His voice whispered in her head

Julia repeated his name, praying that somehow that could make Linc materialize there before her. For the first time in weeks 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’d stridden from the house the other night.

She saw the boy she’d fallen in love with back in 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.

Dear Reader,

Whenever a catastrophe strikes, the media are quick to descend, and we often see events as they happen. During the Sago Mine disaster in 2006, one picture of a woman crumbling into tears touched my heart. I wanted to put my arms around her and comfort her. She stayed with me over the next few days and I wondered about her, about her story.

She developed into Julia. I could see that Julia cared deeply—it was etched into the pain on her face in that picture. Linc soon appeared, and I knew their story was powerful. From there the words and images came—of a tough breed of people who go to work each day and risk their lives. And while I can’t understand how they can bear to let their loved ones go, I know many families do just that each and every day. Julia and Linc travel a rough road and have to—literally—try to move a mountain in healing their love. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I have appreciated writing it.

I love to hear from readers. Please feel free to contact me at angelsmits@q.com or at P.O. Box 63202, Colorado Springs, CO 80962-3202. Follow me on Facebook or Twitter, as well.

Happy reading!

Angel Smits

A Message for Julia
Angel Smits

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Angel Smits’s background as a geriatric social worker has given her a glimpse into many varied lives and generations. She often finds her characters and stories in the people she’s met. A people watcher, she is frequently at the mall or nearby bookstore simply observing all the craziness—especially during Christmas, where there’s so much to see. Angel has received Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart Award and has previously published two paranormal romances and several nonfiction articles. A Message for Julia is her first book for Harlequin Superromance. Angel lives in Colorado with her husband and soon-to-be-moving-out son and daughter. The cat and dog plan to stay.

For all the men who go to work each day and face the danger, and the women who kiss them goodbye and let them go.

Pat, you would have loved this one.

The mimosas are on me.

And Ron. Simply—thank you!

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

Thursday Afternoon, 3:00 p.m.

NORMALLY THE SMELL OF CHALK dust comforted Julia Holmes, but not today. Maybe never again.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the blackboard and finished erasing the scrawled lessons, wishing she could erase the day’s events just as easily.

The letter of reprimand from the school board lay on her desk, as disturbing to her peace of mind as the empty seat in the second row.

She’d only been trying to help.

Ryan Sinclair, one of her students, had dropped out of school last week to take a job at the mine. She’d tried to talk some sense into him. He was bright and talented with too much potential to be stuck working in a coal mine the rest of his life. The school board hadn’t appreciated her “meddling” as they called it, and the letter on her desk told her so quite clearly.

Her presence was requested at tomorrow night’s school-board meeting. She swallowed the lump of apprehension that threatened to choke her.

A cough in the doorway pulled her out of her thoughts. Julia turned to see Missy Watson standing there. The girl had been quiet in class today, and Julia was surprised to see tears in her eyes now. “Missy? Are you okay?” She stepped around to the front of the desk.

A sob ripped from Missy’s throat. Dropping the eraser, Julia hurried to her. Tears cut pale tracks in her too-heavy makeup.

“What’s the matter?” Julia spoke softly, carefully, laying a hand on her student’s arm.

“It’s…it’s all my fault.”

“What’s your fault?”

“The whole mess you’re in. With Ryan.”

Understanding dawned. Julia gently squeezed the arm she held. “It’s okay, Missy.” Obviously talk had gotten around about the reprimand she’d received. Or, at the very least, the tongue-lashing the principal had given her. She’d known last week that news of Ryan’s father’s blowup had been all over the school.

All because she’d cared.

“No, it’s not.” Missy dissolved into tears again. “I didn’t really want him to leave. But…but…”

Julia’s heart ached for the girl. She remembered all too clearly being seventeen and feeling as if the world rested on your every decision.

Despite the warnings against touching students, Julia slipped her arms around Missy’s slim shoulders.

“I teased him.” Missy’s voice wobbled. “He asked me to the prom and I said no.” The last word was more a wail than anything.

“Oh, I’m sure he recovered from that.” Teenagers and dating. It was a minefield, and while Julia wanted to help Missy, she knew better than to venture in too far. Besides, she wasn’t exactly qualified to give advice about love. She hastily put thoughts of her own marriage out of her mind.

“No. I…I told him I didn’t want to date boys. I wanted to go out with a man. But that’s not true. I really like him.”

“Oh, dear.” Julia could imagine the slap in the face those words had been.

“It’s not your fault he left school. It’s mine.” She sobbed into Julia’s collar. “And now you’re in trouble and might lose your job.”

Missy’s guilt seemed all too powerful right then. Julia knew she needed to ease the girl’s tears, though she hoped Missy had learned something from this. Maybe she’d think twice before spouting off hurtful remarks in the future. “I’m not going to lose my job.” Julia wasn’t sure who needed to believe it more, her or Missy.

“You’re not?” Missy pulled back and looked up. “Oh, thank goodness. You’re the best teacher. I’m doing lousy in all my other classes.”

She wasn’t doing that well in this one, either, but Julia left that unsaid. Missy hastily wiped her face. Smudges of black mascara ringed her damp blue eyes.

“To be honest, Missy, I’d do it again.” And she would. “Sometimes you have to fight for the things you care about.”

Missy seemed to consider that. “So, you think I should fight for Ryan?”

“Well…” Julia wasn’t getting sucked in again. She’d already done enough damage by trying to give a kid advice. “That’s up to you. Just think about it.”

“I will. Thanks, Mrs. Holmes. You’re the best.”

Before Julia could say anything more, Missy headed to the door and probably straight to the restroom to fix her makeup. Ah, the resilience of youth.

Julia returned to her desk and sank into her chair, wishing she were as resilient as Missy. She stared at the letter, not really seeing it, not needing to read the words. Despite what she’d told Missy, she could lose her job.

She looked out the window of her classroom. From the third floor, she could see most of Parilton, Pennsylvania, with its clapboard houses and tree-lined streets. The dark silhouette of the Winding Trail Mine sat at the edge of town, mother hen and vulture all in one. Just as it overshadowed the town, it touched every life in Parilton, including hers.

Her husband, Linc, was working up there today, as he’d been, on and off, for several weeks. New equipment going in meant inspection after inspection, all his responsibility. It was another in a long list of things that kept him away from home.

She’d hardly seen him in weeks, it seemed. She missed him, and that knowledge bothered her more than she wanted it to. What was worse was the realization that she had to talk to Linc about the letter. About the whole mess.

She’d finally have to tell him about the job change she’d made last month. She’d meant to tell him about it earlier but had never quite found the right moment. She knew she should have tried harder—waited up when he came in late, woken him before she left in the morning, or found a way to meet for lunch.

But she hadn’t quite figured out what to say, or how to explain it to him. She didn’t even understand it herself. And since they barely spoke these days anyway, keeping silent was just easier.

Until today, she’d thought it was the right decision.

Friday Morning, 5:30 a.m.

THE ALARM CLATTERED at oh-dark-thirty. Julia rolled over and smacked the off button, hoping she’d permanently disabled the thing. She opened one eyelid then slammed it shut again

She did not want to face today.

