put up here. He’s going to tell me again that my great-great-grandfather was one of the kids who helped collect the money. “Give me your huddled masses yearning to be free . . .” All right. Give me a break, Ben thought.
He actually had liked going to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, but now he was sorry he’d come because he felt as though he was going to barf. This tub smelled of diesel fuel.
Longingly he gazed at the private yachts around them in New York harbor. He wished he were on one of them. Someday, when he made money, that was the first thing he’d do—buy a cabin cruiser. When they started out a couple of hours ago, there had been a couple of dozen boats in the water. Now that it was getting overcast, there weren’t so many out.
Ben’s eyes lingered on the really keen yacht way over there: the Cornelia II. He was so farsighted that with his glasses off he could read the letters.
Suddenly his eyes widened. “No-o-o-o . . . !”
He didn’t know that he had even spoken aloud, nor was he aware that his word—half protest, half prayer—had been echoed by virtually everyone on the starboardside of the tour boat, as well as by all the observers in lower Manhattan and in New Jersey who at that moment happened to be looking in that direction.
As he had been watching it, Cornelia II had exploded, suddenly becoming an immense fireball, sending shiny bits of debris shooting high into the air before falling all over the waterway that led from the Atlantic Ocean to the harbor.
Before Ben’s father had spun him around and clutched him against his side, and before merciful shock had blunted the vision of bodies being blown to bits, Ben registered an impression that settled immediately in his subconscious, where it would stay, to become the source of relentless nightmares.
twelve
A ND I EVEN TOLD HIM not to come home, Nell reflected, as she agonized over the terrible day that was ending. Adam had replied, “I hope you don’t mean that,” and I didn’t answer him. I thought about calling him later, trying to put it right, but I was too stubborn and too proud. Dear God, why didn’t I call him? All day that awful feeling was hanging over me, an awareness that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Winifred —when I saw her, I sensed she was going to die! How is it possible that I knew that?
It was like the feeling I had about my mother and father. I remember I was walking in from the playground after recess, and suddenly I knew that they werewith me. I even felt Mom kiss my cheek, and Daddy ran his fingers through my hair. They were gone by then, but they came and said good-bye to me. Adam, she thought, please say good-bye to me. Let me have a chance to tell you how sorry I am.
“Nell, is there anything I can do?”
She was vaguely aware that Mac was talking to her, vaguely aware that it was after midnight. Gert’s birthday dinner had gone ahead as planned, none of them aware of what had happened. Nell had made the lame excuse that Adam couldn’t be there because of an important meeting. She had said it with as much conviction as possible, but the disappointment on Gert’s face and the forced festivity of the evening had built up in her a new head of steam against him.
By the time she arrived home at ten o’clock, she had decided that she would have to work things out with Adam that night, assuming, of course, that he didn’t accept her challenge to not come home. She would reason with him, listen to his objections, see what compromises they could make—but she just could not stand more days of uncertainty and irritation. Being a good politician was all about being able to negotiate and, when necessary, come to a compromise. It struck Nell that maybe the same qualities were necessary in a good wife.
When Nell walked into the lobby of her building, however, she realized that the sense of foreboding that had troubled her all day had reached its culmination. Waiting there for her
He actually had liked going to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, but now he was sorry he’d come because he felt as though he was going to barf. This tub smelled of diesel fuel.
Longingly he gazed at the private yachts around them in New York harbor. He wished he were on one of them. Someday, when he made money, that was the first thing he’d do—buy a cabin cruiser. When they started out a couple of hours ago, there had been a couple of dozen boats in the water. Now that it was getting overcast, there weren’t so many out.
Ben’s eyes lingered on the really keen yacht way over there: the Cornelia II. He was so farsighted that with his glasses off he could read the letters.
Suddenly his eyes widened. “No-o-o-o . . . !”
He didn’t know that he had even spoken aloud, nor was he aware that his word—half protest, half prayer—had been echoed by virtually everyone on the starboardside of the tour boat, as well as by all the observers in lower Manhattan and in New Jersey who at that moment happened to be looking in that direction.
As he had been watching it, Cornelia II had exploded, suddenly becoming an immense fireball, sending shiny bits of debris shooting high into the air before falling all over the waterway that led from the Atlantic Ocean to the harbor.
Before Ben’s father had spun him around and clutched him against his side, and before merciful shock had blunted the vision of bodies being blown to bits, Ben registered an impression that settled immediately in his subconscious, where it would stay, to become the source of relentless nightmares.
twelve
A ND I EVEN TOLD HIM not to come home, Nell reflected, as she agonized over the terrible day that was ending. Adam had replied, “I hope you don’t mean that,” and I didn’t answer him. I thought about calling him later, trying to put it right, but I was too stubborn and too proud. Dear God, why didn’t I call him? All day that awful feeling was hanging over me, an awareness that something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Winifred —when I saw her, I sensed she was going to die! How is it possible that I knew that?
It was like the feeling I had about my mother and father. I remember I was walking in from the playground after recess, and suddenly I knew that they werewith me. I even felt Mom kiss my cheek, and Daddy ran his fingers through my hair. They were gone by then, but they came and said good-bye to me. Adam, she thought, please say good-bye to me. Let me have a chance to tell you how sorry I am.
“Nell, is there anything I can do?”
She was vaguely aware that Mac was talking to her, vaguely aware that it was after midnight. Gert’s birthday dinner had gone ahead as planned, none of them aware of what had happened. Nell had made the lame excuse that Adam couldn’t be there because of an important meeting. She had said it with as much conviction as possible, but the disappointment on Gert’s face and the forced festivity of the evening had built up in her a new head of steam against him.
By the time she arrived home at ten o’clock, she had decided that she would have to work things out with Adam that night, assuming, of course, that he didn’t accept her challenge to not come home. She would reason with him, listen to his objections, see what compromises they could make—but she just could not stand more days of uncertainty and irritation. Being a good politician was all about being able to negotiate and, when necessary, come to a compromise. It struck Nell that maybe the same qualities were necessary in a good wife.
When Nell walked into the lobby of her building, however, she realized that the sense of foreboding that had troubled her all day had reached its culmination. Waiting there for her
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