"Again," Riley shouted. "You're sure about Ivy Buckalew?"
"You son of a bitch!" Cole cursed, his face wet with sweat. "What happened to the fucking tree?"
"It's hanging right over our heads. Come on, move this bastard. You built it, you know what it can do. Do it!"
"I hope Ivy Buckalew tells you to take a hike, you asshole."
"Not a chance. I just pissed my pants."
"One more time, baby. Coleman Aircraft, don't fail us now."
Riley's face turned as white as Cole's knuckles on the
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throttle. His face was as wet as Cole's, his dark hair plastered to his head.
The sound was like a tidal wave crashing and thundering as the plane groaned and moved backward, slowly at first, then picking up speed. Thunder rolled in their ears as tree after tree crashed downward. They felt the rush of cold air when the bottom and the back end of the plane ripped free. The tree straddling the middle of the plane dropped to the ground.
"You did it! You son of a bitch, you did it!" Riley almost exploded in his excitement. He snapped his fingers under Cole's eyes. "Hey, wake up. You're a fucking hero!"
"Just tell Ivy Buckalew I did it for her!" Cole gasped.
Riley stared at his cousin. This still wasn't the time. "Come on, let's do what we came here to do."
They made their way to the middle of the plane, which was sheared in two. Now all they had to do was crawl over the tree, fight their way to the back, and wait for the men with the torches. Rand would have his daughter in his arms in a matter of hours.
On the second day after Christmas, in the early evening darkness, Riley Coleman carried Chesney Brighton, the last to leave the plane, to her father. "There's a man waiting out there for you. He's come a long way to get you. Welcome to the family, Chesney; we're cousins by marriage. The guy who backed this plane out is your other cousin—he's Maggie Nelson's son. Probably a brother or something to you now. In case you haven't figured all of this out, we take care of our own. We're family."
No matter what the disaster, no matter what the outcome, there were always hordes of volunteers and a reporter. This one was from the London Times. Riley blinked in the bright lights. Now they get here. Now, when all the work was done. Christ, he was tired.
He tried not to look at the body bags. His eyes searched for Rand, who was approaching at a dead run over the snow, slipping and sliding. He reached for his daughter, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Careful, Rand, her shoulder is broken. A couple of ribs, too, I think."
His arms outstretched, Rand gathered his daughter close. He thought he was dreaming when he heard Chesney whisper, "Daddy."
* * *
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Three days before the beginning of the New Year, the Coleman family gathered around the television set for the late-night news. The earlier forecast had promised extensive aerial as well as ground footage of the heroic rescue mission of Flight 214.
The aerial footage was shown first. The Colemans sat transfixed.
"I've never seen such monstrous trees," Billie bleated. "However will they get them off the plane? They almost look as if they'd been planted around it."
"Maybe for protection," Maggie said crazily. "Believe it or not, they could be offering warmth of some kind to the passengers." They all nodded. It was easy to accept Maggie's words since they had none of their own.
Dan Rather's professional voice cut through again. "We were told earlier that three Texans, members of the Coleman family, are on the scene. As yet, we don't know why they're there. We'll have more coverage on that development later in the program. As you can see on this particular film clip, the trees are covering the plane; the tree in the middle appears to have sheared the plane in half. The awkward angle of the aircraft, our experts tell us, points to that as the only possibility. Bear with me a moment; this note was just handed to me. The L1011 is a Coleman plane, so perhaps that explains why Colemans are at the scene of the crash site."
"Good God!" Sawyer exclaimed.
They watched the news, the sports, and then the weather. It was about twenty minutes past the hour when Rather's jubilant voice filled the quiet room. "We now have the film clip of the heroic rescue." They watched, hardly daring to breathe, as fur-clad men carried stretchers away from the wreckage. Tears streamed from Billie's eyes at the lost, frightened look on the passengers' faces. It seemed to take forever, but in actuality, it was only minutes.
"There's only nineteen. I only counted nineteen." Sawyer wept with despair. "And I don't see Chesney."
"There's Cole, but I don't see Rand or Riley," Maggie cried.
