Silver White Winters Read online

  As the exit neared, Lane’s left leg weakened. Please, God, not today. He slowed his steps, determined to persevere. “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” The verse had become his mantra.

  Wind lashed at his chest, fighting his unzipped hooded sweatshirt. Gaze trained on the asphalt, Lane stomped to his truck. The Bible said God could move mountains and Lane believed. Please, move this one and get those men home alive.

  The truck’s tires squealed out of the parking lot as Lane turned the vehicle onto the street and sped to the mines. He shifted gears, his body and mind on autopilot. Fall colors scaled the mountains, blurring past his window. He’d never felt so helpless. At least not since…no, he wouldn’t dredge her from his memory today. But knowing her dad and brother were trapped down there made it inevitable.

  A spot of orange flashed in his side mirror then disappeared as a sporty ragtop flew past him and swerved back into his lane. Before his brain could react, the car was a pin dot in the distance. His speedometer read sixty-eight. In a fifty. He shook his head. Didn’t see cars like that in Eve Hollow every day.

  Two miles later, Lane braked at the gate and flashed his clearance at the armed guards. People lined the fenced perimeter. He recognized some faces of family members and friends of the trapped men. One guard took Lane’s I.D. and barked into his walkie-talkie, waiting for permission to let Lane in. Only the rescue team was permitted through the gates until further notice.

  Elbow propped on the window ledge, Lane spied the orange convertible parked on the grass like the property was nothing more than a rest area. As a slim brunette stepped out of the vehicle, recognition stole the breath from his lungs. She tugged on a brown leather jacket he doubted would fit a toddler and pulled her hair free of the collar. Long waves fell down her back. She shut the door and smoothed her hands over jeans as tight as his throat. And he was suffocating.

  “Here you are, sir.” The stone-faced guard blocked Lane’s view and held out his I.D. “You’re to report to Joe Allen. Victor will be here shortly.”

  Lane took his badge. “Thanks.”

  The guard backed away. Before Lane had a chance to kick himself for being a complete idiot, the gorgeous woman walked toward the crowd at the fence.

  Rae. His childhood partner-in-crime, former best friend, and ex-fiancée. The woman who’d deserted him for fame and fortune.

  2

  Raelynn pulled from Mama’s embrace and stared into her dark eyes, deep-set from a strong nose and chin, remnants of her Cherokee heritage. The skin around her mouth and temples had deepened with age. Hair as black as the coal in these mountains spilled out of Mama’s blue knit cap. Daddy always said Mama was the most beautiful woman in all of Appalachia. Raelynn agreed.

  A small group of protesters interrupted their reunion, chanting, “Stop raping the mountains” and “Bring back the union.”

  She and Mama stood on the outskirts of the crowd, away from the news reporters, activist groups, and weeping women.

  Mama cupped Raelynn’s cheek. “My little robin.”

  The nickname took Raelynn back to a time when life was simple—standing in front of the window, the morning sun cloaking her with warmth, singing as Mama cooked pancakes and eggs. Raelynn closed her eyes, wanting to stay in the past. But when she opened them, the warm, fuzzy memories disappeared. The very mountains that had provided their livelihood, now threatened to take her Daddy’s and brother’s lives.

  And she wouldn’t have a chance to say goodbye, tell them how much she loved them. Why hadn’t she come home before now? Called more? How could home be so comforting and terrifying at the same time? Raelynn shivered against the wind sweeping through the hollow. “What can I do?”

  Mama raised her chin. “Pray.”

  The way of life here. Pray you’ll see a next meal. Pray you’ll survive the winter. Pray your husband returns from work every night. That was one of the reasons she’d left. She didn’t want to live her life in fear. Wake up in twenty years with ten kids and resent Lane for what could’ve been. She’d wanted to discover the possibilities beyond those mountains. Had to see the Pacific Ocean.

  She’d ridden that Ferris wheel of dreams full circle and now wondered what a life with Lane could’ve been. A pipe dream her foolish heart had entertained every night in rehab as she lay in the dark, trying to ignore how terrified she was. Lane was probably married with six kids by now. Raelynn’s heart throbbed in the dark corner she’d sealed off long ago.

