Written in the Scars(81)

The tears come fast and hard.

Sucking in a quick breath, I look at the words on the note in my hand. They’re incomplete. A ramble of topics and words and emotions and things to make her laugh, but it’s the best I can do.

My words mirror the man I am: a failed attempt at making things right.

“We’re ready to start!” a voice booms from above.

I look at Jiggs as his head lifts to mine. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair caked with soot. “Here we go,” I say, reaching for his letter. He kisses it before putting it in my hand. I drop them into Cord’s bag.

He stands and places them in my lunch box. Tying a rope around the handle, he tugs on it and we watch it rise to the surface as water speeds down to the floor.





ELIN


A plate of nibbled fruit and sandwiches sit on the table in between us. Paper cups of water sit, virtually untouched, next to it.

Lindsay’s face is swollen, her lips cracked and red. Her skin is blotchy, her hair a tangled mess. It’s such a contrast to her usual made-up appearance that it breaks my heart.

“How are you?” I whisper, my throat parched.

“About the same as you.” Her voice is husky, matching mine. “You know you look like a mess, right?”

A hint of a smile plays on her lips and, instantly, a bit of pressure releases from my shoulders.

“You haven’t looked in the mirror recently, huh?” I tease.

“Aren’t we a sight?” She leans back in her chair. “How long do you think it will take?”

“I have no idea.”

We sit in silence again, each of us coming to terms with the next piece of the puzzle. How the next few hours will determine the rest of our lives.

“They’re going to be fine,” Lindsay says out of nowhere. “I know that sounds crazy and optimistic, but I believe it.”

I half-smile, unable to give her more.

“I fell asleep earlier—today? Yesterday?—and I had a dream. I was giving birth to this baby, a girl, if you’re wondering, and Jiggs was with me, holding my hand. I felt so calm, so happy. It has to be a glimpse of the future because I could never feel like that if he wasn’t here. I just couldn’t.” She looks at me earnestly. “They’re going to be okay, Elin.”

“They have to be,” I say, wishing I had felt as sure about it as Lindsay. “I can’t . . .” I gulp, “I can’t imagine going through life without either one of them.”

“I know and that’s why they’ll come back to us. They have a guardian angel watching over them. I feel it.”

I pick at a sandwich and avoid her stare. Even though I’ve tried to convince myself this will end well, I don’t feel that way. Maybe because I’ve heard Ty talking about mining disasters. Maybe because I feel like he’s been spared once already. Maybe because I understand the dangers more than she does. Whatever the reason, I just can’t find that peace about it.

“I was thinking,” she says, her voice lifting me out of my daze. “We should have a double baby shower.”

“I can’t think about that right now.”

“Sure you can,” she says, resting her elbows on the table. “You have to feed the result in your mind that you want. If we are imagining this party together, our boys there, that gives the universe the energy we want it to have.”

Laughing, I roll my eyes. “I don’t know how much of that universe energy stuff I believe.”

“Well, I do,” she says simply. “And I’m going to be over here choosing the theme and the finger foods, so if you want a say in it, I’d speak up.”

“You’re nuts,” I say, feeling an ease seep in my bones.

“I am,” she laughs. “So should we wait until we know what we’re having or should we just go green and yellow and—”

A knock hits the door, cutting her off. The positive air evaporates from the room as Vernon walks in.

“The boring has started,” he says, walking over to the table. He forces a swallow before producing two baggies. “Your husbands sent these up for you.”

My stomach hits the floor as I stare, unmoving, at my name written in Ty’s handwriting on the dirty piece of paper in front of me.





TY


The boring equipment screams over our heads, shaking everything around us. Mixed with the water gushing in like a river has been unleashed, it’s like being in a giant washing machine.

The water is now up to my waist. A sea of cold, black water that’s thick like soup from the debris and mud and muck, rippling in a nonstop motion from the commotion above.

I barely hear the sound anymore. It was loud, so loud, at first. But that was untold minutes ago. Hours, maybe. Now it’s just a new normal as we wait to see if the shaft hits bottom.

My heart strikes against my ribs, my lungs battering them too as I struggle to stay calm. To stay alive.

Ducking chunks of rock from the ceiling as all four walls of the room judder and quake from the assault of the boring machine, I’m pulled into one direction: survival.

“Ty!”

I read Cord’s lips more than I hear his voice as he yanks on my arm, pulling me off my feet. One hand lands on his chest in an attempt to catch myself, my chest submerging in the muddy water. A boulder the size of a small car smashes into the water right where I was standing.