Endings

A Friday morning in May 2009

Captain Luis and his men stood like dumb statues, their limbs rigid with shock. Their minds refused to believe what was before their eyes, so they merely stared—mouths gaping at the sight of the broken roadway perched precariously above and the spot where the car, van, and bus had simply disappeared into the gulping, angry gulf below. Pleading with God that no others would dive from the precipice.

Another crash of thunder resounded. A flash of light followed, highlighting the surreal terror before them. It was enough to startle the captain into action—paralysis followed by a sudden burst of energy. “I’m going to send out the Mayday,” Luis called out to his men. As he turned to run back to the pilothouse, he frantically shouted the command, “Jaurez! Everyone! I want every light we have pointed in the same direction. Where the vehicles went in—flood the entire area with light.”

Jaurez needed to yell back as the pouring rain was still pounding out a loud, steady drumbeat. “But Cap’n—there’s no way any of them—”

“Just do it, Jaurez. Now. I want the area thoroughly searched.”

Jaurez shook his head at the senseless exercise, but who was he to argue with the captain? If Captain Luis was assuaging his conscience, then so be it. He set to work, directing his men to fetch stowed search lights and lanterns, flashlights. Anything they could think of to light the area where the doomed had plunged off the bridge to their certain deaths in the water below.

Meanwhile, Captain Luis ran into the pilothouse and grabbed his radio. In a voice filled with stark terror, he shouted into the mike, “Mayday. Mayday. Coast Guard, we have a Mayday. Coast Guard, we have a Mayday.”

“Vessel calling Mayday. This is the United States Coast Guard, St. Petersburg, Florida.” The operator’s calm, measured answer was in juxtaposition to the captain’s utter panic. “What is your position and the nature of your distress?”

“This is a Mayday. The Skyway Bridge is down. Get emergency vessels out to the bridge. This is an emergency. Stop the traffic on the Skyway Bridge. The bridge is down. I repeat, the bridge is down!” As Luis spoke the horrendous truth of the accident, his voice broke. “We’ve got vehicles in the water. We’ll have more if the bridge traffic isn’t stopped immediately. We’re searching the water for survivors, but we’re disabled. Send vessels to assist.”

Overhead, miraculously, traffic had stopped. An alert driver noticed something was wrong, that the traffic ahead of him seemed to disappear. So he’d skidded to a stop on the slick pavement, accidentally—but fortunately—straddling and blocking both lanes of traffic. Managing to bring his large truck to a complete halt just a few feet before the pavement simply ended.

Those directly behind the truck braked quickly enough to keep from crashing into him, but several other vehicles behind them were unable to do so, causing a chain reaction. Though the drivers were angry about the damage to their vehicles and the delay, they had no idea of the tragedy they’d been spared.

Ignorant of this miracle above, Jaurez and his men repeatedly glanced up at the gaping hole. Solemnly crossing themselves, they prayed no more vehicles would plunge into the depths and turned their full attention toward those already in the water. Obediently following Captain Luis’s command, despite their conviction of its futility.

Finally, the weather began to calm, nature’s tantrum abating. The rain slowed to a drizzle, more annoying than dangerous. Despite the continued heavy cloud cover, the crew was encouraged to see more light in the east. The coming of dawn. Darkness had brought them destruction and death; they breathed a sigh of relief to see it diminish.

Morales, a seasoned member of the crew, leaned forward, straining to see into the water. He gave Jaurez a puzzled look, shaking his head in wonder. “It’s not possible …” he mumbled.

“What? What’s that?” Jaurez threw back at him, irritated.

“Did you hear—?”

A faint cry, carried on the sea breeze. Heartrending and plaintive.

“Mommy!”

Jaurez jerked forward, extending his body toward the source of the sound. Called out over his shoulder, “Morales, did you hear that?”

A look of amazement moved over Morales’s features. His mouth dropped open. “I heard it. It can’t be—but it sounds like a child.”

