Rushing Waters

by Danielle Steel

  They hung up a few minutes later, after he reminded her again not to bother calling him. He’d be in touch when he was ready to be. Gina was pensive after the call, trying to absorb all she’d heard from him. When she went back into the restaurant, Charles could see that she was upset. He didn’t ask her about it. He knew the call had been from Nigel. It had been obvious to him the minute she answered and her face lit up. But she looked different now, unhappy and sad, and he could see it had gone badly, as he continued chatting with the children. And as they walked back to the hotel, she told him that she had thought about it and maybe it would be a good idea to go back to London for a few weeks, since the girls couldn’t go to school anyway, and it would be a nice treat for them. And she couldn’t get back into their apartment yet. Her whole street was shut down, and her building.

  “I can stay with my parents,” she volunteered, which he knew was an inconvenience for her since they lived an hour outside London. “The girls can stay with you, if you like. I can come and take care of them in the daytime when you’re at work. Or they can stay with me at Mum and Dad’s, and I’ll bring them into the city at night to have dinner with you.”

  “You can stay at my apartment with us, if you want to. I have a guest room, and a pullout couch. I can sleep on the couch, and you and the girls can have the bedrooms. And I’m not trying to start anything with you,” he said solemnly. “It would just be nice to have them around while you’re there. And you can come and go as you please. I can watch the girls at night, if you want to go out.” It sounded like a respectful arrangement, and she believed that he wouldn’t “start anything.” He had been nothing but polite and pleasant to her while they shared the hotel room, and entirely appropriate. It had been a year since they had lived together, before she left him, and she had forgotten how kind and thoughtful he could be, and she was sure he would be equally so in London. And staying with him would be easier for her than staying in the suburbs, at her parents’.

  “That would be very nice,” she said quietly. “When are you going back?” She’d have to go to the apartment to pick up some things, if the police would let her. If not, she could buy clothes for the girls and herself in London.

  “I was thinking about Saturday,” he answered. “Now that the airports are open. Is that too soon for you?” He didn’t know if she wanted to see Nigel before she left. And Saturday was in two days.

  “That would be fine. I’ll see if I can get into the apartment tomorrow, and grab whatever’s dry.”

  “If not, we’ll figure it out in London,” he said simply.

  “That’s what I was thinking too.” She smiled then. “My parents will be thrilled to see them.” And Charles could hardly wait to have his daughters with him for a few weeks, and Gina too.

  They walked into the hotel arm in arm, and for a minute it almost felt like the old days, and then as he always did, he remembered that they were divorced, but she was still the mother of his children. It was enough, and all he had a right to now.

  He made the plane reservations for them when he got back to the room, and she told him she wanted to pay for her own ticket. He could pay for the girls, which he had intended to do anyway. “I don’t mind paying for yours,” he said gently, but she shook her head and declined the offer.

  “It wouldn’t be right,” she reminded him. Just as Nigel had said, she was an independent woman. But she was happy to be going home with him, and so were the girls when they told them. Charles explained that they were going to London for a visit for a few weeks, so they wouldn’t be confused and think they were coming back forever, although he had a feeling they would have liked that too. They seemed to like living in New York, but they were still typically English children. He told them about all the fun they were going to have, and the things they were going to do, and they squealed and jumped on the big bed in the room. Gina and Charles had a hard time getting them to bed that night. And after they finally fell asleep in the small hotel room, Gina rolled over in bed and looked at him in the sleeping bag on the floor.

  “Thank you,” she whispered so as not to wake the girls.

  “Thank you for being willing to do it.” He smiled at her.

  She was thrilled to be leaving New York after the horrors of the hurricane, and after her conversation with Nigel that night, she knew she had nothing to stay for, or maybe even that she wanted to come back to.

  “Goodnight,” she said and then rolled over again and went to sleep, while Charles realized that as frightening as it had been, the hurricane had been a blessing. He was going home with his children. And even if it was only for a few weeks, it was a gift, and meant the world to him.