"There they are! See, that's Riley, and he's. .. he's carrying someone! See, there's Rand!" Amelia shouted in her frail voice.
"He's crying. Rand is crying," Maggie wailed. "I never saw Rand cry."
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Billie's arms comforted her daughter as they continued to watch the screen. They watched as Riley transferred his burden into. Rand's open arms.
"Is that Chesney? My God, she's dead!" Maggie screamed. "They found her and she's dead!"
"Maggie, look!" Thad cried. The still form in Rand's arms stirred, one arm swinging crazily. They could see the girl struggle to speak. The one word was unmistakable. Daddy.
Maggie fainted.
Adam ran to the kitchen for a wet cloth. Minutes later, Maggie moaned. "Are you all right, darling?" Billie crooned.
"I never fainted in my life." Maggie struggled to get up. "It was real, wasn't it? She's alive and safe with Rand."
"Yes, darling, she's safe. Sit up and we'll get you a cup of tea. According to my wife, that makes everything right side up," Thad said.
"I'll make it," Jeff volunteered.
"Make me one, too, and how about some of those Christmas cookies?" Adam called to the boy's retreating back.
"We have God to thank for this. Always, in our darkest hours, He comes through for us," Billie said quietly. "Always."
Geneva Airport was back to normal. All that remained of the vicious storm was mountains of snow and cold weather. Weary travelers were on their way, thanks to the efficient ground crews, who worked night and day to clear runways so planes could land and takeoff safely. Tired cargo personnel and baggage handlers ticketed tons of baggage and sent it on its way, some late, some on time. The concourse was clear now, and fresh-faced, alert-eyed reservations clerks were going about their business, to the delight of everyone. The nightmare was over.
Steven Neibauer sat in the airport VIP lounge, staring into space. They'd all been kind to him when they told him about his mother and what she'd done on board Flight 214. He hadn't been home, and he wasn't going home now. He was going back to Akron, Ohio, with his mother's body.
He'd called his sister a few hours earlier to tell her about the plane crash. He'd called again to tell her the bad news. He hadn't tried to soften the blow; he'd blurted out the news coldly. He'd never be sure if what he heard in his sister's voice was relief or... grief. He thought he told her to go to hell, but he wasn't sure of that either. All he could do now was take his mother's
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body, and his own guilt, and return to his roots. And try to come to terms with it all. Too much, too little, too late. All that he was, all that he would ever be, he owed to his mother, and he'd never taken the time to tell her. "Mom, I am so sorry," he cried.
Jeff Sanders, unshaven and wild-eyed, stared across at the crying man. He knew who he was; the police had told him. Steven Neibauer. They'd come for him Christmas evening and literally dragged him here, and he'd come, hangover and all, not comprehending what the officers were telling him at first. Then, when realization set in, he'd cried. He'd spoken to his child's mother, who told him in no uncertain terms to "handle it, Jeff; you're Molly's father, and I'm getting married in a few days."
Jesus, he could hardly remember what the kid looked like. The last time he'd seen a picture of her, she was two years old and naked in a bathtub.
> He stared at the man sitting across from him; he was still crying. His old mother was the one who saved Molly. He should say something, he supposed, but what?
They talked then, those two men, about everything under the sun.
When the airport manager walked through the double doors with Molly, Jeff Sanders ran to her. She drew back. He reached out a tentative hand to nuzzle the dog's ears. Gus whimpered in delight. Molly smiled and let her father pick her up. He was stunned to see how pretty she was, how warm she felt, how good. "I might not look like much right now, and I might not be worth a whole hell of a lot, but I'm going to give you my best shot. See that guy over there? He said I can call him anytime if I need help."
"Is his name Stevie?" Molly asked. Her father nodded. She wiggled out of his arms and ran to Steven Neibauer. She put her chubby fist into the pocket of her red coat and withdrew the rabbit's foot. She held it out shyly. "Can I keep this?" Molly asked, pointing to the colored macaroni necklace. Steven nodded, unable to speak. Molly put the rabbit's foot into his outstretched hand.