“Stay right where you are, Morales,” Jaurez instructed. He was pumping adrenaline now, every fiber in his being intent on finding survivors. Clicking into emergency drill procedure, he barked out, “Don’t move your eyes from that spot—not even for a moment. Everyone—direct all the lights where the cry seems to be coming from. Where Morales is pointing. Anyone—John. Grab the life ring.”

Morales kept his eyes peeled, while John hurriedly brought the ring to Jaurez. The two of them checked the strength of the rope’s knot on the ring, tying the other end to a secure post on the Wilder Wanderer. “Is there anything—can you actually see anyone out there, Morales?”

“Mommy!” The mournful sound floated to them again, like a ghost gliding across the waves.

“Good Lord above,” Morales whispered, his voice choking with awe. “There. Over there.” Pointing, shouting, and nearly losing his balance in his excitement. “I see two—there’s two—no, I’m countin’ three heads bobbin’ in the water. Gimme the life ring. Gimme the ring!”

Jaurez mechanically handed the ring to him, his gaze focused on the jutting waves. Squinting, he asked, “Where? I can’t see a blamed thing out there but water. Morales, there’s no way that … God in heaven,” he suddenly muttered, crossing himself again. “If they’re not ghosts, then they’re angels sent by God. Get that life ring to ’em, Morales. Them poor souls. We gotta get ’em outta there, now.”

Regretfully, he tore his eyes away from the bobbing heads, barking out, “Whatever you do, don’t let them outta your sight. I’ll be right back—going to tell the captain. Tell him to alert the Coast Guard—we’ve got survivors.” Before hurrying off, he grabbed Morales’s arm, stared intently into his eyes. “God be with your throw, man.”

All the crewmen stood with Morales along the bow, their eyes going back and forth from Morales to the survivors who appeared so small and fragile in the vast waters. Pointing, shouting advice and directives to the man entrusted with the all-important throw. Morales took a deep breath, then tossed the ring. Only to watch the wind catch it, pulling it far right.

“Get it upwind of them, Morales,” a crewman offered, his tone like a reverent prayer. “If they’s to have a chance, you’ve gotta get it just so.”

Hand over hand on the rope, Morales frantically pulled the ring back to him. For a moment, he clutched it in his hands, lifted his eyes to heaven—offering a prayer. He drew back muscled arms and heaved it out over the waves. Only this time, he’d turned the direction of his body, pivoting left. The ring appeared to be in slow motion as they all watched it sail out and away from them. Miraculously, it landed a couple of feet upwind of the three. And they all watched breathlessly as a small hand reached out to grasp the ring, pulling it toward them.

They had it.

On deck, a raucous cheer went up. Jaurez and Captain Luis joined the jubilant crew, Luis shaking his head at the apparent miracle. “The Coast Guard’s on her way,” he said.

“Shouldn’t we launch the Wilder’s dinghy? Try to get to them?” Morales asked. “We can’t lose ’em now.” He didn’t take his eyes off the survivors, not even to acknowledge his captain’s presence.

“There,” Captain Luis shouted, his extended arm pointing through the haze hovering over the water. A reverberating blast of a horn announced the arrival of the Coast Guard vessel, its bow coming into view from the opposite side of the bridge.

“This is the captain of the Coast Guard,” a voice called out through a loudspeaker. “We’re coming to get you. A crew is on its way now. Hold on.”

The crew quickly lowered the ship’s rescue boat and made their way toward the survivors. As they grew closer, they could hear a child’s voice, sobbing, nearly hysterical.

Finally pulling up next to them, they looked down to find two women and the child: a girl, her arms in a stranglehold around the neck of a woman with blood streaming from a gash on her forehead, and next to them, a younger woman. All three locked eyes onto the faces of their rescuers, blinking in shock, skin deathly white.

“Are you real?” the young woman asked.

“Ma’am, we’re from the Coast Guard. And I can assure you we’re quite real.”

