Goodness and Light (3 page)

He looked up, up, up, shielding his eyes from the sun and stared at the tip of the Freedom Tower, feeling the same sense of pride—of love—he’d felt since the first time he’d been down here. He’d been sixteen years old then—braces on his teeth, acne marring his face, and a body like a puppy’s—all paws.

They’d looked for her, of course. Hospitals, churches, shelters. When the hours became days and the days became weeks, hope that she’d somehow gotten out faded and died. Mom was gone. And when the unspeakable pain of that fact dulled slightly, he’d learned to see—and appreciate—the acts of kindness humans managed to perform in the face of it. No, not the country’s leaders because it was expected from them, but from the people who lived and worked right here. The tireless sifting from the first responders, the generosity of store owners who handed out water and shoes and towels, the looks that passed between complete strangers that said
I know. I know how bad it hurts.

He didn’t remember September fading into October or even November that year. Suddenly, it was December. Christmas time. His mother’s favorite season. They’d decorated the house the way she loved it best. And then, one of those kind strangers invited them to Ground Zero for a special Holiday Remembrance for just the families of those lost.

There were thousands of them.

He’d had to wear a suit, which sucked, but he’d gotten to meet the mayor, which didn’t. All the family members were encouraged to bring something, some small token that belonged to the people they’d each lost. Lisa had pressed one of his mom’s Christmas ornaments into his hand that morning. Mom had collected them. This one was a crystal snowflake dotted with rhinestones. He’d gripped it tightly for hours—the train ride down from Newburgh, the taxi ride to the site, the long walk down the ramp to the pit.

That was where he saw her.

A girl—thirteen, maybe fourteen years old, standing on the ramp all alone. She had long wild blond hair that gleamed like the sun itself. But that wasn’t what grabbed his attention. It was her eyes. Huge brown eyes filled with worse things than the pain they all felt. Hers held fear. Hatred. Guilt.

He’d recognized all three.

Her thin shoulders shook under the strength of it. He watched that storm in her eyes grow and grow and felt fear build inside him. He knew he had to do something—anything—to show her that she wasn’t alone. He’d said something to her about light.
There’s still light in the world
. Or something lame like that. And pressed his mother’s snowflake into her hand, smiled down at her, and when some of that terrible grief left her eyes, he felt something—something so huge, so deep, so real—he’d never told anybody—not even Almir and God knows Al knew more about him than anybody else did.

It was too personal.

The girl had disappeared into the crowd and he never saw her again. He wished he had. He wished he’d kept the stupid ornament, when the darkness crept in and nearly blinded him.

The light turned green and he strode down the street to September’s Families Guild, where he volunteered his time and considerable energy to helping families like his cope with their losses. He’d stayed close because New York was where his family had always lived—and now, died. For Luke, it was critical to never forget, to never let fear swallow him. He lived in Hoboken now, in a condo with a view of Manhattan that made his breath catch every time he looked.

He opened a door, stepped inside the main office for the SFG, the same group responsible for organizing that first Holiday Remembrance back in 2001. Over a dozen years later, the annual Remembrance was an event that celebrated life instead of mourned it and that was a mission Luke could get behind. He was on this year’s planning committee and with just a few weeks to go until the big event, operating on nothing more than coffee fumes.

“Hey, Therese,” he called out to a girl in Goth gear running off copies.

“Luke.” She blew black bangs out of her eyes. “Bad news. Kara Larsen is out. Doctor says it’s time for her to park it until the little rugrat pops out.”

Luke groaned. “Crap. I was really hoping for another week or two.” He thought of the dozen or so tasks on their to-do list and tried not to run screaming for a cruise ship heading to the tropics. “Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. The baby’s low—”

He shot up a hand. “I don’t need the play-by-play.”

Therese smirked. “Sciatic pain. Trouble walking.”

“Good. Great,” Luke said with a sigh of relief. “Okay, where’s the RSVP list? I’ll work on those damn seating charts. Can you order-”

“Already did.”