  Mama pulled a tissue from her coat pocket and dabbed beneath her eyes. “It’ll be OK, robin. God’ll get ’em out. I feel it.”

  Raelynn didn’t doubt they’d get out. But when they did, would they be alive? She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “How’s Jackie?”

  Mama sniffed. “Resting in the county hospital. The stress of this sent her into contractions, and she needs to carry the babies at least another month. The medicine stopped the labor, but Doc Snider threatened to restrain her if she didn’t quit trying to escape. I told her there’s nothin’ she can do here anyway, but you know how stubborn Jackie is.”

  Raelynn didn’t know. She’d only met Billy’s wife once, and it wasn’t at their wedding. Raelynn had been touring in Australia at the time. Despite the absence of a sisterly bond, Raelynn couldn’t imagine how terrified Jackie must be, pregnant and confined to a bed while her husband was trapped.

  A riot at the chain-link fence stole their attention. Mama strode toward the action, tugging Raelynn behind her. A silver-haired, squinty-eyed man with a round stomach stood behind the protection of the fence on a makeshift platform, palms in the air, silencing the crowd.

  “Don’t you shush me! I want to know what’s being done to save my husband.” Though she hadn’t seen the woman in years, Raelynn recognized all five feet of Brenda McGuire stretched as tall as she could go, yelling at the Hudson Mine representative. The man was fortunate there was a barricade protecting him. Daddy always said dynamite came in small packages, and Brenda McGuire was a warehouse of TNT.

  The rep lowered his hands. “We’re following MSHA guidelines to retrieve your loved ones. The location system is in place, and we’re doing everything we can to locate our workers. In the meantime, we’ve stocked safety chambers with plenty of oxygen, food, and supplies. Now—”

  “They ain’t settin’ up residence in there,” Brenda spat. “What are you doing to get ’em out?”

  “Can they even get to the safety chambers?” There were so many people gathered around, mostly women, it was impossible for Raelynn to decipher who’d asked the last question.

  The rep trained his gaze above everyone’s heads, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “The location system will help us determine which chamber collapsed. Then we’ll decide the safest areas to drill.”

  The rest of his words were swallowed by an ambush of angry protests and TV reporters shouting questions—the local news right up to syndicated cable.

  It felt strange to be on this side of the commotion for a change. As the mob crowded the fence, Raelynn backed away to stand on the outskirts, not wanting to draw attention.

  On the other side of the fence, a team of medical professionals huddled by an ambulance a few hundred feet away. As if her heart had conjured him into existence, Lane’s tall, solid build emerged from the cluster, wearing a brown hooded sweatshirt and jeans. Stubble dotted his grim expression.

  The protests grew silent in her ears. Before Raelynn was fully aware of what she was doing, she’d jogged to the entrance gate and dashed inside. Two guards seized her arms and, with a gentle force, led her back out.

  “Please, I need to talk to Lane.” She squirmed against their grip. What could she say? Better yet, what had possessed her to run after him?

  “This is a restricted area, ma’am. We need you to rejoin your group.” The guard, whose face looked as if it had been chiseled from granite, pointed at the mob behind the fence.

  “I know but—”

  “Rae?
”

  She turned at the voice. Lane stalked toward her, hands fisted. His warm brown eyes grew wide before narrowing to angry slits. “She’s with me.” He towed her by the arm, none too lightly, outside of the gate. “What are you doing here?” His forehead knotted, drawing his unruly eyebrows together—just wild enough to give him a rugged edge.

  The rough tone of his voice was hard to decipher. Shock? Disdain? Both? Raelynn’s gaze followed his jawline and zeroed in on the two small moles on his left cheek, one right beneath the other. The place where she used to put her lips to calm him when he got riled.

  Her cheeks burned. Head swam.

  His teeth clenched together so tight his jaw ticked.

  “I…I came home because Daddy and Billy—”

  “I mean, what are you doing back here?” Lane hitched his thumb at the gate. There was that hint of Irish accent that always surfaced when he was angry.