Linc’s even breathing broke the quiet of the room, and she turned to look at him in the dim morning light. She’d tried to stay awake last night to talk to him, but the long hours and stress had taken their toll. Either she had become so used to Linc coming in late, or he was getting better at being quiet.

Maybe she’d wait until tomorrow, when they were both home and not working, to tell him. After she knew the results of tonight’s meeting. No, that would only make matters worse.

“Hey,” she said softly and waited. No answer. She said it again, louder.

“You say something?” he mumbled.

“Yeah. Are you awake?” She waited for him to wake enough to understand what she was saying. He didn’t stir and she knew she’d lost the battle. Rather than try again, Julia climbed out of bed, throwing the covers aside and silently hoping the cool air would startle him awake.

For a long moment, Julia stared down at the mussed bed and grieved the loss of the days when she’d wake him early for an entirely different purpose. With a sigh, she abandoned those thoughts and headed downstairs to make breakfast. She needed something to do to keep her mind and hands busy.

She threw on her robe, letting it hang open, the belt trailing behind. What was the point of looking presentable when she was alone with no one to appreciate her? She shook her head; she needed coffee to chase away the pity party in her mind.

Bitter caffeine, tempered by sugar and cream, caressed her tongue. She stood at the kitchen window and gazed over the rim of her coffee cup at the house across the street. The neighbors were a young couple. All their windows were still dark. Were they asleep? Or had morning come for them as well and their bed was still cozy and inviting? She closed her eyes…wishing.

Wishing for what?

For those early days of her marriage before every moment was a struggle? The days before they’d started talking about a family?

She heard the footstep an instant before warm, strong arms stole around her waist.

“You were saying something?” Linc’s voice was thick with sleep, but she sighed in relief. He’d heard her. On some level he’d been listening.

“Yeah.”

He waited. She took a deep breath.

“I…I quit my job at the elementary school,” she finally whispered.

Linc went absolutely still against her. Julia wasn’t even sure she felt him breathing.

“What? Why?” He came around to face her. She missed the warmth he’d provided. She looked up at him. He frowned and leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his bare chest. She couldn’t help but drink in the view of the lightly tanned plains and valleys sprinkled with dark hair. The jeans he’d hastily thrown on hung low on his hips.

But the warmth that had been in his body didn’t show on his face. She shivered and looked down at her coffee. “I can’t do it anymore.”

“Can’t do what? Teach?”

“No. Not teach. I have another job. I can’t be around the little ones.” Her voice broke on the last words.

“Another job? Where?”

Now she knew she had to look at him. “I’ve been teaching at the high school for the past month. I’m subbing for an English teacher who’s out on maternity leave.”

His frown deepened and a flush swept up his face. “A month?” He moved away from the counter and paced away from her. “When were you going to tell me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t intend not to tell you. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. You’re so busy—”

“That’s no excuse.”

“I know that.”

The stiff way he held himself told her she’d hit a nerve. They’d never kept secrets before—before last fall when the whole world had fallen apart.

“There’s more,” Julia said softly, staring out the window instead of at Linc’s bare chest. She wished he owned a robe. Maybe she’d get him one for Christmas. Why was she thinking about that now? She knew she was avoiding this, avoiding talking to him. She didn’t want to discuss the hurt that had never gone away.

“Oh, this should be good.”

His sarcasm irritated her. He’d been sarcastic a lot lately. “Stop it.” She stepped farther away from him. “I don’t want to argue again. I know I should have told you sooner and I’m sorry about that, but what’s done is done,” she said, throwing his favorite phrase back at him. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll have this job.” Her voice broke, but she refused to give in to her emotions. Not now.

“What does that mean?” At least the sarcasm was gone.

She swallowed hard. “Yesterday I…I received a letter of reprimand from the school board. They…they are reviewing my contract at tonight’s meeting.” This time there was no hiding the hurt in her voice. She didn’t want his pity. She just wanted him to listen for a change.

“Why?” He drew the word out.

“I tried to convince one of the boys not to quit school to work in the mine. He was only a few months away from graduating.” Her voice was soft. “His father went to the school board—but not before reaming me out, of course.”

“Oh, great. Are you crazy? That mine is the lifeblood of this town. Every person here depends on it.” Linc ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the coffeemaker. He poured himself a cup and took his time taking that first sip.

“I know that.”

He closed his eyes as if to savor his coffee, or to ignore her. “So you’re trying to go up against the mine management. It was Ryan Sinclair, wasn’t it?”

“You heard about it?”

“Half the town heard Jack Sinclair running off at the mouth. I didn’t know he was talking about you. Ryan’s working up at the mine now. I gather your little talk didn’t convince him.”

“No.” She winced. She’d always found it hard to admit her failures.

The kitchen fell silent, heavy with unsaid words as they both nursed cooling cups of coffee.

WHO WAS THIS WOMAN standing in his kitchen? Linc couldn’t help but stare at Julia.

She’d been edgy lately and he’d known something was wrong. But he’d learned years ago not to push her. Right now she looked a mess—a just-waking-up-in-the-morning mess—but still a mess. Her hair was mussed and her robe hung open to show the shorts and T-shirt she’d slept in. He let his gaze linger on her curves…wishing…

When the hell had they grown so far apart that he couldn’t even touch his wife when he wanted to?

Like now.

“You could—” She stepped toward him. “Could you put something about how it’s not safe for kids to work in the mines in your report?”

He stared at her, incredulous. “No.”

“Why not?”

His anger surprised him. She’d always had her causes and another thing he’d learned was to take cover when she started talking about one of them. Why couldn’t they have a conversation anymore without one of them getting angry? He forced himself to focus, to tamp down his reaction. “For one, I’m not willing to risk my career for someone else’s problem. And this isn’t your business. One of us has to keep working and feed us.”

“And two?” she bit out.

“I don’t agree with you. Ryan is old enough to make his own decisions.

“He’s only seventeen.”

“When I was seventeen, I was on my own. At least he has parents to turn to, which he did.”

“They don’t understand—”

“No, Julia. You don’t understand. Ever since…since…last fall…” His voice wavered, but he quickly caught himself. “You want to fix everyone else’s life. Take care of every lost soul that crosses your path.” He stepped closer to her, lowering his voice, hoping to ease the tension between them. “Maybe you should focus on your own problems and your own life for a change.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Whoever told you life was fair? It sure as hell wasn’t me.”

He closed his eyes for an instant trying to clear his mind. His life had never been even close to fair. But what bothered him most was the fact she’d kept all of this—her new job and this crisis—a secret from him. They’d never had secrets.

When he’d first heard Jack, he realized now, some part of his brain had thought it sounded like Julia. But he’d dismissed it because he’d thought she was still teaching at the elementary school. Now he wasn’t as shocked as he should be. “Julia, don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” She actually sounded surprised.

“This. It’s not your battle.”

“I disagree.” She stomped across the kitchen and stared out the back window.

The distance between them was too great. He had to find a way across it. “Tell me why you left the elementary school.” He did not want to start this conversation, but it now seemed inevitable.

“I couldn’t do it. Because…it…it just wasn’t for me.” She fidgeted with the belt of her robe.

