Truly, Madly, Deeply

by Karen Kingsbury

  Tommy had also known that his parents’ story was intrinsically connected to what happened on 9/11. But until today he hadn’t understood the very grave scope of the matter. How his mother had missed the chance to have a final conversation with her father and how what had happened that Monday night had resulted in his own birth. And at the same time, had nearly separated his parents forever.

  But the part that hit him hardest today, the aspect of this real-life 9/11 that was still sending shock waves through Tommy, was the heroic actions of the first responders. The numbers lost that day were mind-blowing.

  Tommy wandered back to the display detailing how many firefighters and police officers had died on 9/11 or because of it. Not only the 343 firemen and 71 police officers when the towers collapsed, but since then another 204 firefighters and an additional 241 NYPD men and women.

  He was still trying to grasp the loss when a man walked up to him. A quick glance and Tommy spotted the FDNY patch on the shoulder of his uniform. He was Hispanic, maybe in his late forties, and he looked a million miles away.

  If the guy wanted privacy, Tommy wasn’t going to interrupt him.

  After a minute or so the man breathed deep. “Seems like yesterday.”

  There was no one else around. Tommy shifted so he could see the man better. “My grandfather worked on the eighty-ninth floor of the North Tower.” He squinted. “This is my first time here.”

  The man nodded. “Only three of us from my station made it out alive that day.” He gazed toward the place where the North Tower once stood. Then he turned to Tommy. “Javier Sanchez.”

  “Tommy Baxter.” He could hardly believe it. Javier had actually been here that long-ago September 11. “They… don’t teach us much about the attacks in school.” Tommy didn’t want to push. But if the man was willing to talk he would listen.

  “My son’s in high school. Tenth grade.” Javier looked at him. “He says the same thing. No one talks about it. Even here in New York.”

  A hundred questions filled Tommy’s mind, but he didn’t dare ask them. Instead he stared at the memorial plaque again. “The numbers are… more than I can get my mind around. Hundreds and hundreds of first responders. All killed.” He looked at Javier. “It’s hard to believe.”

  The man folded his arms. “It was hard to believe back then.” He looked across the grounds, like he was seeing it all again. “The call came in. Fire at the top of the North Tower. Plane crash.” He blinked a few times. “We thought it was a small plane. Some sort of crazy accident.” His eyes met Tommy’s. “Because who would’ve thought hijackers would crash a plane on purpose?”

  Tommy hadn’t thought of that. How back then no one would’ve expected such a thing.

  “Bad guys used to ask for money. They cared about living.” Javier had a heavy New York accent. Probably born and raised here. He narrowed his eyes. “Well, Tommy Baxter. Since they don’t tell you what happened, I’ll tell you.” His eyes welled up. “It happened. I was here.”

  And then as if Javier had known Tommy all his life, he began to tell the story. By the time Javier and his buddies arrived on the scene, the entire World Trade Center block was madness. “The roar of the fire was like a living, breathing dragon high above us.” His voice cracked. It took a while before he spoke again. “People were running in every direction, screaming and tripping over each other. Terrified. Because men and women were burning alive up there.” A single tear slid down his cheek. “That’s when I saw people hitting the ground.”

  Video accounts of 9/11 came up every now and then in documentaries or in YouTube clips. Tommy had heard about people falling from the highest floors. “They were pushed out… when the plane hit?”

  “No.” Javier’s answer was quick. “They looked like they were falling. But I stared up at the burning floors and I saw what was really happening…. A lot of them were jumping, Tommy. The inferno must’ve been more than they could bear. Because I watched them climb out onto the window ledges… and jump.” He looked up again. “One after another.”

  This was something else Tommy hadn’t considered. Had his grandfather been one of those who jumped? Were his final moments surrounded by suffocating fire and indescribable terror? The possibility made Tommy sick.

  His office would’ve been just below where the plane hit, a few floors beneath the all-consuming, towering flames.