  —

  Ben’s funeral on Friday was as agonizing as everyone had expected. The Holbrooks had flown in from Chicago the night before, now that the airports were open again. Peter walked into the church with his parents. They looked serious and solemn, and Peter sat down next to Anna and her parents, with his parents on his other side. There were countless friends and fellow students, teachers from Dalton, and people who had known Ben since he was born. All their friends were there, after they had seen the notice of the funeral in the newspaper. In lieu of flowers, they had asked for donations to the Hurricane Relief Fund, to help those who had lost their homes. FEMA was contributing to them, but not in amounts that were significant enough to help them, and most people didn’t have hurricane insurance, certainly not to the degree they needed.

  Adam, Ben’s younger brother, started crying almost as soon as he sat down, and Ben’s mother was inconsolable as her husband kept an arm around her for most of the service. Ben had always been such a good boy that they had never expected anything bad to happen to him. He wasn’t a big risk taker, had never taken drugs or been an excessive drinker. He had been an exemplary child and a brilliant student, and the eulogies by his favorite high school teacher, and several of the Weisses’ close friends, reflected that. Ben’s father was Jewish, but his mother wasn’t, and he had been brought up in the Protestant faith. Peter sat stiff and pale throughout the service, and he almost expected someone to scream at him, “Why are you still here and Ben isn’t? Why didn’t you save him?” His shoulders were shaking by the time the congregation sang “Amazing Grace” at the end of the service, and Peter couldn’t make eye contact with Ben’s parents, and lowered his eyes as they filed out behind Ben’s casket. They had asked him to be one of the pallbearers, but he knew he couldn’t do it. He felt too broken and too guilty, and he looked like he was about to faint as he and his parents left the church and stood outside on the sidewalk, and the men from the funeral home slid the casket into the hearse.

  He realized that Anna was standing next to him then with a look of concern. “Are you okay?” she asked, and he nodded and watched as the hearse drove away. They were burying him at a cemetery in Queens, with only the family present. They had invited the Holbrooks to come, but Peter knew he couldn’t do that either. He felt sick and dizzy as he looked at the faces around him, as though everyone were accusing him in silence. He knew he had no right to be there and felt as though he shouldn’t have survived. He felt his mother touch his arm then, and saw her watch him with worried eyes. She had spoken to their family doctor in Chicago, and he had said that Peter might suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder for a long time, and he had suggested therapy to help him deal with it. They had the name of a therapist for him to see when he got home.

  He went back to the Hotel Pierre with his parents after the service, without speaking to any of his friends. And he hadn’t wanted to talk to Anna, who was as distraught as he was. She had never lost a friend before, and couldn’t imagine her life without Ben in it. They had gone all through school together, and college.

  Peter lay down on the bed at the hotel for an hour, while his parents sat and talked quietly in the living room of the suite, and then they all went to the Weisses’ apartment, where everyone had gathered for an enormous buffet, and friends and relatives congregated all ov
er the apartment. Ben’s father cried constantly, and his mother looked as though she were moving underwater. She disappeared and went to her room before the gathering ended, as Jake thanked the guests for coming, and Peter was sure she had left so she wouldn’t have to say goodbye to him. He hugged Ben’s father and brother on the way out, and he felt like a murderer when he got in the elevator to leave. He hadn’t even said goodbye to Anna, although he was leaving the next day. It had become too painful to be with each other. It reminded them both all too agonizingly of their lost friend, and there was nothing left to say.

  Peter followed his parents into the hotel like a zombie, and took off his suit. He put on jeans and a sweatshirt, lay down on the bed again, and turned on the TV. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, or even think.

  “Are you doing all right, son?” John Holbrook asked him, when he walked by Peter’s room to his own. Mike was lying on the bed next to him, and Peter had his arm around him. Mike was wearing the same collar he had worn the day that Peter saved him. Peter didn’t want anyone to take it off. It was the collar Ben had always used for him, and it was now a sacred relic to Peter, who had inherited the dog. Mike had his head on the pillow next to Peter, and looked like he was enjoying the hotel.

