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His head was pounding and his vision was clouded with dust. He lay on his back for a moment, assessing the damage and searching for the sharp pain of broken bones. No, nothing was broken. He was bruised but he should be able to stand.
Instinctively he groped through the dust and debris for his glasses. Nothing. A face swam into view, and he could discern a cloud of copper-colored hair and the smudged outlines of a worried face.
“Toby, are you all right?”
“Yes, I think so. My glasses ...”
“Can you stand?”
Didn’t she understand? He needed his glasses. Without his glasses he could do nothing.
“My glasses. Can you see them?”
“They’re all broke, mister.” A child’s voice, worried and impatient.
“Let me have them.”
He felt the pressure against the palm of his hand and had a moment of blessed relief as he found both earpieces intact. He settled the glasses on the bridge of his nose. He sat up and viewed the cellar through cracked lenses. His eyes went immediately to the short tunnel. His vision was far from perfect, but he could see enough to know that the mine was still dancing at the mouth of the cave.
He staggered to his feet. His first instinct was to look upward at the barred door in the hope that he could make another assault.
Carol was beside him, holding his arm. “There’s no way up,” she said. “I tried.”
“When?”
“While you were unconscious.”
“How long was I out?”
“Not long.”
“How long?” he asked insistently.
She sounded impatient. “A couple of minutes. Does it matter?”
He shook his head and drew in a sharp breath at the renewed pounding. “Not long enough for the tide to turn.”
“No,” said Carol. “I’ve been watching. It’s still coming in. Do you think we should go back the way I came?”
“Back to the top of the house?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“If the mine blows up in here, the house will collapse on you. You won’t stand a chance.”
Carol tugged on his arm and turned him so that he was looking directly at her.
“Do you have a better idea? If you do, I would love to hear it, and if you don’t, please stop frightening Anita. She’s scared enough without you talking about the house falling on top of her.”
Toby glanced sideways and saw the fuzzy outline of the little girl. He adjusted his glasses, trying to find a way to bring the world into better focus. Moving them down his nose seemed to give the best result.
He could see Carol clearly now and read the fear on her face. She had given him her solution. Now it was up to him to come up with something better.
He grasped at one last hope. He spoke softly to the child, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. “Can you swim?”
He readjusted his broken glasses, and the child’s face came into focus. Her eyes were wide with fright.
“I ain’t never been swimming. I don’t know how to swim.”
Of course she couldn’t swim. She’d grown up in some Appalachian mountain hollow, far from the sea and far from public swimming pools and private swimming lessons.
It had been, at best, a faint hope, and now he had to put that hope aside. He was left with only one solution. It was terrifying, but it was the only thing he could think of.
“Did you think we could swim past it?” Carol asked.
He shook his head. “No, not really. It was just a wild idea, but don’t worry about it. I have another idea.”
“What?”
“If I can hold that thing still until the tide turns ...”
“How?”
“If I could get a rope around it and anchor it somehow and stop it from coming in, it will go back out when the tide turns.
She shook her head. “You can’t do that. It will blow up if you even touch it.”
“No, it won’t. That’s what they used to tell us in the war because they didn’t want anyone to go anywhere near a mine, but actually there is a way to handle it.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that because—”
“Because what?”
“Because you want to sound brave.”
No, he thought, I am saying it because I love you. He knew he wasn’t brave; in fact, he was terrified.
“It’s not as dangerous as you think,” he said. “The detonators are in the tips of the spikes. If you don’t touch the tips, it won’t blow.”
“I still don’t understand,” Carol said. “How are you going to stop it from coming in?”
The plan was still forming in Toby’s mind. It was ridiculous; impossible, but it would buy her some time.
He squared his shoulders. “We need rope. Shine that light of yours around and see if you can find some. The smugglers used to come in here, or so I’m told; there has to be rope.”
“Are you going to put a rope around it?” Carol asked.
“I’m going to try. I’ll hold it until the tide turns, and that will give you time to go back the way you came and be well clear of the house in case anything happens.”
“I’d rather stay here with you and we can leave together.”
He let his eyes rest on Anita. “Don’t worry about me; worry about her. You owe her that much.”
He could see the hurt in her eyes. She had taken his remark as an accusation. She was a mother who had abandoned her child once, would she do it again? Now was not the time to apologize. He would apologize another time, if he was granted another time.
“Are y’all looking for rope?” Anita asked, her accent grating on Toby’s ears.
“Yes, we are.”
Anita pointed. “There’s some over there.”
Toby was ready to swear that the child could see in the dark as she led them unerringly to several coils of rope hanging against the wall.
Toby fingered the harsh hemp braids. The rope was old and dusty and maybe not strong enough, but it would have to do. He took off his jacket and looped the coils over his shoulder.
For a moment he was just as much a hero as anyone who had worn a uniform. For a moment he was what he had always dreamed of being.
He took hold of Carol’s shoulders and pulled her to him until her face was in clear focus. “How long will it take you to go back the way you came?”
She stared into his eyes. “There’s a tunnel and then stone steps, and then a wooden staircase. It goes all the way to the top of the house, and then we’d have to go down the front steps and out the front door.”
Toby held her gaze as he made a rapid calculation and rejected any thought of going with her. She would need more time than the mine would allow her. She would need all the time he could give her.
He saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes. She knew as well as he did that he had little hope of coming out of the cave alive.
Her voice was soft and hesitant. “I have to tell you ...”
“You don’t have to tell me anything.”
“Yes, I do. I’m sorry that I lied to you. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think you’d understand the truth. Her father is—”
“I know who her father is,” Toby said, “and it makes no difference.”
“Really?”
He drew her into his arms. “I love you,” he whispered. “I don’t care about the past. I love you, and I will love her.”
He wanted the kiss to last for a lifetime, but who could say how long a life could last? If the war had taught him anything, it had taught him that life was fleeting, and this moment with Carol in his arms, and her lips warm and tender, could be all that he would ever have.
He released her and walked slowly toward the water. “Go quickly. You’ll be safe if you go now.”
His words were more than just words. His words were a vow. The mine would not explode until Carol had time to escape. He would hold it until the tide turned. If he had to explode the mine and himself with it, Carol and her child were going to be safe.
He watched her turn away and walk back into the tunnel. He slipped off his shoes and stepped into the water.