  “Chaos. That’s what it was. We thought it was the end of the world.” Javier looked toward the memorial pool again. “Hundreds more firefighters were dispatched while the Port Authority began evacuating the damaged North Tower. Instructions were to keep people in the South Tower in place. So they’d be safe.” He clenched his jaw. “No one knew another plane was headed straight for us.”

  Javier talked in detail about running up five flights of stairs in the North Tower helping people get to the stairwells, administering first aid to men and women who had fallen. “The elevators weren’t working, of course.” He shook his head. “I came across an old guy collapsed near the stairwell. Chest pain. Short of breath.”

  Tommy could only imagine the panic.

  “Looked like a heart attack.” Javier shrugged. “My buddies were still running up the stairs. One flight after another. Fifty pounds of gear on their backs. But that guy… I had to help him. That’s why we were there.” His voice trailed off.

  A breeze moved through the trees that lined the memorial. Leaves still summer green rustled overhead as Javier nodded. “I saved that guy. Threw him over my back and got him down to ground level. Took him to a waiting ambulance.”

  By then the Port Authority was ordering a mandatory evacuation of both towers. “But it was too late.” Pain deepened the lines on Javier’s face. “A minute later another jet tore into the South Tower.”

  Javier was still loading the heart attack victim into an ambulance when the second airliner hit. “Now we got two infernos, two buildings with more people jumping.” He shook his head. “I knew my buddies needed me. We had to get people out of there.”

  Tommy didn’t move, didn’t speak. The man’s story breathed life into everything he’d seen at the memorial. Javier sucked in a quick breath. “I remember running back to the North Tower. Thousands of people were running from the buildings, pouring out onto the street. And I was thinking, Good… get out of here. Be safe! But me and my brothers, the FDNY and NYPD, we had just one place to go…. Straight up.”

  Javier made it up twenty-one floors of the North Tower before coming across a woman bleeding from her head. “She had run down from the forty-fifth floor and somewhere along the way she’d fallen. Maybe she got knocked down. Whatever… she was bleeding out and she needed help.”

  Like before, Javier heaved the victim over his shoulder and carried her down to ground level and yet another ambulance took her away. Javier began to tremble, the memory taking a physical toll on his body. “It started with a rumble. A low growl.” Javier looked up to the empty sky. “Like a beast had been unleashed over Lower Manhattan.”

  The sound became a roar, Javier said. “Like an EF5 tornado. Like the end of the world.” He looked at Tommy. “I was planning to run back into the North Tower when it happened. The ground shook and the other flaming building began to sway and then… the South Tower…”

  He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Everyone alive knew what happened next, whether they talked about it in history class or not. The South Tower collapsed like a monstrous burning house of cards. “I was still assisting the woman, still helping the paramedic get her hooked up to an IV.”

  The ambulance driver ordered Javier to get inside and shut the door and then he sped off. The guy raced as fast and far away from the explosion of debris as he could get. Not till they reached a hospital many blocks north did the driver stop.

  “I was still in work mode, still helping the woman. Her pulse was weak. She needed blood.” He rubbed his hands together, his gaze distant. “She lived. The heart attack victim lived, too.”

  Javier put
his hand on the memorial plaque, the one with the names of every first responder. “I kept thinking my buddies were in the North Tower, and that building was still standing. But half an hour later…”

  Tommy knew. The North Tower collapsed also. “Your friends?”

  “Twelve of them died that day. Twelve firefighters. My best guys.” Again Javier’s eyes filled. “Sons and husbands. Fathers.” He swiped at a tear on his cheek. “I don’t think about it.” He shook his head. “Can’t think about it… except today. On the anniversary.”

  Tommy let that sit for a full minute. “I’m sorry. I…” He looked at the ground and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “God saved me for a reason.” Javier sniffed. “I’m a captain now. I have a wife and kids.” He pointed to the other uniformed firefighters and police officers milling about. “We work together, the NYPD and Port Authority, the FBI and us. Making sure it doesn’t happen again.” He pointed at Tommy. “Keeping people like you safe.”

