Mirror, The (26 page)

Virginia glanced at Katie.

"Do you feel the same way?"

"I do," Katie said. "We haven't even told our friends. Ginny and I have talked about this a dozen times and agree that it's probably best to leave things as they are."

Virginia paused as a waiter brought her a new glass of water and placed a dessert menu on the table. When he left, she resumed the conversation.

"I'm glad to hear that," she said. "I think it
would
be best if the three of us kept a lid on this, at least for the time being."

Virginia grabbed the dessert menu and gave it a once over. When she found what she was looking for, she put the menu on the table and looked at Katie.

"I'm considering chocolate cheesecake for dessert. What do you think?"

"I like your priorities," Katie said.

"Ginny?"

"I think Nana rocks."

Virginia laughed.

"I'll take that as two yeses."

When the waiter returned, Virginia ordered three slices of cheesecake. When he left, she gazed at her great-granddaughters with eyes that were decidedly less animated.

"What's the matter?" Ginny said. "You seem sad all of a sudden."

"I am, Ginny. I am."

"Why?"

"I'm sad because I'm growing attached to both of you and suspect you won't be around much longer."

"Why do you say that?" Ginny asked.

"Call it common sense," Virginia said. "You girls are remarkably composed for people who have been torn from everything you have ever known. That suggests one of two things: that you don't miss your family and friends or you expect to return to them soon. I think we all know the answer."

The twins looked at each other and then lowered their eyes.

"You're very perceptive," Ginny said. "We
are
planning to go home."

"I thought so," Virginia said. "Can you provide a few details about your plans?"

Ginny nodded.

"I'll tell you everything – at least everything I know," Ginny said. She took a deep breath. "Katie and I left the future on our nineteenth birthday: September 11, 2020. We attended that country fair in Maple Valley, walked into an attraction called the House of Mirrors, and walked out in this time. We think one of the mirrors in that house, a big one that hangs alone on a wall, is our ticket back. When the fair returns in September, we expect to walk through that mirror and return to 2020 as if we had never been gone."

"So you've been here since last September?"

"No. We've been here since May 2," Ginny said. "I don't know why we came out on May 2. I just believe that we'll have a chance to go back in September."

"Why are you so confident?" Virginia asked.

"There are two reasons. The first is that time travel seems to work that way. When Dad went through the mine in Montana, he returned to the same time he had left. When Mom went through the restroom in the theater, she did the same."

"What is the second reason?"

Ginny again glanced at Katie before proceeding. It was clear to Virginia that these two acted as a team and had probably done so their entire lives.

"The second reason is that we were told we'd have a chance to go back. Before we entered the House of Mirrors, we went to see a fortune-teller. She told us that we would go on 'a strange, mysterious journey,' an 'adventure like no other,'" Ginny said. "When she realized that the 'adventure' might be something like this, she gave us our money back and pleaded with us to go home. But we didn't listen. We went to the House of Mirrors and ended up here."

"But she
did
say you would have a chance to return."

Ginny nodded.

"She did. She was clear about that. But she was also clear about another thing."

"What's that?" Virginia asked.

"She said we'd have one opportunity to go back – and only one," Ginny said. "If we didn't take that opportunity, then our 'a strange, mysterious journey' would be a one-way trip."

CHAPTER 44: KATIE

Sunday, June 21, 1964

If there was one thing Katie Smith, compulsive cleaner, liked about boring tasks, it's that they freed her mind to think about not-so-boring things – like the handsome young man she could see through the kitchen window. She waved to Mike as he helped his brother-in-law remove a dead tree from Mary Hayes' backyard.

As she scrubbed dinner dishes in a sink full of bubbles, however, she found herself thinking less about the young man and more about whether the dish soap she was using was actually as tough on grease as it was soft on hands. She laughed to herself. Nineteen sixty-four was turning her into June Cleaver.

"Do you need any help with the dishes?" Mary asked. "I'd be happy to jump in."

