The Rescuer

“You know, of Maggie’s Diner...Denise’s grandmother, and founder of this place.”

“Do you know everybody in this town?” Alex asked.

“Just about.” He spoke without enthusiasm. “What about you?” he asked. “Vacationing in Sobriety?”

She hesitated, and again he sensed her reluctance. “Actually,” she said at last, “I’m a psychologist. Mr. McIntyre, you’re going to find out sooner or later. The reason I came here was...for you.”

He settled back. “Hmm...I see,” he said gravely. “You’re here for me.” He took another forkful of pancake and a sip of coffee.

Now Alex Robbins seemed impatient.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want from you?”

“No, not really. I figure you’ll tell me soon enough. Besides, right now I’m enjoying my breakfast. I’m also enjoying sitting across the table from a pretty woman. Kind of hate to ruin the moment.”

She glanced at him sharply. “You are trying to pick me up.”

“Is it working?”

They gazed at each other once more. A very subtle, very appealing flush stole over her cheeks.

“Mr. Mclntyre—”

“‘Colin.’”

“Mr. McIntyre, I saw a video of the Bayview rescue. You were quite impressive.”

“What video?” he asked indifferently.

She swirled the tea bag in her cup. “You’re being deliberately obtuse. You must know your rescue of that child made the national news. And so, of course, did you. Not that you were cooperative about giving an interview.”

“Never did care for journalists.” He’d finished his pancakes. Denise promptly appeared and placed a fresh stack in front of him.

“You’re having more?” Alex asked disbelievingly.

“Pancake special is all you can eat,” Denise supplied. “And Colin has a healthy appetite.”

“Thanks, Denise,” Colin said pointedly.

“Oh, you want me to leave.” With a sarcastic little wave, Denise went off to another table.

“Let me guess,” Alex said. “Ex-girlfriend.”

“No. Denise was too smart to ever get involved with me.”

Alex appeared to give this some thought. “Anyway,” she went on in a determined voice, “a colleague of mine recorded you on the news and sent the video to me. She thought you’d be an excellent candidate for a study I’m conducting. I believe she’s right.”

Colin poured more blueberry syrup. “You know,” he said, “someday I’ll have to ask Maggie exactly what’s in this stuff.”

“Mr. Mclntyre—Colin. Ignoring me won’t make me go away.”

“I’m not ignoring you,” he said, his gaze lingering on her. He liked the way the flush deepened in her cheeks.

“Now, here’s the deal,” she muttered. She leaned toward him, her brown eyes serious, intent. “I’m doing an in-depth study of the Type R male. Rescuers—men who risk their lives for others. And after I saw you on that video... well, the rest is simple. When I called your number in California, your boss told me you were visiting out here—and I got on a plane from Chicago as soon as I could.”

Too bad Alex Robbins wasn’t just a pretty girl in a diner. “So you want me to be a kind of guinea pig,” he said.

“That’s a crude way of putting it. I just want to find out what motivates someone like you, what makes you choose a job where you risk your life for others.”

Maybe he was through with the pancakes after all. He took some bills from his wallet and put them on the table. “My treat,” he said.

“I can pay for my own breakfast,” she objected.

He stood. “Nice talking to you, Alex.”

She stared up at him. “Is this your way of telling me I won’t get anything from you but a free breakfast?”

“I don’t think I’d make a very good guinea pig,” he remarked. “Besides, you’re not sure about it yourself. You don’t want to be here. This whole time you’ve been debating whether or not you even want to talk to me. For a shrink, you’re kinda easy to read, Alex Robbins.”

She looked exasperated. “I’m not giving up,” she said.

“Could be fun, you not giving up.”

She looked more annoyed than ever.

“See you around, Alex,” he said, and then he left the diner.

“HERB—YOU HERE?” Colin’s voice echoed along the mine shaft. His flashlight glimmered across the walls of gray rock, where whitish beads of moisture had formed. In another hundred years or so those beads might evolve into small crystals. Another thousand years after that and the crystals might form the beginnings of stalactites and stalagmites. Life moved slowly underground—very slowly.

“Herb,” Colin called again.

“Hold on...no need to shout.” Colin’s grandfather came trucking along the shaft from the opposite direction, his own flashlight sending a wavering beam through the darkness. “What are you doing down here, Colin? I told you when you were a kid—these tunnels aren’t safe. Heard me say anything different since?”

“If they’re not safe, what are you doing here?” Colin inquired reasonably.

Herb shone his flashlight over the walls. “Difference is, I know this place inside out. I know this mine better than anyone.” A quiet pride had come into his voice.

“Yeah, well...I need to talk to you. Can we get out of here?”

Now Herb shone his flashlight in Colin’s eyes. “Still don’t like it down here, eh?” he asked skeptically. “Even after all these years?”

Some things you just didn’t forget. Colin had only been eight the time he’d gotten lost in the mine, but he still remembered: the darkness pressing down on him, the dampness of the sharp rock walls against his frantic fingers, the wavering sound of his own voice echoing back to him. It had taken six hours for his father to find him... six long hours until he was in his dad’s strong arms and felt he could breathe again. That was the most vivid image he’d kept of his father. Knowing that his dad wasn’t afraid. Not of the mine—not of anything. And Perhaps that was when Colin himself had vowed never to be scared of anything again.

“All right, all right,” Herb grumbled now.

He led the way up the slope, and he and Colin emerged onto the side of the mountain. The pungent smell of pine surrounded them. Herb didn’t bother to take off his battered old miner’s hat. It was probably the same one he’d worn as a sixteen-year-old, when he’d first started working underground. But now the mine was played out, abandoned. And Herb was a long way past sixteen. The deep grooves etched into his face reminded Colin of the mine walls, scarred by the years but ever enduring.

Herb looked Colin over. Colin knew that expression. The whole time he’d been growing up he’d had the feeling he was on probation with his grandfather—Herb waiting to see how he turned out before giving the okay. Colin was almost thirty-eight, but he still felt he was waiting for Herb to pass final judgment. It made for a certain restraint between the two of them. Maybe that was why he called the old man “Herb” instead of the more relaxed “Herbie” everyone else had adopted.