  Tommy breathed deep, the cool air filling his lungs. “Thank you. For that.” He faced Javier. “I’ve been thinking about joining the military. But since I’ve been here… I wonder if I’m supposed to be a firefighter… or maybe a police officer.”

  “Mmm.” Javier’s anguish gradually lifted. “I knew God brought me over to you for a reason.” He nodded to a distant bench. “I was sitting there reliving that day… smelling the smoke and hearing the screams and sirens, the roar of the flames. Feeling the ground shake beneath my feet again. And I sensed God was talking to me. He said, Go share with that young man.” Javier locked eyes with Tommy. “Now I know why.”

  Chills ran down Tommy’s arms and legs. “You think because… because I’m supposed to do this kind of work?”

  Javier raised one eyebrow. “That’s between you and Him.” He pointed up. “But I’ll tell you this, Tommy Baxter. Young people like you are often destined. Destined to serve.” He paused. “Today… if I had it to do over again, I’d be a police officer. So I could come against the bad guys. Every day of my life.” He shook his head. “There are more bad guys today, Tommy. And we need good cops, people like you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tommy hung on every word.

  “We need people who rush toward a burning building. But we also need men and women who run into danger on a night of crime and killing… that type of person has a calling. Especially today.” He sighed and one final time his eyes found the spot where the Twin Towers once stood. “That’s my only regret… that in those final minutes before the towers fell I wasn’t there. I wasn’t running toward the fire.”

  Tommy wanted to correct the man. Javier had helped save two people. He had run toward the inferno at Ground Zero not once but twice. But Tommy stopped himself. No matter how Javier’s story had played out and even though the man knew the Lord had spared him for a reason, his regret remained. Javier should’ve gone down with his fellow firefighters. That’s what he still thought, however wrong.

  “I used to take Christmas gifts to the kids, children of my buddies who died that day. Now I take presents to some of their kids.” Javier stood a little straighter. “We help each other. It’s a brotherhood that way. No one who lost a daddy or a brother or a husband or a son that day is ever really alone. Not with the FDNY.” He sighed and after a minute he took a deep breath. “Nice talking to you, Tommy.”

  Tommy shook the man’s hand. “Thank you. For sharing.”

  Javier pointed at him. “Keep telling the stories, Tommy. Learn more about your grandfather. Leave a message for the survivors.” He smiled, and his countenance lifted a little. “It happened. Don’t ever forget.”

  And then as if he’d done what he’d come to do, Javier nodded at Tommy and walked off. Tommy watched him until the man reached the busy street and turned down the sidewalk. Off on whatever mission God might give him next.

  Tommy spotted his parents and his aunt and uncle. He couldn’t wait to tell them about his conversation with Javier Sanchez. But first Tommy put his hand on the memorial plaque and closed his eyes.

  Welling within him was a desire he hadn’t known before today, an urgency so strong it took his breath. He could fight fires, definitely. But he felt God calling him to the other part of first responder work. The one Javier would choose if he had it to do over again. And the words echoing in the hallways of his soul came like a directive straight from heaven.

  Tommy Baxter, you will be a police officer.

  The words were almost audible. Yes, God. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll be a police officer.

  Determination like a living force built within him. He would get the training and wear the badge and uniform, and he would prove to everyone that most cops were good. He would stop traffickers in Indianapolis and keep bad guys from infiltrating the streets. And he would put an end to drugs that destroyed so many families. He would run toward danger when everyone else ran the other way. Yes, he wanted to be a police officer, Tommy was sure. And he wanted something else, something that had been in the back of his mind every minute since he left Indiana.

  Annalee’s test results.

  10

  The doctor’s call came in that Monday half an hour after Annalee got home from school. Tommy had a shoot-around with his basketball team, and Annalee had chosen to skip choir practice.

  Mostly because she wanted to be home when the news hit. Good or bad.

