by Patty Blount
“And there it is again.” Kara clapped her hands and grinned.
“Will you stop? There is no look.”
But there was. In the picture, Elena’s eyes were aimed up at Luke and her mouth was open in a wide smile she didn’t remember forming. She didn’t just look surprised. She looked... well, like a kid on Christmas morning.
She slapped the phone to the cushion between them and leaped to her feet. “I’m going to get these bags unpacked and then cook you and Milk Dud a fantastic dinner.” She flashed Kara a bright but fake grin and disappeared into the second bedroom.
The second she shut the door, Elena’s grin faded. Kara had been right; there was most definitely a look. With his mega-watt smile and twinkling eyes, Luke had made a hell of an impression. But that wasn’t all. Luke reminded her of things she’d tried so hard to forget.
Tried, but never would.
Chapter Two
Lucas Adair strode down the street, picking his way over icy patches and the occasional pile of unshoveled snow, still thinking about the blonde he’d just helped. He’d noted the building number, intending to find her again. He usually took the PATH train to lower Manhattan but today, something had urged him to get off and walk part of the way, to soak in some of the holiday cheer infecting the city. And then, some dick had to go and ruin his plan by shoving the blonde.
That girl. Damn. She was a sweetheart, the kind his mother would have been conspiring with her mother to set them up. She was gone now, his mom, one of the thousands lost in the horror that was September 11th. She’d had time to call home and leave a tearful message of goodbye.
He was one who played back that message.
Over and over and over.
Dad was already at work—on his Con Edison service crew. Lisa was away at college. Mean old Mrs. Fisher, his math teacher, had stepped out into the corridor for a hasty conversation with another teacher. When she came back into the classroom, she’d not only forgotten the trig problems on the board, she was crying tears the entire school had been sure her species was incapable of shedding. Lucas knew something was up. Something big. He didn’t find out what until the principal’s voice, tight and choked, crackled over the PA system, announcing that two planes had struck the twin towers and that we were under attack.
Attack.
The word had hung there, the PA system still hissing and crackling. And in that brief moment of silence before chaos erupted, he had time for one heart-stopping thought.
Mom.
She worked in 2 World Trade Center. They’d had a hell of a fight the night before about his laziness, his lack of interest or pride in anything. He’d mouthed off to her and she’d slapped him, hard, across the left cheek. He’d stalked off and gone to bed, cursing her until he’d fallen asleep.
Students screaming, crying and even fainting hauled him back to the moment. He sat there, his books still open to that stupid trig problem, when the sensation of a hand touching that same cheek sent a cold shiver skating down his back.
And he knew she was gone.
He stood up, bolted from the school and ran home, shouting for his mother the second he opened the front door. Nothing but the beep on the answering machine responded. He didn’t want to press that button, didn’t want to confirm what he already knew. But he had to hear her voice.
Hey, it’s me...um... a plane crashed into my building...I’m okay...but...but...oh, God! There’s a lot of smoke and fire and nobody knows where to go. The stairs are blocked. They’re trying to get help but—I’m sorry. David, I love you. I’ve loved you since we were eighteen years old and wouldn’t trade a minute of our life. Lisa, Lucas, I love you both so much. You two are my dreams come true. Don’t roll your eyes, Lucas, it’s true.
He’d had to squeeze them shut because he had rolled them just like she’d known he would.
I love you always and know you’ll—
Her words were cut off by the sounds of shattering glass and an unearthly groan. People screamed and then the call disconnected. He’d played that tape a second time, a third time, a hundredth time, so many times.
His dad had found him sitting on the floor with the answering machine in his lap and his hand pressed to his cheek. Could anyone have gotten out? Escaped the collapse of all that steel and concrete? Hours later, while the world watched and waited for survivors to be pulled out of the wreckage, he sat with his hand still pressed against his cheek where the sensation of that phantom touch still lingered.
Somebody bumped him and he jolted out of the past, surprised to find his eyes damp.
“Sorry.”