The crew reached to pluck the child first, the woman she was clinging to eager to hand the little one up to the rescuers. Then they pulled the two women into the boat, giving special care to the one with the wound, and wrapped them all in heavy blankets.

The child scrambled away from her rescuer, flinging herself back onto the woman’s lap, desperate not to be separated from her. A kindly crew member wrapped a third blanket around them both, binding them together.

“What’s your name, little one?” he gently probed. “Can you tell us your name?”

Wet hair plastered to her small skull, lips blue and teeth chattering, she whispered, “Aubrey.”

He turned to the woman holding her with the same questioning look. One of the crew had already staunched the flow of blood; a bandage covered her wound. “And you are?”

“I’m Fran. Fran Thomason. My son. My husband. They’re still out there somewhere. You’ve got to—you are looking, aren’t you? Because they’re still out there, in that awful water. Please, you’ve got to find them.” She began sobbing, all the while hugging Aubrey to her. Needing to fill her empty arms. Charlie …

“Ma’am, I promise you. We will continue to search. And we will find any survivors. But just now we need to take care of you. Are you hurt anywhere else?” To Fran’s no he continued, “Are you sure there’s nothing else we need to attend to? On you or the child?” She shook her head again and closed her eyes. Grasping the little girl as tightly as the child grabbed onto her. He turned his attention to the other woman. “And you are?”

“Michal. Michal McHenry.”

The crew exchanged looks, a tacit agreement passing among them to wait, allow others to ask more questions later. When the survivors were carried and handed carefully up to others on the deck of the ship—the rescue crewmen shared the little they’d learned—the captain was eager to glean more information. News of the accident was now public, and he knew family and friends would be anxiously awaiting word of any survivors.

But first they needed emergency care, so Fran, Aubrey, and Michal were placed on stretchers—Fran and Aubrey sharing one, since no one cared to attempt separating the two—and carried to the ship’s medical quarters. Once they’d been thoroughly examined, the doctor rebandaged Fran’s head, the only wound of any significance in comparison to other minor scrapes and bruises. To the doctor’s complete astonishment, he found nothing of consequence on Aubrey and only deep bruises on Michal’s hands—nothing evidencing the disaster they’d just survived. Lastly, he started intravenous fluids for all three, though not without a pitiful cry from Aubrey at the prick of the needle. The doctor’s heart wrenched at the sound.

The ship’s personnel had already contended with Aubrey’s hysterical demands to not be separated from Fran during the time it took to get them into dry clothes, to complete their examinations, to begin their IVs. Not until she was allowed back on Fran’s lap did Aubrey begin to calm down, clutching Fran every bit as frantically as before. Finally, his ministrations to the two women complete and Aubrey’s cries reduced to an occasional hiccup, the doctor nodded toward his captain.

Kneeling down on one knee before them, Captain Howard removed his cap, revealing a downy ring of white hair. He had kindly light blue eyes and a friendly smile, both of which he used to great effect when needed. He asked Fran, “Mrs. Thomason, is it? And this is your daughter, Aubrey?”

“No. Actually, she’s—” Fran shook her head, and immediately winced at the sudden sharp pain from the gash on her forehead. One pain reminded her of the other, for Fran’s eyes filled with tears and she sobbed out, “She’s not my daughter. I honestly don’t know who she is … and I lost … have you found my husband? My son?” She looked from the captain to the doctor to the others in the room, eyes searching, questioning. “Please? You’ll keep looking?”

Softly, the captain answered, “Ma’am, we do have our crew continually on the watch for any other survivors. But we … we were amazed, really, to find you three. For the magnitude of the disaster …” He hung his head.

“So we’re the only survivors you’ve found?” Michal asked, incredulous.

“Yes,” Captain Howard said. “And quite honestly, your survival is nothing less than a miracle.”

