Coal Black Blues (17 page)

Wishing she’d worn gloves, Caroline pulled a warm hat from one of her pockets and thrust it over her hair. Her feet had gone numb from the cold and she shivered despite her coat. The skin on her face burned from the sharp wind and she wondered how long it took to get frostbite or to suffer from hypothermia. She moved in an effort to stay warm and out of the wind. When she did, two elderly ladies made room for her and turned toward her with recognition.

“Look, Sister, it’s the little Reaburn girl, the one who came back to the hills to be with Jim till he passed on. Caroline?”

She knew the voice and the women. “It’s me, Miss Newhouse.”

“Why, child, you recollect me after all. I thought maybe you’d forgotten us.”

The two ladies, as wrinkled and round as a pair of dried apple dolls, smiled at her.

“Of course I didn’t,” Caroline said. “You’re Miss Newhouse and Mrs. Liddle. You lived down the street from us.”

The sisters had and for all she knew, might still live in the small blue house. Neil’s family had lived three doors down and the sisters had lived four down in the opposite direction. Unlike most of the old company houses, theirs had been painted a pretty, pale blue. Miss Newhouse, the elder, had never married, but her sister, Mrs. Liddle had been a miner’s wife. When Caroline had known her, she had been a widow, her husband having died years earlier in the mine.

“That’s right,” Miss Newhouse said. Both women beamed at her. They had seemed old in Caroline’s childhood but they must be ancient now. “You grew up into a nice woman. I’m glad.”

“Thank you. I always loved those Snickerdoodle cookies you used to make.”

Miss Newhouse beamed. “We still do. You should stop by sometime and have coffee with us. We’d have cookies, too.”

“I’d like that,” Caroline said and meant it. “Maybe I can, one of these days.”

The sisters had always been kind, good neighbors to have. She shivered and asked, “Why are you ladies out here? It’s so cold.”

“My son’s down there with your Neil,” Mrs. Liddle replied. “He’s one of the foremen, due to retire next year. So we’re waiting, just like you are.”

Your Neil.
Caroline liked the sound of that, but she realized as hard as it was to wait, it had to be more difficult for Mrs. Liddle, who had already lost her husband to the mine. “Do you think we’ll hear soon?” she asked, to shift to a more positive thought.

“Who knows?” Miss Newhouse said. “All we can do is just wait and pray.”

Caroline accepted the older woman’s outstretched hand and the three of them stood together, hands linked, as the night shadows deepened and temperatures dropped. Around them, she heard the soft murmur of prayers and someone began singing
Amazing Grace
accapella. Like the sisters, like everyone nearby, she raised her voice in song, too, the words of the old hymn offering a tiny bit of comfort in the darkness.

Chapter Nineteen

By eight o’clock, the cold permeated every inch of Caroline’s body and she wondered if it might be possible to freeze to death fully clothed. Despite the chill temperatures, down into the lower twenties, few people had left and more had arrived. With two dozen miners trapped underground, more than a hundred people waited. Will arrived. Caroline had no idea he’d returned until he spoke and she startled, almost stumbling. Will caught her arm and steadied her.

“Whoa, girl,” he said. “It’s just me. I brought some stuff, blankets, a thermos with hot coffee, flashlights and some sandwiches from your store. They made up about forty. I don’t think it’s gonna be near enough. Want one?”

If she tried to eat anything, Caroline knew it would stick in her throat. She shook her head. “No, not right now, thanks. I didn’t know you were coming back.”

Will shot her a narrow look and sighed. “Damned right I was. It just took me longer than I thought to drop Daddy off, get the blankets, and pick up the other things at the store. And I stopped by the house to check on my wife and kids. She’s home now, with the least one. Lot of people gathered at the store, just like here, waiting and praying. I got the coffee, flashlights and sandwiches there. Then I had to walk nearly a mile down the road because I couldn’t get through for the parked cars, emergency vehicle, and media vans. Someone from management is supposed to come and let as many of you into the offices as they can so no one freezes. I don’t know when they’ll get here, though.”

Caroline shivered. “Soon, I hope.”

He put down his load and unfolded a blanket he draped over her shoulders. “Here, wrap up for now. You’re not gonna be any help for Neil if you get sick from the cold, Caroline.”

She nodded, too weary and heartsick to argue with him and she knew he spoke truth. “Give the sisters a blanket. They must be cold, too.”

His voice harshened with distress. “Everyone out here is, Caroline and I can’t give everybody one. I’m not Jesus with the loaves and fishes.”

“I know.”

Will reached for the thermos and poured coffee into the lid. “Drink this, would you? You’re gonna pass out or something.”

Caroline accepted the coffee. She took a sip and sighed with the pure delight of a warm beverage down her cold, parched throat.
I can almost feel it flowing through my veins, bringing heat and energy.
Although it tasted both strong and sweet, she noticed another flavor when she took another drink.