He waved off the woman’s apology with a scowl. It was his fault. He was so caught up in memories, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He didn’t have time for this. He had several projects at work quickly approaching their due dates plus the September’s Families Guild holiday event scheduled for December 20th. With the holidays added into the fray, his frustration levels were at a personal all-time peak. There was no room on his to-do list for obsessing about the past.
It was something about that woman’s smile. He knew she was important. He wasn’t sure how yet. A horn honked and he sidestepped a slow-moving couple. Al, his closest friend, would insist meeting this woman was a sign. If Lucas hadn’t been in such a bad mood, he wouldn’t have needed an infusion of holiday cheer. And then, he wouldn’t have decided to walk. Oh, yeah, it was a sign. His grin flashed for a brief moment and a woman walking past him faltered in her steps. He quickly lost the smile his mother had always called his secret weapon, and tried—in vain—not to feel that pang just under his heart every time he thought of her – her fear and her love in the moments right before she died.
At the corner, he waited for the light to turn green, hands deep in his jacket pockets, trying not to regret giving away his gloves to that homeless kid. Then again, that jolt of current, that sizzle of heat when he’d shaken pretty Elena’s hand would have been obscured if he’d kept them. He could almost hear Almir saying, “Could be another sign, Luke!” Hell, she even wore a pin on her hat kind of like the ornament he’d given away.
Damn it, would he ever forget about that stupid ornament?
The smile twitched when he remembered just how furious Lisa had been to learn he’d given it away. He hadn’t thought—he’d simply reacted. And he knew Mom would have done the same thing had she—
The grin completely disappeared when it struck him how completely moot that thought was. If she hadn’t been killed, he wouldn’t have had the crystal snowflake in the first place and there would have been no reason to give it away.
He looked up, up, up, shielding his eyes from the sun and stared at the tip of the Freedom Tower, feeling the same sense of pride—of love—he’d felt since the first time he’d been down here. He’d been sixteen years old then—braces on his teeth, acne marring his face, and a body like a puppy’s—all paws.
They’d looked for her, of course. Hospitals, churches, shelters. When the hours became days and the days became weeks, hope that she’d somehow gotten out faded and died. Mom was gone. And when the unspeakable pain of that fact dulled slightly, he’d learned to see—and appreciate—the acts of kindness humans managed to perform in the face of it. No, not the country’s leaders because it was expected from them, but from the people who lived and worked right here. The tireless sifting from the first responders, the generosity of store owners who handed out water and shoes and towels, the looks that passed between complete strangers that said I know. I know how bad it hurts.
He didn’t remember September fading into October or even November that year. Suddenly, it was December. Christmas time. His mother’s favorite season. They’d decorated the house the way she loved it best. And then, one of those kind strangers invited them to Ground Zero for a special Holiday Remembrance for just the families of those lost.
There were thousands of them.
He’d had to wear a suit, which sucked, but he’d gotten to meet the mayor, which
didn’t. All the family members were encouraged to bring something, some small token that belonged to the people they’d each lost. Lisa had pressed one of his mom’s Christmas ornaments into his hand that morning. Mom had collected them. This one was a crystal snowflake dotted with rhinestones. He’d gripped it tightly for hours—the train ride down from Newburgh, the taxi ride to the site, the long walk down the ramp to the pit.
That was where he saw her.
A girl—thirteen, maybe fourteen years old, standing on the ramp all alone. She had long wild blond hair that gleamed like the sun itself. But that wasn’t what grabbed his attention. It was her eyes. Huge brown eyes filled with worse things than the pain they all felt. Hers held fear. Hatred. Guilt.
He’d recognized all three.
Her thin shoulders shook under the strength of it. He watched that storm in her eyes grow and grow and felt fear build inside him. He knew he had to do something—anything—to show her that she wasn’t alone. He’d said something to her about light. There’s still light in the world. Or something lame like that. And pressed his mother’s snowflake into her hand, smiled down at her, and when some of that terrible grief left her eyes, he felt something—something so huge, so deep, so real—he’d never told anybody—not even Almir and God knows Al knew more about him than anybody else did.