Linc hated seeing the forlorn look on her face. He ached to pick her up, carry her away and fix it all. He also knew she’d resist that and probably deck him in the process. “I can be there tonight.”

She looked up, and he thought she was going to smile. He held his breath, waiting. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d truly smiled.

“But I’m not promising anything else.” He couldn’t do more than that.

She nodded and turned away again.

Linc went back upstairs, back to bed for a couple hours. He wished she’d join him, but he knew better. She’d have to call in sick to work and she took her commitments seriously—too seriously sometimes.

The sheets were too damned cold.

CHAPTER TWO

Friday Evening, 7:00 p.m.

THE CAFETERIA WAS FULL, but not so full that it was intimidating. Julia looked around. She knew most of these people, some by name but more by face.

The six-member school board sat up front at a couple of the lunch tables that had been turned sideways. The twenty or so other people sat at tables where her students usually hung out laughing and eating lunch. It was a small town. A relatively small school. Nothing fancy.

A few more people filed in and Julia leaned forward. Where was he? Her heart sank. She didn’t want to think that Linc had broken his promise, but he did have a habit of getting caught up in work at times and forgetting things—like dinner.

The board had reviewed the budget, rehashed the booth at the county fair and had just started to go over the upcoming end-of-year graduation activities when the door creaked open.

Julia fought her smile. She’d always prided herself on being independent. She didn’t want people to think she was one of those women who couldn’t survive without a man. But knowing that Linc had come to support her made something inside her shift, something warm. Maybe she wouldn’t have to do this alone anymore. He wound his way into the room and took the seat beside her.

After another ten minutes, the meeting seemed to be winding down. Julia fought not to get her hopes up. Maybe they’d forget about her contract.

“One final item,” a woman at the end of the table said. Julia craned her neck to see. She recognized her. She knew Shirley Wise from various events as well as from when she’d interviewed for the job at the high school.

“Is Julia Holmes here?” Shirley looked directly at her.

“I’m here.” Julia remained seated and Linc nudged her with his elbow.

“Stand up,” he muttered.

Julia frowned at him, but stood rather than have anyone around them hear her argue.

“We’ve reviewed your contract and the letter of reprimand.” Shirley looked over her half glasses at Julia. “Both will stand, barring any further incidents. Thank you, everyone—”

That was it? She wasn’t going to get the chance to speak? People around her looked confused and disapproving. Many probably already knew what had happened, others were totally clueless and were thinking the worst of her. Julia wanted to have her chance to defend herself and her actions.

“Julia, shhh,” Linc said softly. He knew her too well, but he should also know she wasn’t going to back down.

“I’d like to have my say.”

“It won’t make a difference.”

Shocked, she turned to stare down at him. What did he mean it wouldn’t make a difference? To him? To the school board? To her?

Before she could recover and respond to Shirley, the crowd stood and the board members were heading to the door. Her heart sank and her anger rose. She glared at Linc, knowing disappointment fueled her ire.

She was a good teacher, she knew that. She’d worked so hard for and at this job. She loved her students. She stared at Linc. He didn’t meet her gaze. He was chatting with the woman beside him, making casual conversation about the weather. Totally unaware that his actions were what hurt the most.

Suddenly, she realized he no longer believed in her.

LINC KNEW HE WAS in serious trouble, knew from a lifetime of experience and seven years of living with Julia that he was in deep. What he didn’t know was how to fix it. The helplessness he felt had become familiar over the past several months. He knew he should face it head-on, but instead, he let the woman beside him go on and on about the dry spell they were having. He couldn’t have cared less about the weather.

The crowd thinned, and he waited for Julia to head to the door. He turned to look at her and immediately regretted the impulse. She was ticked, all right.

But even worse was the pain he saw lurking behind the anger in her eyes. His heart sank. Maybe there was no fixing any of this.

They drove home separately. He followed her SUV in his truck. Her taillights burned red as they drove through town where few streetlights had come on. In the distance, the glow of the mine created a halo on the horizon. His mind wandered to the work he had to get done up there tomorrow.

He suddenly felt very tired.

Linc pulled in beside her in the garage. Even before he’d opened his door, she was out of her car and the force of her door slamming shook the entire vehicle. She stomped up the two steps to the house and slammed that door, too.

Linc just sat there staring at the closed door. He briefly wondered if she’d locked him out. He cursed. He did not want to go into that house. If he did, what would he say? What would she say?

He knew it would take a while for her to cool down. Maybe he should just spend the night here in the truck. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Long moments passed. Long silent moments. Slowly, the door opened. Julia stood there in the opening, the kitchen light haloing her just as the mine’s lights had haloed the skyline earlier.

He couldn’t see her features clearly in the shadow, but her arms were crossed over her chest. She stood facing him, probably glaring at him, for a minute, then she spun on her heel. At least she didn’t slam the door this time but he knew he was no more welcome now than he had been before.

Well, hell, he cursed silently. He’d spent the past seven months walking on eggshells around her, being cautious of her feelings, trying to fix everything. Why did he always have to be the good guy?

He shoved the truck door open, smacking it into the side of her car, not caring if he left a ding, not caring about anything all of a sudden. He walked slowly into the house, closing the door and deliberately locking it up for the night as he always did.

Finally, he faced his wife. She stood by the window, staring out at the backyard. He walked over to the fridge and opened it, the light harsh in the growing shadows, and grabbed a beer. The sizzle-pop as he broke the seal was loud. His swallow seemed loud in his head, but probably wasn’t. The drink sat heavy in his gut.

“Go ahead, get it over with.” He sighed and took another painful gulp. Her silence tore through the night and through him.

JULIA WANTED TO HIT HIM. Where that reaction came from she didn’t know, but suddenly she realized how far apart they’d grown. How distant they were. For the first time in all the years they’d been married, she doubted they’d be together forever. All these painful months, she’d thought they’d find their way back to each other. But she couldn’t do this anymore, and apparently neither could he.

Linc walked over to the trash and tossed the empty beer bottle inside. He headed for the doorway, but stopped when he reached it. His back was to her, and the way he braced his shoulders told her he was far from done.

She was right. He didn’t turn around but the voice that came from his throat was nothing like she’d ever heard before. It tore at her heart. “Maybe God was being kind when he took the baby away.” He took a few more steps. “Maybe we weren’t ever supposed to be a family.”

He went into the living room and she stood there, as frozen as if he’d slapped her. Linc had hurt her before, but this was worse than anything she’d experienced. Not only because he’d set out to hurt her. But because he had wounded himself in the same instant he’d lashed out at her.

He was halfway to the front door before she was able to speak. “Why did you even bother coming tonight?” She followed him. “Shushing me isn’t being exactly supportive.”

“Support? Is that all you want from me? Just my support?” He said the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “I went to make sure you didn’t screw up and get fired. And you would have if you’d opened your mouth.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Don’t I? Don’t you?”

Anger and pain crashed through her. “Damn you, Linc. I…I hate you.” The words burst out, driven by the frustration that had built over the past seven months.

He turned back to face her, his hand curling around the doorknob. “That makes two of us.”

