Remember (23 page)

Luke had felt awful since he left Reagan’s apartment a dozen hours ago. Long before the news of the attacks, he’d been sick to his stomach over what had happened between them. How had things gotten so out of hand? And what would she think of him now? They’d both been determined to wait, sure that they would never fall to temptation the way others did. They were just watching a football game, after all.

But now how would Reagan feel if something happened to her father—if she’d missed out on her last chance to talk to him because she and Luke were breaking the most important guideline God ever set about relationships? What then? Luke couldn’t imagine how she must be feeling.

A shaken Dan Rather appeared on the screen. He glanced at a stack of notes. “We have reports now that the north tower of the World Trade Center is unstable. There’s concern it might collapse as well. Police are evacuating everyone except medical and fire personnel from the scene, and . . .”

The north tower?
No! God, you wouldn’t let it fall.

Without waiting another moment, Luke grabbed his things and raced from the classroom. Whatever happened next, he needed to reach Reagan—even if he had to search the whole campus to find her.

* * *

Landon and his colleagues hadn’t moved. They remained fixated on the television, listening as reporters spoke of dozens of firefighters trapped in the collapsed building. A feeling of futility hung over them, and for the most part they no longer spoke.

The only sound around the table was an occasional grunt of disbelief or shock.

What could they say? There was nothing any of them could do to help, and the disaster grew worse by the minute. Landon tried to believe that Jalen was in the north tower, that somehow he’d avoided the ill-fated south tower and might still have time to get out.

But just as those thoughts flashed in his mind, the top part of the north tower peeled away, sending the entire massive structure down to the ground. One minute it was standing among the buildings of the city; the next it was reduced to a massive pile of rubble, shrouded in a black fog of debris even denser than before.

Landon could barely breathe. He glanced at the lunchroom clock: 10:28 A.M. The fire had been burning in the north tower for ninety minutes—enough time for firefighters to get in, make a rescue, and get out. Certainly some firefighters had gotten out. But was Jalen one of them?

God be with him. Be merciful. If there’s a chance he can get out of there, help him. Please, God . . .

Fifteen minutes later the report came that another plane had gone down, this one in rural Pennsylvania. Reporters speculated that the crash must have been linked to the attacks. The flight pattern indicated the jet was headed for the Washington, D.C., area. Maybe even the White House.

Over the next hour, several of Landon’s buddies took breaks from the unfolding horror. Only Landon couldn’t leave his seat. He was desperate to hear about the New York firefighters. Had any of them gotten out in time, or were most of them trapped beneath the rubble? How many were missing? He was watching when the news he feared most was first reported. As many as a hundred firefighters were missing, maybe more. Whole engine companies, fire trucks and all, had vanished when the towers collapsed.

Landon listened to the news and clenched his jaw, working it first one way then the other. He wanted to cry, wanted to punch something or run until he couldn’t breathe anymore. The idea of idly watching while Jalen might be suffocating under tons of rubble was more than he could take.

There was only one thing he could do, one way he could help his best friend now. He pushed his chair back and looked at the two other firemen at the table. It wasn’t like he even had a choice.

“Guys . . .” He grabbed his hat and headed out the door. “I’m going to New York.”

Chapter Twenty

Luke raced across campus like a madman.

Why couldn’t he remember Reagan’s schedule? Was she in physics this morning or journalism? He checked three classrooms, ran a hundred yards to another building, and checked two more before he remembered. It was Tuesday. Her first class didn’t start until eleven on Tuesdays.

He raced to the student parking lot, found his car, and sped toward Reagan’s apartment. Was it only twelve hours ago that he’d been with her, trying to decide whether he should stay, trying to ignore the way God practically shouted at him to go home?

How had everything changed in so little time?

He darted up the steps and pounded on her door. When no one answered, he tried the handle. It was unlocked. He opened it with a quiet push, careful not to frighten her.

“Reagan?” He heard a distant beeping. “Reagan, are you here?”

No answer. Luke moved through the entryway and stopped short as he reached the living room. There she was, sitting on the same sofa where they’d lost control the night before. Her eyes were wide, her face frozen in a look of shock and horror that cut Luke to the core. She stared at the television screen, oblivious to the fact that the phone was off the hook beside her.