Fran continued to weep, and the captain reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Concerned about Fran’s reaction, the doctor intervened, cautioning, “Only a couple more questions at most, sir. I’m concerned she might have a concussion. And rather than do X-rays here, I think it best to wait and have them done ashore. At the hospital.”

The captain nodded in agreement. “Just one more thing.” Smiling, he peered into Aubrey’s face and reached out to run a hand gently down her head, over the tangled mass of curls. “You’re Aubrey, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Never taking wary eyes off him. Nor relaxing her hold on Fran in the slightest.

“What’s your last name, sweetheart? Do you know that?”

Insulted, she curtly replied, “’Course I do. It’s Roberts.”

Captain Howard replied in an “A-ha” tone. “So you’re Aubrey Roberts. Am I right?”

Aubrey nodded her head yes. After acknowledging her response with a complimentary “Good,” the captain glanced back over at the doctor, his mouth set in a grim line and a crease between his brows. “Hmm. The crew from the freighter indicated she was crying out, ‘Mommy.’” He scratched his head, fluffing the ring of white. “None of this adds up.”

“The angel tooked my mommy. And Rabbit,” Aubrey interjected, exasperated. “I cried—” Aubrey paused a moment, shaking the curls, “—the angel said it was okay to cry. But then he tooked me to her,” pointing a finger toward Fran’s chest. “’Cause she has Mommy’s eyes.” Aubrey snuggled against Fran, a look of self-satisfaction blanketing her features.

“Oh. Well, then.” Baffled, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, Captain Howard looked to Fran and then Michal for a plausible translation of Aubrey’s story. But the expressions on both their faces showed they were equally nonplussed. Fran, wiping at her nose with a tissue, shook her head again—recalling too late the consequence would be pain. “Ouch. I’m sorry, I don’t …” She put a hand to her head, gingerly feeling the bandage there. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what she’s talking about because frankly, I can’t remember anything.”

“Not unexpected with a concussion,” the doctor interjected.

And then nearly in complete unison, they all turned to Michal.

But Michal shook her head too, shrugging. “I remember hanging onto the latch of the escape door at the back of the bus.”

“That explains the bruises on your hands.”

“You were on that bus?” the captain asked, incredulously.

“Yes, in the very back. And I must’ve … must’ve gotten the door open, I guess? Honestly, like Fran, I also don’t remember anything after clutching onto that handle. It’s a total blank.”

The doctor signaled for the captain to wrap up the questioning, but before he could stand, Michal grabbed his arm. “My aunt. Would you please call my aunt? Sarah McHenry. She lives in Fort Myers, but I don’t know her phone number.”

“Don’t worry about a thing, miss. We’ll find out and contact her straight away. For all three of you, we’ll locate family and make those calls as soon as possible.”

Glancing toward Aubrey, he noted her eyes fluttering closed. Michal was also fighting sleep, and Fran looked as though she could drop off at any moment. Captain Howard knelt there, spellbound, simply watching them. Thinking to himself, These are miracles indeed. Two women and a small child. How on earth did they … how could they possibly …?

He waited to make sure his charges were resting comfortably. Listened for the soft sounds of sleep, and left them to the doctor’s care.

Several hours later, Fran woke. Allowing her gaze to wander, she realized she was in a hospital room. After taking in the metal cart at the foot of her bed and the IV still embedded in her arm, she turned to her left. A man and a teenage girl sat in chairs by the window.

The man glanced up, noted Fran had awakened, and instantly stood. “Colleen, go get the nurse, will you?” Fran watched her leave the room and then shifted her gaze back to the man—now standing next to her. “I’m Bill. And you’re Fran? You’re certainly due an explanation why I’m here in your room, first of all.” He gestured toward Aubrey, who was still sound asleep and cuddled next to Fran, her fists tightly clutching Fran’s gown. “Aubrey’s my daughter. And at this point, she clearly doesn’t intend to let go of you.” He smiled, revealing a devotion to the little girl and a boyish charm in his grin.

