With This Ring (15 page)

"We don't know. He's disappeared," Owen said slowly. "And the Nepalese authorities fear the worst. They . . . think he's dead."

"No!" Justin shook his head. "No." Sam! Sam couldn't be dead. Not Sam. Shock caused the blood to roar to his head. "I-I can't believe it."

"Jesus, I know. I didn't want to believe it, either. But the police didn't hold out much hope."

"But . . . but what happened?" This was a mistake. It had to be a mistake. Sam couldn't be dead. Sam was the most alive person Justin had ever known. His mind reeled, refusing to believe what Owen had just said.

"Sam's guide said he was climbing down a steep mountain face thousands of feet over a gorge. He wanted to get a shot of a leopard who had disappeared into some kind of fissure on the side of the mountain." Owen bowed his head. "I told him not to take chances. I told him." He took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly met Justin's eyes. "The guide warned him, too, but he didn't listen. He said he was tired of waiting, that this was too good an opportunity to miss. So he went. And somehow he lost his footing and fell. The guide couldn't even see him, let alone get to him. He had to go back to their base camp and radio for help. It was days before the search party was able to reach the area, and when they finally got there, the only trace of Sam they found were his smashed camera and . . . bits of skin and blood." This last was said in a mangled whisper.

Justin stared at Owen, the horrible images created by Owen's words swirling in Justin's head. Ordinary office sounds surrounded them: the click of nails against a computer keyboard, the whirr of the copy machine next door, the muted ring of telephones in the outer offices. The rest of the magazine was going about its business, oblivious to the catastrophe unfolding only a few feet away. "Wh-where was Morgenstern when this was happening? And the other guide, I thought there were two guides."

"Morgenstern has some kind of bug, and he was running a fever, so he was back at the base camp, and the other guide was with him."

Justin still felt shell-shocked. He knew that once the shock wore off, he would begin to feel the pain and loss. Right now, everything still seemed unreal. "But . . . is that it? I mean, surely the searchers are still looking? Hell, Owen, Sam could be wandering around, hurt and dazed and lost. If it took days to get to the place where he'd landed, he could have gone miles by now."

Owen's expression was compassionate as his eyes met Justin's. "From what I was told, anyone who'd fallen that many thousands of feet would not be in any shape to walk anywhere." His voice softened, roughened. "We have to face it, Justin. Sam was probably dead before he hit bottom."

"Then . . . then why wasn't there a body?" The pain wanted to break through. It was right there, hovering, ready to pounce.
Sam . . .

Owen swallowed. Hesitated. "Cats . . . wolves . . . any number of animals could have gotten to it."

A wave of nausea hit Justin. He closed his eyes.

"Someone has to tell his fiancée," Owen said softly.

Amy!

Jesus, God in heaven, how could he have forgotten about Amy? "I-I'll tell her." His voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. He stood, leaning against the desk as his legs threatened to give out on him. His mind whirled. Images of Sam—laughing and telling him to take care of Amy while he was gone, saying, "But just remember who she belongs to!" and Amy, as she'd looked yesterday evening when Justin had helped her finish painting the apartment, happily talking about her wedding and how she couldn't wait for Sam to come home—burned in his brain.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how Amy was going to feel.
Oh, Jesus.
This news would devastate her.

And her parents were in China. And that friend of hers that she talked about so much—Lark. She wasn't in Houston, either. Amy had mentioned yesterday that Lark would be gone until Friday, "so this is a perfect opportunity for me to get all my wedding invitations addressed," she'd said, eyes sparkling.

She would have no one to lean on, no one to help her through this except him.

Justin had almost forgotten Owen's presence as all these thoughts careened through his mind. It wasn't until Owen stood and walked around the desk to touch his shoulder, saying, "You sure you're okay?" that he remembered.

"I-I'll be all right," he said. He had to be all right. He couldn't afford to indulge in his own sorrow and loss. Right now, the only important person was Amy. For her sake, he had to be strong. His gaze met Owen's. "There's no doubt about this, is there? I mean, Jesus Christ, Owen, I wouldn't want to tell Amy this if there's any chance at all Sam is alive."

