From Ashes to Honor (25 page)

September 9 2011

New York City

H
e liked to drive, and she didn't.

Mercy hated trains, Austin loved them.

She had never taken a bus anywhere, except to school, and that's how he'd gone from the Big Apple to the Windy City with Avery, half a dozen times while they were both in college.

Riding the Greyhound from O'Donnell Street to New York's Penn Station wasn't half as bad as she'd expected. The only thing smaller than the disinfectant-scented bathroom had been the movie screen hanging above the first passenger seat, but since she'd seen
He Said, She Said
half a dozen times, it didn't matter.

The ride north had been uneventful, without so much as rush hour traffic to foul things up. It took standing at the hotel registration desk to accomplish that, because despite confirmation numbers and email printouts to verify that they'd booked two rooms, only one suite was available.

The clerk fired up his computer to hunt for available rooms at other hotels, but thanks to half a dozen conferences and conventions, and 9/11 ceremonies, the closest was in New Jersey.

A gal who didn't belong to the "you Christians" set, getting all riled up over a thing like that? It made no sense to Austin, and he might have said so—if she hadn't looked so all-fired cute, fussing at the clerk about the inappropriateness an unmarried couple, sharing a room.

He stepped up to the counter and said under his breath, "How big is this suite?"

"King bed in the guest room," the buttoned-up fellow said, "and a pull-out sofa in the sitting room."

"Is there a door between the rooms?"

"No, sir, I'm afraid there isn't." He brightened a bit to add "But there
are
double entrances to the bathroom."

He looked at Mercy. "See there? Problem solved. You'll take the guest room, and I'll bunk down on the sofa."

She sighed loudly. "I guess that'll just have to do, since there are no rooms to be had in this. Whole. Entire. Enormous.City."

Well, if he had to suffer through this tenth anniversary reminder of the tragedy, at least he'd do it with Mercy, who, without even trying had already made it a memorable trip.Austin tucked both key cards into his shirt pocket, then grabbed their suitcase handles and rolled them toward the elevator.

As the car whooshed up, he took a huge gulp of air and held it, and stared as the numbers lit up above their heads, one by one. When at last the doors slid open, he exhaled.

"Very good," she said with a wink. "I don't even see one bead of sweat on your brow."

Sometimes he forgot that she'd seen him at his worst during those early days after the tragedy. Obviously, she couldn't say the same, but with any luck, the perps who'd been on the receiving end of his temper before quitting the force had put it out of their minds.

"It's almost six," he said as he unlocked their door. "We have a lot of restaurants to choose from. What're you in the mood for? Italian? Asian? French?"

"Good old American is fine with me. A pink-inside burger with catsup-covered fries would really hit the spot."

"Sounds good." He scrubbed a palm over his face. "Think I need to shave before we head out?"

"Why bother? People will think you're going for that 'Hollywood scruffy' look."

She giggled, and he smiled, thinking how lucky he was that since he had to be stuck in the same room with her for three days, Mercy wasn't the type to hang on to a bad mood for very long.

The small talk that started as they walked to the diner continued over dinner, and during the walk back to the hotel, too. The waiter had mistaken them for husband and wife, and oddly, neither of them bothered to correct him. Austin didn't know about Mercy, but he rather liked the easy rapport they'd established as she recovered from the attack. Already, they'd spent more time together than most couples had after years of marriage. They'd probably do just fine, linked by vows and a license and an address—if she shared his spiritual views. Or if she'd given him any reason to hope that she'd at least
try.

The Callahans had called him stubborn and agreed when Griff said "Where's your faith, man?" He didn't even try to explain how many hours he'd spent, asking for Divine Intervention, or how every time he hit his knees, he felt more certain than the time before that God wanted him to remember that it had been his faith that saved him, literally and figuratively.Much as he loved her, Austin didn't know how he could share the future with a woman who'd repeatedly disrespected his God. Let them underscore what he and Mercy had in common.Without faith, how would any of that stand up under the pressures of life?

Maybe when he put it to her that way—and that's exactly what he planned to do when they got back to Baltimore— she'd mull it over and decide he was worth giving faith a try. If not, he hoped they'd always remain friends, because God help him, he loved her right down to the marrow of his bones, and always would.

They were racing across the intersection when she said, "You know what?"

"Hmm . . . ."

Once they reached the other side, she stopped and looked up at him, and when he saw that twinkle in her eye, it was all he could do to keep from scooping her up and kissing her, right there in the middle of the street.

"I lived here for years, but I never took a carriage ride through Central Park."

That made him laugh. "You know what?"

"What?"

"Neither did I. What say we do it tomorrow, right after dinner?"

Mercy hailed a carriage, and, fishing two twenties and a ten from her pocket, said, "Life's short. Why wait?"

She'd climbed up onto the seat before he could agree or disagree, so he joined her. If she realized how rare it was to flag a driver and get an empty cab, that fast,
then
would she believe in God? Austin chuckled. "Why not?"

It was a beautiful night, with balmy breezes and a clear sky. The lights of the city were mesmerizing, and he doubted either of them paid a bit of attention to the Irish brogue of their driver. They passed the Bow Bridge and a gorilla statue, and the fountains spouted water that glittered in the lamplight.The steady clop of the horse's hooves on the pavement lulled him into a tranquil state, and he found himself struggling to keep his eyes open.

Leave it to Mercy to rouse him.

She leaned forward and asked the driver "What's your horse's name?"

"Marmeduke."

"Well, he's just beautiful. Especially his thick mane. And I love his bangs!"

"Better not let Marme hear you callin' her a he!" He plucked a rose from the vase near his elbow. "For you, m'lady, on the house."