  What was she doing here? Something about his presence had drawn her like a magnet. Lane’s raw strength, his integrity, his heart—they’d never failed her before. If anyone could get those men out of the mine, it was him. The pressure inside her chest cracked like ice on a thawing pond. Against her will, tears spilled down her cheeks.

  His scowl softened. He leaned so close she could smell his cologne. “It’s not safe back here,” he whispered. “If the methane blows, nothing inside this fence’ll be left standing. There are already twelve lives at risk. I won’t let you add your own.”

  He stepped back and then turned to leave.

  Raelynn latched onto his arm.

  He spun and yanked his arm away. Bitterness flashed in his eyes, then melted. His throat bobbed. “Go home, Rae.”

  “Lane…” She hated the desperation in her voice. Hated being weak.

  “I’ll get ’em out of there. Alive.” He took two steps away from her and paused. “I promise,” he said without looking back.

  Her palm pressed against her throat. “How do you know?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, those velvety pools of brown conveying every ounce of regret. Hurt. Loathing. “Because I keep my promises.”

  Raelynn watched him retreat behind the gate. A well of emotions bubbled inside her. She’d encountered a ghost from her past, and seeing him, talking to him, being rejected by him—it was all too much.

  Mama ran to her, fear playing across her face. “What did Lane say?”

  “He…” Raelynn swallowed. “He promised to get them out alive.”

  Mama laced her fingers beneath her chin, closed her eyes, and mumbled a prayer at the sky.

  Raelynn slipped her arm around Mama’s waist. Why had she ever left that man? He was still there for her after all she’d done.

  Lane had said he’d get them out.

  Raelynn believed he would.

  ~*~

  Daylight faded as Lane was lowered into the mine shaft. Between the tiny steel cage and all the rescue equipment, he could hardly breathe. The location system had identified which chamber had collapsed, and drilling had begun immediately. Methane levels were good. His strength was not.

  The headlight glowing from his miner’s helmet grew brighter the deeper he went. Exhausted didn’t cover how he felt. Lack of sleep and stress had his bones aching like he’d scaled Coal Mountain barehanded. Of all the times for a relapse. “Don’t fail me now,” Lane mumbled to the darkness. These men were too close to rescue for his body to betray him.

  He closed his eyes to ride the rest of the two-thousand-foot drop. And saw Rae. She was every bit as beautiful as she’d been the last time he’d seen her twelve years ago, maybe more so. Her dark brown hair held streaks of blonde now. Blame it on the intensity of this situation, but he’d itched to plow his fingers through it, see if her lips held the same passion for him they had in the past.

  Lane groaned. His heart had relapsed, too. Why had he promised her something he couldn’t control? Spite. Forgive me, Lord. Help me to keep that promise. For the sake of those men. So Rae would leave and he could go on with his life.

  The cage hit bottom with a jolt. Metal grated through the dark hole.

  Determination surged through him. Time to put the last six years of rescue training into practice.

  After stepping from the cage and removing the equipment, he radioed his position. The cage rose back to the surface for another trained member. His light glimpsed the bowed mine walls.

  Deathly silence filled the cave. The path on his right was blocked, so he went left, praying with each step that what was left of the mine ribs would hold. Getting trapped was a miner’s worst fear. But Lane knew those men would take care of each other if able. Honor was the unspoken bond between them.

  Lane moved through the chamber, climbing over debris, praying he was going the right direction and the men weren’t trapped behind the boulder behind him. Voices reached his ears. He walked as fast as his body would allow and blew out a breath when men appeared in his light.

  “Pops, I think we’ve finally been rescued.” Billy’s white teeth gleamed against his blackened skin. He stumbled to his feet and moaned as he gripped his side.

  The other men who were able stood. The rest remained on the floor. Lane pushed forward and his foot hit a bottle of water. They’d found the safety chamber packed with supplies.

  Billy shook his head. “See to the others. It’s just my ribs.”