Luke followed her gaze. The TV showed smoke and soot and utter chaos. But as thick and dark as the cloud of debris was, the truth was plain for all to see. The north tower was gone. Where the World Trade Center once stood, there was now nothing at all.

“Did it . . . ?” Luke couldn’t finish his question.

Reagan looked at him, her movements slow and unnatural. “It’s gone. Dad’s building fell.”

“No. Reagan, it didn’t.” Luke was at her side instantly. “Tell me it’s not true.” He sat down beside her. But when he tried to put his arm around her, she held up her hand.

“Don’t!” Her tone was loud and sharp. She slid over on the sofa, tightening her grip on the phone. “I need to call my mother.”

Luke felt like he’d been slapped. Reagan was in shock; that had to be it. She’d never spoken to him that way before. He looked at the receiver, then at Reagan. “It’s off the hook.”

“Don’t talk to me!” She stared at the phone as if she were seeing it for the first time. Then she pushed a series of buttons, held it to her ear, and waited.

Luke watched. There was nothing he could do to help. When the call didn’t go through, Reagan dropped the phone to her side. It was still beeping. Luke kept his distance but held out his hand. “Let me try, okay?”

The small bit of fight in Reagan fizzled. She handed him the receiver without the slightest change in her expression. Luke held the phone to his ear, found a dial tone, and hit the Redial button.

A recording came on. “All circuits are busy. Please try again. All circuits are busy. Please try a—”

Luke hung up and set the phone on the coffee table in front of him. “We’ll try in a few minutes.”

Reagan hugged her arms to her chest. “You think he got out, right? My dad, I mean?” She swallowed twice. “He’s coming to Bloomington with my mom. We’re going to see the town together.” Her face was completely void of emotion. “Are they coming today?”

Reagan didn’t blink. Luke studied her, his heart racing. What if she wasn’t okay? What if she passed out or did something crazy? He’d never seen anyone act like this. She was waiting for an answer, frantically searching his face for something she could hold on to. “I don’t know, Reagan.”

She glanced at the television. “But he got out, right?”

“Yes.” The word stuck in Luke’s mouth. He was desperate for a glass of water. “I think he could be okay.”

Her head bobbed up and down in a jerky fashion. “Right. Everything’s okay. He’s probably home sick today, or . . .” She blinked hard, her eyes darting about the room as though she were looking for an escape. “Or . . . he was away on business . . . or out on assignment or . . . or down the street getting coffee.” She looked hard at him again. “Right, Luke. That could be it, couldn’t it?”

“I’m trying your mom again.” He picked up the phone and punched the Redial button once more. This time it rang, and Reagan’s mother picked up almost immediately.

“Reagan?” Mrs. Decker sounded as anxious as her daughter. “I’ve been trying to call for the last half hour. Your line’s been busy.”

“This is Luke. Reagan’s here beside me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Have you heard from your husband?”

“I’m . . . I’m all by myself here, Luke. I don’t know what to do.”

Luke wanted to scream. He didn’t know what to do either. He was just a college kid, too far away to help even if he could. Instead he stared at his girlfriend, still sitting motionless across from him, and forced himself to be calm. “Reagan’s pretty upset. Have you . . . has he called?”

Reagan’s mother exhaled, and Luke could tell she was crying. “He called me after the first plane hit. It . . . it was his building. His office is just below the fire.”

Luke could picture Mr. Decker’s office, the way he had looked in his leather chair with all of New York City spread out behind him. How terrible it must have been to watch that plane fly into the building, to know an inferno was raging a few stories above.

Luke shuddered and tried to think of what to say next. “Maybe he got out.” He shot a glance at Reagan. She didn’t seem to be hearing his conversation. “There were reports of people escaping from that high up. If he made it to the stairwell in time, maybe he’s at the hospital or looking for a way to call home. The circuits were busy when I tried a few minutes ago, so maybe—”

“Luke, stop.” The woman was crying harder now. “He called me again. He . . . he said he was helping the firemen rescue people who couldn’t move very fast. He wanted me to know they’d done all they could, and he was about to go down the stairs. He said he . . . he loved me and Reagan and that he was going to be fine. He’d see me in a few hours.”

