On the Way Back

by Fox, Ella

  One of the things I was struggling to deal with involved the children around me. They ranged in age from newborn to about nine. Parents held their infants and toddlers tightly, while the older children were right at their sides. You’d think the infants would’ve upset me the most, but it was the expressions on the school-aged children’s faces that broke my heart the most. The infants and toddlers were blessed; they wouldn’t remember. The older children would, and the terror I saw in their faces turned my stomach. Many of them were watching their city being brought to its knees, and I wondered what that would mean for them long term. Would it be more damaging to associate this day with the city they lived in? I guessed only time would tell.

  I let out a long breath as I forced my attention from the children back to the view of the city. The smoke was like nothing I’d ever seen, and I hoped I’d never see anything like it again. It felt like we were finally far enough away that breathing might be easier, so I tugged the mouth and nose covering I’d created from part of a tee shirt Tia had in her back pack down. Taking a tentative sniff, I frowned. The burning smell wasn’t as pungent as it had been on land, but it still hung in the air. I wondered how far we’d have to go before we couldn’t see or smell what had happened.

  That thought wasn’t even finished going through my head when the second tower, the one left standing, crumbled. There were screams and cries of disbelief from pretty much all of the hundreds of passengers as we watched the second building go down. Like with the first building’s fall, my first thought was of all the lives that had just been lost.

  The mood on the ferry went from shell-shocked to something worse—despondent. We all knew nothing could ever be the same after that morning. Two of the biggest landmarks in the city were gone, and God only knew how many lives were lost. In DC, The Pentagon had been struck as well. I didn’t know all the details about that yet but what I did know for sure was that three of the most recognizable structures in the United States being attacked on the same day was no coincidence. Our country was in crisis—and I feared what the aftermath would be.

  When we got off the ferry on the New Jersey side of the harbor, we stood with hundreds of other people and watched as huge smoke clouds billowed from the Trade Center area to the sky. I tried calling Garrett again, but the fast busy signal was still the only thing I could get.

  Word quickly made its way through the group that the United Nations was being evacuated. Someone started singing My Country Tis of Thee, and soon dozens were singing along. I couldn’t sing because I was crying too damn hard.

  By unspoken agreement, Tia and I started walking away from the group as two of the giant NY Waterway boats arrived to let people off. There were so many boats in the water—dozens and dozens—that I knew the area around us was going to quickly become a zoo. One of my biggest fears was of being separated from Tia, so it was important for us to go. I had no idea where, exactly, we were going to, but I was sure that would become apparent at some point.

  When I felt a buzz from my phone, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Pulling it from my front pocket, I let out a gasp when I saw I had an email from Garrett. The feeling of relief I had knowing that he’d gotten what I’d sent was one of the best things ever.

  * * *

  Three hours later, we checked into a hotel in West Orange, New Jersey. By then, we knew a fourth and final plane had gone down in Pennsylvania. We also knew that it was unlikely that US airspace was going to reopen anytime soon. I tried not to focus on how devastating that was. I needed to see Garrett with my own two eyes, hold onto him, and cry. The thousands of miles between us hurt like hell.

  Having my cellphone work, as well as having a landline in the hotel room, was amazing. I went into the bathroom to call Garrett while Tia stayed out in the main room to call her parents. Overwhelmed by the bright white and very well lit bathroom, I climbed into the bathtub, sat down, and drew the curtain closed before I called him.

  After I’d gotten a signal, I’d called and talked to Garrett and Goldie. Since then, I’d talked to Garrett three more times, but each conversation had been shorter than we wanted since the main focus had been getting Tia and I somewhere safe. Since we were two of about five hundred thousand people who had streamed out of New York to New Jersey via the harbor, hotels were at a premium. It had taken a while to find something and once we did, getting there was a struggle. I knew we were lucky that Garrett and Harry had been working things out for us on the other side of the country. Now that we were in place, I’d finally be able to talk to him for real.

  “You’re in the hotel now, right?” he asked when he picked up.

  “Yeah. We’re all checked in.”

  “It took some doing but Harry’s having clothes delivered. Nothing fancy—just some basics from Target—but they should be there soon. We also have pizza, water, and a ton of soda headed your way. I’m sorry it’s not better food, but I figure something is better than nothing right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Baby,” he grumbled. “What did I tell you about that?”

  I started to laugh, but it quickly became a sob. “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” I whispered.

  His harsh inhalation said a lot. “I’d always find you, baby. No matter what.”

  “I was so scared, Garrett. Everything was so loud and out of control and crazy. Even now,” I sobbed, “I’m covered in soot and ash. I can’t stop wondering if any of what’s on me might be remains of someone who lost their life today. I just… how could this happen? Why?”

  “I hate when you cry,” he murmured. “I hate it more that I’m not there to hold you in my arms and wipe those tears. I don’t know why any of this happened and I’d be lying if I tried to say I’m not scared shitless, too. I never imagined something like this was even a possibility. The world feels different now. Darker.”