  “I’m okay, Dad,” Peter confirmed. What else could he say? He knew he would never forget the service or everything that had led up to it since the morning they had left the apartment. And he bitterly regretted it now, and blamed himself for their decision to leave the building when they had. Ben hadn’t been as sure he wanted to, and Peter felt as though he had talked him into it. And the building hadn’t collapsed after all. They would have survived if they had stayed there, but it hadn’t seemed that way at the time.

  He had gone back to the apartment with Ben’s father and helped pack his things and carry them downstairs, and then he had gone back to pack his own. He had left everything in boxes, and his father was having it all sent to Chicago, and they’d agreed to donate all the battered furniture to Goodwill. Peter never wanted to see any of it again. He didn’t know where he’d live when he came back to New York, but he never wanted to see the building again either. The pain of it was too acute, and the memories too sweet before that. Ben had been the best friend he’d ever had, and they had had such good times there. And Anna had been part of it. She was mourning it now too. She had not only lost Ben, she had lost Peter, and the good times they had shared.

  Peter’s father ordered him a hamburger for dinner from room service, and Peter fed most of it to the dog. And finally he fell asleep with his clothes on, and with Mike lying next to him, after John took him out for a walk. Peter was barely able to function, and looked stiff and solemn when he got into the car to go to the airport the next morning. He didn’t even notice how worried his parents were as he kept a firm grip on Mike’s leash.

  When they got to the airport, John checked them all in and made arrangements for Mike to go in the cargo. They had a large plastic crate big enough for him, and John told Peter to put him in it. The moment he said it, Peter shook his head.

  “I won’t do that to him, Dad. I’ll rent a car and drive him to Chicago if I have to. He’s not going in the cargo. He doesn’t deserve that, and he’ll be too scared.”

  “There’s no other choice, son,” John said, lowering his voice so the woman at the counter couldn’t hear him. “He’s way over the weight limit to take him in the cabin, and he’s too big. He’s got to go underneath.” He was worried about the stubborn, almost desperate look in his son’s eyes.

  “Is there a problem?” the woman at the desk asked in a nervous voice. She had seen Peter’s face too. He looked as though he was about to freak out.

  “I won’t put my dog in cargo,” Peter said loudly.

  “Is he a service dog?” she asked, as John answered for him. It was a problem he hadn’t anticipated. But it was clear that Peter was not going to give in, and his father didn’t want to argue with him and create a scene.

  “No, he’s not a service dog,” John said, looking embarrassed. The first sign of Peter’s trauma and stress had just reared its ugly head, and he was beginning to think they might have to drive.

  “Is he an emotional support dog?” she questioned them further, looking straight at Peter when she asked.

  “What’s that?” Peter responded to her directly, as the dog watched them with interest and cocked his head.

  “If you’re afraid to fly, sir, and feel you need your dog with you for emotional support, if you can give us a letter from your doctor to that effect, he can fly with you, not in a crate, and sit at your feet.”

  “Even a dog that size?” John asked, stunned. He had never heard of it before.

  “Of course,” she said as though it were a common occurrence.

  “I don’t have a letter from my doctor,” Peter answered her in a sullen tone.

  “Do you need him with you?” she asked as Peter looked down at Mike, whose tail was wagging and his tongue was out in the excitement.

  “Yes, I do,” Peter said, looking her in the eye again.

  “My son has been through an awful lot,” his father intervened. “He just survived the hurricane, he saved the dog, and they were in the hospital together until a few days ago. We’d really appreciate it if you could get by without the doctor’s letter. We didn’t know we’d need it.” He was giving it his best shot, and Peter glanced at him gratefully. His father was doing all he could for his son, as Peter’s mother watched the scene with nervous approval, hoping it would work.

