96 Hours (15 page)

Erica wanted to scoff at the suggestion of destiny, wanted to scream, I don’t understand! But Abby sounded so real. So convinced. She didn’t have the heart to burst her bubble. So she squeezed back and said simply, “Maybe.”

At 12:37, Erica was still wide awake. Not because she wanted to be, but because her head wouldn’t allow her to ignore the fact that there was a warm, soft, femininely attractive body sleeping soundly next to her. Not just any body. Abby’s body. She’d been so bound and determined to dislike her that she barely noticed how much Abby had been growing on her until it was too late. Now, she lay in Kate MacDougal’s bed, her own body on red alert, her skin aware of every cell and fiber that even came close to making contact with Abby.

Erica’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dark long ago. While she was silently counting ceiling tiles and listening to the guys close up shop on the first floor and head up to bed themselves, Abby had fallen immediately asleep, her deep and even breathing giving Erica the high sign that the coast was clear. She turned her head and studied the woman next to her. Pollyanna, she thought with a grin that felt almost tender.

In the darkness, Abby lay on her back, one hand resting on her abdomen on top of the blankets, the other curled in a loose fist against her temple. Erica could make out the planes of her face, even the smoothness of her skin. The dark brows seemed expertly placed for maximum emphasis of those incredible eyes—eyes it was probably a good thing Erica couldn’t see right now, or she might do something, unwise. Abby’s nose was very straight with little curve to its bridge. Her hand was small, her fingers long and tapered, the nails trimmed and filed smooth. Strong hands. Feminine hands. Hands that would—Erica swallowed hard, pulling her thoughts away from the subject, though she knew herself well enough to know she’d revisit it again before the night was over. It had been too long and she was finding Abby far too attractive not to at least think about it.

Sex with Maddie had been good. It had been satisfying and fun and Erica hoped that Maddie’d felt the same way. That being said, there was still something that Erica felt she was missing. She’d never been able to put her finger on it, to give it a word, to describe it accurately. Something akin to rawness, to aching need. She’d never needed sex with Maddie. She’d simply wanted it. And that had been enough. For a while.

Once the sex stopped, the entire relationship had fallen apart. To this day, Erica wasn’t exactly sure why that had happened. Her job had picked up. Could it have really been that simple? Her hours got longer and so her relationship ended? She had to believe it was already doomed by then. Their time together became less and less, and when they did see each other, Erica had been so exhausted that she fell right to sleep. By the time she understood there was a real problem, Maddie had accused her of being cold and unavailable, and that was the end of that.

I’m not cold. Am I?
It was a discussion she’d had with herself more times than she could count. She’d wonder if she was unapproachable, if she came off as aloof to others. But she was a good conversationalist. She knew that. She could hold up her end of a discussion with no problem. She was fun to talk to.
Wasn’t she?
The old demons from high school would rear their ugly heads just long enough to allow insecurity to creep in. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any friends. She did. Only a handful of them were important to her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had her share of women—or men, for that matter—interested in her. There had been plenty. She was just choosy.

Inches from getting swallowed up by the vicious circle of her thoughts, she felt Abby shift in her sleep. She turned from her back onto her stomach and slipped her bare leg over Erica’s, the warm skin acting more like ice, shocking Erica even more awake than she had been. Erica caught her bottom lip between her teeth and sucked in a breath, stunned by the smoothness of the skin, realizing Abby, too, had found fit to use the plastic razor in the shower.

“Jesus,” she said aloud, wondering at the sudden dampness of her panties. When had she become such a guy? When had she become so easily turned on? And then—as if it had a mind of its own—her hand reached down and laid itself across the side of Abby’s knee. Gently, softly, her palm rested against warm, silky skin. Just rested there. No rubbing. No squeezing. Just contact. Comforting, delicious contact.

Abby didn’t move, didn’t shift, slept on.

Erica sighed with a contentment she hadn’t felt in months, possibly longer.

And finally, she slept.

September 14, 2001
Friday

Chapter 11

Mixed emotions were not something Abby Hayes handled well. She didn’t like the confusion, the uncertainty. She liked to be steady and sure, to understand what she was thinking and feeling and why.

This was not going to be a morning for such certainty. She knew that as soon as she’d opened her eyes to find herself completely wrapped around Erica’s sleeping body, spooning with her like they’d been sharing a bed for years.

Abby sipped her coffee and tried to expunge the image, the memory, from her mind. It was very early and she was alone on the MacDougals’ back patio curled up in a lounge chair she’d wiped free of dew. Waiting for the sunrise was something she loved doing, had always done no matter where she was. It made her feel alive and ready to face a new day. This morning wasn’t about that, though. It was simply about getting away from the bed, getting away from the body that taunted her because she knew if she stayed, she’d test her theory about how easy it might be to push Erica’s T-shirt up and reveal those beautiful breasts; how little effort it would take to slip her hand down the front of Erica’s panties; how quickly she could wake up her bunkmate and have her breathing raggedly, clinging to Abby’s shoulders and begging for release.

Hot coffee slopped over the rim of her mug and splashed onto her hand as Abby shook her head vigorously in the hopes of dislodging such scenes and letting them fall away. She winced, welcoming the pain, welcoming anything that would take her mind off how well she’d slept curled around Erica, off what she wanted to do to her under the covers.

