A Message for Julia

Voices came from everywhere around her. Soft, hushed voices. Wobbly, worried voices. Broken, pained voices. As a teacher, Julia had learned to eavesdrop in order to stay a step ahead of her students. Turning that skill off now was impossible. The fear and apprehension were alive and dark here in the room with her.

Sitting on the edge of the hard seat, she tried to hang on to her sanity. It wasn’t easy. She looked around and the anguish she saw in the other faces cut through her. She couldn’t look at them. It hurt too much to see their pain.

What was she doing here? she asked herself. She’d left him, ended their life together. She didn’t owe Linc anything.

With a quick glance around the crowd, Julia felt a trace of guilt. No one knew the truth about their marriage because they hadn’t told anyone. If she hadn’t come, what would they think of her? Of Linc?

If he was dead—

She shuddered. Linc. She repeated his name in her head, praying that somehow that could make him appear before her. For the first time in days, she closed her eyes and pictured his face. Not the face that had been lined with anger and red with rage as he argued with her. Not the face of the man who silently drank his coffee each morning before work and barely spoke to her. Not the face of the man who strode from the house the other night.

She saw the boy she’d had a crush on all through high school. The boy she’d stayed up late with cramming for finals in college. The man whose face shone in completion as he made love to her.

The angry things she’d said that last evening at the house echoed around her. She closed her eyes. She didn’t mean them. She swore she didn’t. Pain clogged her throat and she fought the urge to curl in on herself.

“Ms. Holmes?” a young voice said beside her.

Julia’s eyes flew open and she looked down to see one of her former students, Miranda Olsen, standing beside her on the bleacher below. The girl had to be six now. Her dark auburn curls fell from Hello Kitty ponytail holders on each side of her head. She’d grown up since she’d left Julia’s kindergarten class last year.

“Hello, Miranda.” The teacher in her stepped forward and the scared-to-death wife slunk back into the dark corners of Julia’s mind. “It’s nice to see you. How are you?”

“I’m in first grade now.” She confirmed Julia’s earlier thoughts. “I’m here with Mama. Daddy’s in the mine.”

Julia felt the bile rise in her throat. The idea of this child suddenly being fatherless was too much. Just too much. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you here?” The little girl tilted her head sideways.

“My…my husband…” Children didn’t know a thing about legal separations and divorces. They shouldn’t anyway. “My husband is down in the mine.”

Miranda reached out a pudgy hand and patted Julia’s fists. “It’ll be okay, Ms. Holmes. My daddy will take care of him. He takes care of all of us.”

“Oh, honey,” Julia resisted the urge to pull the girl into her arms and hug her tight, to absorb some of that naive confidence. She was afraid that if she held her, she might not be able ever to let go.

“Miranda?” A woman’s voice came from behind Julia. “Come back up here.”

Julia didn’t have to turn around to picture the woman’s face. She remembered her from parent-teacher conferences.

“But, Mama, it’s Ms. Holmes. She’s really sad. I need to help her.”

Even a six-year-old recognized her pain. Mortified, Julia sat up straighter. “Thank you, Miranda.” She covered the tiny hand with her own. “You have helped me. I feel much better now,” she lied. She couldn’t let the girl take on that responsibility. She knew she’d succeeded when Miranda smiled.

“Okay.” Miranda leaned closer, and as only a child could do, she put her hand against her mouth as if to whisper a secret. “It’s okay to be scared. Daddy said he’s scared sometimes, too.”

The girl’s image swam behind the tears that flooded Julia’s eyes. The silence grew and Julia reached out to give a gentle tug to one of her ponytails and urged her to mind her mother.

Please let him be okay. Let them all be okay.

Miranda climbed back up on the seat beside her mother, and Julia didn’t dare look around at her or at the rest of the crowd. Instead, she stared at the gym floor, thinking of another floor, another high school, another time.

She and Linc had known each other all their lives. At least they’d known of each other. In first grade, the same age Miranda was now, they’d both been in Mrs. Schwartz’s class at Preston Elementary school, just outside Philadelphia. Linc had been a wild hellion at that age. He’d gotten his kicks from hiding things, like frogs and bugs, in the girls’ desks or lunch boxes.

She almost let herself smile at the memory of how many times he’d been sent to the principal’s office. That hadn’t stopped him, of course. He just became more creative. She’d sworn she hated him.

Until high school.

Suddenly he’d seemed different. Taller. Less disruptive. Handsome. She hadn’t understood then what she’d felt for him. Desires, some good, some bad—and some she thought were supposed to be bad—kept up a constant battle within her.

He’d been withdrawn their junior year, and she knew it had to do with his father’s death. Linc had had to face the reality that sometimes people were lost deep in the mines. This was his worst fear.

She might be angry with him, and their marriage might be a mess, but she didn’t wish him harm or…

Please, God. Don’t let him die alone in the dark.

Thursday Afternoon, Two Hours Forty-Five Minutes Underground

“WE GOT WALLS TO BUILD, boys.” Gabe’s words shattered Linc’s thoughts. Everyone except Casey stood.

The crew chief was right, work would keep their hands and anxious minds busy. Besides, building walls was an old miners’ survival strategy. After a cave-in, walls helped stabilize the existing roof supports and, by barricading themselves into a small area, the miners could, they hoped, conserve their body heat and block out any toxic gasses.

“I’ll see if I can get the battices. That end of the work site’s still clear.” Robert left to retrieve the canvas cloth stored near the work site for just this reason.

Gabe nodded. “Ryan, head over to the machines and see if you can find any of those bottles of distilled water.” Ryan turned to leave. “But be careful. Don’t move anything to get them.”

“Yes, sir.” Ryan vanished into the darkness, nothing but a bobbing light to indicate his existence.

“Zach, Mike, when Robert gets back, help him get that canvas up.” He paced off space. “Here to here.”

“Got it,” Mike assured him. Zach nodded.

“I can help.” Linc hated having to remind anyone of his existence. Gabe looked hard at him; Linc knew he wasn’t really a part of this team.

“All I want you to do is keep an eagle eye on that meter. Check everyone’s tanks. Regularly.”

Gabe hadn’t forgotten him, after all. He’d assigned each man the job he could do best. A little of Linc’s anxiety eased as his faith in Gabe rose.

Robert returned, Ryan close on his heels. The three bottles of water were a welcome sight.

“Look what else I found.” Ryan held up a battered lunch pail.

“I told you not to move anything.” It was obvious the pail had been buried under something.

“It wasn’t under anything but a couple of rocks.”

“All right. Let’s get this done.” Already, Gabe’s voice was raspy. The thick air was affecting them all. They had to get the barrier up before they lost all their strength. As it was, the task took more effort than normal.

The space they sectioned off was small and close, but it was the best hope they had of surviving until the rescue teams came for them.

They struggled with the large canvas, stumbling a couple of times because of the difficulty breathing. Twice, Zach left and had to crouch down to catch his breath. Finally, the large sheet in place, they all settled down to regain their strength.