Gone Black by Linda Ladd

ready to take off.” He stopped again. “There were no survivors, Claire. He and his pilot were both on board. I am so sorry, so sorry, that this had to happen to you. Today, of all days.”
    Claire went completely rigid, reaching out to support herself on the stair rail. “No. No, Harve. That can’t be true. No way, no way.”
    Harve said, “Why don’t you sit down, honey? Come on, sit down here beside me.”
    â€œHe’s okay. I know he is. He’ll be here.”
    â€œIt’s on all the news channels, Claire. They’re all talking about it. They think it was a terrorist attack.” Harve hesitated briefly. “The plane exploded and burned up last night. They found two bodies aboard, Claire.”
    â€œWell, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Black. I don’t believe it.”
    â€œI’m so sorry, sweetheart. This is just terrible, just god-awful, right now, on your wedding day.”
    Claire stared at him, at the tears that made his eyes shine, and then she turned without a word and climbed back upstairs. She wanted to be alone. She had to think. Think this through. It couldn’t be Black. Black was not dead. He could not be dead, no matter what they said. He would never do that to her. He would never miss their wedding. He’s the one who wanted it so badly. Shaky now, trembling all over, she moved to the bed and sank down on it, the stiff gown rustling underneath her. She sat there for a moment, alone in the extremely quiet house and told herself that she was having a bad dream, a really, really bad one this time but that she’d surely wake up in a minute and it would all be over. Black would be standing at the end of the dock in his tuxedo. Waiting and smiling, showing her all those killer dimples when she walked toward him, and he would be happy to be back home and raring to get married. That’s what was going to happen.
    But she knew better, she knew, and her heart just clenched inside her breast, tighter and tighter, until she could not even breathe anymore, could not pull in enough air to take a breath. She went down on the floor then, on her hands and knees, the big white skirt ballooning up around her and just stared down at the carpet. She pulled in some deep breaths, trying to get a firm hold on her nerves, breathe in, hold it, breathe out, breathe in, hold it, but then a sob welled up at the bottom of her throat and came out in the stillness, all choked up and awful. Furious at herself, she sat up again and tried to regain control of her growing panic. It could not be. There was an explanation. Black would never do this to her. He would not do it to her. She sat there on her heels, and then she felt the most terrible kind of absolute, utter despair rising inside her chest.
    Great, awful waves of horror engulfed her, terrible pain that made her stomach knot and her hands shake until she had to grip her fingers together. No way, no way, he got out, he had to get out. The body on that plane was not him. He was too smart, too careful. It wasn’t him, damn it. Black was indestructible. He was alive somewhere. She would just have to go find him.
    The house still lay in complete silence around her, no one downstairs, and she stood up and tried to pull herself together. But then the ultimate truth of it hit her again, slammed into her like a runaway train. She leaned up against the wall, and then she slowly slid down to the floor in a heap and dropped her head down on her bent knees. Okay, okay, she would go there, go to that place on the coast. Naples or Ravenna or whatever the hell it was called. She would find him herself. But then her mind took over again, destroying her hope, her reason returning, and she knew it had to be true. Black was gone. He was just gone. All of a sudden, just like that. Gone forever. She was never going to see him again.
    Then without even realizing it, she began to cry, tears hot and tracking down her makeup,