He didn’t say any more, but the spark of fury that flashed in his eyes hurt. Something drove her to want to hurt him back. “I’m leaving. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” He let go of the knob, all six-feet-two inches of him moving to within touching distance. “Keep working at our marriage?”

Julia almost reached out to him, but couldn’t seem to remember how. For months they’d been so distant, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable with him. An ache grew inside and she just wanted it all to go away.

“I’d say you quit working at it a long time ago.” Linc glared at her. “You didn’t even tell me you’d left your job a month ago!”

“I intended to tell you.”

“Yeah, right.” He moved away again.

“Oh, and you’re any better?” She stomped toward him. “You won’t even discuss going to see a fertility specialist. I want a family, Linc.”

“And I’d be happy just to have a wife at this point.” His breath came in deep gulps. The air in the room crackled with anger. With frustration. With wanting something—anything else.

The hardness in his eyes wasn’t something Julia had ever seen before. He was silent so long that she turned back to the kitchen.

His voice came out so softly, she’d have missed it if she’d gone any farther. “You’ve already left me,” he whispered.

She heard the door open and spun around to watch him disappear into the shadows of the front porch.

His words sounded final. Permanent. Wrong.

But wasn’t that what she wanted, what she needed to get herself and her life back on track? Lifting her chin, Julia stared after him, then turned on her heel and hurried to the bedroom.

She yanked an overnight bag from the closet and shoved a change of clothes, toiletries and little else into it. “Damn you, Linc,” she muttered.

Why didn’t he come back into the house? Was he just going to let her go? She didn’t hear the roar of his truck’s engine, so she knew he was still here.

Fine, if that’s how he wanted it, she’d leave.

She grabbed her purse and her car keys and ran, as best she could with the suitcase in her hand, back to the garage. Her car still pinged, cooling from her trip home. The dome light washed out the open door, almost welcoming. The starter ground painfully and her tires squealed on the pavement.

She tried not to look back. She simply glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a final, fleeting look at the tiny house she loved so much. She tore her gaze away. All her dreams lay back there, shattered and lost.

A sob broke loose from her throat, and Julia let it settle in the night air. Where was she going? What was she supposed to do now? There wasn’t a single person in this godforsaken town she could turn to.

She drove to the edge of town, out near the interstate where a few hotels sat scattered along the worn highway. The Holiday Inn was the first one she reached, and she checked in.

Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

Sunday Afternoon, 5:30 p.m.

LINC DOUBTED THERE had ever been a game of chess played anywhere near the Chess Club. But the picture of a Black Queen chess piece looked cool on the old tavern sign. He stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness.

Miners came here after every shift. Since moving here, he’d gotten into the habit of stopping in once or twice a week to meet up with some of the guys. He’d started doing it to try to build relationships. Now, he just needed company.

Art and Luther, old men who’d put in their time at the mines and now enjoyed retirement, sat in their usual seats at the end of the bar. Grant, the owner, stood behind the bar, perpetually polishing glasses. It all felt so normal.

Linc was the one out of kilter. He claimed a barstool and ordered a beer. He’d downed half of it before a hand clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, buddy. Where the hell you been?” Mark Thompson, a miner he’d become friends with since he’d started coming here, smiled at him. He and Mark had developed a friendship of sorts, based mainly on their love of football and failure at darts. Mark climbed up on the barstool beside him and ordered a repeat of Linc’s drink.

“Been busy.” Linc had thought he wanted someone to talk to, anything but the silence of the house without Julia, but now he realized that talking was one thing he didn’t want to do.

“Yeah, I heard about what happened at the meeting. Bet your wife is ticked.”

That was putting it mildly. “Yeah.” He took another deep swallow of his beer.

“She’ll get over it. You up for a game?” Mark tilted his head toward the dartboard. Linc just shook his head.

“Too bad. I was in the mood to kick your butt.” Mark drank his own beer with a smile.

They sat in silence for a long while. Linc had just finished his beer when the door opened. His gaze met Mark’s in the mirror. Darlene sauntered in. Mark’s eyes lit up while Linc groaned. He wasn’t up for her and her shenanigans. She knew Mark had a thing for her, and every time Linc came in she played this stupid game of coming on to him. All to make Mark jealous.

“Hey, guys.” She took the stool on the opposite side of Linc. He didn’t even look at her, but watched Mark eyeballing her in the mirror. He should just get up and leave, but going back to the empty house didn’t appeal to him at all.

“Hey, Grant, give me another one.”

“I heard some news.” Darlene leaned over to Linc, staring straight into his eyes. “I hear your wife tore out of your driveway the other night and hasn’t been back since.” She gently rested her hand on his forearm as though to comfort him, but Linc felt she wanted more.

He swallowed hard, but didn’t look at her. He did not need this. Grant set the beer in front of him and he resisted the urge to drain the glass. “Who’ve you been talking to?”

“Oh, people around.” She grinned, as if she knew she held a morsel of truth.

“That true?” Mark sounded upset by the news. Linc didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t told him, or because now he saw Linc as a real threat to his chances with Darlene.

“We just had a fight,” Linc said through clenched teeth. “We’ll be fine.” He wondered if they knew he was lying.

“That’s not what people are saying.” Darlene smiled too brightly. She leaned against him now, her breast brushing against his arm so slightly it could almost have been an accident. He swallowed hard and mentally cursed. This wasn’t happening. He took another swig of his beer and nonchalantly scooted away from her.

Mark leaned forward, trying to get Darlene’s attention. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Can’t you see the man’s in no mood for your company?”

“This isn’t any of your business.” She leaned forward, pressing against Linc more deliberately this time.

Darlene wasn’t a bad person, and in another life he might actually have been attracted to her.

Anger pulsed through him. In all the years he’d been with Julia, he’d been faithful to her. He’d never cheated, never even thought about it. And where had that gotten him? Seven years of marriage down the tubes and an empty house waiting for him.

He looked at Darlene. What if…

“I’m going home.” He stood and Darlene climbed down from the stool. “Alone.” He headed to the door and didn’t bother looking back. He knew there wasn’t anyone he wanted except Julia. And he might spend the rest of his life wanting something he couldn’t have.

For five days, Linc waited for Julia to come back. He went to work every morning, expecting her to be there when he returned each night. Her spot in the garage remained tauntingly empty.

He called everyone they knew—and that was damned few people here in town. No one had heard from her. She hadn’t contacted anyone, except to call in sick to work.

On Wednesday night he found the light on the answering machine blinking when he walked in the door. He pushed Play and Julia’s voice filled the house, banishing the shadows that threatened to take over. He held his breath as he listened.

“Linc, I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon to pick up the rest of my things.” That was it. Nothing more.

He played the message five times before grabbing the machine and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the dining-room wall. He felt only marginally better.

He called her cell phone—again. It went straight to voice mail, which told him she’d turned it off. There was nothing else he could do.

Except wait.

He cursed and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Damn it all. He needed oblivion. And he certainly didn’t need half the town watching him find it.

By Thursday, when he pulled into the dirt parking lot of the Winding Trail Mine ten minutes early to shadow the afternoon shift, he was exhausted.