The airport manager spoke. "Mr. Neibauer, if you'll come with me..."
Outside in the frigid air, thirty-two young men waited for the courtesy van that would take them to Saint Clare's Hospital. They were going to offer their support to a fellow athlete, the best of them all.
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"We have the best sports doctors in the world," an American skier said.
"Bah, in Russia we have the best. You Americans, you are too soft.... We know about bones."
"Bullshit," a German youth muttered. "We have the best!"
"You are wrong, gentlemen; France is known for its orthopedic surgeons."
"What the hell," the American groaned. "Between us we'll make sure Mitch has the best. Pile in gang; he's waiting."
They arrived at Sunbridge at ten o'clock on New Year's Eve. Maggie stood rooted to the floor when Sumi ran to Cole, Sawyer to Riley, and Billie to the young woman's side.
"Welcome to Sunbridge, Chesney. I'm Rand's mother-in-law, Billie Kingsley," Billie said warmly.
"She has a broken shoulder and assorted cuts and bruises. We've got her all taped up. Tomorrow she sees our doctor. Right now I think she should be put to bed," Rand said quietly, his eyes glued to his daughter.
"I think you're right," Billie said. She led Chesney up the stairs.
Rand's eyes searched out his wife. He grinned. Maggie grinned back.
"I think I have a daughter, and not just in name only," Rand said happily.
"I think you do, too, Rand. We all prayed," Maggie said, going into her husband's arms.
"Maggie, remember when Sawyer had her operation and you said you could hear the choir? I heard it, too. Not on the ground when we were searching. When we were airborne, right before we landed. I know I heard it. Cole said it was some kind of interference. He won't admit it, but he heard it, too. You should have seen the look on his face. Riley didn't hear anything, or so he says."
"Wasn't it the most beautiful sound you ever heard?"
An hour later the smile was still on Rand's face as he drifted into a sound sleep.
Maggie covered her sleeping husband tenderly. Before she went downstairs, she stopped in her old nursery. How appropriate that Rand's daughter should rest here. She looked down at the sleeping girl, tears filling her eyes. "We have so much to give. All we ask is that you meet us halfway," she whispered. She bent over to brush her lips against the girl's cool
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forehead and to smooth the tangled hair back from her face.
From the landing on the stairwell she called down to the family. "I think we should all celebrate the New Year by emptying out Sunbridge's water tanks and hitting the sack. Tomorrow is New Year's, and I know it's going to be a wonderful year for all of us. Our numbers are increased by one: We have a lot to be thankful for."
"Hear, hear! I second the lady," Thad said happily. They trouped up the stairs, following Thad as though he were the Pied Piper.
{{{{{{{{{ CHAPTER )})}}}})}
TWENTY-THREE
Riley walked through the first floor ofSunbridge, touching the back of a chair, straightening a lamp shade, stooping to pick lint off the carpet, anything to keep his hands and mind busy. His home. He then made his rounds to check the windows and lights, wearily heading for the front door to turn off the outside light, the light that welcomed them all back to Sunbridge.
It was all his now. His, because of Cole's generosity. He frowned in the dim light of the hallway. He had to give Cole's deed back to him. There was no way he could claim Cole's heritage as his own. He should have given it back to Cole a long time ago, but the intense feeling he had when he held both deeds in his hands was so strong, so ... so right, he'd procrastinated, just as he'd procrastinated in making up with Cole.
If there was one thing in life Riley hated, it was admitting he was wrong. It went against everything in him.... He wanted to be perfect, to be right about everything. He knew it wasn't possible; it had never been possible. A man was what he was. Two wrongs never made something right. That's what he had to apologize to Cole for.
A sound jarred at Riley, a creak on the stairway. "Cole! I thought you went to bed." Thank God. Cole was making it easy for him. Cole always made it easy for him. Out of stubbornness he'd been deaf and blind to Cole and their years of friendship.
"I did, but I came back down. I thought this might be a
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good time for us to talk. Talk, Riley, no slugfest tonight; I'm too tired. I don't know about you, but I need to talk to you."
