by Kitt, Sandra
“Why? Because he was kind to me? Or because he’s white?”
“I’ve already told you.”
“And I’m telling you I don’t like it.”
“This isn’t about you! This is a chance I’ve been looking for since Megan was born. I don’t want anything to ruin it.”
“What can I—”
“Can you do this for me?” Megan asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen again.
By silent agreement the conversation ended between Valerie and Dallas. Megan presented her back to Dallas.
“What do you want me to do?” Dallas asked quietly. Valerie resumed the clearing of the table.
“Could you French braid it? Mommy doesn’t know how to do it like you.”
“Are you almost ready?” Valerie asked her daughter.
“Yeah. What were you talking about?” Megan asked.
“What?” Valerie frowned at Megan.
“You were talking real loud. Were you two fighting?”
Valerie turned to the sink and began rinsing the plates. She didn’t respond.
“Of course not,” Dallas said. “Like you said, we were just talking loud. Do you have a barrette or something to hold the end of this?” she asked, finishing the style in an extended braid that hung down Megan’s back. She took the offered rubber band and secured it around the tail of the hair.
“I wish I could wear extensions like some of my friends in school,” Megan observed, facing Dallas.
“Do you?” Dallas asked.
“Why?” Valerie added, genuinely curious.
“Because it stays one way for a long time. It’s really cool that you don’t have to comb it every day,” Megan answered simply. “Thank you,” she said to Dallas when she was done, and then quickly left her mother and godmother alone again.
Dallas and Valerie exchanged glances. Dallas wondered if they had crossed a line, if something was changing between them.
“If Alex Marco is in love with you, Valerie, if he wants to marry you, then your suspicion about me was uncalled for,” Dallas said in a soft voice. “I don’t think we should say any more, or we’re both likely to say something we’re going to regret later. I don’t want to do that.”
Valerie looked stubborn and began shaking her head. “I’m almost thirty-two years old. I already have a teenage daughter, but I’ve never been in love. I’ve met so many guys who were immature or dishonest. I could have a real chance with Alex. I really want this.”
Dallas shook her head sadly. “If it doesn’t happen, you can’t blame me.”
Valerie stared at her for a long moment, indecisive and conflicted. Then her expression hardened. “Megan?” she called out. “Are you ready? Let’s go …”
Valerie walked out of the kitchen, leaving Dallas alone. She remained, considering all the ways their friendship had been tested over the years. How ironic, Dallas thought as Valerie and a bewildered Megan left her apartment, that when push came to shove, friendship couldn’t hold out against the overpowering need for love.
Chapter Thirteen
ALEX SQUINTED THROUGH THE wet windshield, trying to keep on the alert for any nearby craft. Rough waters rocked the boat, adding to the task of keeping it on course. He gripped the wheel, holding the boat steady as it plowed through the choppy waters at the mouth of New York harbor. He used a hand to wipe excess water from his face, only to be immediately splashed over with rain.
“There’s a coast guard cutter on the way,” Ross shouted from below, his voice bellowing to be heard over the engine and the sound of the rain.
“How bad is it?” Alex shouted back as the bow of the boat bounced up sharply on the crest of a wake. It came down heavily, the boat displacing a wall of water on either side.
“It’s down. A bird with two on board.”
“How long do we have?” Alex asked rhetorically.
“We don’t. In this weather as soon as it went in the drink the passengers were in trouble. Unless they got lucky and got out in the first thirty seconds, we’re talking bodies.”
In the distance could be heard the eerie whine of a siren. The urgent sound faded in and out as it was carried on the wind. Alex glanced in the direction of the signal, trying to spot the boat, but visibility was cut by the sheets of rain. It was late in the day. Already under cover, the sun would set in another twenty minutes. What would have been a difficult rescue even under optimal conditions was going to become extremely difficult.
“I checked the tanks. We’re okay. See anything yet?” Ross asked, joining Alex at the controls.
“Not yet.”
“I think they’ll get there before us. We probably won’t have to go in,” Ross said.
Alex nodded shortly. “Yeah, we do.”
Ross slapped him on the shoulder in reassurance. Alex wasn’t concerned about taking part in a rescue, but that he would fail, and someone’s life would be lost again. For the past six years there had not been a single dive that he did not think of Kuwait and the mission that had gone wrong.
Alex was soaked under the slicker. Not from the rain, but from nervous sweat.
The boat pitched up again, matching the roil of tension in Alex’s stomach. He’d never been seasick, not even his first time out on a boat. He wasn’t going to let it happen now. But he was gripped by the need to redeem himself.
“There she is,” Ross called out, pointing beyond the windshield.
A peculiarly twisted clump of material appeared to be floating on the surface. It looked like a giant insect that had been swatted into the water, a main rotor blade broken at an odd angle, another torn off completely. It wasn’t going to stay buoyant for long. Slowly circling the downed copter was a tugboat, and a recreational craft with two young men looking for adventure.
Alex cut the engine and let his boat drift to within a hundred feet of the chopper.
“I’ll get on the horn and see if the other boats found anything.”
Alex held the boat steady as Ross got on a bullhorn and communicated through the wind and rain.
“You got anything?”