Just then, the sun broke through a bank of clouds, pouring a ray of bright light through the window which highlighted Fran’s face. She winced at the glare, immediately shielding her eyes. But she heard Bill’s intake of breath, and before he turned to pull down the blinds, she caught the look of astonishment mixed with deep pain etched on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Fran asked.

He put his hands in his pockets and stared down at the floor. “I’m sorry. It’s just that … you have the same unusual eyes as my wife does … did. Same color. And those dark flecks, like glistening gold, I used to tell her. It was like she …” Fran watched him swipe at the wetness on his cheek. “I’m not usually so emo—” He turned away, embarrassed by his weeping.

While sleep had been a temporary escape, Fran felt again the full impact of the knifelike ache for her family. Subconsciously, she tightened her hold on Aubrey. “Neither am I. But we don’t usually have to deal with this type of loss, do we?” she said softly.

Bill shook his head. When he turned to her, his eyes were still glistening, his cheeks coated with tears. “Your husband—?”

“Yes. And my—son.” Her voice broke, saying it out loud, making the truth too real. She closed her eyes and held her breath a moment, an attempt to stem the uncontrollable sobs for her precious son.

Fran’s eyes still closed, Bill began to speak again. “My wife Maureen and I had this uncanny discussion just before she … just before she left for Sanibel.” He shook his head, a look of wide-eyed disbelief on his face. Wiping at more escaping tears, he choked out, “We were talking about being alone. That being alone is different from being lonely. And that being left isn’t as frightening in the bridge of—”

“—God’s love,” they both finished in unison.

Their expressions exactly mirrored each other’s: mouths open in shock, eyes still glistening with tears. An aura of complete awe.

The nurse nearly flew into the room, an anxious Colleen following at her heels.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Thomason? Head hurt still?”

Fran shook her head—partly in answer to the nurse’s question, but mostly to shake herself as if waking from a dream.

The nurse took Fran’s blood pressure and pulse, busying herself with the IV and monitors. “Little one still sleeping? Best to let her wake up on her own, I’m thinking.” She made a point of making eye contact with Bill. “The doctor will be in soon. He gave strict orders you weren’t to face the crowd outside until he’d seen you first.” She stood momentarily with hands on her hips, the only time she wasn’t a mass of frenetic energy. “Sit tight. He’ll be here in a jiffy.” And with that, she was gone, racing out as fast as she’d flown in.

“Crowd? What’s—?”

Bill coughed and then cleared his throat. “Reporters. Must be dozens.” The sudden switch back to reality felt jarring. He handed a tissue to Fran and then used one to wipe his own face. “They’ve been anxiously waiting to interview you and Miss McHenry for some time. Tried to bully their way in at one point, but the Coast Guard posted some men outside the wing. No one’s getting past those burly guys, that’s for sure.”

“Your eyes are just like my mom’s,” Colleen whispered.

Bill put his arm protectively around her. “This is Colleen, my older daughter.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom,” Fran said.

“I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you for taking such good care of Aubrey.” Bill reached out to lightly put his other hand on Aubrey’s back. He could feel her breathing slightly against his hand, the proof he needed that she was alive.

Fran shook her head. “Besides holding her head above water—the waves were frighteningly high—well, I don’t recall doing anything. Michal—I think that’s her name, but maybe I got it wrong—she was a big help too. She’s a strong swimmer.”

Colleen continued to stare at Fran as though mesmerized by her. “Michal is her name. I met her aunt outside,” Colleen said. “Did you, um … did you see my mom?”

“I’m so sorry, Colleen. No, I didn’t.”

Aubrey stirred. When her eyes fully opened and focused on Bill, she smiled. Let go of Fran. And stretched out her arms longingly to him.

Bill gathered her into his arms, where he rocked her back and forth, more silent tears falling down his cheeks. When Colleen put her arms around Bill’s waist, he leaned down so he could hug both girls tightly to his chest.