  Lane counted heads and saw who’d made it—and who hadn’t. “Where are the others?”

  Billy lurched as if he were about to vomit. He turned his face away and thumbed at a pile of boulders behind him. Lane’s blood went as cold as the space around them. No. The thought of his friends crushed beneath the rubble soured his stomach. He forced his brain to stick to protocol and reported the information through his walkie-talkie. Victor informed him that the next team member was on the way.

  “Lane, is that you, son?” Bobby Joe’s words were barely above a whisper.

  “It’s me.” Lane knelt by Rae’s daddy, who was leaning against a rock for a pillow.

  The man had started calling him son after giving Lane his blessing to marry Rae. By the time it fell apart, the name had stuck.

  Bobby Joe opened his eyes. They rolled and crossed as if he were having trouble focusing—probably caused from the lump on his forehead.

  Lane removed his helmet and set it on a rock so the light wouldn’t be directly in Bobby Joe’s face. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

  The man shook his head. “I don’t think I can get up.”

  Lane squeezed Bobby Joe’s shoulder. “You’ve got to. There’s a famous country singer waitin’ for you outside, and you don’t want to miss getting her autograph.”

  Bobby Joe stared at Lane, the fog clearing. “Raelynn?”

  Lane knew that would rally the man. “I saw her myself. Promised her I’d get you out of here.”

  The next rescuer arrived and, after a quick examination, they got Bobby Joe on a vertical stretcher and carried him to the cage. The man’s head rolled from side to side. Billy and the rest of the men who could, followed. Lane’s muscles argued the entire way.

  Another rescuer entered the chamber as the group reached the cage. He allowed the man to take over. They secured the stretcher to the cage and signaled the team above ground. Lane gritted his teeth at the weakness and pain wracking his body.

  For what seemed like hours, the rescue team bandaged injured men and guided them to the shaft. It wasn’t until they recovered the last two bodies that Lane gave in to his symptoms. He supported himself against the rock wall, bent at the waist, and gripped his knees. Miller’s pale, lifeless face haunted him. The man had a wife and three kids. What would happen to them? Clark’s body was barely recognizable. He’d never know the grandson he’d bragged about.

  Acid rose in Lane’s throat. His stomach heaved. He swallowed against it and clung to the shred of strength he had left. The cable screeched as the cage lifted the last rescuer to the surface. The darkness closed in on Lane. He was
down here. Alone. With a deep breath, he stood to full height, took a step, and collapsed.

  3

  Raelynn held her hands over the fire crackling in a metal barrel, chasing away the chill. October nights like this, she and Lane used to get together with friends and play flag football by the beams of truck headlights, have a campfire where they’d pig out on chili and s’mores. Tears stung her eyes, and the fire blurred in her vision. She’d never expected to spend a night in the hollow like this.

  The crowd surrounding the mine had grown from a handful to hundreds. A group of women behind her started a verse of “How Great Thou Art,” the harmony broken by twang.

  How many times had Raelynn sung that in church as a kid in shabby dresses and scuffed shoes?

  That had been a hard time for Mama and Daddy. They’d just lost Raelynn’s sister, Sarah. Stillborn. Every penny went toward paying the hospital and funeral expenses.

  Orange reflected off Mama’s weary face, shadows flickering over her skin, pasty from worry. Uneasiness stirred in Raelynn’s soul. She’d tried so many times to help Mama and Daddy, offering money, a new house, vacations. But they were proud people. Though they’d never said as much, Raelynn believed they didn’t approve of her career.

  In the twelve years she’d been away, they’d never visited her in Nashville, despite Raelynn purchasing their tickets.

  They never spoke of the past and kept the phone conversations restricted to the happenings of the hollow. Never mentioned Lane.

  That’s why Raelynn had given strict instructions her family not be contacted when she was admitted to rehab. She’d made her bed and there was only room for one. The muscles in her neck and shoulders pinched. How easy it would be to take the edge off with a pain killer—slip into her old ways. But a pill wouldn’t save her family or bring back the past she longed for. Her problems would still exist when the buzz wore off.