Reunion

by Karen Ball

  They’d had eight days together between the first heart attack and his death. Eight good days despite the pain—Adam sitting at his dad’s hospital bedside and talking about everything under the sun. They had both known that time was short.

  “I’ll be walking in glory soon, son,” his dad would quip as they ended each evening, never knowing if it would be the last visit. And Adam would squeeze his hand and reply, “When you get there, you can just save me a seat.”

  “I’ll save two,” his dad would reply with a twinkle in his eye that would make Adam laugh.

  It was time to go home. Time to feed his dog, if not himself.

  Sara decided to take the elevator down to the west tower parking garage rather than walk the six flights. She would have preferred the stairs, but she could grit her teeth for a few flights to save time. She pushed the button to go down and watched the four elevators to see which would respond first. The one to her left, coming down from the tenth floor.

  When it stopped, she reached inside, pushed the garage-floor parking button, but did not step inside. Tonight she would take the second elevator.

  Sara shifted her raincoat over her arm and moved her briefcase to her other hand. The elevator stopped and the doors slid open.

  A man was in the elevator.

  She froze.

  He was leaning against the back of the elevator, looking like he had put in a long day at work, a briefcase in one hand and a sports magazine in the other, his blue eyes gazing back at her. She saw a brief look of admiration in his eyes.

  Get in and take a risk, step back and take a risk.

  She knew him. Adam Black. His face was as familiar as any sports figure in the country, even if he’d been out of the game of football for three years. His commercial endorsements and charity work had continued without pause.

  Adam Black worked in this building? This was a nightmare come true. She saw photographs of him constantly in magazines, local newspapers, and occasionally on television. The last thing she needed was to be near someone who attracted media attention.

  She hesitated, then stepped in, her hand tightening her hold on the briefcase handle. A glance at the board of lights showed he had already selected the parking garage.

  “Working late tonight?” His voice was low, a trace of a northeastern accent still present, his smile a pleasant one.

  Her answer was a noncommittal nod.

  The elevator began to silently descend.

  She had spent too much time in European finishing schools to slouch. Her posture was straight, her spine relaxed, even if she was nervous. She hated elevators. She should have taken the stairs.

  “Quite a storm out there tonight.”

  The heels of her patent leather shoes sank into the jade carpet as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Yes.”

  Three more floors to go.

  There was a slight flicker to the lights and then the elevator jolted to a halt.

  “What?” Sara felt adrenaline flicker in her system like the lights.

  He pushed away from the back wall. “A lightning hit must have blown a circuit.”

  The next second, the elevator went black.

  Ten seconds clicked by. Twenty. Sara’s adrenaline put her heart rate at close to two hundred. Pitch black. Closed space.

  Lord, no. It’s dark. Get me out of this box!

  “How long before they fix it?” She did her best to keep her words level and steady. She had spent years learning control, but this was beyond something she could control.

  “It may take a few minutes, but they will find the circuit breaker and the elevator will be moving again.”

  Sounds amplified in the closed space as he moved. He set down his briefcase? She couldn’t remember if there was a phone in the elevator panel or not. How could she have ridden in these elevators for three months and not looked for something so simple?

  “No phone, and what I think is the emergency pull button seems to have no effect.”

  Sara tried to slow down her heart rate by breathing deeply. Her cellular phone would not work inside this elevator, nor her signaling beeper.

  “You’re very quiet,” he said eventually.

  “I want out of here,” she replied slowly so as to hide the fact her teeth were trying to chatter.

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  She wanted to reply, “You’ve never been locked in a pitch-black root cellar and left to die before,” but the memories and the panic were already overwhelming her. Her coping skills were scattering to the four winds right when she needed them most. She could do this. Somehow. She had no choice. Her hand clenched in the darkness, nails digging into her palm. It was only darkness. It wasn’t dangerous.

  “Consider it from my viewpoint. I’m stuck in the dark with a beautiful woman. There could be worse fates.”

  She barely heard him. Lord, why tonight? Please, not this. The darkness was so bad she could feel the nausea building.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean any offense with that remark.”

  She couldn’t have answered if she wanted to. One thought held her focus fast: surviving. The memory verse she had taken such delight in that morning had scattered. Psalm 23 was a tangle. The moment she needed clarity, her mind was determined to retreat into the past instead. A cold sweat froze her hands. Not here. Not with someone else present. To suffer through a flashback when her brother was around was difficult enough. To do it with a stranger would be horrible.

  Adam Black didn’t understand the silence. The lady had apparently frozen in one position. “Listen, maybe it would help if we got introduced. I’m Adam Black. And you are …?”

  Silence. Then a quiet, “Sara.”

  “Hi, Sara.” He reached out a hand wondering why she was so tense. No nervous laughter, no chatter, just frozen stiffness. “Listen, since it looks like this might actually take some time, why don’t we try sitting down.” His hand touched hers.