  Once again, I pulled my necklace up and clutched Melody’s urn and my engagement ring in the palm of one hand. “There were so many children,” I cried. “The terror their parents were dealing with as they got onto those boats… it killed me. I couldn’t stop staring at the older kids as we went across the water because I kept thinking about what they’ll remember of this. Their city was attacked. How will they feel safe after this? It’s going to be hard for me to get my feet under me again and I’m an adult. Imagine being a child.”

  “Fuck,” he said, his voice thick. “I didn’t even think about that.”

  “I know it’s early to be thinking about this… but I can’t turn my brain off. I want to donate the money you forced on me in the divorce settlement to something that will benefit mental health for the people who were there today.”

  He’d insisted I take a settlement, even though I’d never wanted one. The two million dollars that was spread out over two separate accounts was like a scab that would never heal. Being able to donate it would make me feel a lot better.

  “We’ll find something and when we do, I’ll match it,” he answered.

  “I love you for not arguing with me.”

  “And I love you right back. Fuck the money, Shaelyn. The only thing I care about is you. If you’d said you wanted to shoot a money cannon off the Santa Monica pier, I’d have said go for it. This is better, though. I’m going to put Harry on finding out how we can make those donations. I know The Red Cross is already being flooded with calls—I’m sure they’ll have some information.”

  When Tia knocked on the door to tell me that clothes and food had arrived, Garrett insisted I hang up and eat—only after he got me to promise I’d call him back as soon as I was finished.

  When I got out into the bedroom, Tia and I sat on the floor at the end of the beds and watched the news. We did this eating shitty delivery pizza from a chain place and drinking copious amounts of water. When we finished, I took the remote and started flipping through the channels. It was surreal that every single one—with the exception of Nickelodeon—was reporting on what had happened. Even MTV was covering it.


  Watching as NBC, CNN, CBS and ABC replayed footage from the day over and over again was surreal. How had all of that happened in just one hundred and two minutes? Time seemed stuck, like it wasn’t moving as fast as it otherwise would have, and I couldn’t believe it wasn’t even three in the afternoon yet. I was so exhausted that it felt like it should’ve been midnight.

  After we ate, Tia went into the bathroom to take a shower and I called Garrett back. As soon as he answered and said hello, I rushed to speak.

  “I’m going to come back to LA and continue therapy there. I’ve loved my time with Dr. Cohen but today was a wakeup call. I want to go home.”

  His breath hitched. “Home?”

  “Yes. I’m done running. What I saw today helped me get my priorities straight. I want to be with you, in our home… if you’ll have me.”

  “I’ll always fucking have you,” he growled. “Always. Never wonder about or doubt it for a second. I’ve been praying for this moment since the day you moved out. If I could blink and get you here now, I’d do it. Home it is.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Garrett— September 2001

  The second Shaelyn started crying, I’d made the decision to drive to New York. US airspace was closed and would continue to be closed for fuck only knew how long, and I needed to get to my wife. I’d planned to go by myself, but Harry insisted on coming along to help with the driving. It was a forty-one hour trip, which meant that having him along made sense. There was no way to drive straight through, but with two people rotating driving duties, we could probably get there late on Friday, if not in the early morning hours of Saturday.

  We left Los Angeles bound for New York in a rented Chevy Suburban at two in the afternoon. We did this armed with a TripTik from Triple A that Harry had procured for us so we’d know what roads to take. The plan was to drive until we couldn’t do it anymore. Then we’d stop, sleep, and repeat. We hoped at some point on our journey airspace would open and we’d be able to take a plane at least some portion of the way, but there were no guarantees.

  We were lucky. On Thursday, airspace opened. At that point, we were able to book a private flight from Chicago to New York City. We were so fucking exhausted by then it was scary. In a span of forty-two hours, we’d driven more than two thousand miles. I was damn close to crying tears of joy when we found out we could fly the rest of the way.

  What I hadn’t expected was to white knuckle the fucking armrests of my seat for the entirety of the two-hour flight. Harry was fine, but I was a mess. Sweat poured down my back, my heart raced, and my legs shook a mile a goddamn minute as I prayed to get the fucking flying over with. I’d never wanted to be on the ground so badly in my life.

  All I could think was that planes had been used as fucking weapons just two days prior. The thing was, I’d never been a nervous flyer. I’d been praying airspace would open up so I could get my ass on a plane, but the reality was that I was fucking terrified. My level of fear made no sense considering the shit was private and there was no chance we were going to be hijacked, but I couldn’t talk myself out of it.

  By the time we landed I was done. All I could think about was getting to my wife. I knew once I had her in my arms the entire trip—even the way-too-fucking-stressful flight—would be worth it.

  When I finally got to the hotel and she opened the door to her room, I dropped my backpack on the ground, pulled her into my arms, and held on for dear life. She smelled like home and she felt like heaven on earth, and I didn’t even try to hold back the tears I shed. Fuck all that men don’t cry bullshit. Besides, she was crying too, so it wasn’t like I was alone.