"There's always a chance," Owen said gruffly, "but the authorities don't hold out much hope. The man I talked to said if nothing more is found by the time the first snow falls, they'll call off the search."

Justin nodded. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was two-thirty. Amy usually got home from school about four-thirty. He needed to be there, waiting for her, when she arrived. But he still had some time. Maybe he could find her friend Lark. Even if she couldn't get back to Houston tonight, she could probably manage to be there tomorrow morning. He would get his secretary to call Continental and track Lark down.

"You going to see Amy now?" Owen said.

"She won't be home for another couple of hours, and this is not the kind of news I want to tell her at school. I just wish her parents were home." Justin explained about Amy's parents being away and about Lark. "I'm going to see if Gina can locate the friend. Get her back to Houston."

Owen nodded. "That's a good idea. That poor kid. She's going to need her friends. Do you know how to get in touch with her parents?"

"I wish I did, but I haven't got a clue."

Owen squeezed Justin's shoulder again. "I know this is going to be tough, son. You want me to come with you?"

For a moment, Justin was tempted. But Amy didn't know Owen. She'd only met him once, when Sam had brought her to the office a few days before he left for Nepal, and the meeting had been brief. "Thanks, Owen, I appreciate the offer, but it . . . I think it'll be easier for her if it's just me."

"All right. Call me if you need me."

"I will."

Owen hesitated, then put his arms around Justin, giving him a quick, hard hug. The rare show of emotion was nearly Justin's undoing. He managed to hold on, knowing that this was only the first of many tests of his strength that he would have to endure in the next days and weeks.

Then Owen left. And before Justin did anything else—talked to his secretary, called his mother, anything—he said a silent prayer asking God to give him the strength to get through it all.

* * *

Justin arrived at Amy's a few minutes before four, just in case she should get home earlier today. He opened the security gate and pulled around to the back, parking at the far side of the driveway.

For the next thirty minutes, he sat on the steps leading to Amy's apartment and waited. Peaceful sounds permeated the air: birdsong, a dog barking nearby, the hum of tires when a car drove by, someone playing scales on a flute, and far in the distance, the muted sound of a siren. Sounds people take for granted. Sounds Sam would never hear again.

Dappled sunlight made a constantly shifting pattern against the wood of the stairway and garage. A few feet away, a squirrel cocked its head before racing lightly up the trunk of one of the red oaks shading the garage. Lining the driveway, well-tended beds of late-blooming impatiens and begonias added touches of scarlet and rose to the surrounding green. Sights and colors Sam would never see again.

Justin put his head in his hands.
Sam, why weren't you careful? Why?
Hot tears scalded his eyes, but he forced them back. He wanted to throw something. Hit something. Do something. But all he could do was wait.

A few minutes after four-thirty, he heard the security gate opening. His heart began to pound, and his hands felt sweaty. He stood, walking over to his car on unsteady legs.
Take it easy . . .
He took several deep breaths and wiped his palms on his pants.

Amy's little white Miata came around the house. He saw the surprise on her face when she realized he was there. She opened the garage door and waved gaily as she drove past.

Slowly, feeling like an old man, Justin walked toward her. She looked so beautiful, so happy, and so completely unsuspecting as she climbed out of the car, her brightly-colored gauze skirt swirling around her legs, her arms filled with paraphernalia from school. Although her eyes held a question, he knew she had no idea that in only minutes he was going to break her heart and completely destroy her world.

"Hi! What a surprise! What are you doing here this time of day?" she said, smiling at him.

"Hello, Amy." His stomach clenched, and his throat felt as if it were filled with sawdust; it was all he could do to get the words out.

Her smile slowly faded.

"Amy . . . " He walked forward, put his hands on her shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "I-I've got some bad news."

He felt the tremor snaking through her. She shook her head. Her expression said it all. Whatever it was he was going to tell her, she not only didn't want to hear it, she was already denying it.

"Amy," he said again. And then he told her, as gently as he could. "I-I came right over. I didn't want you to hear about this on T.V. or the radio."

Her eyes. God, her eyes.