"I'm glad you came down, Cole. You don't have to say anything. It's me who has to talk, to explain, to apologize. I've been meaning to ... to give you this," Riley said, reaching into his pocket.
"If that's what I think it is, I don't want it. You know that, Riley, and if you don't, then something is wrong somewhere. I thought ... I would have sworn that you, Riley, knew me better than anyone."
"Cole ... I wanted to make amends a thousand times, but something always stopped me. I never knew what that something was until just a few minutes ago. I physically beat you within an inch of your life. You let me do that to you. You didn't fight back. All these months I asked myself why, why didn't you hit me back? You could have, you know, but no, you let me pound away at you till you were a bloody pulp. Then you really flipped me the bird when you handed over your half of Sun-bridge. You just handed it over like a candy bar. Until a few minutes ago I didn't know why. You gave me Sunbridge in anger, and I accepted it in anger. This is our home, yours and mine. Cole, look at me and tell me if I'm wrong. You knew when I was pounding away at you that I was pounding away at myself. Your pain was my pain. You knew that, too. That's why you didn't lift a finger to defend yourself. You took that beating for me. There isn't another person in this universe who would do that for me. I left you there to die when it was me who wanted to die. You knew that, too. I let you down, Cole, and I don't know if I can forgive myself for that. What you did for me ... How ... how can I ever make it up to you?"
Cole grinned. "That was one hell of an apology! And you don't owe me anything. All I want is for you to have your head on straight. Is it, Riley?"
Riley grinned. "Pretty much so. Cole, I've never spent a more miserable time in my life. I won't admit this to anyone but you: I have ulcers." He paused and extended his hand. In it was Cole's deed to Sunbridge. "Here," Riley said.
Cole shook his head and stepped back. "It doesn't work that way, Riley. Sunbridge can only have one slave. If my words offend you, I'm sorry. I would have said mistress, but the word doesn't fit. You belong here. I don't. The bottom line is, I want you to have Sunbridge. Riley, please, don't look at me like I'm giving you my life's blood; I'm not. I'm
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giving you what you want most in this life: your father's home—yours now."
"What will you do, Cole?" Riley asked softly.
Cole grinned. "I was sort of thinking about going to Chicago and getting
a job at Sears, Roebuck. That's down the road. What's important now is to get you on track. Don't worry; if you slip, I'll be here to pick you up and dust you off. Let's forget the past; it's history." Cole wasn't sure if the tears were in his own eyes or in Riley's.
Riley stretched out his hand. "You're right, it's history."
Cole ignored Riley's outstretched arm. "If that's the best you can do, we aren't going to get anywhere," Cole said gruffly. He covered the distance between them and wrapped his arms about his cousin. "I'm not afraid to show you I care. Jesus, Riley, you're the brother I never had. Family, Riley. You and I are family, and I don't want either of us to forget it ever again."
Riley thumped Cole's back. "You're one in a million, Cole."
Cole grasped Riley's shoulders and pushed him backward till their eyes were level. The single tear sliding down Riley's cheek told Cole all he needed to know.
The family, their family; all of them would be safe in Riley's hands.
"I know what you're thinking, Cole. I've always been able to read you like a book," Riley said quietly.
"Not all the time, cousin. Only those times that I... Yeah, you always could read me."
"I'll take care of them; you can count on it."
"I know that; so do they. Listen, you were a rock these past days. I couldn't have done it without you." His tone took on a light, bantering note. "If I were you, I'd call Buckalew Big Wells. This family needs some new blood. Some more new blood, I should say."
Riley flushed, something Cole had never seen him do before. "Yeah, I'll do that. By the way, congratulations on. . . Sumi. I should be the one to tell you she's a real buzz saw, and when she isn't buzzing, she doubles as a barracuda. Watch it or she'll have you dancing on a string." Riley grinned.
Cole could feel heat on his neck. "I like to dance. I love her; what can I say?"
"That pretty much covers it. She's perfect for you, Cole, and I'm happy for both of you."
This time Cole's hand shot out. "Friends?"
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