He wanted to finish this job and get home in time to catch Julia. He needed to do something—talk to her—anything to figure out how to make things better. There was too much anger between them and he didn’t like it. To be honest, he was downright sick of it. They were facing some tough decisions and he just wanted it done.

Linc had always been the type who yanked off a bandage. It hurt like hell but then it was over. None of this slow, methodical agony. If his marriage was going to end, he wanted that flash of pain, not this ongoing hurt.

Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind of all those thoughts. He had a job to do and it required focus. He got out of the truck and reached into the bed to grab his gear before mounting the rough wooden steps to the mine office.

The faded, worn building, the size of a double-wide trailer, had two shabby offices in front and a larger room beyond. In the back room, which served as a locker room, he met up with the crew he’d been assigned to shadow.

Six men looked up when he walked in. They were nearly finished dressing in their long johns, flannel shirts and coveralls. Now that he was here, they would go underground.

Linc hustled to dress as they introduced themselves. He recognized Gabe Wise, the crew chief, from his previous visit. Linc immediately realized why the older man was in charge. They were a young crew and Gabe had nearly twenty years experience.

Robert Hastings, a gruff man who looked to be in his early forties, simply nodded when Linc acknowledged him. Ah, a man of few words. Then there were brothers Michael and Ryan Sinclair. He already knew them. All too well. The fight with Julia after the school-board meeting came back to him. What a mess.

As long as Ryan was old enough, there wasn’t anything Linc could do. The law said he only had to stay in school until he was sixteen.

At least Ryan was on a crew with his older brother who could keep an eye on him.

Linc guessed the other members of the group, Casey McGuire and Zach Hayes, were in their late twenties. Obviously friends, they joked with the rest of the men but kept just enough apart to show they weren’t yet a cohesive team.

All dressed and accounted for, they donned hard hats, clipped fresh batteries to their tool belts and climbed aboard the transport—a flatbed cart they called a man-trap. Linc hefted his backpack, his unofficial briefcase for trips down into the mines, up on his shoulder. Passing into the yawning mouth of the mine, he cringed. God, he hated this part. His heart and breath hitched at the thought of the tons of rock over his head. A normal reaction, he knew, but still he felt it tight in his gut.

The heavy damp scent of earth surrounded him. It felt as if he was stepping into a half-dug grave. That was one reason why he was an inspector and not a workaday miner. His goal was to keep these men safe—unlike the mine inspectors of old who’d failed his father.

The instant they were inside, Linc’s gaze darted around, scanning the low ceiling, the thick walls and the equipment they passed. There were several things he wanted to examine more closely on the trip out. But on the whole, he’d seen worse.

Nearly half an hour later, Gabe spoke. “Here we are.” His voice soaked into the dark walls. He jumped from the transport as deftly as a man half his age and the others followed, forming a line that seemed preordained. They finished the last few yards on foot.

Each man went to his position as Linc watched, taking mental and written notes. The machines roared to life as the crew started to dig for the rich, black coal. The engines’ noise prevented conversation, but the miners managed to communicate through gestures and the simple fact that they knew their jobs and their places.

With the light from his hard hat guiding him, Linc moved around the cavern, examining, checking and letting his skeptical mind search for any indication of sloppiness or intentional violations. A loud metallic chink shattered the din. The pitch of the digger’s engines changed and Linc spun around.

The grinding of metal on metal told them the cutting black had hit something abnormal.

Shit. Gabe looked to the right wall and Linc followed his line of sight but couldn’t see anything. Suddenly, the roar around them drowned out even the engines’ noise. Rock tumbled down the face they’d been digging. Linc saw rather than heard Gabe’s command, “Run!”

Robert scrambled off the loader. Mike grabbed Ryan’s arm in a grip that Linc knew had to be painful. Gabe waited until all his men were ahead of him. Casey and Zach were to his left, not moving. Why weren’t they rushing to the exit?

Linc turned and his gaze met Gabe’s. Together, they saw that Casey’s left leg was trapped beneath the caterpillar track of the scoop. Damn.

Running the few feet, Linc joined Gabe and Robert on the side of the machine. The three of them pushed but the heavy piece of equipment barely budged. Again they pushed. Again it barely moved.

Luckily, as they worked to free Casey, no more shale fell around them. But that was no guarantee it wouldn’t bury them before they took their next dust-laden breath.

Linc didn’t hear the others approach, but he felt their presence beside him. Gabe set the pace with an even rhythm and counted it off. On three they all pushed. Ryan and Mike’s young muscle added to theirs was just enough to tip over the machine.

Casey grimaced, but he clenched his jaw as he fought crying out. His pain was palpable in the chamber with them. Looking lower, Linc realized Casey’s leg was badly mangled.

The roar returned. Gabe waved them on as he shoved his shoulder under Casey’s armpit.

Zach took the other side. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Together they half carried, half dragged the injured man up the incline. Suddenly, air whooshed over them. Turning and stumbling backward, Linc watched as the ebony shale buried the machine. Silence settled with the dust around them.

Then, another roar… Every inch of ground and air around them trembled. There was no time to think. Ryan and Mike backpedaled from where a new slide of shale closed off the opening ahead of them.

Then silence. Heavy silence, almost too quiet to be real, pressed on his ears. Nothing broke it for a long minute until the sound of their rasping breaths whispered through the air.

The only light came from the lamps on each hard hat. Beams of white light bounced back at them from the black dust in the air. Linc tried not to think how much of that crap was coating the inside of his lungs as he fought to breathe.

Linc moved first, his training kicking in. “I’ll take this side.” He checked the gas meter in his pack. No danger levels—yet. He kept the meter close.

Removing the lamp from his hard hat, he used it like a flashlight. Ryan and Mike did the same. Gabe and Zach settled Casey on a level patch of ground, while Robert tried to activate the emergency radio from Casey’s belt.

Each man quickly took a section of the cavern, ringing it with light, looking for any indication of a breach in the rock. Linc found nothing. When he rejoined the others, they all shook their heads.

Even Robert. “Radio’s crushed. I can’t fix it.” He tossed the broken pieces onto the ground and cursed.

They were well and truly trapped.

The one encouraging thing was that there had been no more rumbles. Obviously, they’d hit something with the blade, but what? With luck, only this chamber was affected. Little good that did them. Linc knew from the schematics of the mine that at least fifty feet of solid rock separated them from any hope of escape.

Gabe hunkered down next to Casey. They all watched his light illuminate Casey’s leg. The steel-toed boots he wore had protected his foot, but his calf and knee had been severely chewed up by the tread of the machine. Blood soaked both his leg and the ground around him.

Gabe loosened Casey’s belt and carefully slipped it off. “I can’t stop the bleeding with just pressure.” In minutes, he’d wrapped the man’s leg in one of the thick flannel shirts he’d worn and tightened the belt around his upper thigh. “I trained as an EMT years back. I hoped I’d never need it,” Gabe said, pain in his voice. “We’ll have to watch him close.”

At least Casey wasn’t going to bleed to death in front of them. Not yet anyway.

The miners settled back, regrouping, their thoughts probably as disjointed as Linc’s.

Trapped. They were trapped.

Linc fought the panic that clawed at his chest and knew it was probably a losing battle. He closed his eyes, picturing the house he had left only a few hours before. Home. He just wanted to go home.

