As the morning became afternoon and then began to approach early evening, the mood in the office began to darken along with the sky. At some point during the day, Ben’s office had become ground control, and there were always at least half a dozen people clustered around, searching for news online, trying to call the crew’s cell phones or the satellite number every few minutes. People had been bringing food in all day, and he was vaguely nauseous as he looked it all over – donuts and bagels, the remnants of a foot-long sandwich, Chinese takeout containers, half a pizza, a tray of assorted cookies and cupcakes. He hadn’t been able to eat a thing all day, just coffee and water, had no appetite whatsoever.

“Ben, you should really eat something,” chided Nadine. She was red-eyed from crying, her voice barely above a croak. She felt responsible for what had happened, deeply regretted not having booked the crew on the direct flight from Port Blair to Delhi, but Ben hadn’t been able to summon up the energy to console her much, or to continually assure her that none of this was her fault.

Needless to say, no one had been in the mood to actually work today. The staff was like a big family, after all, most of them having worked together for years. None of them wanted to go home, and while Ben appreciated their support, what he really wanted was an hour or two of privacy so that he could try and make some sense of this mess. A nap wouldn’t hurt, either, except that he was so pumped full of caffeine and anxiety at this point that he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to sleep again.

His cell phone buzzed, and he snatched it up from his desk, only to heave a little sigh when he saw Elle’s name in the caller ID. Again.

“Any news?” she asked as he picked up the call.

“Not yet, no.”

This was at least the fifth call from Elle since he had told her about the plane crash, and while he appreciated her concern, the frequent calls were a distraction he could do without at the moment. Elle had offered to bring food over, to keep him company, and he knew her feelings had been hurt each time he had gently refused. But right now he simply couldn’t worry about Elle – not when the only woman he’d ever loved might very well be dead.

Ben shook his head, trying valiantly not to let himself sink into despair. He had to stay positive, had to hold on to whatever fragile threads of hope might still exist. The very thought that someone as young and bright and beautiful as Lauren could be dead was so unbelievable that it sounded like a bad dream. Maybe that’s all this was, he mused. Except that it had been the longest nightmare he’d ever had, one that had gone on for far too long. And if it was just a bad dream, then he was desperate to wake up from it any second now – to wake up and discover that Lauren and the others were just fine, that all the worry and panic and despair had been for nothing.

And when she arrived back in New York, he wasn’t going to waste even one more hour without telling her how he felt – explaining why he had left her, telling her how much he had always regretted his actions, and how he had never once stopped loving her. He was going to do all of that and more – provided he got the chance.

It was early evening by now, and somehow all of the food had been consumed. Nadine and a few of the others went out to grab burgers and shakes, and Ben humored them by asking for a mushroom Swiss burger and a vanilla shake, even though he doubted he could eat a single bite.

He was alone for the first time since very early this morning, when he’d picked up the call from Nadine that had caused his blood to run cold. As a way to distract himself, Ben checked his email, the first actual bit of work he’d attempted all day. He clicked automatically through two dozen or more messages, deleting some, replying to a few others, forwarding the rest to Kym.

And then he spied the message that had been marked as Personal and Confidential, specially flagged so that only he would be able to open it. But it was the sender’s name that really caught his attention, and he did a quick time and date conversion to determine when it had been sent. If his calculations were correct, then Lauren had sent this email roughly three hours before her flight had left Port Blair.

His fingers were trembling as he opened the email and began to read what could very well be the final communication that Lauren had sent to anyone.

Dear Ben,

You have no idea how many times I almost deleted this email. Or how many times I’ve edited it over the past couple of weeks. I didn’t know if I would ever have the guts to actually send it, until someone told me last night that life’s too short and that I should stop wasting even one more minute of it. And I decided he was right.

So, here it is, Ben. You asked me a couple of weeks ago to send you an email about what was on my mind, and while I was pretty pissed off at you for suggesting it, I decided that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Here’s the thing. I fell in love with you six years ago, and I’ve never really stopped feeling that way. Even when you left me and broke my heart in a million pieces (you bastard), I still couldn’t stop loving you. And I know it’s probably not cool to tell you that when you’re with Elle and practically engaged and all that, but I can’t keep my feelings bottled up anymore.

Okay, there. I’ve said it. Got it off my chest. Whew! That being said, I have no idea what happens from here, no idea how you feel about me or if you’re really going to ask Elle to marry you or not. I’m pretty sure you’re still attracted to me, given what happened at my aunt’s apartment, but beyond that I don’t have a clue.

I’m telling you all this now, putting it in an email, because I don’t know if I’d have the guts to tell you face to face. I’m sorry I never let you explain before, but I was so angry and hurt when you left me, and then when you just showed up at the magazine last year I was still so mad that I swore I’d never believe anything you told me ever again. I admit that I’m stubborn and proud and that I can hold a grudge like nobody else can. But I can also admit when I’ve been wrong – difficult as that might be to believe. And while I still don’t understand why you left me six years ago, I’m finally ready to hear you out.

I hope I haven’t made this all kinds of awkward, but if I didn’t tell you how I really felt now I might never have done it. So when I get back in a couple of days I’ll be ready to listen.

And if it turns out that Elle is the one you really want to be with, then I promise that will be cool. I won’t interfere or bother you, and I’m prepared to resign from the magazine and walk away – for my sake as well as yours. Because as tough as I’ve always been, even I have my limits. And seeing you married to someone else is way more than I could bear.

Love,

Lauren

His eyes were wet as he finished reading her somewhat rambling but nonetheless touching email. Ben buried his face in his hands, the sobs causing his entire body to shake as he prayed silently, fervently, for all of them to be safe and whole and well. He’d never been a spiritual man, hadn’t gone to church or even prayed since he’d been a young boy, but he prayed now, appealing repeatedly to some nameless higher power to answer his pleas.

It was the buzzing of his cell phone that jolted him out of his grieving, and he reached for it automatically, hoping that it wouldn’t be yet another call from Elle, And he knew it wouldn’t be George’s parents or Tamsyn or Robert McKinnon, because they had all been calling on his office number.

There was no caller ID visible, but Ben accepted the call anyway. The reception was poor, and he had to struggle to make out what the caller was saying. But when he recognized the voice on the other end, he nearly dropped to his knees in relief.