  She jerked back and he flinched. Her hand was like ice. This lady was not tense, she was terrified.

  He instantly reviewed what he had with him. Nothing of much use. His sports coat was in his car, his team jacket still upstairs in his office. What had she been wearing when she stepped into the elevator? An elegant blue-and-white dress, that had caught his attention immediately, but there had been more … a taupe-colored coat over her arm.

  First get her warm, then get her calm.

  “Sara, it will be okay. Sit down, let’s get you warm.” He touched her hand again, grasping it in his so he could turn her toward him. Cold. Stiff.

  “I’m … afraid of the dark.”

  No kidding.

  He had to peel her fingers away from her briefcase handle. “You’re safe, Sara. The elevator is not going to fall or anything like that. The lights will come back on soon.”

  “I know.”

  He could feel her fighting the hysteria. The tremors coming through her hands were growing stronger. He didn’t have to be able to see her to know she was heading for deep shock. “You’re safe. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m no threat to you,” he added, already wondering what would make a grown woman petrified of the dark. The possibilities that came to mind all made him feel sick.

  “I know that, too.”

  He carefully guided her down to sit with her back leaning against the elevator wall. He spread her coat out over her and was thankful when she took over and did most of it herself, tucking it up around her shoulders, burying her hands into the soft warmth of the fabric.

  “Better?”

  “Much.”

  He couldn’t prevent a smile. “Don’t have much practice lying, do you?”

  “It sounds better than admitting I’m about to throw up across your shoes.” There was almost the sound of an answering smile in her reply.

  He sat down carefully, close enough so he could reach her if necessary but far enough away so she hopefully wouldn’t feel any more cornered than she already did.

  “
Try leaning your head back and taking a few deep breaths.”

  “How long has it been?” she asked a few moments later.

  “Maybe four, five minutes.” “That’s all?”

  Adam desperately wished for matches, a lighter, anything to break this blackness for her. “We’ll pass the time talking about something and the time will go by in an instant, you’ll see. What would you like to talk about first, do you have a preference?”

  Silence.

  “Sara. Come on, work with me here.”

  He was reaching out to shake her shoulder when she suddenly said through teeth that were obviously chattering, “Sports. Why did you retire?”

  Adam didn’t talk about the details of that decision with many people, but in the present circumstances, she could have asked him practically anything and he wouldn’t have minded.

  “Did you see the Super Bowl we won?”

  “Of course. Half this town hated you for months afterward.”

  He didn’t have to wonder if that was a smile.

  “I liked the feeling of winning. But I was tired. Too tired to do it again. It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion of those last games, but the emotional drain of carrying the expectations of so many people. So I decided it was time to let the next guy in line have a chance.”

  “You got tired.”

  “I got tired,” he confirmed.

  “I bet you were tired the season before when you lost the Super Bowl to the Vikings.” “I was.”

  “Your retirement had nothing to do with being tired.” She sounded quite certain about it. Her voice was also growing more steady. “You won that Super Bowl ring to prove you were capable of winning it; then you retired because the challenge was gone. You didn’t play another season because you would have been bored, not tired.”

  “You sound quite certain about that theory.”

  “Maybe because I know I’m right. You’re like your father. ‘Do It Once—Right—Then Move On.’ Wasn’t that the motto he lived his life by?”

  Adam’s shoulder muscles tensed. “Where did you hear that?”

  “You had it inscribed on his tombstone,” was the gentle reply. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”

  Adam didn’t answer. When and why had this lady been to the cemetery where his father was buried? It was outside of the city quite a distance and it was an old cemetery where most plots had been bought ahead for several generations. That inscription had not been added until almost a month after the burial.

  She was a reporter. The realization settled like a rock in his gut. She had executed this meeting perfectly. Setting up this “chance” encounter, paying off a building maintenance worker to throw a switch for her, giving him every reason to believe he was going to be playing the hero, keeping her calm while the lights were out. He had been buying the entire scenario, hook, line, and sinker.

  “I like the quote and the philosophy of life it contains.”

  “Sara, could we cut the facade? What do you want? You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

  Silence met his anger.

  “What kind of writer would you like me to admit to being?” The ice in her voice was unmistakable.

  “Just signal for this elevator to start moving again and I’ll consider not throttling you.”

  “You think I caused this?”

  “Not going to try denying you’re a writer?”

  “I don’t have much practice lying,” she replied tersely, echoing his earlier words.

  “Great. Then I would say we are at an impasse, wouldn’t you?” He waited for a response but didn’t get one. “When you get tired of sitting in the dark, just signal your cohorts that we are done talking and we’ll go our separate ways. Until then, I have nothing else to say to you.”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  And with that, there was nothing between them but a long, cold silence.

  ades Pure Romance

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