“Yeah,” came back the amplified voice. “We got the reporter. The pilot is still out there.”
“Still on board?”
“Can’t tell …”
The copter was partially submerged with the main fuselage upside down in the water. The tail rotor had snapped off. It was hard to tell what was still inside. The siren grew louder, but the hulking gray cutter was still not visible. The police marine boat had also not arrived, although one of their Bell 206 helicopters was positioned overhead. It stayed to the side, about a hundred feet up to cut down on the angle of rotor-wash near the downed craft. Alex anchored their boat.
Protocol dictated that in lieu of a police presence, the coast guard was in charge. But Alex and Ross knew there was no time to play top dog. There was still a man missing. They were already preparing to do down. They were donning the rest of their equipment when the coast guard arrived with two ready divers of their own. There was quick assessment, and a decision about using a pattern line for searching. And then, one by one, the divers dropped into the water.
The four divers swam around the copter before signaling to pair off. Then they disappeared below the surface.
Dallas stepped out of the small room that served as a lounge, dunking a tea bag in and out of a cup of steaming hot water. The hum of office activity seemed a strange anecdote to the inner turmoil that had plagued Dallas for the past week. Her anxiety had not been helped by her father’s insistence on returning to work. With only two more weeks to the spring semester the doctors had given permission. But there would be no summer teaching, he had been told.
Matty abruptly rushed in front of her, heading into the conference room, where Peggy, Nona, and several other staffers were watching the TV.
“Sorry ’bout that,” Matty apologized as he adroitly avoided a collision.
Dallas smiled vacantly at the others in front of the set. “News flash?” she asked.
“A ne
ws helicopter crashed in one of the rivers,” Matty responded.
At first, Dallas was only mildly interested. She watched the reporter, huddled under an umbrella, relating the known details of the crash. But she was too distracted by the recent events in the lives of people she knew to care much for perfect strangers. The journalist in her couldn’t be objective. Until the reporter mentioned that the rescue teams searching for the pilot consisted also of two area tech divers recently featured on the network. Dallas, curious at last, drew closer to the screen. She looked closely at the indistinguishable black forms bobbing about in the water. But she didn’t have to hear names to know that Alex and Ross were somewhere out there.
“Has anyone been hurt?” she asked.
“I think they got the reporter who was on board,” Nona said. “At least one other person is missing.”
It wasn’t the kind of story Soul covered, and after another ten minutes with no new developments, the staff drifted back to their own routines. But Dallas stayed behind, watching the screen until the segment ended and the news went to another story. She went in search of Peggy, finding her and Letty in conversation outside the conference room.
“Peggy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but is anyone using the car tonight?”
“Not that I know of. Matty just got in from his shoot. Did you put in a request to use it?”
“No. But I just need it for tonight.”
“Is this business?” Peggy asked.
Dallas sighed. “No, it’s not.”
Peggy hesitated, finally nodding. “Please return it tomorrow.”
Alex knew they weren’t going to find the pilot alive.
That meant the task was just to recover the body. In the opaque river water Alex could barely make out the other divers, huge black monsters with snouts attached to hoses and tubes of the Aga masks that allowed them to breathe. Lights affixed to their heads helped minimally as they each tried to cover an area where the body may have settled. There was a possibility that, weighted down, the body might have sunk and drifted with the current.
Alex had a sudden adrenaline rush as a remembered moment, not similar in circumstances but with the same results, made him feel a sense of panic. He had made a deal with himself. He wouldn’t surface again until the pilot was found. Alex knew that he would be found, but he also only had about twenty minutes of air left.
Ross signaled with his light, and Alex swam to meet him. Ross had located the broken-off rotor blade. Nearby was what looked like a camera bag with the logo of a local network on the side. A cap floated by. Together they circled in a widening area.
Then they heard what sounded like a crunching, stretching grind of metal. It was like a great moan. The water whooshed around them, and Ross glanced up and saw what remained of the fuselage of the downed copter, hurling down at them. Bubbles gurgled geyserlike to the surface as the cockpit cavity filled the rest of the way with water.
Alex tried to swim quickly out of the way of the falling object. The water displacement created a wave that jostled him, flipping Alex onto his side. He flailed about, trying to steady himself. Below him, the beam of light from Ross’s handheld searchlight seemed to go crazy before it disappeared. The copter landed in the riverbed, sending out a cloud of thick silt and mud. Through the murk, Alex saw Ross topple over, struck by what remained of the tail boom.
Orienting himself, Alex and another diver swam downward. They found him on the far side of the flooded copter. Ross had just avoided being crushed, but Alex could see he was having trouble with the full-face mask. Probably a leak. He favored one leg in his kicking movement to swim above the wreckage.
Alex used a hand signal to ask Ross if he was okay. He got back a thumbs-up, but he also indicated something below them. Alex kicked several feet deep and came to a sudden halt as some sort of growth seemed to appear before him. It wasn’t marine life but a pair of legs swaying upward at him. His stomach heaved at the discovery. He started breathing too fast again, but only for a moment. He got over it. He got back in charge, because he was missing that sense of horror and blame that had trapped him six years ago with Crosby’s death.
