

  "That's all right," Ginny said. "I don't need the details."

  I just need to know that I'll exist.

  When Ginny saw that her investigation of Francis H. Smith, future grandpa, had run its course, she returned her attention to James, who appeared to divide his attention between the fast boats and the talkative women.

  "James?"

  "Yeah, Ginny?"

  "Have you decided what you want to do Friday night?"

  "I was thinking of bowling."

  "Bowling?"

  "Yeah. Bowling."

  "James?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Were you planning to take me bowling or someone else?"

  James grinned.

  "How about a baseball game instead?"

  "That sounds much better."

  They both laughed.


  Ginny was careful not to criticize. She adored James' innocence and cluelessness and wanted to sensitively nudge him in the right direction. She wanted to enjoy every day they had left.

  She was also careful not to ask him what he was doing on Saturday. She had reluctantly reserved that day for Steve, who had not abandoned his campaign to maneuver his way back into her life and upgrade their relationship to at least an R rating. Figuring out how to handle him was turning into a time-consuming exercise.

  Ginny took a moment to look at the lake, where Miss Bardahl and Miss Exide kicked up rooster tails of water as they fought it out in the final heat. Though the hydroplanes moved far more slowly than their twenty-first-century counterparts – which could achieve speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour – they were still impressive.

  When she returned her attention to James, she could see that he was enjoying the races too. She could also see that he was thinking about something.

  "I'll give you fifty-five cents for your thoughts," Ginny said.

  James smiled.

  "Isn't that supposed to be a penny?"

  "It is, but I'm willing to give you all the money in my purse," Ginny said. "I suspect that what you're thinking about is worth much more than a penny. Care to tell me what it is?"

  "Nope," James said.

  "Nope?"

  James laughed.

  "That's what I said."

  "Secrets aren't good, James. If you keep them to yourself too long, they will eat at your insides like spicy chicken curry."

  He laughed again.

  "I'll take my chances," James said.

  "So you're really not going to tell me?"

  "Someday maybe. Not now."

  Ginny looked at James closely, saw that he was serious, and smiled. She couldn't remember the last time she couldn't get a boy to talk. She couldn't remember that last time she couldn't get a boy to talk in less than thirty seconds. Even her charms, it seemed, had limits.

  She gazed at her friend-coworker-not-yet-something-else for another moment, put her hand on his, and then returned her attention to the lake, where the boats entered their final lap. She didn't know whether she could figure out the mysteries of James Green in the month they had left, but she did know one thing. She was going to try.

  CHAPTER 64: GINNY

  Kitsap County, Washington – Saturday, August 15, 1964

  To some, she was the world's first streamlined ship, a tribute to art-deco styling. To others, she was the fastest passenger ferry in Washington, a sleek craft that could zip along at eighteen knots. To Ginny, however, the Motor Vessel Chimacum was no more than a football-field-sized toaster – a stainless-steel appliance that had no business sitting on water.

  "Are you sure this thing is safe?"

  Steve Carrington laughed.

  "I'm sure. You're as safe on this boat as you are in my arms."

  Ginny pondered that comment as she stood on the ferry's sun deck and peered over the bow at Sinclair Inlet, a stretch of water that connected Bremerton with Puget Sound. She had no doubt she'd be safe in Steve's arms. The question was whether she still wanted to be wrapped in them.

  She set the matter aside as the floating toaster pulled away from the ferry dock and began the trip to Seattle. The question would be moot at least for an hour. Steve already had his arms firmly wrapped around her waist and would no doubt keep them there until the boat reached port.

  "I had a good time today," Ginny said.

  "Did you have any doubt you would?"

  "Yes. I did."

  "That surprises me," Steve said. "When have I not shown you a good time?"

  Ginny smiled.

  "I can think of at least one fraternity party and two dinners with your folks."

  He laughed.

  "OK. Let me rephrase," Steve said. "Have I always shown you a good time when it was just the two of us?"

  "Yes."

  Ginny meant it too. Steve was as good as gold when he didn't expose her to boorish fraternity brothers, bigoted parents, and insufferable sisters. He was damn near platinum when he didn't bog her down with talk about commitments, "love," and shacking up.

  Steve had also delivered the goods this very day, from the moment he had knocked on the door of Unit A at eight o'clock. He had taken her on a scenic drive along the Hood Canal, paid for a pricey seafood lunch, and given her a personal tour of the USS Missouri, which he knew as well as the official guides. He had insisted only on taking the ferry back to Seattle, a call that was looking better all the time.

  The problem, of course, was not Steve's suitability as a date but rather his suitability as anything more than a friend for a time traveler who had already booked the first flight to 2020. Ginny simply couldn't see an upside to extending their relationship even another week.

