Chapter 30
Sam
Sam paced outside the door of the toy store. Boxes were stacked on the other side of the window in neat pyramids and piles. Just beyond was a giant white indoor Ferris wheel. He watched as a mother crouched down next to a small boy and pointed to the slowly rotating wheel. The boy’s eyes were bright with amazement and anticipation, locked on the one empty chair as though he could imagine himself already there, hands up, head back. As the chair reached the top of the wheel, the boy rose up on his toes.
When the wheel settled to a stop in front of the boy, the mother smiled encouragingly, gesturing that it was his turn, but suddenly the boy wasn’t having any of it. He curled his shoulders inward and shook his head, shy and scared.
Sam shifted his weight and settled his bag on his hip. It seemed impossible that joy could turn to fear so quickly, that the two emotions could occupy the same space, but he knew it was true. It was on display right there in front of him; it was buried deep in his heart.
When Sara had asked him to stay and had promised to trade her story for his time, his joy had immediately turned to fear. The moment she had disappeared from view, he had been in motion. His first thought had been to get back on the subway and ride the train all the way back home. To put as much distance between him and Sara as he could.
It was one thing for him to tell her his story. He was counting on sending that story away with her at the end of the day, never to return. Like tying a wish to a balloon and then setting it free. Or writing a message, sliding it into a bottle, and throwing it into the ocean. You stand and watch it drift away—a dot in the sky or a flash of glass on the horizon—and then it’s gone.
But if Sara told him her story, then the balance shifted. They would be connected—and stay connected—even if she floated away and disappeared, never to return. The place inside of him that had held onto the memory of Alice and the horror of that night, the place that had been scoured clean by that sacred, inside quiet ever since he’d given that story to Sara, would be filled with a new story. A potentially sad story. One starring Sara and her dad and the mom she never mentioned. He didn’t know if he could shoulder that burden again.
But was it fair to expect Sara to shoulder his burden all alone? He’d been concentrating so much on the freedom he felt that he hadn’t really considered the question.
A small part of him said she was strong and stubborn—she would be fine. But the rest of him knew that it wasn’t right.
A story for a story was definitely a fair trade; he’d said so to Sara earlier that very same day.
And Sam never said no to a trade.
So instead of heading toward the subway station, he headed toward the toy store, where he leaned his shoulder against the glass, watching. Waiting. Hoping he was doing the right thing. Hoping his wish would come true. Hoping for rescue.
The mom inside the store took her son’s hand and gave it a squeeze. He saw her mouth the words, Maybe next time. Together, they headed up the stairs.
He checked the time. Had it been twenty minutes yet? Longer? It felt like he’d been waiting forever. He wondered what he would do if Sara didn’t show. Her dad had been pretty upset; Sam figured there was a better than even chance that her dad would forbid her from going back out tonight.
How long should he wait?
He scanned the crowd, not really seeing faces, just shapes and colors. He let the noise wash over him like music. The mixture of hum and roar was comforting, familiar. The sound of movement.
A line of people passed by, and in between the small gap of space between the last two people in line, he saw Sara coming toward him.
He straightened up, pulling his hands from his pockets.
She wore his borrowed jeans and the same red T-shirt. She had the same bag slung over her shoulder, but even from a distance he could see the dark red rims around her eyes, as though she had hidden all her sadness in the one place she wouldn’t be able to see it.
He met her halfway, though he didn’t remember moving so far so fast.
She stopped in front of him, her arms wrapped around her chest as though she was afraid that if she let go, everything would fall apart.
“If you need to cry, this is the best place to do it,” he said kindly.
She breathed out a sound that could have been a laugh but wasn’t. “Do a lot of people come to Times Square to cry?”
He shook his head. “Beats me. But when you cry in public, everyone ignores you. Even in a crowd—no, especially in a crowd. It can be surprisingly private.”
“You know this from experience?”
“I’ve had my days,” he hedged. He personally had not shed a tear since moving to New York, but he knew that people avoided anger as much as they avoided tears. He’d once screamed his throat raw on a street corner and no one had looked twice at him. That was when he’d first learned that isolation could be liberating.
She shivered as though a cold breeze had touched her. “I’m done crying.” Her voice was flat, but the tear that dribbled down her face defied her words.
Without a word, Sam reached into his bag and withdrew a travel pack of tissues.
Sara accepted the offering, and this time, the sound she made was closer to a laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m not a very surprising person, I guess.” Sam had to fight the urge to brush her hair away from her face. Yes, she needed comfort, but whatever had happened had left her fragile. A touch might leave behind a crack. And a crack might be more than she could handle right now.
She dabbed at her face with a tissue, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ve surprised me all day,” she said quietly.
“Were you surprised to find me here?”
Sara cocked her head in thought. “No,” she said finally, a touch of wonder in her voice. “No, I knew you would be here. I knew I could depend on you.”
A splash of heat hit Sam’s heart, warming him from within. How long had it been since someone had depended on him for something more than to finish a job or run an errand? How long had it been since he’d had a friend depending on him? The dog tags hung heavy around his neck and the memory of Alice’s sky-blue eyes left him cold.
“You okay?” Sara asked.
“Yeah,” he said, suppressing a flinch. Here she was obviously upset, and yet she was the one worried about him. “It’s just . . . I’m a little surprised to see you. I didn’t think your dad would let you out of his sight again.”