“Did you put moonshine in this?” she asked Will.

He laughed. “No, but it’s whiskey. I thought you could use the boost.”

“I almost never drink.”

“There is a time for everything and you probably need all the help you can get to make it through this ordeal.”

She lifted the thermos cup to her mouth and finished it off. “Cheers, then.”

His words evoked Ecclesiastes and Caroline remembered the words,
time to be born, a time to die….
with a shudder. Instead of comfort, the Scripture brought dread. She handed back the cup and clutched Will’s coat sleeve with a wild fervor.

“It’s not Neil’s time, it’s not. It can’t be.”

The sad expression on Will McCullough’s face cut her heart deep. “I sure hope you’re right, Carrie,” he said, using Neil’s name for her. “I truly do.”

A hard fist formed inside her stomach.
He thinks Neil’s a goner. He’s hoping but he’s preparing for bad news.

But she wasn’t and wouldn’t.

Nor would Caroline admit her hopes weakened with every hour that passed. When she came to the scene, her confidence levels were high. She’d believed they would have the miners out by noon. Then Caroline had held onto the notion they would be found by five or six in the evening. Now dark had fallen and night surrounded her. Hope became harder to hold fast because she knew the longer the time, the less the chances for Neil and the others to emerge unscathed. Will’s courteous kindness masked a deep compassion and Caroline knew he held a darker view of the possible outcomes.

At ten, the local and regional stations did live reports from the Coal Central mine entrance but since facts were few, the live feeds were short. By then, management had opened the office building for the waiting families. Caroline remained outside until Will insisted that she come inside long enough to get warm. Once she had, he handed her a ham and Swiss sandwich.

“Eat it,” he told her. “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. You gotta keep your strength up. If, when, Neil comes out, he’ll need you strong.”

Caroline ate it for that sole reason. She swallowed it without tasting the food and it lay heavy in her stomach. The coffee helped more, but after a while, she wanted to be back outside, that much closer to Neil even if he remained trapped somewhere in the mine. Caroline stayed, for the moment, to keep warm.

Midnight brought a low point in her confidence. Some of those waiting gave up and headed home until morning. A few retreated to their vehicles where they took refuge from the frigid temperatures or caught a little sleep. Others dozed, resting their heads on tables in the office break room. Some sprawled across the floor, but she sat upright, hands folded in her lap. The walls penned her like a prison within and her chest tightened as she struggled to breathe. When she couldn’t bear the overheated room any longer, she jumped to her feet, startling Will who sat beside her, half-asleep.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I have to go outside. It’s too hot and I can’t stand it in here any longer.”

Will shook his head to clear it and stood. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t need a babysitter.”

His lips turned down. “Neil would want me to,” he said.

Caroline recognized his stubborn nature and sighed. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and she needed her strength to endure, not to argue. “Fine, then let’s go.”

A thousand stars sparkled in the clear night sky and a three-quarter moon waxed high above the hills. The sharp change from the warm building to the chill night made her shiver, but Caroline welcomed the fresh, clean air. She inhaled deeply and gazed upward, seeking peace in the heavens. As if he read her mind, Will said, “I will lift mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord that made heaven and earth…”

The old words brought a measure of comfort to her troubled heart. They also evoked memories from childhood, sitting together in a worn wooden pew beside Neil. Sometimes Will and Neil’s brothers sat beside them. Rob had been a toddler, then a grade-school kid who wiggled and blew spit bubbles. She remembered the way the church fell silent when Brother Burton preached the Gospel and how everyone’s voices soared in song in classic hymns.

Caroline stood beside Will and let her heart sing. She tried to let her mind reach out to find Neil, but she found nothing. The seeming emptiness disturbed her and she moved closer to Will, seeking warmth and maybe comfort. “Do you think Neil’s all right?”

Her voice seemed loud in the quiet darkness although she could hear murmurs of conversation from others who waited and a hum from the gathered media vehicles. Caroline caught the sound, but not the words of the emergency workers near the entrance, their voices muted and sober. Somewhere she heard a baby crying and a woman singing an old ballad, the kind her grandmother had once sung to her.

Will faced forward, his features in profile as he answered after a pause. “I hope he is, Carrie. I’m praying that he is, that all of them are, but I don’t know. It’s all in God’s hands. He is or he’s not and there ain’t much any of us can do about it but wait.”

He spoke simple truth and she knew it, but the words wounded her. Caroline turned away so he wouldn’t see the tears tracking down her cheeks. She said nothing more, afraid of what Will might say in return. They waited, together, but in silence.

In the wolf hour, the terrible space between the last of night and the first light of dawn, activity erupted around the mouth of the mine. Urgent voices echoed in the night and paramedics approached the entrance with stretchers and first aid gear. Caroline came to attention, her body stiff with tension, fear a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Something’s happening.”