The pilot was still strapped to his seat. There was nothing that could be done for him beyond recovery. Alex returned to Ross, who was now exploring his equipment with his hands. Alex grabbed hold of his weight belt and pointed up. The other two divers also came to assist. They began to rise upward. They broke the surface and found themselves surrounded by emergency marine craft and blinding searchlights. Another team of divers were ready to relieve them, having just dropped from a 412 NYPD copter. The hovering craft clattered deafeningly overhead with the crew chief perched and tethered to the open hatch as he directed his pilot and divers. Its lights showcased the rescue team. Hands reached out to help Ross aboard one of the boats, but Alex sculled away.
“We found him,” he communicated through hand signals to one of the relief divers. Once submerged, Alex used the buddy phone in the front of his mask to give the police divers the location of the body. They followed his lead.
There was no sense of victory. They’d accomplished what they’d started out for, but the end to the story was anything but triumphant. The best that could be said was that it was a mission well done. Somebody’s loved one had been found. Out of the tragedy there had also been found resolution. And peace.
Dallas stood back behind the cordoned-off police lines and watched through the hurricane fencing as a stretcher was hoisted into a waiting ambulance. It held a zippered body bag. She experienced an immediate primal fear and dread. Her gaze followed the departing vehicle. But there were two more waiting. The injured news reporter had been the first to be removed, but Dallas couldn’t tell yet if the other EMS teams were there just in case or if there was a real need. There was still a lot of activity and manpower around the dock where the rescue efforts had ended. But she had yet to actually see any of the divers. Or Alex.
She caught sight of several men headed slowly toward the remaining ambulances. One was wrapped in a gray thermal blanket and was supported on either side as he limped forward toward a waiting ambulance. A second man walked with him, also with a blanket around his shoulders. The pier lights clearly illuminated his silver hair. She felt a tremendous rush of relief.
Dallas approached the police barricades, prepared to flash her press pass, but no one stopped her. The rescue was over, and most of the personnel had cleared from the area. By the time she’d reached the ambulance, the limping man had been helped inside. She didn’t have to call out Alex’s name. As if sensing her presence, he turned his head in her direction, finding her in the dark. Dallas stopped, and Alex separated himself from the group and walked over to her.
She couldn’t see his face, but Dallas could tell he was physically exhausted. Alex stopped in front of her and let his gaze wander over her before speaking.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” His voice was a deep croak.
The truth came without hesitation. “I was worried.” Dallas glanced quickly around. “Maybe … I’m not supposed to be here.”
“No, no. This is … great. Really great.”
“Ross?” she questioned, to cover her nervousness.
“He’s okay. That’s him.” Alex indicated with an inclination of his head. “They’re taking him overnight for observation. He banged up his leg a bit.”
She blinked at him. “And you?”
“Beat.”
“What happens now? Do you have to hang around or …”
“No, I’m through. They have our preliminary report. I can give the rest tomorrow. I can’t move the boat tonight …”
She swallowed, hesitating. “How … were you going to get home to Brooklyn?”
Alex kept his gaze on her face, still riveted by her intense concern. Her being there. He shook his head and shrugged. “I hadn’t thought that far. You have something in mind?”
Dallas felt her stomach contract as she stared at him. She felt herself on the edge of a great pre
cipice, with that strange sensation of being both afraid she would fall … or that she would hurl herself forward into the unknown. It was a breathtaking and scary feeling.
“You can stay at my place.”
“Are you sure that’s okay? I can go with Ross and crash with him at the hospital.”
“But I’ll throw in real coffee and a hot shower.”
He laughed, and then slowly sobered. Alex took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “No contest. I’d rather go with you. It’s really good to see you, Dallas.”
She smiled, feeling somewhat fortified by his confession. “What are friends for?”
“Right.” He nodded, wryly. “Wait for me? I’ll be right back.”
Alex returned to the standing rescue workers and handed them the gray blanket. He accompanied the emergency crew to a temporary triage setup for further conversation before climbing on board his boat and going below. Dallas waited and watched, wondering about her actions, and steadfastly refusing to address the dozen or so questions and what-ifs her mind created.
Alex reappeared in just ten minutes, fully dressed. There was another moment of conversation with the rescue crew before Alex shook their hands and came back to Dallas. She led the way to the parked car. They were headed toward Broadway and uptown before either spoke again. Dallas questioned him about the accident, and the remainder of the ride was spent talking about the rescue efforts. It was a safer subject than exploring the instincts that had brought her to him. The moment felt charged with anticipation that stayed with them until the car was parked once more, and they entered her building. Dallas covered the awkward silence by looking for apartment keys. Under the ceiling light of the elevator she could see the stress on Alex’s face. He seemed slightly dazed, now, but he only stared silently at her as she babbled nervously.
“They should have kept you for observation, too …”
“I’m fine,” he said quietly.
“Come on in,” Dallas murmured once she’d unlocked the apartment door.
Alex followed her into the dark foyer, and she flipped the light switch. She was immediately aware that his presence altered the space, shrank it in a way that seemed to make him larger … or her more vulnerable. It brought them closer together. Alex stood awkwardly as Dallas maneuvered around him to lead the way into the apartment.