He didn’t dare picture Julia’s face. That would be his undoing.

CHAPTER THREE

Thursday Afternoon, 4:00 p.m.

JULIA REACHED OVER and turned on the car’s radio. Usually, after a day with her students, she appreciated the solace of silence. Now she needed something to drown out her thoughts.

Tomorrow would be her and Linc’s seventh anniversary. Would he even remember? Or care? She shook her head. Linc might forget, but at one time he had cared. A lot. She blinked away the sting in her eyes. She refused to let him hurt her anymore.

Focusing on the road, Julia took in the sights of the small town she’d called home for just over a year. It seemed as though their problems had all started when they’d moved here, but she realized it wasn’t the town’s fault. It was actually a nice little place.

Parilton stood nestled between two hills the locals generously referred to as mountains. To Julia, who had spent her youth going skiing in the Rocky Mountains on vacations, they appeared small.

Still, they were familiar, and with spring in full bloom, the entire valley was green and colorful with blossoms.

The sight helped lift her mood as she hurried across town. She wanted to get to the house before Linc—her soon-to-be-ex-husband, she reminded herself—got home from work. She hoped to get all of her things out without facing him.

Why did that thought sit so uncomfortably in her chest? She wasn’t up to another fight. The last one still hurt, but not to see him?

She drove through the narrow streets of the town. Past the bank—the one and only bank—past the hardware store, past the Clever Curl Salon. One of the two stoplights in town turned red just as she reached it. The car stopped, but her thoughts kept going.

Did she and Linc even have anything left to save? Since they’d moved here, everything had changed. Without warning, the distant memory of Linc making love to her filled her mind. She closed her eyes, letting the image of his beautiful body soak into her internal vision. She could almost feel him, smell his clean scent, taste his warm breath…

“Oh, my.” Her eyes flew open and she cranked the air conditioning. It had been too long since they’d had make-up sex. But when they had…

Memories and pain made her step a bit too hastily on the accelerator when the light changed. She refused to think about that anymore. It hurt too much.

She passed the grocery store and slowed. Parilton wasn’t big enough for more than one, and it didn’t even merit a national chain. But the local grocer carried nearly everything anybody needed. The bare cupboards of her newly rented apartment came too easily to mind.

The empty parking spot in front was like an invitation. She pulled into it and sat staring through the grimy windshield. She’d never felt so alone.

Minutes later, she was rushing through the aisles, filling the basket with all the staples to make meals for one and trying to outrun her thoughts. It wasn’t much, she realized as she looked at the pathetic pile of goods in the basket. Only one person stood in the checkout line. She could get out of here quickly.

The older woman checking groceries smiled at her. Rita Sinclair was Ryan’s mother.

Julia’s anger at Linc resurfaced. Why couldn’t his inspection report mention the number of kids like Ryan working the mine—kids who should be in school? Her anger was at the system, but he hadn’t helped at the meeting the other night. When had he lost faith in her?

“Hi, Julia.” Rita smiled as she ran the items across the beeping scanner.

“Hello, Rita. How’s everyone?”

“Fine.” Rita examined the contents of Julia’s basket, left eyebrow rising. “That’s everything?”

Julia still didn’t like the familiarity of small-town life. That’s why she often drove into Pittsburgh to do her shopping. “Yes,” she hedged and Rita didn’t make any more comments. “That’s $27.57.”

Julia handed over two twenties, and, as Rita counted out her change, she curled her fingers gently around Julia’s hand. Julia looked up and was surprised to see the sheen in Rita’s eyes.

“I want to thank you for all you did to try to get Ryan to stay in school.”

Julia stared at her in surprise. “I…I wasn’t sure if you agreed.”

“My husband didn’t. He thinks what was good enough for him is good enough for his boys. I’d like better for them.” Her voice broke on the last words.

“Me, too,” Julia whispered. “I haven’t given up.”

Their eyes met and for a long moment neither spoke. Someone moved into the line, and Julia didn’t bother looking to see who.

Rita transformed from a mom back into the efficient grocery clerk and handed Julia her receipt. “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Rita’s words haunted her all the way to the car. That was what she’d tried to convey to Linc, though not very well. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t any of them understand? She quickly put the groceries in the car, avoiding the pain that went along with those thoughts.

She needed to move on, and today was the day for that to begin.

She drove too fast through town. She wanted this over and done with. Pulling into the drive, Julia sat there staring at the little house they’d bought within weeks of moving here.

She’d fallen in love with it the instant she’d seen it. She hated that Linc was the one still here, but she’d been the one to walk out. She’d left it and him behind.

The shades were all drawn, which grated on her nerves and gave the house a dejected look. She loved the shades open, loved watching the sunshine pour in on the old wood floors. She tore her gaze away and took in the entire place.

It looked sad and neglected. This was ridiculous. She’d only been gone six days.

She shoved the car door open and walked up to the porch. She hesitated when she pushed the key into the lock then mentally berated herself. This was still her house, damn it. She stepped inside and decided maybe it wasn’t.

The air was stale and warm. She longed to open the windows to let the rooms breathe, but she wasn’t planning to be here that long. She turned to finish her packing but stopped in the bedroom doorway.

Frowning, she stepped inside, over two pairs of Linc’s shoes. Her heart sank. She’d worked so hard to make this a room for relaxation, for privacy, for romance.

And now look at it.

“Linc, you idiot,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

The bed wasn’t made, and as she sat down on the rumpled down comforter, she realized the same sheets were still on the bed as when she’d left. A pile of clothes grew in the corner by the rocker. Three beer bottles sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but he’d never been a slob.

And alcohol? He wasn’t one to drink…not in bed…not unless… Suddenly a memory of their honeymoon and a bottle of cheap champagne surfaced. No.

Julia shot to her feet. This was not her problem anymore. Determined to get this over and done with, she went to the closet and yanked out the first load of hangers. They grew heavy as she lugged them to the car. She’d piled several empty boxes in the back of the car, and she pulled them out to make room for the rest of her clothes.

She took the boxes to the bedroom and tossed her sweaters inside. She’d just opened her lingerie drawer, where a Pandora’s box of emotions waited for her, when she heard the distant ringing of the phone. She ignored it, staring at the full drawer. Each silky garment held a memory of at least one night…

She didn’t want to do this. It felt as though she was ripping her entire life to shreds with her bare hands. “Damn you, Linc.” She grabbed a handful of silk and threw it into the box. She didn’t care if the lingerie wrinkled. She’d never wear it again, but she wasn’t leaving it behind, either. “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.” She crammed handfuls into the box in time with her words.

The phone started ringing again. Why wasn’t the answering machine picking up? She stood and stalked to the kitchen where the only phone hung on the wall.

After seeing the bedroom, she’d thought Linc would’ve trashed this room, as well. But he hadn’t. It was exactly as she’d left it.

Had he even come in here? Walking around the counter, she realized that, yes, he had been here. The trash can overflowed with takeout containers and paper plates. And the remnants of the answering machine that had been smashed to pieces.

