Part 11 (1/2)

So many good and innocent people had been hurt or killed. It made no sense. Where was the justice? Heart heavy, Abigail plodded along behind her friends, staring into the grieving faces of young and old alike. And these? These were the lucky ones.

Abigail tracked the aroma of fresh coffee until she spotted silver urns and platters of cookies. Her belly was hollow, and she had a feeling some sugar and caffeine would no doubt give her sagging spirits enough of a boost to see her through the next few hours at least.

”Haruo!” Isuzu found her brother standing next to his son, Tyler, who was in a wheelchair. She tugged Abigail's blouse and pointed to the sidewalk. ”I'll be there.”

Abigail nodded and gave her a quick hug.

”And I'll catch up with you all later, too,” Chaz said, holding up his cell phone. ”I just got about ten seconds of cell service, but it was enough to find out that Kaylee is on her way here with a broken arm and some bruised ribs. Everyone else is fine.” Though the worry s.h.i.+mmered in his eyes, it was clear that just hearing her voice was a huge relief. With a quick hug for Abigail and a clap on the back for Justin, Chaz left their group, his eyes already darting from face to face as he scanned the crowd for Kaylee.

”You're stuck with me, I guess.” Abigail sighed as she handed Justin a cookie.

”No hards.h.i.+p there,” he said.

Amus.e.m.e.nt did wonderful things to his face, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Tentatively touching her hair, she could only imagine how she must look. ”Do you see Danny anywhere?” she asked as she selected a cookie for dinner. Or breakfast.

”Not yet.”

Abigail poured them each a steaming cup of coffee. Between the warm drink and the food, she was beginning to catch her second wind. ”There's Jen,” she said, and pointed with her half-eaten cookie at the ambulance under the ER portico, vying with battered cars and trucks for a spot to offload patients. They were still a ways away when the back doors were opened, and mother and baby were unloaded and wheeled through the throng and up to the wall of sliding gla.s.s doors. Danny still wasn't with her, but then, how would he know where to find her right now?

As he had done so often that evening, Justin spoke her thoughts aloud. ”Let's go see if we can find Danny and tell him where Jen and the baby are.”

Coffee in hand, Abigail slowly meandered with Justin through the parking lot, looking for Danny and gathering bits of information here and there. The high school gymnasium had collapsed. Kids were still being transported to the hospital. Two of them, to the morgue. Names were pending family notification. Old Town had been demolished. Her home was gone. Many of Rawston's oldest neighborhoods were gone. The numbers being transported to the morgue were rising steadily. Walterville had been hit hard. The damage to Rawston was the worst so far. Hospitals were overflowing. Souths.h.i.+re had only minimal damage.

Justin looked at her with concern as she reacted to each bit of news. ”Are you all right?”

Tears welled and stung her eyes, but she pinched them back and gave her head a quick shake. ”I can't process it all right now. As much as I'll miss my building, I can't believe how many people were killed. It's just . . .” she lifted and dropped her free hand, ”. . . so surreal.” Her face and throat ached with the effort it took to stem the emotional flood. The arm Justin draped around her shoulder was supportive in several ways, and she appreciated it more than he would ever know. Though she tried to block it out, the depressing reality had her feeling nauseated. All that work. Building a clientele. Building her home and shop. And for what?

The point of life on this stupid planet suddenly eluded her, and she swallowed back a surge of bitter bile that threatened to make her sick. As they searched the crowd for Danny, odd thoughts flashed through her mind. Random thoughts. Rogue ideas mixed with raw emotion.

This would be the perfect opportunity to move out to California. She could live with her mother in her mom's little bungalow in Beverly Hills. They never got tornados out there. Her new friend DJ had made her an offer to work in a high-end celebrity salon that only a fool would pa.s.s on. Think of the amazing people she would meet-the fast track life she would live. DJ's client list and social circle were regularly featured on the covers of the magazines at the check-out stand. DJ himself pulled seven figures, and his house had been written up in Architectural Digest. The fact that she hadn't jumped at his offer before now seemed ridiculous, especially in light of tonight's disaster. There was so much there, and so little to keep her here.

Then again . . .

She had dear friends and of course, her precious Aunt Selma. And . . . her father and his family, if she could ever screw up the nerve to face him again. The homesickness would be horrendous. She'd lived her whole life, right here in Rawston. But wouldn't it be prudent to cut her losses and leave now before the feelings that were germinating for Justin took root? Everything in her mind pointed to this logic. How could she have only known him for twenty-four hours? Would he stay here or go back east?

Her head was spinning. There was just so much to consider. Abigail had never believed in love at first sight. Love, Aunt Selma always said, was something that grew over time. Anything else was just so much l.u.s.t. And l.u.s.t didn't last.

So, what exactly was she thinking when it came to Justin?

Taking a deep, heartening breath, she considered him as they stepped into the long line at the Red Cross information table. He was muddy and rumpled and in need of a shower and a shave, but still he was the handsomest man in the parking lot. In Rawston. Make that the entire state. So, yeah. The physical thing was a lot of it. But she'd had really handsome boyfriends in the past. And, after the second or third date, they made their expectations clear, and if she didn't put out, they generally drifted away. Sooner rather than later, most times.

