Mirror, The (36 page)

"I do too," Katie said. "How was your date with James?"

"It was nice."

"Just nice?"

"Oh, all right, it was awesome.
He
was awesome," Ginny said. "We had more fun than I've had in months. I'm kicking myself for ignoring him all summer."

Katie lowered the business section and dropped it to the table.

"It sounds like you like him."

"I do. I like him a lot. It's killing me that I have to leave him behind."

"Did you tell him we were leaving?" Katie asked.

Ginny nodded.

"It was hard."

"Welcome to my world," Katie said matter-of-factly.

Ginny was about to say something when Virginia Jorgenson walked out of the house with two plates in her hands. She watched her closely as Nana carefully stepped around Barbie dolls and accessories Joanie had strewn all over the patio.

"Here you go. I hope you like rye bread. It's all I had," Virginia said.

"I love it," Ginny said.

Katie looked up.

"Me too. Thanks."

"You're welcome," Virginia said.

Nana placed the plates bearing egg-salad sandwiches and pickle slices in front of her not-so-fussy diners. She sat down and picked up the front section of the
Sun
.

"I see you've been going through the paper," Virginia said. "Did you find any errors today?"

"No," Ginny said.

"That's a relief. I hate it when our editors miss something. The woman next door loves to circle errors in the
Sun
and draw my attention to them," Virginia said. "What's so special about the articles you've marked?"

"The X's mark the sites of buried treasure, Nana. Katie and I plan to dig for gold as soon as she becomes more sociable."

Virginia laughed.

"Is she always this bad?"

"Yes," Katie said.

Ginny took a bite out of her sandwich and returned it to her plate.

"I marked the stories so I wouldn't forget to read them later," Ginny said. "I don't like to read depressing news in the morning."

Virginia lifted the front page and gave it a closer inspection.

"I'm the same way. I like to start my day with a laugh and not a frown. These articles
are
depressing," Virginia said. "You were both right when you said there would be an incident in Vietnam. It looks like the president isn't wasting a minute exploiting this Gulf of Tonkin attack."

"Like I said, there's going to be a war," Ginny said. "Just keep Rick out of it."

"That shouldn't be a problem. He's already started contacting colleges for information, even though he still has two more years at Westlake."

"Good," Ginny said.

Virginia returned her attention to the paper and ran a finger across another article. The story bore the headline: BODIES OF 'RIGHTS' WORKERS FOUND.

"I suppose I don't need to ask why this story interests you."

"No. You don't," Ginny said.

"You knew this was coming, didn't you?" Virginia asked. "You knew the outcome."

Ginny nodded.

"I did. I saw a movie about it a few years ago. I was tempted to write an anonymous letter to the FBI and tell them to start looking by the dam, but I didn't. I knew they would find the bodies eventually, and I knew it didn't matter. Those boys were already dead."

"How is your friend James dealing with the news?"

"I don't know," Ginny said. "I haven't talked to him since the story broke. I'll probably find out tonight. We both work the four-to-nine shift."

Virginia glanced at Katie, who still appeared lost in the business section and her thoughts, and then at the newspaper. She stared at the front page for a moment before shifting her eyes to the twin at her left.

"I see you also marked the article about Mel Carter."

Ginny nodded.

"That's the one I want to keep," Ginny said. "I know that Mr. Carter was a good friend of my mom and dad's. I'm sure they will want to see his obituary."

Virginia smiled sadly.

"I'm sure they will. Mel Carter was quite a man. He employed your father nearly the entire time he was in 1941 and all but paid for your mother's college education with a scholarship," Virginia said. She looked away. "He was also, of course, my father-in-law-to-be at one point."

"Did you keep in touch with him?" Katie asked.

Ginny looked across the table at the girl in the white blouse and blue skirt. Leave it to an obituary to bring Miss Self Pity back into the conversation.

"I did for a while," Virginia said. "I'd stop at the furniture store and say hello whenever I was in the neighborhood. I also sent the Carters Christmas cards for many years. There came a point, however, when I stopped doing even that."

"Why?" Katie asked.

Virginia sighed.

"I stopped sending the Carters Christmas cards because the Carters stopped sending them to me. I suspected that even after fifteen years I was a painful reminder of what they had lost."

"Are you planning to go to the funeral?" Ginny asked. "I see it's on Saturday."

"I might, dear. I might."

"What would hold you back?"

"Ghosts," Virginia said. "Seeing the family again would no doubt awaken painful memories of my own. I know I should go, but I want to think about it before making a decision."

"Oh," Ginny said.

