Goodness and Light (2 page)

And, maybe, just a little disappointment.

But mostly relief. She wasn’t here for a holiday fling even if the guy did have the most amazing smile she’d seen in a long time. She pressed the buzzer for 4D.

“That you, Laney?”

“It’s me.”

“Yay!”

The buzzer sounded and Elena shoved open the inner door that led to the elevator, which smelled faintly of garlic from someone’s pizza delivery. When the doors slid open on the fourth floor, Kara stood there with open arms.

“Laney! Oh, God, thank you so much for coming!” Kara folded her into a hug.

“Ow! I just got kicked.” Elena couldn’t resist. She reached out and patted her sister’s round tummy.

Kara winced. “Uh, sorry about that. Milk Dud’s happy you’re here, too.”

Elena’s lips twitched and a laugh bubbled out. “You don’t seriously call my niece or nephew Milk Dud, do you?”

“Yes. I do.”

Elena bit back her mirth when Kara whirled around and tried to stalk back into her apartment. At nearly nine months pregnant, the best she could manage was a fast shuffle. Elena followed her into the apartment and gasped. “Kara! This place is gorgeous!”

Kara grinned and put her hand over her belly. “It’s amazing, right? Steven and I found it on our first day, after we decided to move in together.” When her grin faded, Elena wanted to hunt down Steve Orland and peel the skin off his body for hurting her big sister.

“Have you heard from him?”

“Not since the stick turned blue, when he told me we’d both be better off without him.” Kara said with a sad shake of her head. “But he does send money. Every month. Like a freakin’ utility payment.”

“Aw, honey.”

Kara shook her head again, waved a hand. “No, no, no. Not going to cry one more tear over him. Come on, let me show you around.”

The apartment had two bedrooms, each with its own bath, an efficiency kitchen that was separated from the living room by a breakfast bar, and a great big closet roomy enough to sleep in. Huge floor to ceiling windows graced every room, though the windows in the second bedroom were safety-gated. That room was already painted a soft green with stuffed animal critters happily romping over an entire wall behind a half-assembled crib. Beside the crib, there was a rocking chair next to a tiny table and bookcase, ready for story time. Boxes of baby equipment were stacked in another corner. An air bed was spread out on the floor, waiting for Elena.

“Oh, Kara, this is beautiful. Milk Dud’s going to love this room.

Her sister beamed and her eyes misted. “I hope so. I can’t wait for this baby to be born.” And then she winced, put a hand to her back.

“You look really uncomfortable.”

“Oh, God, I really am.” They left the nursery and Kara shuffled back to the living room, carefully lowering herself to the sofa where a book of baby names waited with sticky notes marking a dozen pages. “The baby’s low and if peeing every five minutes wasn’t torture enough, I now have sciatica—which is why I just couldn’t do the big Black Friday shopping thing.”

Elena hadn’t done their big Black Friday shopping thing in years, but said nothing. She stared at her sister’s round tummy, searched for a change of subject. “By the look of you, I’d swear you love being pregnant. I always thought that glow stuff was bull but you’ve got it.”

Kara smiled. “I guess I kind of do, even though I haven’t seen my feet since the summer.” Her smile dimmed. “Tell me the truth. Do they hate me?”

Elena’s eyes snapped to Kara’s. “Of course they don’t. Enza even sent leftovers for you. They’re all worried about you. And two of them are plotting revenge against Steve on your behalf.”

Her sister laughed. “Let me guess. Aunt Enza and Bree?” Sabrina was one of the quartet of daughters all born the same year to former sorority sisters who’d met decades earlier at Bucknell University. Elena had been born two years later, but the girls—Sabrina, Cassandra, and Jade—had widened their circle to include Kara’s little sister. Aunt Enza—Vincenza—was Sabrina’s mother and because their own mother had called her
sister
, Elena and Kara would forever call her
aunt
. Now a hot-shot attorney, Enza could freeze, melt, or cut you with a single look. Elena bit back a grin. She sure as hell wouldn’t want to be in Steve Orland’s shoes when Enza finished torturing him but she’d make popcorn and grab a chair to watch while she did.

“I’ll call them,” Kara promised. She put a pillow behind her back, settled in, and held her book out to Elena. “What do you think of this name?”

“Um. Hmm. Walter Larsen. It’s um, well—”

“Old-fashioned.” Kara sighed. “What about this one?” She flipped to another marked page. “I kind of like Octavia.”

Elena pulled the book gently from Kara’s hand. “Kara, do you not remember elementary school at all?”

Another sigh. “Oh, God, you’re right. They’d torment her, call her Octopus.” Kara’s face wobbled and she burst into tears. “What am I doing, Laney? I can’t even pick out a name for this baby! I’m already a terrible mother.”

“No, that’s not true.” Elena winced in sympathy. “Come on now. You have plenty of time. Lots of people don’t name their babies until they’re born. Ask Bree, she’ll tell you the same thing.”

“No, she won’t. Bree’s a great mom.” Kara sniffled and grabbed a tissue from the box beside the sofa.

“And you will be, too. I know it.”

Kara reached over, squeezed Elena’s hand. “Damn hormones. I go off like a firecracker now. I left work—doctor says I have to take it easy and I have so much to do, Laney. The crib and diapers and a name and—”

“Then it’s lucky I’m here.”

“I’m
so
glad you are.” She blew her nose.

“Okay, then. You just sit there with your feet up and give the orders.”

Kara clapped. “Yay! First, tell me about the cute guy you were chatting up outside.” At Elena’s shocked face, Kara laughed. “I had my nose pressed to the window. I couldn’t see much of him, but the look on your face was priceless.”