But if she took Justin's looks out of the equation . . . there was so much more. His face when he'd held Jen's baby? Just thinking about his joyful expression had her eyes swimming. And, what about the way he'd risked his own personal safety to protect her, a virtual stranger, during the storm? And that young mother and her small children? He'd taken charge and remained levelheaded when the woman had fought to stay in the store with her kids.

She sighed. Hopefully, things would be clearer in the light of day.

When they finally reached the head of the line, the woman in charge of the admission lists did not have Danny's name recorded as one who'd voluntarily signed her public release list, or been listed by immediate family as one who'd been admitted to Rawston Legacy. Or Souths.h.i.+re's Good Samaritan Hospital. Or Fisher's Mill's Emanuel.

”But,” she'd said with a tired sigh, ”that doesn't necessarily mean diddlysquat. Not every family is willing or able to sign for their injured. Not everyone who is injured can speak for themselves. Not everyone had ID on them when the storm hit. Not everyone has been transported yet. Information will be coming in for days. You'd be amazed at the number of people who turn up unscathed. Good luck,” she said, her kind eyes filled with compa.s.sion.

Though he'd nodded at all of the volunteer's a.s.surances, it was obvious Justin had doubts about her optimism. Conflicting emotions had his jaw muscles jumping and the worry kindling in his eyes. He pushed back his hat and scratched his head, a gesture that was becoming endearingly familiar to Abigail. ”Thank you, ma'am.”

”Certainly. And, if you would, please sign your name here, and that way I can a.s.sure others who might be worried about you, that you are alive and well.”

Taking up a pen, Justin signed his name, jotted his cell number and then handed the pen to Abigail.

”Would you have a Selma Louise Tully on any of your lists?” Abigail asked after she'd scanned the page she'd signed.

A quick perusal of several lists in her computer had the volunteer shaking her head. ”I'm sorry, no. But no news is good news, as they say.”

”Thank you.” Abigail sighed, as disheartened as Justin. When they stepped out of line, Isuzu joined them. ”Have you seen Danny?” Abigail asked, hopeful that she'd spotted him.

”Not yet,” Isuzu said and Abigail noticed that her eyes and nose all red and puffy. It was obvious she'd been crying for a while now.

Scared, Abigail touched her arm. ”What's wrong?”

Isuzu shook her head and the tears that spiked her lashes began to spill. ”Tyler has broken leg. Many fracture. Brooke is in surgery . . . doctor not sure if she will walk again.”

The hospital parking lot was so crowded, Selma had to circle the entire thing several times before a spot came open. To Bob Ray, the tension in his gut felt as if he'd swallowed a couple of burning coals. He repressed the awful need to scream and swear and slam his fists on Ms. Tully's dashboard. Not knowing where Heather and Robbie were was driving him mad. Ms. Tully was a G.o.dly woman. She probably wouldn't appreciate a crazed outburst like that, but he wanted to give vent something awful.

In the back seat, Elsa had finally lost her battle to stay awake and had fallen fast asleep on her mother's lap. Smiling with maternal love, Guadalupe stroked her daughter's hair and whispered to Selma and Bob Ray that she'd decided to stay in the car. ”Take your time,” she whispered. ”We will be comfortable and sleeping.”

Selma walked with Bob Ray toward the information line and waved him off. ”Honey, you go look for your bride. I'll save you a place. If I get to the front before you come back, I'll ask after Heather and Robbie. I have some other folks, my niece Abigail, and such that I want to check on, too.”

”Thank you!” Bob Ray kissed Ms. Tully's soft, paper-thin cheek and jumped into the crowd. His head whipping left and right, eyes flas.h.i.+ng, he pushed past people and ran, his heart thudding with both dread and antic.i.p.ation.

Heather? Where was Heather? Please, please be here.

”Hey! Watch it!” a woman snapped as he barreled past and b.u.mped her arm.

”Sorry,” he called over his shoulder but didn't stop. He was a man with a mission.

”Bob Ray?”

He skidded to a stop at the sound of his name and spun around. ”Heather?” He hollered. Heads turned to stare, but he didn't care.

”Bob Ray! Over here!”

Jumping up, he spotted her standing next to a grouping of chairs on the hospital's front lawn area. Robbie was fast asleep, bundled safely in a giant red blanket. His heart caught in his throat. Heather! Tears were streaming down his face now. Heather, beautiful, beautiful Heather. His best friend. The girl who'd given him a healthy son.

Getting to her was like trying to make an end run against an opposing team on the football field. He had to weave and dodge and push, but he finally made it to his family. She gasped as he swept her into his arms and spun her in a circle. Then, in front of G.o.d and everybody, Bob Ray kissed his wife. Hungrily. Eagerly. Pa.s.sionately.

It was a kiss filled with grat.i.tude and apology and most importantly, love. They were both in tears by the time he was done. Clasping her face between his palms, he pushed his nose against hers and kissed her lips, her chin, her jaw and her eyes. ”I was so scared,” he confessed. ”So scared that I'd lost you. Tell me,” he begged, and threaded his hands through her hair. ”Tell me I still have you.”

Eyes s.h.i.+ning, Heather laughed like the girl he'd first seriously courted in high school. ”You have me,” she breathed against his mouth. ”You have always had me.”

The inferno in his belly began to ease and in its place the feeling of becoming a real husband and father took residence.