“You’re awesome.” He grinned and Therese rolled her black-rimmed eyes.

SFG had dozens of volunteers who worked on various projects designed to aid families who’d suffered losses during the attacks. Luke was the chairperson for all things related to the annual Holiday Remembrance. Every year, he promised himself this would be his last. And every year, he found himself raising his hand to volunteer for next year’s. His committee consisted of ten volunteers—nine now that Kara was out.

He strode into a tiny office, jerked his head in greeting toward his group. “Any reply from the mayor’s office yet?”

“Yeah. He’s a yes, but has to leave by nine for another engagement.”

“Another engagement?” Lucas cocked a hip and stared at Jenny, the youngest member of his committee, who squirmed under his glare, gripping a steno pad like it was Captain America’s shield. Lucas forced himself to smile though his jaw was tightly clenched. “Fine,” he said with forced patience. “We’ll move his speech to first.”

“Um, we can’t. We have the keynote first.”

“Right.” Lucas shrugged out of his jacket with a loud sigh. “Okay, let’s get the schedule up on a white board and see where we can shuffle.”

Several hours later, Luke’s eyes felt like they’d been thoroughly sandblasted. He’d managed to finalize the line-up of speeches and finished the seating plan. He clicked the send key on his computer and shot the seating plan to the other committee chairpersons. The venue the SFG had selected for this year’s event was just a few blocks away, the Skyline Hotel. Their Grand Ballroom could comfortably seat four hundred guests. SFG had sent out this year’s invitations in October with a November RSVP date, starting a wait list after they’d received four hundred confirmations. The room was located on an upper level and had a breathtaking view of the September 11th Memorial.

“I’ll be glad when this is over.” Luke kicked back in his chair, shut eyes he was sure were bleeding, and thought about reheating another pizza slice in the tiny microwave but couldn’t summon enough energy.

“Few more weeks, Luke, and you can fly to Tahiti, kick back with a drink with an umbrella in it, and rub oil into some woman’s back.” His best friend, Al, laughed, clicking through the file Lucas sent, looking for any stray typos.

“Oh,” Luke said on a moan. “What I wouldn’t give to do that right this minute.”

“Hey, Luke. Sleep on your own time. This lady claims her sister sent her to help.”

Luke pried his eyes open at Therese’s voice and found her standing beside
her
—the hot beauty he’d met earlier. The pretty Elena. He jerked, gasped.

“You should go home. You look like crap,” Therese remarked.

Luke shot her a wry smile. “Thank you. Thanks a lot. I’m Luke. Lucas Adair.” He extended a hand toward the pretty blonde. When her eyes fixed on the scar that rode the entire side of Al’s face, he quickly added, “This is Almir Suliman.”

“But you can call me Al.” He stood.

“Hi,” she replied, shaking their hands. “I’m Elena. Elena Larsen.”

“Kara’s sister?” Al frowned. “We just heard she’s under doctor’s orders to say home.”

“Oh, she’s fine. The doctor doesn’t want her walking far. That’s why I’m here—she sent me to help.”

Luke smiled a wide slow grin. “Did she now?”
Merry Christmas to me.
“God bless her.” He dragged over a chair, all but shoved her into it. Elena’s eyes darted to his mouth and her face went slack for a moment. When she shook herself, as if out of a trance, Luke swallowed his grin. He knew that look. Oh, she liked him, he was sure of it. There was something electric in the air between them, something he intended to pursue.

“Are you hungry? We’ve got some pizza left—” Al waved a hand toward a pile of pizza boxes.

“No, I’m good. Just had a huge meal.”

“Excellent. Well, we’ve got programs to finalize, a menu to confirm, favor bags to stuff, decorations to arrange—”

“Whoa, whoa!” Elena held up both hands. “One thing at a time.” Her eyes, brown to contrast with the blond hair, looked horrified.

“There’s a lot of work to do,” Luke said, annoyed.

“And I just got here. I don’t know anything about everything you just said,” Elena protested.

