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Tuesday, September 11, 2001
Trisha sat up in bed and blinked a few times as she yawned and stretched. She turned her head to the right and gaped at Ken as he sprawled out on the bed snoozing. She checked the clock. It was about eight-thirty in the morning. She put her hand on his shoulder and shook him.
After a bit, he jarred awake. “Wha...huh?”
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?”
“I kept my morning calendar clear since I have to pick Tommy up at ten.” He opened and closed his eyes a few times.
Trisha placed one foot on the floor and then the other before standing. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”
“Alright.” She headed to the kitchen.
She pulled out a bag of decaffeinated grounds and opened them, breathing in the scent and savoring the fragrant eye-opener before setting up the coffee-maker to brew. She opened the door to the refrigerator and surveyed what was on hand for breakfast. Eggs would be good. She checked the pantry to make sure they had bread for toast.
Yep, that’ll do. She took a half-full bag out and placed it beside the toaster before getting her large, nonstick frying pan off the rack. She turned her head in the direction of the living room as she heard the television click on. Ken was standing a few feet from the screen, clad only his in underwear. Trisha licked her lips as her gaze worked up and down his form. His hair was still damp from the shower, and his skin glistened. Her face flushed as she stared at his lean, hard muscles and tight butt.
“What the fuck?”
“Huh, I wasn’t staring.” She looked away while rattling her bowls and pan.
“Come here!” Ken’s voice was shaky and he was more agitated than Trisha had ever seen him.
She rushed to the living room, and he pointed at the screen. “Are you seeing this?”
Trisha saw lots of smoke pouring from a skyscraper. “Is that one of the twin towers?”
“Yeah, a plane crashed into the building.” Ken stared forward, engrossed in the news coverage. While she was watching him, he gasped and grabbed his stomach before swallowing hard. “Did you see that?”
“What?”
“Another plane—it just hit the other tower. This was intentional. Someone did this on purpose.”
Trisha smacked her hand over her mouth, nausea stirring in her stomach. “Where’s Tommy?”
Ken turned his head her way. “DC, not New York.”
“But if this is deliberate? Is that live? What time was his flight? Which airport?” Her entire body quaked.
Ken shook his head. “I don’t know. Our assistant handles travel arrangements. Wait...that was a recording. They...Bryant Gumbel said it happened at eight-fifty-two, but that’s Eastern Time.”
“Scan the channels.” Trisha panted, swallowing back the bile rising in her throat.
As he flipped the channel, she watched while ringing her hands. She saw lots of video footage of the burning buildings and of onlookers expressing shock but not any answers on where the planes came from or how this happened.
“I’m going to call his cellphone.” Trisha ran over and picked up the cordless phone, pressing the memory button to quick dial Tommy’s number. After three rings the call went to voicemail. Trisha heaved in a heavy breath as the beep sounded in her ear. “Tommy, call me as soon as you get this. Something terrible happened on the east coast. I need to know you’re alright.” She placed the phone back on the charger and hurried back to Ken.
“Get him?”
She shook her head. “Anything on the news?”
“It’s bad. Another plane hit the Pentagon building, and another hijacked plane crashed in Pennsylvania.” The phone rang and Trisha jumped before running to grab it.
“Tommy?”
“Mrs. Marks-Davidson?” A soft, nasal voice asked.
“Yes.” Trisha’s heart crawled into her throat, and she felt as if she were choking on it.
“It’s Kara. Mr. Marks-Davidson hired me after you stopped coming to the office. I heard the news on the radio and felt like I needed to contact you.”
“Oh, thank you! Can you tell me where Tommy is?” Trisha blurted out her words.
“Yes, ma'am, somewhat. I have the paperwork. The flight was from Dulles to San Antonio with a connection in Houston. It left Dulles at 5:45 a.m. The flight number is 87. Trisha jotted down the information on a notepad Ken kept by the phone.
“Thank you for calling me.”
“Yes, ma’am. If you hear from Mr. Marks-Davidson, please call the office and let us know he is okay.”
“Will do,” Trisha replied.
“Who is it? What’s going on?” Ken called out.
