***

New York

It was just past six a.m. when Ben emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist while he used a second to dry his hair. His bedroom was dimly lit as he began to pull clothes from his closet and dresser, not worrying about waking Elle at such an early hour since she was fast asleep across the hall.

Since her parents had returned to England more than three weeks ago, he had yet to return to Elle’s bed. He’d been spending a lot of extra time at the office, arriving in very early and staying until well past quitting time. He had admittedly been avoiding her, not ready just yet to have “the talk”, but he hoped his increasing absences were also helping in his quest to let her down easy.

There was no possible way, he reasoned as he pulled on a pair of jeans, that Elle could not realize their relationship had some serious problems. Aside from the fact that they hadn’t slept together in months, he had become increasingly withdrawn and uncommunicative. But Elle continued to act as if nothing was wrong, smiling and conversing normally, and not addressing the oversized elephant in the room. That she was in a state of denial was glaringly obvious, and Ben resolved not to keep her in limbo any longer. He was going to talk to her this weekend, he promised himself, even if it was a certainty that there would be a huge scene.

He would stay in a hotel for a week or two until he could find a short-term rental. Elle would be upset, deeply emotional, but it was the right thing to do for both of them. He just hoped that eventually she would come to accept that fact, though he feared it would be a hard truth for her to acknowledge.

His cell phone buzzed just as he finished buttoning his shirt. Ben frowned, for no one ever called him this early, even a crew member who was more than halfway around the world. And as he glanced at the caller ID, he noticed it was a local number.

“Hello?” he said, his heart beginning to beat a little faster in trepidation. After all, who’d be calling him this early with good news?”

“Ben. God, oh God. It’s Nadine. And, oh Jesus, I just had the news on. I was getting ready to go out for a run and I always listen to CNN at this time of the morning.” Nadine was babbling, pretty close to being hysterical. “And, God, the plane – there’s been a crash, Ben. A flight out of Chennai headed for Delhi. And, Jesus, I’m almost positive it’s the flight that George and the others were supposed to be taking.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Ben, Robert McKinnon is on the line for you.”

Ben closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose where a dull headache had begun several hours ago, and had gradually spread to what felt like his entire body. He’d been expecting this call from Lauren’s family, had in fact picked up the phone three different times to call them first, but had been interrupted on each attempt.

“Put him through, Kym. Thanks.”

He had already spoken to both of George’s parents – two times each – both demanding answers and having hysterics each time; to Tamsyn, who’d nearly broken his heart when she had asked tearfully “Does this mean my baby is never going to know its father?”; and to Chris’s father, who’d been backpacking somewhere in Colorado and had either had a terrible connection or been half-stoned.

This call from Lauren’s father, therefore, was both expected and at least a couple of hours overdo.

“Robert.” Ben greeted him somberly. “I imagine you’ve heard the same news reports we have. How are you and your wife holding up?”

The older man’s voice sounded hoarse, as though he’d been crying. “Not terribly well, Ben, as you might expect. Natalie is – not doing well at all. Julia and Nathan just arrived a few minutes ago, and they’re doing their best to comfort her. But I need to know everything you do at this point. Is there any chance that my little girl is still alive?”

Ben had anticipated this question, had answered it several times already this morning, and wished again that he had more reliable information to share.

“There’s a chance, yes,” he replied gravely. “Lauren and the others were on a flight from Port Blair to Chennai, and their departure was delayed by nearly half an hour. The flight also encountered some serious turbulence en route, which delayed its arrival by a few more minutes. If the flight from Port Blair had left on time, then they would have had barely thirty minutes to make the next flight from Chennai to Delhi – the flight that crashed on takeoff. Based on what we know, they would have had less than five minutes to make the connection, given that the two gates were in different terminals.”

Robert’s voice sounded a bit steadier at this news. “So it’s quite possible that they weren’t on that flight? When will we know for certain?”

That was a question Ben had been asked – and had asked himself – multiple times so far today. “I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Apparently, when the plane exploded on takeoff, it took out power and telephone lines, and no one’s had any luck getting much information. We have people here at the magazine in constant contact with both the FAA and the State Department trying to get updates, but until the passenger lists are released, or we hear from one of the crew, we won’t know anything definite.”

“Yes. I understand. I’ve been watching the coverage on television, what little there is, and it sounds like the crash not only disrupted the communications systems but that the debris is blocking the main highway into the city.”

“There hasn’t been a whole lot of news,” agreed Ben. “And I’m sure the priority is to tend to the victims of the crash. Plus, all incoming and outgoing flights have been grounded, which is to be expected. We haven’t even been able to reach them on the satellite phone, but I’m told that’s not unusual in these sorts of disasters, that communications can be blocked in order to give priority to emergency services. But we’ll keep trying to reach them, as well as utilize all of our contacts to get more news.”

Robert blew out a frustrated breath. “I suppose under the circumstances that’s all you can do. Except to hope. And pray.”

Ben shut his eyes again, rubbing his temple. “Believe me, Robert, I’ve been doing plenty of both since I first heard the news early this morning. We have to remain positive, have to assume that they didn’t make it onto that flight. The odds aren’t great that they did.”

“With most anyone else I’d agree,” retorted Robert. “But with Lauren – well, you’ve seen her in action. She’d think nothing of badgering a gate agent or pitching a fit until they called the plane back to the gate.”

“Even Lauren can’t control everything,” Ben assured him gently. “And given how tight security is at airports nowadays, I doubt she would have been able to pull something like that off.”

“I suppose you’re right.” There was a pause for several seconds before Robert murmured in hushed tones, “God, if something happens to my girl I don’t know what we’ll do, Ben. My wife is holding on by a thread right now.”

“I know exactly how she feels,” whispered Ben. “Lauren is – well, she’s a very special woman, isn’t she? And, well - ”

“You’re in love with my daughter,” finished Robert. “Yes, I’ve been aware of that for quite some time. And I trust that if she makes it out of this that you plan on telling her exactly how you feel. Now, please. Call us the moment you have any news. No matter the time or no matter what the news.”

Robert hung up before Ben could even start to think up a reply, and he was left staring dumbly at the receiver.

But current circumstances didn’t allow for him to spend time pondering why Robert McKinnon had sounded so sure of himself just now, why he had very matter-of-factly stated that Ben was in love with Lauren. Had Lauren in fact confided in her father, or was Robert simply making an educated guess based on what he had observed?