  “You’re an Ophelia survivor, sir?” she asked Peter, and he nodded, although he wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but it was true. “One moment, please,” she said, suddenly very official. “I’ll be right back.” They could see her go straight to her supervisor, and two minutes later she was back. “There will be no problem. This time we’ll be happy to accommodate you, under the circumstances. But in the future”—she smiled at them—“try to bring a letter from your physician. And as long as he’s an emotional support dog, he flies for free.” Peter was beaming as she handed them their boarding passes, and a special one for Mike, and they walked through security without a hitch, and went straight to the gate with Mike trotting along happily next to Peter. And the men in security patted the dog. They boarded the plane without a problem, and Mike lay down at Peter’s feet. He seemed completely at ease being on the plane and watched the passengers with interest as they walked down the aisle. Several heads turned when they saw him, and no one complained. Peter thought some of them might assume he was a seeing-eye dog, but he wasn’t wearing the harness for it. He had just become an official emotional support dog, and Peter knew he would get a letter from their doctor, so he could always travel with him. Peter had vowed to himself that Mike would never leave his side.

  “Thanks for helping me, Dad,” Peter said to his father as the plane took off a few minutes later. Mike was sound asleep by the time the flight attendants came by offering them drinks. All the Holbrooks declined for the short flight. They’d be landing at O’Hare in an hour.

  Peter sat staring out the window for most of the flight, as Mike slept happily at his feet. The big black Lab got up and looked around when they landed, and Peter petted him.

  “It’s okay, boy, we’re going home.” He loped off the plane next to Peter, whose parents exchanged a smile and looked relieved. Mike’s first flight as an emotional support dog had been a resounding success, and Peter was safely home at last.

  —

  While they waited to board the plane to London, Charles made one last call on his cell phone. He wanted to tell Ellen he was leaving and wish her luck. He felt a strange bond to her after their flight together on the way over, and the time they had shared in the shelter, and he wanted to say goodbye.

  “We’re at the airport now,” he said softly when she answered. “Gina and the girls are coming with me for a few weeks, since they don’t have school.”

  “That’s a lot different than when we
arrived, isn’t it?” She smiled, listening to him, and remembering his terror at the turbulence on the flight.

  He wasn’t nervous this time—he felt surprisingly calm, as he used to, traveling with his family. He had nothing to fear now—he was with them.

  “I’ll be going home soon too,” she told him. She had to finish helping her mother empty the apartment and find her a place to live. She was hoping to wrap up everything in the next week.

  “Stay in touch. Let’s have lunch sometime when you get back,” he said to her.

  “I’d love that. I’ll call you when I get home,” she promised, although she knew she’d be busy with her clients, and it sounded like she had fences to mend with George. “Take care of yourself, Charles. And good luck with however you want things to turn out,” she said cryptically.

  “I’m just looking forward to some time with my girls.” She realized again that it was a joy she would never know, spending time with her children, and watching them grow up. She felt cheated whenever she thought of it, particularly after the discouraging news from the doctor in New York. She knew that she had to accept it now, without staring longingly at new mothers holding their babies, or women walking down the street with their daughters, or fathers and sons. She had to give up the dream. “I’ll call you,” he promised, as the passengers started to board, and he had to shepherd Gina and the girls onto the plane.

  “Have a safe flight,” she said.

  “I know I will,” he said, and ended the call.

  “Who was that?” Gina asked him as he caught up to her with their boarding passes.

  “Ellen. I wanted to tell her we were leaving. She was very kind to me on the flight over. I had a panic attack in the turbulence from the hurricane.” But he looked nothing like that now. He was calm and collected and relaxed, as they boarded the plane and found their seats. He was thinking about watching a movie or playing card games with the girls. Gina smiled at him as she sat down in the seat next to him, with their daughters right behind them. He seemed very different to her now. He was happy and at ease and confident. He acted like a normal person, like any other businessman or family man on the plane, which no longer seemed like a crime to her, or even a failing.