After she hung up, she told him what she’d learned.
“Flight number doesn’t match anything they’ve confirmed so far, but...shit. Why hasn’t he called back?”
Trisha put her arms around Ken’s waist and buried her face in his chest. As his heart pounded by her ear, she breathed in his fresh scent. He smelled of lavender. She held back tears. “I’m scared.”
He caressed her back. “I was such an ass to him. What if—“ His voice was shaky.
“Don’t say it!” Trisha lifted her head and looked him in the face. His eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over any second.
“I love him so much.”
She nodded her head. “I know.”
Ken’s bottom lip trembled. “He doesn’t.”
“He will. You’ll tell—“ She was cut off by the ringing phone.
Trisha dashed toward it, tripping but catching herself by kneeling on one knee. Ken grasped each of her shoulders and hauled her up onto her feet. She stepped up into a sprint and snatched up the phone. “Hello? Tommy?”
“It’s me. I’m okay.”
“Tommy!” She burst into tears. “Why didn’t you answer my call? Why didn’t you call back sooner?”
“I couldn’t. They disallowed cellphone use on the plane. We didn’t know what was going on, only that they were grounding our flight. They left us on the tarmac for what seemed like forever before letting us enter the airport.”
“Where are you?”
“Houston. It just so happened to be the closest airport when they grounded everything so I would have made my connection but nothing’s flying.”
“Do you know what happened?” Trisha’s voice was breathy.
“It’s on all the news stations.”
“What’s going on, Trish. He’s okay? Tell me he’s okay.” Desperation clung to every syllable Ken uttered.
She looked at him and nodded. “Here. You talk to him.”
He grabbed the phone. “Hey, buddy. Where are you?”
“I’m at Hobby airport. I’m waiting in line to rent a car, but so is everyone else. I might not get one.”
“Forget that. I’ll come get you, but I don’t want you in that airport. Find a hotel and take the shuttle there. Then call me to let me know where you are.”
“Okay, thanks for coming to get me. It’s a long drive.”
“Of course.”
“Wait, wait!” Trisha cried out while scrambling to find Ken’s cell phone. “I’ll make some reservations while you’re on the line.”
“Oh, I can do it faster from the computer.” Ken hurried to his home-office and then sat in front of his PC before typing as fast as lightning. “Okay, I’ve found something close to hobby.” He tapped a few more buttons while holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. “I’ve got you checked in at a Luxury Inn. Just look for their shuttle.”
“Thanks, Ken.” I’m a little freaked out so I appreciate your doing all this for me.”
“You’re my best friend. See you soon.” As Ken hung up the phone, Trisha kicked him in the shin. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“Why didn’t you tell him you loved him?”
“On the phone?”
“Yes!” She lifted her foot again, and he jumped back.
Ken wagged a finger in the air in front of her. “Hey. You’ve become way too violent since you got pregnant.”
“Is that right?” She balled up her fist.
“You never use to hit or kick me.”
“Maybe you never acted so stupid before.”
His lips thinned into a line and his eyebrows knitted. “Could you cut it out?”
She sighed, the fight fleeing from her. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I suppose I have been out of hand, but you did sort of wreck me.” She motioned to her abdomen with one hand.
He smirked. “Like a new driver in a Ferrari.”
She shook her head. “More like a Hyundai, but okay. Let’s go get Tommy.”
He raised his chin. “You aren’t going.”
Trisha lifted an eyebrow and laughed mockingly.
* * * *
AS KEN DROVE, TRISHA sat on the passenger side, looking over a state map. “I can’t believe I’m letting you go.”
“Pfft. You say that like you had a choice.”
He pursed his lips and shook his head as he watched the road. “You’re pregnant, and horrible stuff is happening. You should be safe at home.”
“How do you know our house isn’t next? I’m just as safe here.”
“A three-hour drive is not good for you.”
“Neither is worrying about both of my husbands all day.”
“Why are you so stubborn?”
“I was born that way.” She crossed her arms over her chest and nodded toward the exit. “That way.”
“God help me.” Ken pulled onto the interstate highway.