It was too personal.
The girl had disappeared into the crowd and he never saw her again. He wished he had. He wished he’d kept the stupid ornament, when the darkness crept in and nearly blinded him.
The light turned green and he strode down the street to September’s Families Guild, where he volunteered his time and considerable energy to helping families like his cope with their losses. He’d stayed close because New York was where his family had always lived—and now, died. For Luke, it was critical to never forget, to never let fear swallow him. He lived in Hoboken now, in a condo with a view of Manhattan that made his breath catch every time he looked.
He opened a door, stepped inside the main office for the SFG, the same group responsible for organizing that first Holiday Remembrance back in 2001. Over a dozen years later, the annual Remembrance was an event that celebrated life instead of mourned it and that was a mission Luke could get behind. He was on this year’s planning committee and with just a few weeks to go until the big event, operating on nothing more than coffee fumes.
“Hey, Therese,” he called out to a girl in Goth gear running off copies.
“Luke.” She blew black bangs out of her eyes. “Bad news. Kara Larsen is out. Doctor says it’s time for her to park it until the little rugrat pops out.”
Luke groaned. “Crap. I was really hoping for another week or two.” He thought of the dozen or so tasks on their to-do list and tried not to run screaming for a cruise ship heading to the tropics. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine. The baby’s low—”
He shot up a hand. “I don’t need the play-by-play.”
Therese smirked. “Sciatic pain. Trouble walking.”
“Good. Great,” Luke said with a sigh of relief. “Okay, where’s the RSVP list? I’ll work on those damn seating charts. Can you order-”
“Already did.”
“You’re awesome.” He grinned and Therese rolled her black-rimmed eyes.
SFG had dozens of volunteers who worked on various projects designed to aid families who’d suffered losses during the attacks. Luke was the chairperson for all things related to the annual Holiday Remembrance. Every year, he promised himself this would be his last. And every year, he found himself raising his hand to volunteer for next year’s. His committee consisted of ten volunteers—nine now that Kara was out.
He strode into a tiny office, jerked his head in greeting toward his group. “Any reply from the mayor’s office yet?”
“Yeah. He’s a yes, but has to leave by nine for another engagement.”
“Another engagement?” Lucas cocked a hip and stared at Jenny, the youngest member of his committee, who squirmed under his glare, gripping a steno pad like it was Captain America’s shield. Lucas forced himself to smile though his jaw was tightly clenched. “Fine,” he said with forced patience. “We’ll move his speech to first.”
“Um, we can’t. We have the keynote first.”
“Right.” Lucas shrugged out of his jacket with a loud sigh. “Okay, let’s get the schedule up on a white board and see where we can shuffle.”
Several hours later, Luke’s eyes felt like they’d been thoroughly sandblasted. He’d managed to finalize the line-up of speeches and finished the seating plan. He clicked the send key on his computer and shot the seating plan to the other committee chairpersons. The venue the SFG had selected for this year’s event was just a few blocks away, the Skyline Hotel. Their Grand Ballroom could comfortably seat four hundred guests. SFG had sent out this year’s invitations in October with a November RSVP date, starting a wait list after they’d received four hundred confirmations. The room was located on an upper level and had a breathtaking view of the September 11th Memorial.
“I’ll be glad when this is over.” Luke kicked back in his chair, shut eyes he was sure were bleeding, and thought about reheating another pizza slice in the tiny microwave but couldn’t summon enough energy.
“Few more weeks, Luke, and you can fly to Tahiti, kick back with a drink with an umbrella in it, and rub oil into some woman’s back.” His best friend, Al, laughed, clicking through the file Lucas sent, looking for any stray typos.
“Oh,” Luke said on a moan. “What I wouldn’t give to do that right this minute.”
“Hey, Luke. Sleep on your own time. This lady claims her sister sent her to help.”
Luke pried his eyes open at Therese’s voice and found her standing beside her—the hot beauty he’d met earlier. The pretty Elena. He jerked, gasped.
“You should go home. You look like crap,” Therese remarked.