“Daddy … Daddy.” Aubrey put a hand on Bill’s cheek, demanding his attention.

“Yes, Lolly Pops?”

“The angel told me she would love me.” She pointed to Fran. “And she’d love you and Collie, too.”

Bill stared at her, momentarily speechless. “Aubrey, you shouldn’t—”

Someone rapped on the door and then a woman peered in. “I’m so sorry to interrupt. But could my niece and I please come in for a few moments? We need to face these reporters soon, and Michal’s just … well, she tells me she needs to speak with you all. Is that all right?”

Bill looked to Fran, who nodded. “Please. Come in and join us.”

After introductions, Bill motioned to chairs for Sarah and Michal. Sarah insisted she’d stand, so only Michal sat down, IV pole in tow. Michal turned to Fran, biting her lip. “I barely remember our rescue. The Coast Guard ship. The captain asking questions. Honestly, it’s all kind of fuzzy. But I have this vague recollection of Aubrey saying … well, something kind of … strange? About angels?”

“Just one.” Aubrey corrected her. “He tooked my mommy. And Rabbit, too—to keep Mommy comp’ny,” she said as an aside to Bill. “And then he tooked me to her,” pointing yet again at Fran, who couldn’t help grinning back. “See, she has Mommy’s eyes,” Aubrey stated to Sarah and Michal, dramatically.

“Well, then. That explains it.” Michal said smugly, leaning back and crossing arms over her chest. When she started to giggle, everyone in the room joined in to laugh with her.

Except Aubrey, who turned back to Bill with a pronounced pout. “Don’t they believe me, Daddy?”

“Sweetheart, Mrs. Thomason, Michal, and you—the fact that you’re here, with us—that’s a miracle. No one is going to disagree with that.”

Apparently satisfied, Aubrey hugged him again.

Suddenly fidgeting, smoothing her blouse and picking at a nonexistent piece of lint, Sarah asked Fran, “Did I hear correctly? Thomason is your last name?”

“Yes, my husband … I’m sorry, this is difficult … my husband was Charles Thomason Junior. Obviously his dad was a Charles, too. And we passed the name onto our son, Charlie.”

Sarah just stared at Fran for an awkward moment. Then she calmly said, “Bill, I think I’ll take the offer for a chair now and sit down. If that’s okay.”

Michal watched the freckles on Sarah’s face begin to stand out, growing darker and more pronounced. That’s odd, she thought. Or is it that the skin behind them is turning lighter? Alarmed, she asked, “Aunt Sarah, are you okay?”

But Sarah was solely focused on Fran. “I don’t mean to pry, and this might seem random, but could you tell me please, did your father-in-law die of cancer when his son was eleven years old?”

Fran gasped. “Oh my. You’re that Sarah?” she whispered.

Michal looked from Fran to Sarah, understanding dawning. “Charles Thomason. He’s CK?” she asked. But Sarah had slumped over, putting her head in her hands.

“Sarah,” Fran said, but Sarah didn’t move, her face still resting in the palms of her shaking hands. “Sarah, please. Take my hand. It’s okay—Charles and I talked about you, and he understood. You must’ve been hurting deeply too.” Sarah looked up then, and her eyes were red-rimmed, wet. She reached out and took the offered hand between hers. “Sarah, this is … yet another miraculous gift.” Fran’s voice grew husky. “I can’t tell you what this … you’re a godsend to me right now! Can’t you see you’re a connection to Charles? Later, when we have time, I want you to tell me all you can remember about him. Everything—every detail. And Charles’s dad—CK I think you called him? I want to hear—”

There was a tap from outside, followed by the doctor’s abrupt entrance. “I see our patients are awake now.” If he noticed the emotional weight hanging in the room, he didn’t show it, for he immediately proceeded to examine Fran, introducing himself as Dr. Holms. “How you feeling? You do have a slight concussion, by the way.”