  She was sitting with her mother on the living room sofa, each of them sipping a cup of green tea. I’m not that tired, she told herself. It’s just a virus. Already the doctor had given them her blood results. Whatever was making Annalee tired, it wasn’t mononucleosis.

  By now they knew it was something, though. Because an email had come through Friday stating that her blood count was off. The white count was too high… or maybe the platelets were low. Something.

  Annalee had tried not to think about it. She and her mom were watching a rerun of Touched by an Angel when her mother’s cell phone lit up. Annalee had asked the doctor to talk to her mother about the results. So immediately her mom took the phone to the next room. As if she knew. “It’s the doctor.” She looked over her shoulder at Annalee. Then she was gone.

  Five long minutes passed and her mom returned. As soon as Annalee saw her face, her heart sank. Her mother shook her head, tears already spilling onto her cheeks. “Annalee. I’m sorry, honey. It isn’t good.”

  She sat on the sofa and pulled Annalee into her arms. Then for more than a minute the two clung to each other. Finally, Annalee eased back. She locked eyes with her mom. “Tell me. What… what is it?”

  Her mother shook her head. “They… found a mass on your… chest wall, baby.”

  No. Annalee released her mother’s hand. She wouldn’t sit here and listen to this. How could the doctor tell her mom that? She had a… what was it? A mass on her chest wall? “My chest feels fine.”

  “It isn’t.” Her mother’s tears fell harder. “With your blood results and the scan… they think it might be non—” She put her hand to her face.

  “Mom… they think what?” Annalee’s heart was racing now. “Tell me.”

  Her mother took hold of both her hands. “Lymphoma.” The word was barely loud enough to hear. “Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Stage 4.”

  If it was non, then it couldn’t be that bad, right? Annalee stood. She could feel herself getting faint. But stage 4? “Is… that serious?”

  “Yes.” Her mom was on her feet, too. “Annalee… it’s cancer.”

  But before Annalee could hear another word or draw another breath, she ran to the stairs. This wasn’t possible. She was tired, not dealing with… She couldn’t think it. Couldn’t say it. She was halfway up the stairs when she heard her mom call to her. It wasn’t her mother’s fault, but Annalee couldn’t stand there and talk about this.

  Not when it felt like the worst possible nightmare.

  She reached the top of the stairs, darted into her room and slammed the door behind her. How could this be happen
ing? Annalee flung herself on her bed and buried her face in the pillow. How could she have cancer? All of life was laid out before Tommy and her.

  They were going to college and then they were going to help rescue trafficked children. She was going to make an app and market it till all the world used it to stop crimes against kids. And Tommy was going to help lock up the worst of the worst in society. That was his plan, the one he had told her about after he returned home from New York City.

  And somewhere in the middle of that he wanted to marry her.

  So she couldn’t be sick with… whatever the doctor said. She was tired, that’s all. A little rest and she’d be fine.

  Her mother opened the door and stepped into her room. “Annalee…”

  “Don’t. Please, Mom.” She rolled over and stared at her. “Don’t tell me anything bad.”

  “Honey.” Her mother’s voice cracked. “I’m so… so sorry.”

  And in that moment Annalee felt her world begin to collapse around her. Not because she fully believed the things the doctor had told her mother, and not because she really thought she was sick. But because her mom was white as a sheet. She looked like she might pass out.

  Suddenly Annalee knew. The doctor’s words must have made sense to her mother. Because her mother clearly believed the news.

  She crossed the room and sat on the edge of Annalee’s bed. Her mom wasn’t crying now. She looked too scared for tears. “Come here, sweetheart. Please.”

  All Annalee wanted was to run. Leave the house and get in her car and drive to the airport, maybe. She would take the next flight to Thailand. And Tommy would meet her there and they would get married at the little church in Phuket and no one… no one would ever mention her being sick again.

  Instead she sat up and slid her legs over the edge of the mattress. As she did her mother wrapped her arms around her. For a long time they stayed there, her mom hugging her the way she used to when Annalee was little. A minute or so into the hug, Annalee understood why her mother wasn’t saying anything.