Elena shot her sister an exasperated look. “Oh, what look? There was no look.”

“There was most definitely a look.” Kara pointed to the table near one of the windows. “Your first duty is to retrieve the phone I left way over there.”

Elena fetched the phone and sank to the sofa beside her sister. Kara thumbed through her photos and showed Elena the picture she’d snapped earlier. She and Luke of the Radiant Smile were both crouched, hands extended for one of the bags. Too bad he was facing away from the camera. That smile would have been nice to see again.

“And there it is again.” Kara clapped her hands and grinned.

“Will you stop? There is no look.”

But there was. In the picture, Elena’s eyes were aimed up at Luke and her mouth was open in a wide smile she didn’t remember forming. She didn’t just look surprised. She looked... well, like a kid on Christmas morning.

She slapped the phone to the cushion between them and leaped to her feet. “I’m going to get these bags unpacked and then cook you and Milk Dud a fantastic dinner.” She flashed Kara a bright but fake grin and disappeared into the second bedroom.

The second she shut the door, Elena’s grin faded. Kara had been right; there was most definitely a look. With his mega-watt smile and twinkling eyes, Luke had made a hell of an impression. But that wasn’t all. Luke
reminded
her of things she’d tried so hard to forget.

Tried, but never would.

L
ucas Adair strode down the street, picking his way over icy patches and the occasional pile of unshoveled snow, still thinking about the blonde he’d just helped. He’d noted the building number, intending to find her again. He usually took the PATH train to lower Manhattan but today, something had urged him to get off and walk part of the way, to soak in some of the holiday cheer infecting the city. And then, some dick had to go and ruin his plan by shoving the blonde.

That girl.
Damn. She was a sweetheart, the kind his mother would have been conspiring with her mother to set them up. She was gone now, his mom, one of the thousands lost in the horror that was September 11th. She’d had time to call home and leave a tearful message of goodbye.

He was one who played back that message.

Over and over and over.

Dad was already at work—on his Con Edison service crew. Lisa was away at college. Mean old Mrs. Fisher, his math teacher, had stepped out into the corridor for a hasty conversation with another teacher. When she came back into the classroom, she’d not only forgotten the trig problems on the board, she was crying tears the entire school had been sure her species was incapable of shedding. Lucas knew something was up. Something big. He didn’t find out what until the principal’s voice, tight and choked, crackled over the PA system, announcing that two planes had struck the twin towers and that we were under attack.

Attack
.

The word had hung there, the PA system still hissing and crackling. And in that brief moment of silence before chaos erupted, he had time for one heart-stopping thought.

Mom
.

She worked in 2 World Trade Center. They’d had a hell of a fight the night before about his laziness, his lack of interest or pride in anything. He’d mouthed off to her and she’d slapped him, hard, across the left cheek. He’d stalked off and gone to bed, cursing her until he’d fallen asleep.

Students screaming, crying and even fainting hauled him back to the moment. He sat there, his books still open to that stupid trig problem, when the sensation of a hand touching that same cheek sent a cold shiver skating down his back.

And he
knew
she was gone.

He stood up, bolted from the school and ran home, shouting for his mother the second he opened the front door. Nothing but the beep on the answering machine responded. He didn’t want to press that button, didn’t want to confirm what he already knew. But he had to hear her voice.

He’d had to squeeze them shut because he
had
rolled them just like she’d known he would.

Her words were cut off by the sounds of shattering glass and an unearthly groan. People screamed and then the call disconnected. He’d played that tape a second time, a third time, a hundredth time, so many times.

His dad had found him sitting on the floor with the answering machine in his lap and his hand pressed to his cheek. Could anyone have gotten out? Escaped the collapse of all that steel and concrete? Hours later, while the world watched and waited for survivors to be pulled out of the wreckage, he sat with his hand still pressed against his cheek where the sensation of that phantom touch still lingered.

Somebody bumped him and he jolted out of the past, surprised to find his eyes damp.

“Sorry.”

He waved off the woman’s apology with a scowl. It was his fault. He was so caught up in memories, he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going. He didn’t have time for this. He had several projects at work quickly approaching their due dates plus the September’s Families Guild holiday event scheduled for December 20th. With the holidays added into the fray, his frustration levels were at a personal all-time peak. There was no room on his to-do list for obsessing about the past.

It was something about that woman’s smile. He knew she was important. He wasn’t sure how yet. A horn honked and he sidestepped a slow-moving couple. Al, his closest friend, would insist meeting this woman was a sign. If Lucas hadn’t been in such a bad mood, he wouldn’t have needed an infusion of holiday cheer. And then, he wouldn’t have decided to walk. Oh, yeah, it was a sign. His grin flashed for a brief moment and a woman walking past him faltered in her steps. He quickly lost the smile his mother had always called his secret weapon, and tried—in vain—not to feel that pang just under his heart every time he thought of her – her fear and her love in the moments right before she died.

At the corner, he waited for the light to turn green, hands deep in his jacket pockets, trying not to regret giving away his gloves to that homeless kid. Then again, that jolt of current, that sizzle of heat when he’d shaken pretty Elena’s hand would have been obscured if he’d kept them. He could almost hear Almir saying, “Could be another sign, Luke!” Hell, she even wore a pin on her hat kind of like the ornament he’d given away.

Damn it, would he ever forget about that stupid ornament?

The smile twitched when he remembered just how furious Lisa had been to learn he’d given it away. He hadn’t thought—he’d simply reacted. And he knew Mom would have done the same thing had she—

The grin completely disappeared when it struck him how completely moot that thought was. If she hadn’t been killed, he wouldn’t have had the crystal snowflake in the first place and there would have been no reason to give it away.