Beside her, Will stood as straight as a hickory tree. “Yeah, I know.”

“What is it? Do you think they’ve found the miners?”

“Carrie, I don’t know.”

They watched and watched as Caroline’s anxiety grew like wildfire through the forest. At first, her optimism surged, but as time passed, she grew increasingly concerned. Something about the way the rescuers and first responders moved warned her something must be very wrong. Their chatter ceased and they moved with weighted steps, burdened with heads bowed.

“Whatever’s happened, it ain’t good,” Will said in a voice that reminded her of the way the wind sometimes moaned through the trees in the mountains.

Caroline wanted to deny it, but she had made the same conclusion. “We need to find out what’s going on.”

“They’ll tell us when they’re ready.”

An hour passed, then almost two. The first fingers of a distant dawn cast light on the mountaintops, but where they stood, in the valley, it remained black as sin. Although Caroline feared she’d miss any announcement, she went inside for a much needed restroom break. Several people asked her if she knew what had happened, but she shook her head each time, unwilling to give false hope or take it away.

“Any word yet?” Will asked when she joined him.

“No, not yet,” he said. His grim face could have been carved from stone. “I hoped you might have.”

She shook her head.

By the time it became light enough to see, mine officials held a press conference. The media representatives surged forward, but so did many of the waiting families. Caroline pushed her way near the front and still struggled to hear, distracted by the multiple microphones and cameras. As soon as a man who introduced himself as the CEO of the company that owned the mine, her heart shriveled. When he began speaking, her heart skipped several beats, stumbled and threatened to die.

“Rescue units have reached the area where the explosion occurred,” he said in a bland tone, as if that might make the news he delivered more palatable. “At this time, it is believed a methane gas buildup caused the explosion and brought down a significant portion of the roof in one area. Two crews, a total of twenty-four men, were working today. The first crew suffered the force of the blast and I am sorry to inform the public that eleven of these twelve miners are confirmed deceased. The sole survivor is being removed from the mine at this time and will be transported to one of the hospitals in Charleston.”

A cacophony of noise spewed from the crowd, hoarse wordless cries of dismay, more than one wail, and several prayers. The CEO waved his hand and asked for silence.

“Let me finish, please. I’ll read off the names of those who lost their lives in a moment and the name of the survivor. The other crew is unaccounted for at this time. They are trapped behind the debris from the blast. So far, rescuers have not been able to break through to them so we have no information about their condition. But we have every reason to hope they have survived.”

“Read the names,” a man in worn overalls and a miner’s head lamp shouted. “Read them, damn you.”

The CEO yielded his place at the microphone and handed a list scribbled on yellow legal-lined paper to someone else. In a monotone, head down, the other man read out the names with slow and terrible accuracy. Each time, Caroline cringed, afraid the next one would be Neil McCullough, but he wasn’t listed. She knew most of the names though, from her time running the store or from childhood. Her teenage clerk, Jackson Curtis, bent double, weeping when his father’s name was listed among the dead. The survivor turned out to be Mrs. Liddle’s son, Walter.

Numb with fear, sad for the families who lost someone, Caroline glanced around for her old neighbor but she saw neither sister. Jack wept with his brothers and she started toward him but stopped when his mother joined them. She encircled her sons in her arms and cried. Other people moved toward them so Caroline retreated. She stumbled, unsteady on her feet, and Will caught her arm to prevent a fall.

“Thank you.”

He growled something in return. She didn’t make out his words, but she saw the tear trails on his cheeks. Caroline remembered he knew all of them, worked alongside with them, and she hurt for him and for all the families. As she watched, he raised one coal-stained hand to brush away the tears.

“What do we do now?” she asked him, not expecting any answer.

“We wait.”

She lacked the courage to ask him if he thought Neil might be alive.

The answer might not be what she wanted or needed to hear.

So they stood, oblivious to the cold, and waited while rescue workers brought out the bodies, one by one. Each one, encased within a black body bag, silenced the crowd. Most bowed their heads in respect, others wept. Mine management moved through the crowd, alerting the next of kin when present to their loved one’s passage. Caroline choked back tears, heartbroken for the loss of life but she clung to the hope Neil would live.

She had almost forgotten it was Sunday morning and might have never remembered if it hadn’t been for the church groups. A ladies’ Sunday School class arrived first, bringing hot coffee and sweet rolls. They moved through the crowd, offering nourishment for the body and prayers for the soul. Caroline watched as they prayed with the grieving and offered uplifting words to those who, like her, still waited. By nine, two more groups from other churches arrived. After the long hours without sleep and little food, Caroline trembled and her knees threatened to buckle. She accepted a sugar-crusted donut and a bottle of milk. Will drank black coffee and said little.