“Don’t worry. We’ll teach you.” He went to the door, cupped his hands to be heard over the din. “Everybody, drop what you’re doing. Let’s get the favor bags started.” That was an easy, though time-consuming task. He strode to a conference room whose enormous table was littered with boxes in assorted sizes and stared at the piles of donated favors. They needed to fill four hundred bags.

A chorus of groans went up as Luke’s committee dragged their feet to the large conference room.

“Wow,” Elena said, ogling the contents of the room. “That’s a lot of swag.”

Curious eyes swung toward Elena so Lucas raised his hands to shush the room. “Everybody, this is Elena Larsen, Kara’s sister, on loan to us for the duration.”

“Did Kara have her baby?”

“Is she okay, we heard—”

Lucas let out a shrill whistle to quiet the group. “Kara did not have her baby yet. She’s on doctor’s orders to rest so Elena is helping out. Save your questions for later. I want to get this moving.”

“Um, sorry, boss, but I’ve got to get home.” Therese shook her head.

Luke glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist and cursed. “Okay. Fine. Who’s walking with Therese tonight?”

When nobody replied, Lucas pointed a finger at a husky guy barely into his twenties. “Jason. You do it. Anybody else need to leave right this minute? Figure out who’s walking with who. Nobody—”

“Walks alone.” The group finished for him in unison.

Lucas laughed, shook his head. It took about ten minutes for the goodnights, but soon, the room had been reduced to just five people.

“Hey, Elena. I’m Debbie.” A tall woman smiled. “Who did you lose?”

When Elena’s face lost its color, Lucas shot Debbie a look and strode over to the table in the center of the room, hoping a fast change of subject would help. “We’ve got everything arranged in stations. Over here, you’ve got your empty tote bags.” Luke showed her the flattened gift bags in silver bearing the SFG logo. “Open the bag, start here, pull one of each from these piles until you make it all the way around the room. Then, put the full bags here, on this cart.” The cart was a big rack on wheels and should hold a few hundred bags.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Al bowed and added a little wave of his hand. Lucas swallowed the curse he would have shot back had they been alone.

Elena’s beautiful brown eyes went round as she scanned the huge conference room. “Okay. Let’s get to it.” She grabbed a bag, gave it a snap to open it, and started her circuit around the table, filling the bag as she went. She finished it off with a wad of tissue paper and put the finished bag on the first shelf. “That’s one. Only three hundred and ninety-nine to go.”

“That’s the spirit.” Luke held up his hand for a high five. When the same sizzle shot up his arm, he entertained a brief fantasy of swiping everything off the long table that filled that the conference room, laying Elena over it, and kissing every inch of her body.

“Luke?”

He jerked when Al’s hand waved in front of his eyes. “Oh, uh, sorry.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” He avoided Al’s gaze and got to work.

E
lena had a moment of panic when Luke got lost in his own little world. Was she safe with him, a man she’d known for a grand total of twenty-seven minutes? But when he’d smiled that panty-dropping grin of his, she forgot what she was supposed to be afraid of.
Don’t stare at the smile.
It was a freakin’ weapon of mass seduction, she concluded. How there wasn’t a deli counter take-a-number system outside his door, she had no idea.

Favor bags.
Right. She grabbed two more bags, snapped them open and filled two at once. When she’d made it all the way around the table, she found Al watching her with a gleam in his eye.

“I’ve got an idea,” he began. “I’m getting punchy and want to go to bed, so let’s make this a race.”

“What kind of race?” Debbie crossed arms over her impressive chest.

“Just a little contest. Let’s see who can fill the most bags in an hour. Winner buys the loser a cup of coffee.”

“Pass.” Elena was too tired to race and definitely not interested in coffee.

Al laughed. “I figured the ladies would cave. There’s no beating me.” He thrust both hands in the air, champion style.

“Please.” Elena scoffed. “It’s not like bag stuffing requires any degree of strength or agility. I can stuff just as well as you can.”