Those feelings were only part of the mixed emotions.

The rest came from the dreams she’d had, dreams that most likely stemmed from all her interaction with the Bakers as well as other Plane People, along with the news reports she’d seen and heard. In her dreams, it was her mother she worried about. All night long, Abby dreamed that horrible things had befallen her. Once, she was missing. Another time, she was jumping out the window of a thirty-third story window and plunging to her death as Abby watched helplessly, screaming. Yet another dream showed Michelle Hayes falling to the ground as mounds of cement blocks and dusty rubble buried her alive, only her hand sticking out, reaching in vain for help.

If Abby had been in bed alone, she’d have gotten up hours earlier, paced the house, watched TV. But each time she jerked awake, the warmth of Erica’s body soothed her, made her feel safe. One time, she woke up to find herself curled against Erica’s back, her arm draped over Erica’s stomach. As she tried to extricate herself, Erica grabbed on in her sleep and snuggled her butt back against Abby’s middle, virtually gluing them together. Abby had relaxed immediately and drifted back into oblivion until 5:15, when she decided she couldn’t stand the images any longer and slipped quietly—and somewhat regretfully—from the warm cocoon of the bed.

Worry. Fear, anger, anguish. All these emotions warred within her and it wasn’t a feeling Abby liked. She was a cheerful person, a person who saw the bright side of things, a person whose cup was always half full—the eternal optimist. She was the person that picked up spiders and put them outside instead of killing them. She helped worms struggling across hot sidewalks make it to the grass so they wouldn’t fry. It drove some of her friends crazy, but made most of them happy to be around her. But this—this—event. This horror. This surrealistic thing that had taken her home, her city, her country by surprise had knocked her for a loop. She felt off-balance, like life had tipped sideways and was sliding out of place and there was no way she could catch everything and keep it from becoming hopelessly discombobulated, forever scrambled, and never, ever the same again. She’d spent the past couple of days clinging desperately to her optimism, trying hard to keep everybody else up and smiling and positive, but the truth was, she was running out of steam. She was exhausted and she was scared. She was worried about her mother. She was worried about her father—on a business trip and stranded in Phoenix, her mother told her. She was worried about her mother’s friends. She was worried about Tyson Baker. She was worried about Tyson’s parents and how they would handle losing him—because that was the reality and both she and the Bakers knew it deep down, beneath their hope and their prayers. At this point, the chances of Tyson still being alive were slim. Very slim.

Tears pooled in her eyes and she wiped at them in frustration.

How could this happen?

How could this happen?

It was the thought on everybody’s mind, she was sure of it. How could this possibly happen? And why? What had we done to deserve this? There wasn’t an official body count yet, but the twin towers had one hundred ten stories each. It was going to be thousands. Just like that. In one fell swoop. Did we deserve such agony? Such heartache? Did anybody?

Abby’s brain cramped with the inability to take in something so incomprehensible.

She pulled her knees up to her chin, wrapped her arms around them in an effort to ward off the chill suddenly enveloping her.

She missed her mother.

Erica was a sound sleeper, always had been. She rarely had trouble sleeping away from her own bed and the MacDougals’ house was no exception; she slept like a baby in the big bed in the basement. Soft laughter bubbled up as she spoke the thought aloud.

“Big bed in the basement.”

What was that grouping of words called? She wracked her brain until she came up with the right title: alliteration. She’d always done well in English class.

She stretched her arms over her head and yawned widely, feeling completely rested. The emptiness of the space next to her brought foggy memories to her brain—warmth, comfort, an arm wrapped protectively around her middle. Unable to grasp anything more solid than that, she thought,
And there’s the drawback to being such a sound sleeper.
She couldn’t recall more than a few fleeting images, but those she did remember gave her a weird tingle. The bed next to her was cool and she wondered how long ago Abby had left it. Surprised, she realized she missed Abby’s face. The absence of that perpetually cheerful smile, which Erica had wanted to slap off more than once over the past couple of days, left an empty space that felt . . . wrong, somehow.

The subtle smell of coffee drifted temptingly down the stairs, giving her an idea where her roommate had gone and creating enough incentive to get her out of bed. She threw on the same clothes she’d worn two days ago—since they were now clean and smelled good—pulled her hair back into a ponytail, and headed up to the kitchen with an idea.

A quick peek out the kitchen window told her Tim had either come home late and left early or hadn’t come home at all, as his car was not in the driveway. Corinne was planning on staying overnight at the Lions Club, so she assumed the four Plane People were once again alone in the MacDougals’ house. The car keys to the second car sat on the counter where Corinne had left them last night after dinner, giving them explicit instructions not to hesitate to use them. Again, Erica shook her head with amused disbelief at the trust the couple had in them. There was no way in a million years she’d ever let four complete strangers camp out in her apartment, eat all her food, have unlimited access to her car,
especially
if she wasn’t even there. But Tim and Corinne seemed honestly happy to have them and Erica felt this weird, sudden urge to be extra respectful, like a twelve-year-old wanting to be on her best behavior.