Curious, she opened the pantry. The same three boxes of cereal she’d left sat there, untouched. How about the fridge? She hesitated to open it, knowing she’d left half a gallon of milk.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The milk was gone, but all that sat on the shelves was a six-pack of beer and a dozen sodas. She grabbed a cola, enjoying the feel of the cool metal against her hand.

“Serves him right if he starves to death,” she mumbled and closed the fridge. Linc was a grown man. She refused to worry about him—he certainly didn’t worry about her. The sound of the phone ringing yet again startled her, and she turned to glare at it. She didn’t live here anymore, so why should she answer?

What if it was Linc? He knew she was going to be here today. Didn’t she want to talk to him?

It kept ringing, loud in the quiet house. Might as well get this over with. “Hello,” she snapped.

“Mrs. Holmes?” A stranger’s deep voice came through the line.

Probably a salesman. How did they know to time this stuff? “Yes?” She sighed, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to talk, either. Maybe she’d sign Linc up for whatever they were selling. Magazines? A burial plot? She knew she was being petty, but anger was easier to deal with than the hurt.

“This is David Hutchinson with the State Police. There’s been an accident at the Winding Trail Mine.” His voice was too distant, too rehearsed, as if he’d already said this a dozen times. “The family staging area is at the high-school gym.”

Everything inside Julia drained away. For an instant the world tilted sideways just a bit. She closed her eyes, shutting away her emotions. No. No. She heard a thud, then a metallic rolling sound in the distance as she dropped the unopened soda.

This wasn’t possible.

They’d been through the disaster drills dozens of times. Just because she received a call didn’t mean a thing. Everyone was called and until all the families were there, no one would know who was getting the bad news.

Company policy. Long-standing practice. Damned frightening reality.

She fought not to panic but knew the turmoil in her stomach was just that. She didn’t remember hanging up the phone, but it was back in its normal place. Had the man even really called? Was this a dream? Please wake me up.

What if…? Her knees nearly buckled. Where was Linc? She stared at the kitchen. What had she been doing?

Through the pounding in her ears, she heard the crunch of tires on the drive. Julia looked out the window, hoping, praying that it was Linc’s truck. She’d give him an earful for scaring her half to death.

No such luck. A patrol car pulled in behind her sedan. She watched as the two officers climbed out. They didn’t even have to knock as she met them at the door.

“Hello, Julia.”

“Hello, Hank.” Their next-door neighbor was a good man, always waving and smiling. He and Linc often stood out back and talked about guy stuff—fishing, football and lawn-mower parts. The other officer looked familiar, but for the life of her she couldn’t think of a name.

“I thought you might need a ride,” Hank said. He didn’t bother to explain. Her face probably told him more than even she knew she was thinking and feeling.

“I think I can drive.” She doubted she’d even remember how to start the engine.

“I’ll drive your car so you’ve got wheels to come back home when you need to.” Hank nodded toward the other officer. “Dennis will follow in the squad car.”

She nodded. On autopilot, she grabbed her purse and keys and closed the door. Settled in the passenger seat, she looked back at the house as Hank climbed behind the wheel of her half-loaded car. It looked the same as it had just a few minutes ago—just as it had when she’d driven away on Friday, leaving Linc and it behind—and yet everything was different.

She was different. Numbness took over. Numb was good.

Thursday Afternoon, Two Hours Underground

THE ONLY PERSON WHO SEEMED capable of movement was the kid. Ryan moved about, trying to help Casey settle more comfortably on the hard stone floor.

The rest of them sat silently, watching the dust motes dance in the beam of their lights.

Linc had been through dozens of disaster drills. As a mine inspector, he’d set up several, coordinating with all the necessary teams: Search and Rescue, Fire, Emergency Medical Services and even Navy Dive teams for mine flooding. He’d coordinated, instructed, observed and participated. He knew the risks of mine work.

But he’d never faced the real thing. He swallowed the lump of panic in his throat.

“What the hell happened?” Linc growled softly, afraid that any noise would bring the rest of the roof down on their heads.

Gabe answered first. “That’s a good question.”

“We hit something too hard to be normal.” Robert spoke from the darkness. He’d turned his lamp off. “Sounded like a rock bolt to me, but it should have been another six feet to the left. And we weren’t cuttin’ that high.”

“Look.” Gabe pulled the guide map he’d picked up in his assignment box before the shift. He handed the frequently folded and now grubby map over to Linc.

Pulling the light off his hard hat, Linc studied it. Taken from a larger map, probably one the owners had purchased from the Bureau of Land Management, it was worn in several places. He noted the marks that indicated the rock bolts’ position. The eight-foot-long bolts that were drilled into the rock to stabilize the roof were normally six feet apart.

He stood and paced off the perimeter. Then he figured the distance again. Gabe watched him carefully. He could feel the older man’s gaze drilling into his back.

He knew that Gabe was the kind of man who’d take the responsibility for whatever went wrong. But Linc’s gut was telling him this wasn’t the crew’s fault.

“Gabe, look here,” he said.

The crew chief’s footsteps came up behind him. “What?”

“See this outcropping?” Linc pointed to the rock and then the map. “There’s supposed to be two rock bolts between here and there.” He pointed to another mark on the map.

“Yeah. We must have cut the one.” Gabe jabbed the map with a grubby finger.

“No. We were at least six feet from there, like Robert said. And even if we cut that one—where’s the second?”

They looked at each other. Gabe paced off a few more feet, stopping at the edge of the slide. He shone his light up and stared as Linc watched his eyes widen. Linc moved over to stand beside Gabe and looked up.

There in the circle of the lamplight was a dark hole. Where the ceiling bolt was supposed to be was nothing. No sign of any bolt. Anywhere.

The hair on the back of Linc’s neck tingled. All the reasons he’d become a mine inspector came clearly to mind.

Acts of God or Mother Nature were one thing.

The hand of man was something altogether different.

CHAPTER FOUR

Thursday Afternoon, 4:30 p.m.

HANK DROPPED JULIA OFF at the family staging area at the high school. It was in the same gym where she’d just attended a pep rally.

She walked through the familiar doors and looked around. The bleachers were full, but the laughing, smiling high-school students had been replaced by the sad, worried faces of miners’ families. Some of those same kids were here again, their smiles erased by fear.

The only sounds in the room were those of restless bodies, tense whispers and her footsteps as she crossed to the bleachers. Her heels were entirely too loud on the polished wood floor.

She settled on the end of a bench, a bit away from the crowd, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She needed to hold herself together.

No one had said a thing yet. There was no word as to exactly who was in the trapped crew. This wasn’t one of those times where no news was good news.

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.

Linc felt the exhaustion and lethargy creep over him. He stared at the white canvas wall—what he could see of it in the dim light, anyway. Somehow, it seemed they were admitting defeat by putting it up, but it was the only thing they had. Now all they could do was wait and try to stay alive.

Leaning back against the cold, rough wall, Linc closed his eyes. Were these men’s faces and that damned wall of fabric the last things he’d ever see? Had this been what his father had experienced?

Memories of that long-ago day surfaced. His father’s last day.

The news had come that there had been a cave-in. The families all gathered aboveground, just as they probably were doing right now. Absently, Linc looked up, as if he could somehow see through the mountain of rock. Had they gotten in touch with Julia? Would she even come?