"We heard an hour ago. Sam . . . " He took a deep, shuddering breath. He would rather have cut off his arm than have to say the next words. "Sam had a bad accident. He fell down the side of a cliff, and . . . and when the search party finally reached the place where they thought they would find him, his . . . his body was gone." He squeezed her shoulders. "They . . . the authorities believe he's dead."

Her mouth twisted. Her face blanched. The school supplies slid to the ground. "Noooooo . . . noooooo . . . " Her head moved from side to side.

The terrible sound tore at his heart. "God, Amy, I'm so sorry. So sorry." He pulled her into his arms, fighting back his own agony. For a moment, she clung to him, moaning and saying "no" over and over again. And then, taking him off guard so that he almost couldn't keep her from hitting the ground, she fainted.

* * *

When Amy regained consciousness, she was lying on her bed. She frowned, confused. She didn't remember going to bed. And it was light out. Was she late for work? She turned to look at her bedside clock and saw Justin. His eyes were closed, and he was sitting in her rocking chair, which had been moved from the living area and was now positioned only inches away from the bed.

In a rush, everything came back to her, and with it, agonizing pain. Sam! Justin had said Sam was missing, probably dead. A hot knife of pain sliced through her, searing, excruciating, unbearable. A sound erupted from her mouth as tears gushed from her eyes.

Justin jumped, his eyes popping open. "Amy . . . " He moved to the edge of the bed and reached for her hand. "It's okay, I'm here, I'm here," he said in a singsong voice as if she were a child who'd had a nightmare.

It
was
a nightmare. It
couldn't
be true. Sam couldn't be dead.
No, no, no, no.
Sobs wracked her body as she moaned and writhed.

Justin pulled her into a sitting position and held her, saying over and over again, "It's okay, it's okay."

But it wasn't okay. And it would never be okay again. Justin knew it, but he didn't know what else to say. So he kept murmuring useless platitudes and smoothing her hair and rocking her in his arms. She cried for a long time, but gradually, her sobs lessened until they became an occasional deep shudder.

Finally she disengaged herself. When she looked up, her face was ravaged. "J-Justin? Are . . . are they
sure?
"

Justin grimaced. There was no way he was going to tell her what Owen had said about Sam's body. And yet, it wouldn't be a kindness to her to hold out too much hope. "They're pretty sure, Amy," he said gently. "There's very little chance Sam could have survived."

"But they haven't
found
him," she said.

"I know, but—"

"If they haven't found him, maybe that means he's wandering around, trying to find his way back to the camp."

She'd used almost the same, desperate words Justin had used earlier when he'd wanted Owen to reassure him. "Amy, the chances of him surviving such a fall are practically nonexistent."

"Then why didn't they find his body?" she insisted.

Justin stared at her. She wasn't going to let it alone. "Remember, it-it's the wilderness," he said slowly. "There are animals . . . "

Her face contorted, but she didn't cry again. Instead, she sank back, curled herself into a ball and closed her eyes. Justin sat there wondering what to do. After a few moments, he squeezed her arm. "I'll be close by if you need me."

Amy heard him, but she didn't answer. She couldn't answer. She was consumed with pain. It had invaded every corner, every crevice of her body, places she hadn't even known existed.
Sam . . . Sam.
How could he be gone? How could she go from such exhilarating happiness to such unendurable pain? She had been ecstatic as she drove home today. Now he would never know about the baby.

Their baby. She moaned. Their baby. The baby they had conceived with such passion, with such love.

He would never see it.

Never touch it.

Never hold it.

Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God . . .

How could she bear it? Sam . . . Sam . . . Sam . . . gorgeous Sam. His laughing face. His beautiful, golden-brown eyes. The way his eyelashes grew. That tiny little bump on his nose. The way he felt. Hard in some places. Soft in others. The way he smelled. Masculine. Sexy. Never again. Never again.

After a very long time, completely spent and exhausted, she fell into a restless sleep. Several times she moaned or whimpered, and each time, Justin would walk quietly over to the bed and look down at her. He would have given anything if he could have taken her pain onto himself. Anything to have spared her this misery.