Luke shot her a wry smile. “Thank you. Thanks a lot. I’m Luke. Lucas Adair.” He extended a hand toward the pretty blonde. When her eyes fixed on the scar that rode the entire side of Al’s face, he quickly added, “This is Almir Suliman.”
“But you can call me Al.” He stood.
“Hi,” she replied, shaking their hands. “I’m Elena. Elena Larsen.”
“Kara’s sister?” Al frowned. “We just heard she’s under doctor’s orders to say home.”
“Oh, she’s fine. The doctor doesn’t want her walking far. That’s why I’m here—she sent me to help.”
Luke smiled a wide slow grin. “Did she now?” Merry Christmas to me. “God bless her.” He dragged over a chair, all but shoved her into it. Elena’s eyes darted to his mouth and her face went slack for a moment. When she shook herself, as if out of a trance, Luke swallowed his grin. He knew that look. Oh, she liked him, he was sure of it. There was something electric in the air between them, something he intended to pursue.
“Are you hungry? We’ve got some pizza left—” Al waved a hand toward a pile of pizza boxes.
“No, I’m good. Just had a huge meal.”
“Excellent. Well, we’ve got programs to finalize, a menu to confirm, favor bags to stuff, decorations to arrange—”
“Whoa, whoa!” Elena held up both hands. “One thing at a time.” Her eyes, brown to contrast with the blond hair, looked horrified.
“There’s a lot of work to do,” Luke said, annoyed.
“And I just got here. I don’t know anything about everything you just said,” Elena protested.
“Don’t worry. We’ll teach you.” He went to the door, cupped his hands to be heard over the din. “Everybody, drop what you’re doing. Let’s get the favor bags started.” That was an easy, though time-consuming task. He strode to a conference room whose enormous table was littered with boxes in assorted sizes and stared at the piles of donated favors. They needed to fill four hundred bags.
A chorus of groans went up as Luke’s committee dragged their feet to the large conference room.
; “Wow,” Elena said, ogling the contents of the room. “That’s a lot of swag.”
Curious eyes swung toward Elena so Lucas raised his hands to shush the room. “Everybody, this is Elena Larsen, Kara’s sister, on loan to us for the duration.”
“Did Kara have her baby?”
“Is she okay, we heard—”
Lucas let out a shrill whistle to quiet the group. “Kara did not have her baby yet. She’s on doctor’s orders to rest so Elena is helping out. Save your questions for later. I want to get this moving.”
“Um, sorry, boss, but I’ve got to get home.” Therese shook her head.
Luke glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist and cursed. “Okay. Fine. Who’s walking with Therese tonight?”
When nobody replied, Lucas pointed a finger at a husky guy barely into his twenties. “Jason. You do it. Anybody else need to leave right this minute? Figure out who’s walking with who. Nobody—”
“Walks alone.” The group finished for him in unison.
Lucas laughed, shook his head. It took about ten minutes for the goodnights, but soon, the room had been reduced to just five people.
“Hey, Elena. I’m Debbie.” A tall woman smiled. “Who did you lose?”
When Elena’s face lost its color, Lucas shot Debbie a look and strode over to the table in the center of the room, hoping a fast change of subject would help. “We’ve got everything arranged in stations. Over here, you’ve got your empty tote bags.” Luke showed her the flattened gift bags in silver bearing the SFG logo. “Open the bag, start here, pull one of each from these piles until you make it all the way around the room. Then, put the full bags here, on this cart.” The cart was a big rack on wheels and should hold a few hundred bags.
“Aye, aye, Captain.” Al bowed and added a little wave of his hand. Lucas swallowed the curse he would have shot back had they been alone.
Elena’s beautiful brown eyes went round as she scanned the huge conference room. “Okay. Let’s get to it.” She grabbed a bag, gave it a snap to open it, and started her circuit around the table, filling the bag as she went. She finished it off with a wad of tissue paper and put the finished bag on the first shelf. “That’s one. Only three hundred and ninety-nine to go.”