Giggling and blushing, she held it to her cheek and thanked him. Austin had never seen her happier or more animated.Maybe, just maybe, there was hope for them after all.

September 10, 2011

New York City

He slept deeply and without dreams, which would have been unusual at home in his own bed. But here, with the noise of the city floating up to his window and the sofa bed's bar digging into his spine? Austin didn't know what to make of it, so he simply thanked God.

He'd wanted to get an early start, partly to map out their route to and from the World Trade Center, and partly so they could get the touristy stuff out of the way before tonight's concert.

He grabbed her purse straps, thinking to make it easier to climb out of the taxi, and, unprepared for its heft, nearly lost

his balance. "What's
in
this thing?" he asked, handing it back to her.

"Just Milk Duds, Whoppers and Junior Mints, and a couple bottles of spring water."

Too stunned to comment, Austin stared.

"Don't look at me as though I've lost my mind," she teased, grinning. "They charge an arm and a leg for this stuff at events like this."

So she was frugal, too. He returned her grin, thinking he couldn't love her more. But on the way home, when her voice creaked from having sung every song at the top of her lungs, Austin added yet another item to the list. Maybe Griff and the Callahans were right. Maybe he
could
learn to live the rest of his life with an unbeliever.

Mercy held tight to Austin's hand, not so much to keep from getting lost among the crowd, but because she couldn't shake the feeling that he was slipping away from her with every tick of the clock.

He'd printed out a dozen articles, each outlining the city's plans for Ground Zero, and during the bus ride to New York, he read every one to her.

The memorial boasted more than four hundred trees, dug up from the field in Pennsylvania, and near the Pentagon, and around New York. They now stood stately and tall, a symbol of rebirth and growth.

Beneath the verdant canopy, two enormous granite pools— representing strength and stability—lay in the footprint of the towers. Softened by leafy groundcover and supple mosses, the pools collected the powerful spray of the country's largest manmade waterfalls . . . and the names of every victim, etched into their walls.

Mercy and Austin made it through the tour without too many tears, but when the ceremony began with the unfurling of Old Glory as trumpets blared and choirs sang, Austin cupped a hand over his eyes, and silently wept.

Then came the speeches—a dozen or more—delivered by politicians, Hollywood stars, and Nashville singers. Powerful and riveting as they were, not one could compare to the simple, straightforward stories about the victims, as told by the loved ones who remembered 9/11 in their own unique way.

Then the thousands who'd gathered slowly went their separate ways, where jobs and school and neighborhoods awaited them. They'd arrived with heavy hearts, expecting to view and relive the stark reminders of that terrible day, expecting, too, to return bent and bowed and for the most part unchanged.

Instead, they left with spirits renewed and heads held high, for what they had seen and heard was evidence that America had risen from the ashes of grief and sorrow. The respectful crowd now had a reason to believe, and hope, for those who'd died on this honored ground would never be forgotten, and neither would their sacrifices.

When Mercy looked into Austin's eyes, she saw that the ghosts that had haunted him these many years were gone. In their place, the quiet calm that comes from knowing who you are and what you want.

One thought echoed in her heart:

Please, Austin. Please want
me.

January, 2012

Dundalk, Maryland

L
ike every morning, Austin woke to the screak of gulls and waves, gently lapping at the hull, and thanked God for his hard-earned peace of mind. He treasured this boat, and the briny scent of the Chesapeake, and the job that made him feel whole and useful and needed.

Over time, he'd even grown comfortable with his memories—the good ones and the not-so-good—of his mom and his dad, of Avery and Eddy, and as proof, the bottle of Jim Beam still stood unopened in the companionway cupboard.Griff would be proud.

Last week, as he scraped and sanded the fading, peeling letters on the tug's stern, her name echoed in his head, reminding him why he'd chosen it. That call from Avery—the one he'd ignored on the morning of 9/11, then listened to a thousand times over the years—had been the source of his greatest regret.

Time had healed that wound, and though he'd found peace from the nightmare, he'd replace the name, because these days, it had a whole new meaning.

Yes, he'd reached a blissful, blessed point in his life, and had even come to terms with the heart-wrenching decision, made on that sultry September day when he finally put the question to Mercy, who was and always would be the love of his life:

"Do you think you might
ever
change your mind about faith, about God?"

She'd said no.

And that, he admitted as he stood at the rail, hoping to catch a glimpse of the elusive green flash, had become his one regret.

1. What expectations did you have for Mercy and Austin's relationship when they first met?
   
2. List three of Austin's PTSD symptoms.
   
3. Do you feel that Mercy displayed PTSD symptoms? If so, what were they?
   
4. What were Austin's character strengths?
   
5. And his weaknesses?
   
6. What were Mercy's most positive traits?
   
7. And her character flaws?
   
8. Why did Austin have such a hard time admitting his anger?
   
9. Do you feel Mercy overcame resentment toward her mother?
   
10. Which of the two main characters did you most closely identify with, and why?
    
11. Who's your favorite secondary character, and why?
    
12. If you had to select one "faith theme" from this novel, what would it be?
    

The Search for Honor

Book Two in Loree Lough's First Responders series

Q
uiet and serious, Honor Mackenzie was forced to leave the fire department when a misunderstanding about a platonic relationship with her lieutenant threatened his career and hers. The two heartbreaking romances that followed left her with a sour attitude toward love. So when she meets Matt when training SAR dogs, she can't decide who's more immature . . .the ten year old twins or their dad.

They become a team, both still confused about the exact nature of their friendship. Then Matt receives an urgent call from Honor's boss: Honor hasn't reported in since heading out to look for a missing child; anyone who knows her understands three days without a word from her is a very bad sign . . .

We hope you enjoy this except from chapter 1.