Bill placed Aubrey on the bed so she could be quickly checked over also. The doctor tilted the little girl’s chin up. Smiled as he peered into the bright eyes. “Hardly a scratch on you anywhere, little one. How did you manage that?” Then he gave Michal a quick perusal, pronouncing her nearly perfect too, except for the deep bruising on her hands. “You know, I can’t say that I’m a religious person. But something or someone protected you three. Something bigger than any of us, that’s for sure.” He stood still for a moment, eyebrows raised. “Okay. Ready for the onslaught? They’ve been pacing the hallways like vultures.”

He’d just reached for the door when Sarah blurted out, “Doctor, wait. Would it be possible for Michal and me to have just a few more minutes alone?”

“Absolutely. Take as much time as you need; they can wait. I’ll beat them off with my stethoscope if I have to.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“You’ve got thirty. Going back to Michal’s room, are you? Then I’ll meet you all in the lounge in a half hour.”

Bill looked around the room at the small group gathered there. They were strangers—and yet, no longer. Intimates, in a way, but not that either. All touched by tragedy, now forming fledgling relationships for an unknown future—but one they would face with newly discovered hope. “I, um …” he stammered. Finding himself uncharacteristically without a sense of clear direction. Except for one thing. “Before you leave us, Sarah and Michal, is anyone else feeling this … sense of urgency like I am? That we six need to … to be together? To stay together, somehow?”

Vigorous nods and affirmations of “Oh, yes,” from everyone followed. His gaze traveled from one to another, but he allowed it to rest longer on Fran and Aubrey. Aubrey had latched onto Fran’s gown again, and Bill looked lovingly from his daughter’s hand to the woman Aubrey had miraculously claimed as someone she would determinedly love. And who would in turn love her, Colleen … and me? Bill pondered.

Minutes later, Sarah helped Michal with the ungainly IV, tucking her back into bed, even though it would be a brief respite. Sarah took Michal’s hands between her own, holding them tightly.

“Aunt Sarah, I … I need to talk to you about something.”

Sarah smiled at her, reassuringly. “About why you were on the bus.”

What she’d left behind came rushing back, and Michal nodded her head, her eyes flooding with tears. “Beth—” Michal could get no further, and abruptly stopped.

“I heard. Amongst the crowd waiting out there is a Miss Hamilton, your RA, I understand?” Michal nodded. “So Beth had a baby in the dorm. And no one knew she was pregnant. I take it … you didn’t know either?”

Michal shook her head. “I had no idea, Aunt Sarah. And the night before I left, she had the baby right there in our room.” It was a relief to finally tell it all, to let the truth come tumbling out. “She went through all that without telling me—being pregnant. Labor. Not confiding in me because I wasn’t worthy of her trust.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Michal. Beth made her own decisions.”

“But that’s not all. Something else happened too.” She turned away, felt her face flush crimson.

“You know I’m just going to keep on loving you, no matter what you tell me.”

Michal took a deep breath, still avoiding her aunt’s steady gaze. “Stephen tried to … touch me.” Her voice caught, and between sobs she choked out, “He said it was God’s will. That I wanted it—that I’d led him on. I tried to push him away. But he was so strong.

“And then suddenly Allistair was there. Pulling Stephen off me. I hate to think what would’ve happened if he hadn’t. But I was so ashamed that Allistair … what he saw. I don’t think I can ever face him again.” She turned, her eyes boring into Sarah’s now. “So you see why I just had to get away from there. I don’t want to ever go back. And please don’t send me to Ethiopia either. Could I … could I come live with you? Please, Aunt Sarah?”

Sarah’s eyes were soft, but her answer was firm. “No, Michal, you can’t.”

The unexpected rejection hit like a punch to Michal’s stomach. But before she could utter a word, Sarah reached up to cradle Michal’s face in her hands. “The feelings and memories will forever be with you. But hear me, Michal. Hear my heart. Following God means you may have to go where it hurts. Don’t waste the pain, Michal. Follow it all the way to the cross with Christ.”

