Beyond the Point(96)
For years, she would replay this moment in her mind, wishing to erase it from her life. It was a doorway. And as soon as she walked through it, the door behind her would shut and disappear, closing her off from everything before. Including the girl who could look up at an Afghanistan sky and smile.
Bracing for impact didn’t help at all. Even if every muscle in her body had tightened, there were no muscles strong enough to protect a heart from breaking.
“No,” she said. “Please.”
“I’m so sorry, Hannah,” the colonel said. “I’m so very sorry.”
THE CORPS
The Corps bareheaded, salute it, with eyes up thanking our God That we of the Corps are treading, where they of the Corps have trod They are here in ghostly assemblage The men of the Corps long dead
And our hearts are standing attention While we wait for their passing tread We sons of today, we salute you, you sons of an earlier day We follow close order behind you, where you have pointed the way The long gray line of us stretches Through the years of a century told And the last man feels to his marrow The grip of your far-off hold
Grip hands with us now, though we see not Grip hands with us strengthen our hearts As the long line stiffens and straightens With the thrill that your presence imparts Grip hands, though it be from the shadows While we swear as you did of yore
Or living or dying to honor
The Corps, and the Corps, and the Corps
Beyond
November 2006
25
November 16, 2006 // London, England
The limp was worse than it had ever been.
With every step, a searing knife shot through Dani McNalley’s right side, forcing her to put more weight on her left leg while dragging her right. And yet she moved forward, her feet bobbling over the cobblestones. She had to get back to her apartment, and then she had to go home.
The pregnant sky released its first few drops of rain onto her head. Dani watched them fall and die on the sidewalk. In her haste to leave work, she’d forgotten her umbrella on the hook by her office door. Paralyzed with indecision, she couldn’t decide whether to go back to the office for the umbrella or keep walking forward toward Notting Hill. People maneuvered around her with their chins down, hands stuffed deep into their pockets, like Dani was a lamppost or trash can—simply an obstacle to avoid. Life was moving on as if nothing had happened. Cars and taxis barreled down the road, kicking up water under their tires. The tube underground rumbled, moving people from one stop to the next. It was hard to believe all this activity. All this life. A couple of toddlers on the other side of the road dressed in yellow raincoats had the audacity to laugh, turning their faces toward the sky to catch the rain on their cheeks.
Dani felt her chest tighten and for a moment, she thought she might lose control right in the middle of the street. Gripping her BlackBerry tight in her hand, Dani looked up to the sky and blinked back the tears in her eyes, swallowing the emotion. She’d done it plenty of times before. At some point, she would need to let her tears flow freely. But now was not the time.
An hour ago, she’d been sitting in a meeting with Laura Klein and the rest of the E & G marketing team discussing their next round of commercial shoots when her phone buzzed on the table. Laura’s eyes had bored into the side of Dani’s face as she reached for the phone. She hadn’t planned on answering it. She thought she would look at the caller ID and send the call straight to voicemail. But the name on the caller ID sent ice into Dani’s veins.
Bill Speer.
Hannah’s father. She imagined him on the other end of the line somewhere in Texas, waiting for Dani to answer. And without thinking—without explanation—she took the phone in her hand and walked out of the meeting.
“Mr. Speer?” Dani had said, her voice already shaking. “Is everything okay?”
She heard him clear his throat.
“Dani, I’m sorry,” he’d said. “I have some very bad news.”
Dani sat down in the office kitchen, a windowless room with bright fluorescent light. Her breath went shallow and she clenched her eyes shut. Bill’s voice was steady as it traversed an ocean to speak the truth.
“Tim was killed in Iraq, Dani. I’m so sorry.”
Since then, the BlackBerry in her hand hadn’t stopped buzzing. Messages arrived often. E-mails, texts, and phone calls, all of which went unanswered.
From Sarah Goodrich: I just heard that Tim Nesmith was KIA. Tell me that’s not true?
She knew she wouldn’t sleep tonight. Most people didn’t even know that she was living in London—a full six hours ahead of Eastern Time. The phone would ring, buzz, and beep through all hours of the night, with messages from people who had questions—the same ones she’d asked Hannah’s father.
Have you talked to her? How is she? I can’t believe this. How did it happen? When is the funeral? What can we do?
She had no answers. Neither had Bill Speer. A sandstorm had rolled into the southeastern region of Afghanistan, stalling all transportation and communication. Hannah was stuck waiting for the air to clear so she could go home. But Dani had no such obstacles. She’d grabbed her purse and computer from her cubicle and left the office, without telling Laura a single thing. She was getting on the first plane to North Carolina. And until her feet were on American soil—until she saw Hannah face-to-face—everything else could wait.