  "There you go," Steve said. "You had no reason to doubt a thing."

  Ginny turned around to face him.

  "I have never doubted your ability to deliver on a date, Steve. I do, however, have doubts about us. I don't see much point to going out any more now that I know I'll be leaving."

  Steve pulled her close and kissed her on the forehead.

  "I admit it will be hard being apart this fall, but we don't have to stay apart forever."

  Ginny raised an eyebrow.

  This I have to hear.

  "Really?"

  Steve smiled and put his arms around Ginny's neck.

  "Yes. Really."

  "Continue."

  "I've been doing some thinking lately – about us, about school, and about how we can make this work. I've thought about what's important to me now and what might be important later and come to the conclusion that you are more important than three years in Boston."

  Ginny stared at Steve with incredulous eyes.

  "You would give up law school for me?"

  "I didn't say that," Steve said. "What I'm saying is that I would give up Boston for you. I've already checked into the possibilities in Southern California and learned that I may be able to transfer to another school after one semester."

  "So you would transfer to another school for me?"

  Steve nodded.

  "I could be in L.A. as early as January. What do you think?"

  Whatever doubts Ginny might have had about whether she had created a monster were now gone. She had to slay this beast before he wreaked havoc on the population.

  "I think you should stay in Boston. That's what I think."

  Steve's smile disappeared almost instantly.

  "So your reluctance to keep this going has nothing to do with geography?"

  Ginny looked him in the eyes and shook her head.

  "No."

  "Then what's the problem?" Steve asked.

  "The problem, Steve, is that I don't want to pursue a relationship now."

  She gently pulled his arms from her shoulders and let them drop slowly to his side.

  "You mean you don't want to pursue a relationship with me."

  "No. I mean I don't want to pursue a relationship with anyone."

  "So you're not seeing another guy?"

  Ugh. There's that question again.

  Ginny looked away. Steve was right. He knew how to show a girl a good time. He also knew how to ruin a date in less than a minute.

  Ginny once again weighed the pros and cons of lying through her teeth and decided that deceit was still the best course. If nothing else, it invited fewer headaches.

  "No, Steve, I'm not seeing another guy. I'm not seeing anyone, but if you keep this up I'm going to consider seeing a psychiatrist."

  Ginny looked at Steve and saw that her words had finally broken through his thick skull. She saw resignation, not defiance, and perhaps a trace of humility. She didn't like going negative in any social situation, but she concluded that she didn't have a choice here. She had to send a clear message, one the even a law student could understand.

  "OK. If that's how you want it, then I guess that's the way it will have to be," Steve said. "
I won't trouble you with any more talk about the future. If you ever want to change things, you know where to find me."

  Ginny gazed at him with soft, understanding eyes and nodded.

  "Thanks," Ginny said. She grabbed his hands. "This has been an enjoyable day, Steve, a really enjoyable day. Let's keep it that way."

  CHAPTER 65: GINNY

  Seattle, Washington – Tuesday, August 18, 1964

  Ginny looked at her cards and frowned. She knew there were worse hands than three of a kind, but she also knew that a trio of eights wouldn't cut it against two boys who were luckier than leprechauns and a sister who simply knew how to play.

  "I have nothing," Ginny said.

  "That's not true," Katie said dryly. "You have the love and support of three people who have your best interests at heart."

  Ginny glared at her evil twin. She hated when Katie got the best of her.

  "She's right, Ginny," James said. "Just because you're crummy at poker doesn't mean you have nothing. It just means you're crummy at poker."

  Ginny looked at her puny pile of pennies and then at the quiet member of the quartet, who had amassed a small fortune in two hours.

  "What about you, Mike? Are you going to stick a fork in me too?"

  "No. I like you, Ginny. Sometimes I like you better than Katie," he said. "I'll take your money, but I won't take your dignity."

  When Ginny saw that Mike's quip had drawn a hostile stare from his girlfriend, she grinned. When the same girlfriend stuck out her tongue, she grinned again.

  "You two are killing me," James said as he broke into a laugh. "If I had a twin, I'd turn him into an ally. I wouldn't slice him and dice him like you two are doing."

  "I usually like her," Ginny said. "I'm just having a bad sister day."

  Katie smiled.

  "That's all right," James said. "I get that way sometimes with Theresa and Bernice. When they borrow my records without asking or stay in the bathroom too long, I just want to do something crazy like put spiders in their shoes."

  Ginny laughed to herself. Even a string of lousy hands and a sister who got under her skin couldn't ruin her evening – at least not with James around. He was the cure for a bad mood.