Her voice flat, Michal stated, “You think I have to go back. To face Stephen. And Allistair.” Michal squeezed her eyes shut, attempting to erase the images from her mind. The way Allistair had looked at her. The sympathy in his eyes. “I don’t think I’m brave enough to do that.”

“Yes, you are. You’ve survived boarding school, adapted to a culture on the other side of the earth, and then returned to a foreign home. And now you’ve survived a collapsed bridge. That’s the brave young woman I know—and that’s the same one who can face all her fears.”

There was a knock at the door again. The doctor poked his head in, apologizing profusely. “I am so sorry to bother you yet again. But there’s someone out here, Miss McHenry, who’s insistent on seeing you before the others.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, and Michal, hastily wiping away tears, reasoned, “I don’t know who it could be. I’m just not quite ready to—”

“Well, he’s gotten … obnoxious, quite frankly. And that’s saying a lot considering he’s competing with reporters. Says he’s from your school and his name’s—” The doctor was abruptly pushed to one side of the doorway, and irritably snapped, “Hey. You can’t just—”

Hair uncombed, clothes a rumpled mess, one hand clutching a large chocolate candy bar—he’d pretty much shoved the doctor aside in his impatience—he finally settled eyes overflowing with love on the one woman he’d been seeking.

“Michal? Oh God, I was so afraid I’d lost you.”

She smiled through her tears. “Aunt Sarah. I’d like you to meet Allistair Fuller.”

The six walked into the lounge together to raucous cheers, applause, and the flashes of dozens of cameras—three survivors and three family members, though each of the six would have firmly stated they were all present due to miraculous events.

Michal and Fran were in wheelchairs, Michal to the spectators’ left. As soon as she entered the lounge area her eyes darted about the room, searching the faces. And when she found that one, her eyes lit up and a hint of a smile appeared as she relaxed back into her chair. Reddening, suddenly embarrassed, she studied the tightly clenched hands in her lap.

Sarah stood between Michal and Fran. She had one hand on each of the women’s shoulders, lightly touching one of them. The other shoulder, the slimmer of the two, Sarah held so tightly that the tips of her fingers were white. A fan pushed Sarah’s ever-escaping wispy curls across her nose, tickling her. But stubbornly, rather than remove a hand from either of the two women beside her, Sarah merely twitched her nose. She swallowed to keep herself from laughing out loud—appreciating the humor of how it must’ve looked—all the while keeping her chin high, her jaw firm, and one foot slightly in front of the other.

Fran cuddled Aubrey on her lap so tightly that it was nearly impossible to tell where one body stopped and the other began. Her cheek resting on top of Aubrey’s head, those soft curls, she glanced now and then toward Sarah. And then Bill—though he appeared not to notice.

Aubrey still clung to the collar of Fran’s robe, and she squeezed her eyes shut at the assault of glaring flashes. But when she peeked up at Fran, she was filled with wonder at the sparkle in Fran’s eyes—partly due to the gold flecks, but mostly from the glistening tears.

Colleen had insisted on wheeling Fran’s chair herself, and she gripped the handles as though she wouldn’t be able to stand without their aid. Cowed by the intensity of the crowd, Colleen glanced up only now and then, keeping her gaze on the top of Fran’s and her sister’s heads. When Bill reached over to playfully pinch Colleen’s side, she pushed his hand away—but smiled and giggled nervously as she did so.

The last in the tableau, Bill had come as the spokesperson for the group. He held a sheaf of papers in his left hand, some notes he’d jotted down concerning Aubrey’s interpretation of the miraculous survival and a short testimony to the God of miracles. He cleared his throat as he began introducing himself and the others. And as he did so, he reached back toward Colleen. He touched her lightly and then—was he even aware of the movement?—his hand strayed toward the cold metal of the wheelchair and finally, the warmth of Fran’s other shoulder. Where it rested, comfortably.