From the Wreckage

Текст добавлен: 17 сентября 2016, 20:39

Текст книги "From the Wreckage"

Автор книги: Melissa Collins

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Sitting in my chair on the stage, I look out into the crowd. The faces of the people who have loved me when I was at my lowest smile back at me. The commissioner speaks words about our bravery and dedication, about how committed we are to protecting the life and welfare of the people in our city. But all I can think of is how brave they’ve been.

They were there for me when I was broken, when I was someone who was barely even alive. Tethered to the darkness, they were my beacon of light. All I had to do was open my eyes.

And at the heart of it all is my Grace.

She catches me staring at her and the rest of the room fades away. It’s the exact same thing that happened when I saw her walking down the aisle at the church on our wedding day.

The organ played in the background and our friends and family gasped in awe as they watched Grace walked arm-in-arm with her father. She may as well have been an angel floating toward me in a sea of white and sparkles. I can’t remember much about what she wore, or how she looked except everything was perfect.

Beautiful.

She smiled at me and everyone else ceased to exist. When Walter gave me her hand, a sense of duty like no other took up residence in my soul. I would spend the rest of my living days protecting this woman who stood by my side when I gave her no reason to have faith in me. Holding her hand in mine, I ran my finger over the engagement ring I bought her long ago. When the time came to propose, again, I told her I would get her a new ring. I wanted her to have everything she deserved and so much more. Of course, she wanted no part of that, telling me that her old ring was the perfect mix of then and now. Looking down at that diamond on her finger, she couldn’t be more right about it.

As the priest spoke on about honor and commitment, fidelity and loyalty, Grace smiled at me, a single tear tracking down her cheek. Stroking it away with my thumb, my heart nearly burst when she leaned into my touch.

We spoke our vows and exchanged our rings, mesmerized by the emotion of it all. And in the seconds between the priest saying, “You may kiss the bride,” and my lips pressing against hers, she said, “I told you I’d say yes. Every day, for the rest of my life, I’ll always say yes.”

Brought back to the here and now, the commissioner’s voice booms over the microphone, commanding us all to stand. “It is with great honor and pride that I present to you the newest thirty lieutenants in the FDNY.”

Lost in my own bubble of awe, I’m more than proud of my journey to this point. Getting to this point was not easy in the least. Needing weeks and weeks of retraining, I essentially had to complete the probie training all over again. Despite having already passed the lieutenant’s test, I needed to take it again. Yet, while some may have been discouraged at needing to begin anew, all it did for me was remind me how much I love my job.

The crowd erupts into a loud cheer, applauding us on our accomplishment. After we’re dismissed from our seats on the stage, I make my way through the sea of families greeting my fellow lieutenants. Camera flashes and words of praise fill the room. As I make my way toward my own family, I can’t find Grace.

“It’s about time,” Ian chimes in as he walks toward me. “I was starting to think they’d never promote you.” He received his prosthetic legs about six months after the attack that forced him out of active service. But his injuries haven’t stopped him from continuing to work. Now, rather than running into burning buildings, he runs marathons, doing charity work for the Wounded Warriors organization. That is when he’s not teaching here at the academy. He never misses an opportunity to rub it in my face that he was promoted before me. Not that it matters, I couldn’t be happier for him. And more thankful for the way he saved my life.

And his own.

I’d say he settled down with Jade, but that woman is far from settling. They’re a perfect balance for each other, a mirror of each other’s humor and strength.

Jade smiles from his side. “Congratulations,” she says, hugging me. “Don’t mind him.” She gives Ian the stink eye and elbows him in the ribs. “What he meant to say was that he was proud of you, too. Right?” She eyes him expectantly.

“Yes, dear,” he responds dutifully.

“Where’s Gracie?” I ask after greeting her parents and my own.

“You have to ask?” Her mother laughs.

“Bathroom, I assume.”

“I swear, I need to go like every five seconds,” Grace’s voice floats to me from behind. “If this kid doesn’t get out soon, I’m just going to live in there.”

Pulling her to my side, I place my hand over her rounded belly. Lowering my head a touch, I say “Did you hear that?” A gentle kick responds. “Mommy wants you out.”

“Stop making her kick. It’ll make me have to pee again.” Smiling at me, she pops a kiss to my cheek. “I’m proud of you. You know that?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m kind of a big deal,” I joke and everyone around us laughs.

“All right, all right. You think you can fit that giant head of yours through the door. We’re taking you out to celebrate.”

“I can turn sideways.” My joke is met with a light, playful slap on the arm from Grace and a snickering laugh from everyone else.

“This is where you took me on our first first date,” Grace says as she lowers herself rather clumsily into a chair.

In the years since my accident, Grace has told me some stories of what our life was like beforehand. But as the days moved on, the past became less and less important. The only thing that mattered was today, the here and now.

And here and now is pretty amazing.

Ian boasts about his latest run, telling me I need to get my ass in gear. “Yeah, well, I challenge you to a furniture assembling contest. That’s a real challenge.” Having spent the last few weekends putting together a crib and other assorted baby gear, I’ll never look at a completed nursery lightly again.

Holding up his hands in mock defense, he concedes, “Fine. You win. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with that. Babies and whatnot. That’s some real scary stuff right there.”

Slapping him on his arm, Jade says, “Don’t listen to him. He’s as excited as the rest of us for this sweet baby girl to get here.”

“Not as excited as I am,” Grace says from her seat. Standing up, she excuses herself to the bathroom once more, complaining about it until her voice melts into the rest of the noise.