Luke didn’t dare breathe.

“Five minutes after we hung up . . . the building fell.” She sobbed out loud, a wailing, gut-wrenching cry like none he’d ever heard before. “Luke, he’s gone. There’s no way he could have survived that.”

Reagan still hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked as far as Luke could tell.
God, let there be a miracle here, please. This can’t be happening. I don’t know what to do.
He drew a slow breath. “You don’t know for sure, though. Maybe he was able to—”

“Luke.” The way she said his name stopped him in midsentence. “I need to talk to my daughter. Please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Luke winced. He held the phone out to Reagan. “She wants to talk to you.”

Reagan took the phone, her movements even slower than before. “Hello?”

For a long while there was silence. Finally Reagan nodded. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

This time she replaced the receiver on the hook and sat there staring at the answering machine. Then she pushed the Playback button. On came her father’s voice.

“Reagan? Honey, you home? . . . Oh, well. Just called to commiserate with you over the sad loss tonight. But hey, don’t count the Giants out. You know, I was thinking—one of these weekends Mom and I should fly out and visit. The three of us could rent bikes or check out the shops. Let’s plan it, okay?” His laugh sounded through the machine’s speaker just as it had done last night. “Anyway, call me tomorrow. Love you, honey.”

She waited a brief moment; then she hit the button again.

“Reagan? Honey, you home? . . .”

Luke slowly made his way toward her as the message played out. He was afraid to touch her, afraid to show her any comfort at all. What could he say? Because of him, she had missed her last conversation with her father.

The phone rang before Reagan could play the message again. She jerked back as if the machine had come to life. Then she handed the receiver to Luke. “I . . . I can’t talk.”

“Hello?”

“It’s Reagan’s mom again.” Mrs. Decker sounded calmer. She explained that Reagan’s brother, Bryan, was getting a ride home from college. It was important that Reagan come too. “I’ve made her a reservation on the four o’clock bus out of Bloomington. Can you see that she gets there?”

“Definitely.” Luke finished the conversation and hung up the phone once more.

The moment he did, Reagan moved her finger toward the Playback button. This time Luke held up a gentle hand and stopped her. “Reagan, don’t.”

She jerked his hand off and glared at him, her blonde eyebrows knit in a fury that took Luke by surprise. “Leave me alone. I’ll listen to it as much as I want.”

“It’s not going to help.” He kept his tone patient, kind. The brush of his fingers against her elbow was the only support he felt free to give. Wasn’t there anything he could do? His heart ached for a way to help her, but clearly she wanted nothing to do with him.

Small wonder after what happened last night.

He cleared his throat. “Your mother wants you to pack your things. She made you a bus reservation.” He raised his hands a few inches and let them fall to his sides again. “You leave this afternoon at four.”

Reagan moved away from the machine, her shoulders slumped forward, defeated. “I . . . I didn’t take his call.” She slid off the sofa, fell slowly to her knees, and sat back on her heels, her body bent. “Luke!” She cried out his name, and something in him snapped. It didn’t matter if she pushed him away. He dropped to the floor beside her and put his arm around her, hugging her close.

“I’m sorry, Reagan. I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” She looked at him, her face twisted in sorrow. “What did we do?”

“We didn’t mean to, Reagan. It just happened.”

Reagan cried out again and gave way to a battering series of sobs that shook her body until she could barely draw a breath. “It’s my . . . my fault, Luke. If I would have taken his call . . .”

It was the same thing Luke was thinking.
If only she’d taken his call
.

Reagan and her dad would have chatted about the Giants, and her father would have caught her up on the latest family news. They would have talked about a visit to Bloomington and how Reagan’s new classes were coming along. She would have told him she loved him. And by the time she hung up, the moment of passion he and Reagan were caught in would have been over. They would have called it a night, maybe joked about the close call and promised to never again let themselves be alone together like that. Not for any reason, even a Giants game.