Did she even know he was alive? Did anyone believe they’d survived? Were they going to dig for them, or had everyone given up and left the mine to be their tomb?

Questions and images flew at him from everywhere inside his head.

He remembered his mother’s collapse that day. She’d never been the same after that. The broken, wailing woman had looked and sounded nothing like the mother he’d known for sixteen years.

As she’d crumbled, he’d put his arms around her, tried to comfort her, tried to absorb her tears into his young embrace. He’d tried but never quite succeeded.

He thought about Julia and couldn’t imagine her crumbling like that, but he hadn’t expected it of his mother, either. Did Julia even still care enough to hurt for him? Panic shot through him. At least his mother had had him and his brother to comfort her.

Julia had no one.

And that was his fault. He’d moved her away from her parents. Away from her friends to a strange and—according to her—inhospitable town. He’d done worse than his own father. He’d left her totally alone.

Guilt clawed in his chest as if some creature that had possessed him for years now fought to dig its way out.

She wanted children. Desperately. He’d been the one who hadn’t really cared. He’d rarely considered having kids of his own, swearing he wouldn’t leave them as his father had left him. But he’d always tried to give Julia everything he could.

A sound, a sob, broke from his throat. He smothered it with a groan and rose to his feet. He smacked his shoulder on the rock wall but suffered the pain in silence, accepting the punishment for his own selfish stupidity.

“What are they doing up top?” Ryan’s voice shook. Linc realized all of their emotions were kicking in without any physical activity to distract them.

“They’ll drill an air shaft first,” Gabe whispered from the far corner as if fighting his own fears.

“Yeah,” Linc agreed, hoping. “Fresh air. Man, won’t that be nice?” Perhaps he’d get another chance. Perhaps, he prayed, not even sure what he was praying for, but knowing it couldn’t hurt.

Wouldn’t that surprise Julia? Him. Praying. He shook his head and smiled. The movement pulled the tight skin of his dry lips and the twinge of pain reminded him they all needed water.

“Where are those water jugs?” he asked. The water was kept down here for the machines but came in handy in times like this.

“Over by Casey,” Ryan answered.

Linc found them easily. He opened one and took a deep swallow, then passed it to Ryan. “Take some. We need to stay hydrated.” Ryan nodded and drank. Everyone followed suit and they even managed to get some down Casey’s throat.

Linc sank back down to his spot on the ground. He’d be damned if he was giving up.

Julia might be up there. She might not, but he was going to do everything in his power to get back to her so they could at least fight it out face-to-face.

He had to hold on to that anger. It might be all he had.

Thursday Afternoon, 5:00 p.m.

THE STEEL DOORS AT THE END of the gym burst open, sending Julia’s heart into her throat. Men covered in soot, their clothes grimy with it, flooded into the gym.

Everyone in the bleachers stood. Looking, seeking the man they’d spent the past few hours agonizing over.

Fervently, Julia searched. Too tall. Too short. Too heavy. While all the men looked alike in their dirty coveralls and blackened faces, none of them remotely resembled Linc.

Her stomach tensed and her chest burned as she held her breath. Tears flowed and men hugged women, children and each other. Slowly, the crowd thinned as families left. Surely she’d find him soon. Or he’d find her.

Lord knew she longed for that instant when she’d see him, recognize him. Would he hug her tightly? She wouldn’t even care if the mine soot ruined her clothes. Or would he simply look at her with that painful silence and turn away as he had so many times lately?

She didn’t care right now. She just wanted him here, safe. She couldn’t be his wife anymore, but she didn’t want him hurt, either.

Still, he didn’t appear.

The fluorescent lights overhead dimmed. The noise of the crowd faded.

He wasn’t coming. She knew it. Knew deep down inside that he was with that ill-fated crew.

“Oh, God,” she whispered and felt the bench come up to meet her. She wanted to bury her face in her hands and weep but didn’t dare, just in case she missed him.

“Daddy!” Miranda’s high-pitched squeal shattered the din. Miranda’s father, grungy and filthy, swept her up in his arms. She giggled despite the smudge of black he left on her cheek where he kissed her.

“Daddy, did you help Ms. Holmes’s husband?”

He frowned in confusion.

“Oh, sweetie.” Julia stood again and reached out to stop the girl’s words before they could rush out, but Miranda wasn’t having any of that.

“Your husband?” Mr. Olsen—Julia couldn’t remember his first name at the moment—looked at her in confusion, then as recognition dawned, he frowned. “Is he down there?”

She couldn’t speak. All she could manage was a shrug. She longed for the days when a daddy could fix all the world’s problems.

“We’re going back down, ma’am.”

“Ben, no.” His wife held tight to his hand, snuggled up against his side and laid her head on his shoulder.

“You know that’s how we do it,” he whispered.

Tears in her eyes, the woman nodded. “I know.”

Julia looked at the small family, her longing so thick it nearly stopped her heart from beating. She wanted a family of her own, but right now she was far away from having anything close to that.

“Holmes, right? He’s the inspector?” Ben’s voice broke into her thoughts. “He’s a good guy. Not like some inspectors. He’s fair. We’ll get him out.”

She believed him. Linc would do the exact same thing. That look of determination in Ben’s eyes was identical to the one she saw so often on Linc’s face.

How had she missed that?

She swallowed hard and sat back down before she fell over. She watched the Olsen family leave. Miranda and her mother turned toward home, comfortable in the knowledge their husband and father was safe. Ben turned back to the mine to help find the others. Find Linc.

Just before the door closed, Julia saw Ben pull his wife close and kiss her long and deep.

She wanted to tear her gaze away, but she couldn’t. An ache grew in her throat and she tried to remember the last time she’d been kissed like that.

She couldn’t remember.

What was wrong with her that she couldn’t stay in love with her husband? The thought hit her hard. Did she even love Linc anymore? She missed being held and loved and the company. She hated being alone. But did she actually miss him?

She didn’t miss the anger and the frustration that came with waking up each morning.

“Mrs. Holmes?” A neatly dressed young woman touched Julia’s shoulder, interrupting her thoughts. “Hello,” the woman said softly, not waiting for Julia to respond, as if she feared Julia might break from the sound of her voice. “I’m Elizabeth Wilson.”

Julia stared at her.

Elizabeth must have realized Julia wasn’t going to, or couldn’t, speak. “I’m a counselor. I thought maybe you’d like some company.” Without waiting for an invitation, the woman sat down beside Julia.

That’s when Julia’s hope slipped. Linc was trapped underground. Perhaps even—she nearly retched at the thought—perhaps even dead.

She looked around at the suddenly surreal world. Few families remained. Those still seated had bleak, pained looks on their faces. She recognized Rita, Ryan’s mother, the woman who’d spoken to her only a few hours ago at the grocery store. She saw Rita’s husband and daughter-in-law, Rachel.

Julia’s heart ached. Rachel Sinclair’s presence meant that both brothers were down there with Linc.

She saw Shirley Wise and her heart rate increased a bit with hope. It felt a bit better knowing Gabe was with him. It was common knowledge around town that Gabe Wise was one of the most experienced miners. If anyone knew that mine, he did.

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