When he arrived home at his duplex apartment, his mother was waiting up for him. With her squinted-eye smile and a throaty laugh that testified to her longtime Benson & Hedges habit, Lorraine was an interesting mix. Despite the endearing brogue and almost courtly manner she maintained from her days growing up on a farm in Nova Scotia, adulthood had toughened her into a wary survivor. DJ knew how well his mother could read him, after all they’d been through. It would be no use trying to mask the misery he’d seen in the tunnel that day or the apprehension he felt about tomorrow. He didn’t want to get her riled up, though, so he tried to spin his anxiousness in a positive way.
He knew how much strength his mother drew from her Catholic faith. Many a Sunday night he would walk her the few blocks from their house to St. Charles Church for the seven o’clock mass. And he certainly knew how much she’d adored her late father, the strapping carpenter who was the central character in most of Lorraine’s favorite childhood stories. While driving home that night, DJ had recalled one particular story his mother had told him more than once. It involved his grandfather’s time as a carpenter helping to erect Boston’s fifty-two-story Prudential Tower, which when it opened in 1964 was the tallest building in North America outside New York. No matter how high above the ground he was, DJ’s grandfather had said, he’d never been afraid because he kept a Virgin Mary medal in his pocket. Lorraine had come into possession of that Miraculous Medal sort of accidentally. She had always loved the smell of pipe smoke, because it reminded her of her dad. After he died, her mother had given Lorraine her dad’s tobacco pouch as a memento. And nestled deep inside that aromatic pouch, Lorraine had found the Miraculous Medal.
Now, standing in their living room, DJ asked his mother, “You know Grandpa’s medal? Is that still around?”
Lorraine felt a knot in her stomach as soon as the question came out of her son’s mouth. With her thin eyebrows arched, she asked him why he wanted it. When DJ replied, “I’m a little concerned about the job,” she could tell he was trying to backpedal a bit. He could downplay things all he wanted, but she had already gotten the message.
Lorraine said nothing as she climbed the stairs and fished the medal out of the drawer in a bedroom nightstand. She held it in her hand, gently buffing it with her thumb. It may have been called the Miraculous Medal, but it didn’t look like much. Silver in color and oval in shape, it wasn’t much longer than a large safety pin. There was a loop on the top of it, so it could be worn on a necklace or chain. In the center was a picture in relief of the Blessed Mother, arms out, halo around her head. Around that image was the message “O Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee.”
As anxious as DJ’s request made her, Lorraine wasn’t about to add to her son’s burden by forcing him to worry about her fears. She had faith that the Virgin Mary would wrap her protective arms around DJ in the same way she’d always watched over his grandfather. Lorraine descended the stairs and headed back into the living room.
“DJ dear,” she said, handing her son the medal, “be careful not to lose this.”
10. Wednesday
At five minutes to six on Wednesday morning, Billy made the call.
“Hello?”
“Ma,” Billy said, “I’m sorry to call you so early.”
“It’s no problem, Billy,” Olga Juse told her son soothingly, as she glanced over at her alarm clock. “You know I get up at six. My alarm would have gone off in five minutes anyway.”
Olga, who was now sitting up on the edge of her bed at her home in Florida, was taken aback by the call. She never wanted to bother Billy when he was on a job, so she always waited for him to get in touch. When he did, it was almost always on a weekend, from home.
Billy quickly got to the point. Michelle had left him a message with a question about what type of homeowner’s insurance policy they should get. Normally he would have waited to call, but with the closing date on the house just a couple of weeks away, they needed to get the matter settled. He was about to head into the tunnel, and that would keep him out of cell phone range until late that night, so this early-morning call was the best option. “I need to know what to tell her,” he said.
Olga reassured Billy that it really was no trouble. And from her years working in a law office, she was ready with the answer. “Make sure Michelle gets the policy that says ‘replacement value,’ Billy,” she told him.
Billy thanked his mother. Olga sensed an unusual heaviness in his voice. She knew his time was limited, but she didn’t want to get off the phone too abruptly. So she was relieved when he brought up the job, expecting that he would perk up and deliver one of his standard upbeat reports. He didn’t. “I’m working in this god-awful hole,” he said.
Olga could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. She hesitated. Should she ask him to leave the job? But before she could weigh the pros and cons of intervention, Billy moved to wrap things up. “Okay, thanks, I’ve got the information,” he said. “I’ll call Michelle.” Then he hung up.
It was six o’clock now. Billy had to drive from his buddy’s house and make it to the racetrack parking lot by six-thirty so he could meet the other divers and board the school bus for Deer Island. He dialed Michelle.
Given the tension hanging over them since Sunday, when Michelle had implored Billy to walk off the Deer Island job, he was bracing for round two. But Michelle restrained herself. She didn’t pick up the argument where they’d left off. Nor did she tell Billy about how, driving home after her shift at the pub the night before, she had started bawling, out of the blue. She could predict his response: We’re not going to start this again, are we? That’s why she had chosen to restrict her Tuesday-night voice mail message to the homeowners’ insurance question, making it sound a bit more urgent than it actually was. Her main goal was to make sure Billy returned her call. Short of getting him to change his mind, she knew the only thing that would make her feel better would be hearing his voice.
When Michelle picked up the phone, Billy relayed his mother’s advice on insurance. Then they talked about a couple of other house matters for a minute. With some of the tension lifted, Michelle decided to risk pressing the issue once more. She asked him to reconsider going into the tunnel again.
Billy had no interest in reigniting their standoff, so he tried to laugh it off. “I’ve got the easy job today,” he told Michelle. “I’m just going to be sitting in the Humvee.”
Michelle didn’t quarrel. Billy said he had to get going.
“Okay, I love you,” she told him.
“Love you, too.”
Riggs walked over to the lunch truck191 and bought a ham and cheese sandwich and a twenty-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew. He shoved both of them into his backpack and ambled over to the school bus that was idling in the parking lot. He kept his work boots unlaced because he knew he wouldn’t be in them for long.
191 (Chapter 10, note 1)
Riggs walked over to the lunch truck: I’m grateful to Riggs and Hoss for committing detailed notes to paper immediately after the accident, while the events were still fresh in their minds, and for sharing these notes with me. Dave Riggs, accident notes, 1.