  We stayed like that for a good ten minutes. Crying, whispering words of love, kissing, hugging—we needed all of it. I was vaguely aware that Harry had entered the room and was engaging Tia in conversation but in that moment, the need to have Shaelyn in my arms far outweighed any need to be polite.

  After we finished hugging, I kept hold of her hand. When I said hi to Tia and she asked what time we were leaving, I went tense. The original plan had been to get the girls and fly back to LA—the plane was waiting for us at the private airport—but the idea of getting back onboard made me ill. I held up my free hand and asked Tia to give me a second before I gestured with my neck for Shaelyn to come with me into the bathroom. When the door closed behind us, I gave it to her straight.

  “I had a two-hour panic attack on the way here. If you’re agreeable, I’d like to avoid flying for a while. Would it be okay if you and I rented a car and drove back? I’ll send Harry back with Tia now since he was perfectly fine on the flight. If you don’t want to drive I’ll see about getting some valium, but it’ll probably take ‘til morning, and—”

  She reached up and covered my mouth with her hand. “Of course I’ll drive with you. To be honest, I was dreading the flight. Tia’s ready to go, though.”

  Letting go of her hand, I pulled her into my arms again. I was relieved she was down with my avoid-flying-for-a-while plan, but more than that, I was ecstatic that we were finally—after months and months of all that divorce bullshit—at a point where being alone together wasn’t something she felt she needed to avoid at all costs.

  The world was in chaos, but Shaelyn and I were well and truly on the way back to normal.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Shaelyn— September 2001

  After Harry and Tia left for the airport an hour later, Garrett and I spent all of about three minutes trying to make plans of our own.

  He seemed content to have me curled into his side, but I needed something more physical, and fast. Turning, I nuzzled the side of his neck and cupped his stubbly jaw with my left hand for a minute before I trailed said hand down his throat and then his chest, then down his tee shirt covered six-pack abs. I didn’t stop there, though. Dropping my hand, I cupped his crotch and gently squeezed the hardness I felt growing beneath his jeans. His harsh inhalation made me smile.

  “Baby?” he asked, the question in his voice apparent.

  I let out a throaty laugh as I took my hand away and stood. Facing him, I set my hands on his shoulders to balance myself as I put my knees on either side of his legs and straddled him.

  I kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other before I looked him in the eye. “I know I’ve been anything but sexual for quite a long time,” I whispered, “but I need you now. Let me love you, Garrett.”

  He let out a soft groan and nodded as he set his hands at my waist. “Whatever you want,” he rasped. I loved that his grip at my waist was firm and sure, because it meant he was no longer seeing me as the easily breakable woman I’d been for the last year.

  I rained soft kisses all over his face as I slowly made my way to his delectable lips. I traced the seam of his lips ever-so-delicately, like a hummingbird taking nectar from a flower. When I set my lips against his for a real kiss, we both let out needy sounds.

  The kiss was slow and sweet, like we were re-learning each other. We’d kissed before I’d left for New York and it had been fabulous, but this was different—life affirming, even. Threading my fingers into his hair, I tilted my head to the side and changed the angle of the kiss. The arousal building inside of me felt so powerful, so charged, that I knew I was quickly losing the will to keep things slow and steady.

  My clit quivered with need when I felt his erection beneath me. Shifting, I adjusted until I was able to rock my hips and shamelessly rub myself against him. His hold on my waist tightened and his breathing accelerated as I moved on top of him. The friction of his cock—even with his jeans and my panties separating us—was deliciously decadent. The blood in my veins felt molten, and I wanted nothing more than to unzip his pants, push my panties aside, and impale myself on his rigid length.

  I stayed strong in order to resist doing just that. I’d put a lot of thought into what I would do when I could really touch him again. Although I’d imagined that would take place back in Los Angeles, I had no complaints about reconnecting in a three-star hotel
in New Jersey. There was no denying that it was happening quicker than it would have if we’d flown for six hours.

  We went from passionately kissing with finesse to kissing like we were already fucking. He plundered my mouth and guided his tongue against mine like a sample of what was to come, and I met him move for move. We’d been deprived of each other for eons, and the pinch of desperation added another layer to it.

  I shivered when he dropped his hands to the spot where my simple cotton skirt rested against my lower thighs. The heat of his palms against my skin filled me with joy, but I forced myself not to get lost in it. At least at the outset I needed what was happening between us to center around him. God knew he deserved it. For more than a year, everything had been about me and it was important to me to make him feel how much I appreciated him.

  Tearing my mouth from his, I brought one of the hands I had in his hair forward and set it against his throat. With a gentle push, I let him know that I wanted him to tilt his neck. When he complied, I traced my tongue up and down the side of his neck, enjoying the way he shuddered under me.

  “Fuck, Shaelyn,” he growled.

  I laughed softly as I bit down—not hard, but enough that he could feel it—at the side of his neck. Then I repeated the motion several more times, little bites and sucks that I knew made him crazy. Letting go of his hair, I ran my hands down his chest to the bottom of his tee and then I tucked my hands under it so I could trace his happy trail with my thumbs.