"I think we can finish them, Mrs. Hayes. You go relax."

Patricia Hayes Anderson, wife, mother, and the second half of the Smith-Anderson dishwashing team, glanced to her left and smiled. Then she peeked over her shoulder at the woman who had raised her, a woman who appeared even more fatigued than usual.

"She's right, Mom. We're OK. Why don't you rest for a while or check on Erin? She's due for a change."

Mary stared at her son's girlfriend and her oldest child and gave each an I-know-when-I'm-not-wanted look. She started to speak but stopped abruptly when a baby began crying in the living room. She smiled sadly at the dishwashers.

"I guess I'm needed elsewhere," Mary said. "You two have a nice talk."

Katie watched Mary as she removed her apron, hung it on a hook, and slowly walked toward the doorway. She turned to face Patsy the second Mary disappeared around a corner.

"How is your mom doing?" Katie asked.

"She's doing as well as can be expected. The chemo has left her pretty weak, but she's tough. My mom's the toughest person I know. If anyone can beat this, she can."

Katie picked up a dirty dish and lowered it into the suds as she revisited an idea that had first come to her on May 22, when she had met the mother of the boy who now meant so much to her. What if she whisked Mary to 2020 and got her the state-of-the-art medical treatment she needed? Would it make a difference? Even if it did, then what? Would she be able to return Mary to the time and people she knew and loved?

The possibilities were endless. Katie knew instinctively that it was wrong to change the fates of others, but she found it increasingly difficult to stand on the sidelines as this courageous woman deteriorated. She wanted to do something. She wanted to do something now, but she knew that even a bold move would have to wait at least several more weeks. She wasn't sure Mary Hayes had that kind of time.

"I agree," Katie said. "I don't know her very well, but I can tell she's a fighter. I admire people who hold up under adversity and – from what I hear – your family has had plenty."

"You obviously know about Mitch," Patsy said.

Katie nodded.

"Mike told me a little about him. So did your mom. That must have been hard on you too."

Patsy smiled weakly at Katie and then turned away to dry a dish.

"I was eight when Mitch died," Patsy said. "I was an eight-year-old heading into the third grade. I didn't understand division and fractions, much less mortality. Mitch's death changed us. It changed all of us. Most of all, it changed Mike."

"Your mom said as much," Katie said. "She said Mike was like a cub without his mother. She said he's been kind of a loner since then."

"That's the understatement of the year."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you can count the number of friends Mike's had in his whole life on two hands. James is his only close friend. When Mitch died, my brother just shut down," Patsy said. "That's why I just love seeing him now. He's a different person around you. He's happy."

"Your mom said that too."

"It's true," Patsy said. "His eyes lit up the other day when I simply mentioned your name. I don't know what you two have going on, but it's something I'd like to bottle and sell."

When Katie heard the words she realized that she had a problem – a big one. She had done far more than break a promise she knew she'd never be able to keep. She had profoundly and probably permanently changed the life of another human being.

Katie smiled sadly at her dishwashing partner and then turned her attention to the suds.

"You don't look all that happy," Patsy continued. "Don't you like my brother?"

"Oh, I like him all right," Katie said. She sighed. "I like him more than any boy I've ever dated. I just don't know how permanent my situation is here."

"Mike told me that."

"He did?"

Patsy nodded. She began to dry another dish but stopped about halfway through and turned to face Katie.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure," Katie said.

"You don't have to treat Mike with kid gloves. I have no doubt whatsoever that he is head-over-heels in love with you. But if you moved back to California tomorrow, he'd get over it. He'd move on and eventually find someone else. That's the way he is. He's a survivor."

"I know. I see that in him."

"If you decide you have to go back home, then go back home. Don't let another family's circumstances keep you from doing what you have to do," Patsy said. She cocked her head and looked at Katie closely. "I'm saying that as someone who wants you to stick around."

"Thanks," Katie said. "I appreciate the advice."