"There's another reason as well."

"What's that?" Ginny asked.

"I hate funerals. I hate everything about them. I know they can be meaningful and beautiful, but I still don't like them. They remind me of the fact we are all mortal and have a limited time on this earth."

Ginny nodded. She couldn't argue with that.

"I suppose you know how and when I'll die," Virginia said.

Ginny felt her stomach drop. She didn't have the slightest idea of how to respond, though she knew that "lung cancer" and "1995" would not be part of her reply. She looked to Katie for guidance and saw from her sister's puzzled and frightened face that she too had been taken aback by Nana's comment.

"I do," Ginny said.

Virginia smiled and put a hand on Ginny's forearm.

"I won't press for details, dear," she said. "One of the joys of life is
not
knowing what the next day will bring. If I die tomorrow, I will at least have had the pleasure of knowing my great-granddaughters. That's a treat I wouldn't trade for anything in the world."

CHAPTER 62: KATIE

Saturday, August 8, 1964

"I forgot the candles," Mike said as he looked at the cake on the table.

"That's all right, honey. I don't need candles."

"Yes, you do, Mom. Everyone needs candles on their birthday cake."

"Well, I don't. If it's that important, we'll do candles tomorrow when Patsy's here."

Katie looked at Mike with amusement.

"Honor your mother, Mike. It's a commandment."

"Yeah, well, the Bible also says don't forget the birthday candles – or at least it should," Mike said. He kissed his mom on the head and grabbed his windbreaker. "I'm going to James' house. The Greens have everything. I'll be right back."

"Take your time," Mary said. "There's no need to hurry."

Katie waved to Mike as he rushed out of the dining room and out of the house. When she heard the front door shut, she glanced at Mary.

"Has he been that way all day?"

"He's been that way all year. I think he's known all along that this would be my last birthday. Putting candles on my cake is his way of making things right," Mary said. "Michael is kind of funny that way. He's always revered tradition and protocol."

Katie smiled sadly.

So have I.

"How is he doing?" Katie asked.

"He's doing all right," Mary said. "I think he'll handle things better than I did. When I lost my parents, I was a junior in high school. I had no time to prepare and no opportunity to say goodbye. For almost a year, I could do little more than muddle through each day. Mike is more fortunate. He has a sibling who will look after him. He has a job. He has you."

Katie sighed and turned away. It was clear that Mike had not told Mary about her plans. He had undoubtedly wanted to comfort his mother by keeping alive the fiction that he had a future with the girl from Thousand Oaks.

She considered telling Mary the truth but decided against it. She knew that the forty-four-year-old woman in front of her, a woman the same age as Virginia Jorgenson and Grace Smith, might not even survive the summer. Why add to her misery?

Katie smiled softly and put her hand on Mary's.

"I guess he does," she said.

Katie looked at Mary admiringly and then curiously when she saw a grin form on her face. For a woman knocking on death's door, Mary Hayes looked awfully happy.

"How come you're grinning?"

"I'm grinning because I see a change in you."

"You see a change?" Katie asked.

"I do. Something about you is clearly different."

Katie fidgeted in her chair.

"It's probably my hair. I curled it yesterday."

Mary chuckled.

"It could be, but I suspect it's something else."

"Really?"

Mary nodded.

"You don't need to tell me. I think I know," Mary said. She smiled sadly. "It's been a long time since I've seen that kind of glow on a young woman's face. It's been even longer since I've seen it in a mirror."

Katie didn't know whether to contest the thinly veiled allegation or give Mary a hug. She was as moved by her perceptiveness as she was by her candor. In a few words, Mary had described a life full of love, pain, beauty, and lost innocence.

When Katie glanced across the table, she saw not a sickly widow but rather a robust bride full of optimism and hope. She wondered what it was like for Mary on her wedding night.

Was her experience anything like the blissful hours she had spent with Mike on Saturday night? She didn't know and certainly wasn't going to ask, but she suspected it was. Even the most difficult of relationships usually had a pleasant starting point.

"I don't know what to say," Katie said.

Mary smiled warmly.

"You don't have to say a thing."

"I'm blushing, aren't I?"

"You're blushing."

Both women laughed.

"I guess I don't have a poker face," Katie said.

"You're right. You don't," Mary said. She looked at Katie adoringly. "You do, however, have a beautiful face – one I hope my son can enjoy the rest of his life."

Katie winced as the light moment suddenly turned heavy. She knew now that Mary would not relent until she was sure she had secured her son's happiness. She would use whatever weapon she had, including guilt, to win her last battle in life.

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.