As the crowd of our friends and family move around us in the small Italian restaurant, a warm feeling of happiness settles in me. When Grace returns, I rest my hand over her belly. I smile at her, knowing that choosing to bury my past, the parts I couldn’t remember at least, was the best decision I ever could have made. Weighed down by the before kept me from stepping into the after. It was only through Grace’s love that I was able to move on and stop thinking I was somehow broken.

Through the meal, she tells me of that first date, seemingly forgetful that she’s told me the story before. I don’t mind though. Sharing her happiest memories with me is something I’ll never get tired of.

After everyone leaves sometime later, Grace and I step out onto the street. With my firehouse right in front of us, we look up at the brick-faced building. Gallagher slaps me on the back as he walks toward the station. “We’ll miss having you around here,” he admits. “But you’ll make a damn good lieutenant in the new house, too.”

“Thanks, Cap.” Shaking his hand, I never thought he’d ever show an ounce of emotion.

“Want to walk a little?” Grace asks, looping her arm through mine. “I want to take you somewhere.”

Leaning down, I kiss her softly. “Well, how can I argue with that.”

It’s a slow pace, but luckily our destination is only a few blocks away. The warm glow of the lights at the 9/11 Memorial shimmer in the early evening sky. With the anniversary of the attacks in just a few days, the site feels more somber than usual. The area where the bomb that nearly destroyed me is restored, much like my own life. Wordlessly, we walk around the wall of names, stopping in front of the section where the men’s names who perished from Squad 18 are etched.

In a moment when memories mingle with the present, Grace and I stand in silence, watching the water pour into the center of the pool of tranquility. “You promised her you’d never forget,” Grace says, tracing over the name of the firefighter who shares my name. “His mother. You promised her as long as you live that you’d never forget. That’s why you were here the day of your attack, so that you could honor his memory.”

Nodding, I squeeze her hand in mine. Words elude me, the enormity of it all too much to process. After a few more minutes of silence pass between us, I ask, “Why did you want to come here?”

“Because . . .” Pausing, she turns away from the water, looking only at me. Her eyes sparkle, so blue and pure, it hurts to look right at them. “I wanted you to know that no matter how many tomorrows we get, I will spend the rest of them by your side, remembering all the things you may have forgotten along the way. I promise to never forget right along with you.”

“I love you, Gracie. So damned much it hurts sometimes.”

Resting her head against my heart, she tells me she loves me back.

But I don’t need to hear the words. Her heart will always be in my heart.

I’ll carry it there forever.

www.melissacollinsauthor.com/newsletter

There’s so much I want to share about this story, about the people who inspired it, about what it means to me, about how it came to be. My uncle was a firefighter in the FDNY. Unfortunately, he was one of the 343 firefighters who perished on 9/11. When the idea of writing a story in his memory came to me, I didn’t know exactly how it would go. In fact, I started From the Wreckage back in 2013 after I completed my first book.

It took me twenty-seven months to finally get to “The End” and it truly was a labor of love. I’m so very proud of this story. It’s the life I wish my uncle could have had—one filled with love and happiness, a wife and some kids. I miss him every day and I thought about him a lot while writing this. If you’ve made it this far, I hope you’ve thought about him and the other victims of 9/11 at some point as well.

And that’s why the notion of memories played such a large role in the story. There comes a certain point after you lose someone close to you when you remember who they were, but you get caught up in wondering who they could have become. You remember larger things about them, their laugh, the color of their eyes, but you begin to forget some of the smaller details. They get lost in the fog of time. And that’s why David and Grace’s story is so important to me. Like the love they’ll always carry in their hearts, I will always carry the memory of my uncle in mine.

I am so fortunate to have such an amazing team at my side when it comes to writing and publishing. Without them, I know I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish half the things I have.

My beta readers—Kristy Bruno, Jennifer Diaz, Nasha Lama, Mayas Sanders, Pam Schaeffer, Emily Bentz, and Ashley Griffieth. Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and help me fine-tune From the Wreckage. I can’t begin to express how valuable I find your feedback.

My editing team—Thank you, Becky Johnson and your Hot Tree Editing team. I can’t imagine publishing a book without your help. Thank you for taking care of my baby and helping me make it the best it can be. And thank you Chris Parece for taking one last proofread through From the Wreckage and catching everything my tired eyes couldn’t.

My formatter—Tami, simply put, you are a genius. Thank you for doing what I would never have the patience to do. And you make it all look so pretty. Even though I had a million and one tasks for you this time around, but they were never an issue for you. I owe you so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

My cover designer—Staci Brillhart at Quirky Bird Designs. Seriously, you do such phenomenal work. I’m so happy I took a chance on someone new. You most definitely are a rare talent and I’m so proud to have your work on as my cover.

My street team—I am so unbelievably thankful for your help and laughter every day. This group has come to mean so much more to me than simply a group of readers. You’re my friends and I couldn’t go through this process without you.

My blogs—The fact that the list of blogs who help me is ginormous is such a lucky problem to have. Whether you have 50K fans or 500, I am eternally thankful to each and every one of you for helping me get my work out to readers. Whether you reviewed or simply shared a post, I am lucky to have you as part of my team.

My authors—I am so blessed to have as many author friends as I do. Their support and comradeship through this crazy process is more helpful than they can know. To all my Author 101, #WriteClub, and C.O.P.A girls, thank you. Jennifer Berg, I can never thank you enough for your undying support in everything. Your friendship means more to me than I can put to words.

My P.A.—Ashley—I really can’t thank you enough. You have faith in me when I don’t even have it in myself. You are so much more than an assistant; you are truly my best friend. There simply isn’t enough room in here for me to say all the things that need to be said. Thank you for just being there.

My family—Jamie and the boys. I love you with everything I am.

Uncle David—I miss you and I hope I did your story justice. Until we meet again, I’ll carry your heart in mine.