"You're welcome."

Katie grabbed a serving bowl, the last of the dirty dishes, and plopped it in the water, which had changed from a sudsy white to a murky gray in a few minutes. When she finished giving it a proper bath, she handed the bowl to her partner.

"Patsy?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask you a sensitive question?"

Patsy sighed.

"I suppose it depends on the question, but go ahead and ask."

"What's the story with your dad? Your mom and Mike don't talk about him."

Patsy dried the bowl and stacked it on a rack with the other dishes. When she finished drying her hands, she folded the towel and gave Katie her undivided attention.

"The reason they don't talk about him is because his story is not particularly pleasant."

"I'd still like to hear it," Katie said.

"OK. I'll tell you. The fact is that my father had a sad life from his very first day. My grandma died giving birth to him. He grew up with one parent, no siblings, and a lot of guilt."

"I'm sorry. Did your grandpa ever remarry?"

"No. He had several lady friends but none that he dated seriously," Patsy said. "He never recovered from my grandma's death. I think he figured he would never again find someone as special. Grandma was apparently quite a lady."

"What about your dad? He must have had
some
happy moments."

"He did. He found a home in the Navy and had a few good years with Mom. Then he went to war and saw the worst in the Pacific. He wasn't the same when he got back. After Mitch died, he sort of gave up on life. He started drinking and eventually left us when I was fourteen."

"What happened after that?" Katie asked.

"We don't know. We think he lived on the streets for a while, but we don't know for sure. All we know is that the day before my sixteenth birthday, we got a visit from the Seattle police. They had found him lying in an alley. He'd been dead at least three days."

Katie lowered her eyes and brought a hand to her forehead. Suddenly every single complaint she'd ever had seemed smaller than a molecule.

"I'm so sorry, Patsy. I don't even know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything. These things happen. What was particularly sad is that my dad, despite his problems, had a lot to live for. He had his family, of course, but he also had a promising career as a craftsman. He was absolutely amazing with wood."

"Is that what he did for a living?" Katie asked.

"It's what he did when he got out of the Navy. He worked with my grandpa in a shop a few blocks from here. The two produced pieces that fetched hundreds. They even got orders from places like Australia and Japan."

"Did they make furniture?"

"Grandpa did. He had apprenticed under a furniture maker as a boy and made little else but chairs, dressers, and dinner tables for many years," Patsy said. "By the time Dad joined the business, however, competition from the big stores had become too much, so he gradually switched to smaller pieces. He and my father became famous making smaller pieces."

"What do you mean by smaller pieces?"

"I mean end tables, shelves, and racks – things like that. They also made frames. After Dad died, that's all Grandpa did. He made ornate frames for anyone willing to pay top dollar."

"You mean frames for paintings?"

Patsy nodded.

"He did a lot of those, but he also did the other kind."

"I didn't know there was another kind," Katie said.

"There is. In fact, when he died four years ago, he was known mostly for the other."

"What's that?"

"Mirror frames," Patsy said. "Grandpa made some of the finest mirror frames in the world."

CHAPTER 45: GINNY

Wednesday, June 24, 1964

Ginny marked the emotions in minutes. Five minutes after she arrived at a diner with James, she was puzzled. At ten minutes, she was annoyed. At fifteen, she was downright angry.

"Miss, can you take our orders?" Ginny asked forcefully.

"I'll get to you in a second," the waitress snapped as she walked briskly past their table.

The server, a pretty but tired-looking woman on the short side of thirty, carried two plates to another table and returned with a pad in her hand. When she arrived at the table, she directed her eyes at Ginny and only Ginny.

"Sorry for the wait," she said. "It's been kind of busy."

Ginny scanned the long, narrow dining area and saw six diners, eight empty barstools, and eleven unoccupied tables. Four of the diners had arrived after James and Ginny. All six had food in front of them.

"I can see that," Ginny said dryly.

"What can I get you?" the waitress asked.