To her credit, she didn’t turn and look back toward the hotel, but he could see the effort it cost her. Her shoulders stiffened and her mouth turned down in a frown. The small dimple he’d noticed before made a brief appearance.
“I don’t think he ever wants to see me again.”
“He’s your dad—”
“He said if I wanted to go, then maybe I should just go.”
“I’m sure he meant—”
“He told me to leave,” she said bluntly. “So I did.” She pivoted away and started walking toward the subway station.
Sam waited a single beat before catching up to her. “Where are we going?”
“I want to see the Empire State Building.”
He touched her elbow, but though it made a shock travel through his fingers, it hardly slowed her down.
“I see it all the time in the movies. It’s iconic. It’s New York. I want to see the Empire State Building.” Her voice broke the second time she said the name.
Sam noticed another set of tears appear in her eyes. But though they trembled on her lashes, they didn’t fall. Sara was right; she was done with crying.
“It’s the tallest building in the city, right? How tall is it? Like a hundred feet?”
“A hundred and two stories, actually.”
“Cool. I want to go all the way to the top.”
“That costs extra,” Sam warned. He knew she was short on money, and it didn’t sound like her dad had sent her out the door with a pocket full of cash.
She shrugged, her mouth sad. “It always does.”
“That’s cryptic.”
Her shoulders slumped. “Everything costs more than you think it does, that’s all. And what you get in return is usually not what you wanted. Not really.”
“Sara.” He touched her elbow again, and this time, she did stop. “So, what is it you want? Really?”
She huffed out a sigh, rolling her eyes. “I told you—to see the Giants play.”
Sam didn’t laugh. He kept his hand on her arm. Waiting.
She looked down and jutted out her chin. Her mouth turned hard and stubborn. “I want to see the Empire State Building.”
Sam waited until she looked at him. The bright lights lit up her eyes like emeralds. He held his breath and slipped his hand down her arm and folded his fingers around hers. When she didn’t pull away, he exhaled and allowed himself a moment to enjoy the warmth that sprang up from where they touched. “Then come with me,” he said.
Chapter 31
Sara
Sam held my hand all the way to Rockefeller Center.
The plaza felt a little like Times Square—lots of people, lots of energy, fewer signs. The stores lining the walkways were dark, closed for the evening. I wondered why they didn’t stay open all night. With all the people still milling around, they would make a fortune.
Next to the wide sidewalk area was the famous spot where the ice-skating rink would be in the winter, and the place where the Christmas tree would stand, dressed all in lights. Tonight there was no tree, no ice, but I still felt like the ground beneath my feet was fragile, a pane of glass that prevented me from falling—but just barely. The only thing keeping me anchored and steady was Sam’s hand closed around mine.
I thought back to when he had held my hand in the elevator on our way to Piper’s suite. I had the same stomach-dropping sensation now as I did then. But then I had also enjoyed the possibility of a whole day spread out before me, unmapped, unmarred. Now, the day was over, and I felt like I had ruined everything.
Dad was right: I should have stayed in the hotel.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Sam pulled my attention away from my dark and broken thoughts.
He leaned back on his heels and looked up at the towering column in front of us.
I followed his gaze up and up and up along the clean lines of the building, and for a moment the dizzying sense of vertigo that had followed me from Times Square stabilized around me. I felt surprisingly calm standing at the base of the building.
“This doesn’t look like the Empire State Building,” I said.
Sam offered me a small grin. “It’s not.”
“Then why are we here? I told you I wanted to go to the Empire State Building.”
“No, you said you wanted to see the Empire State Building, and the best place to see it is from here—Top of the Rock.” Sam’s grin grew in size. “After all, you can’t see the building if you’re standing on the building.”
I put my free hand on my hip and drawled, “You should be a tour guide.”
“And show people the famous sites around town? I might as well have Will’s job.”
I saw the moment when he realized what he had said because his smile wiped away clean.
I squeezed his hand. “Not your fault, you know.”
He squeezed mine back but didn’t look at me. “C’mon, let’s go to the top.”
We stepped into the lobby. A giant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling like frozen rain. The cool blue walls and the white marble steps that circled in a descending spiral made me feel like I was making a grand entrance in some silent movie. The line for tickets wasn’t too bad, but it still took us a few minutes to wind through the aisles marked across the floor and then zigzag our way up to the registers.
When we reached the front of the line, Sam leaned his elbows on the counter and smiled at the clerk. “Hi, Lauren. How have you been?”
A girl with long blonde hair and delicate square glasses smiled long and slow, like a cat stretching in the sun. “Well, look who it is. Trader Sam himself—in the flesh. I haven’t seen you since the lecture at the library two months ago.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Lauren hummed knowingly. She didn’t look directly at me, but I felt her evaluating me all the same.
“Listen—my friend Sara and I would like to see the view from the top, but I’m a little low on cash at the moment.” Sam patted his bag. “I don’t suppose I could trade you for two tickets, could I?”
Lauren rose up on her toes and looked past us to the short line of waiting customers. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she leaned closer to Sam. “What are you offering?” she asked quietly.
Sam thought for a moment. “I hear Danielle O’Dell is coming to the library next month. I could probably get you tickets—”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Please. O’Dell is my favorite author. I already have tickets. What else you got?”
Her interruption threw Sam off his stride. “Oh, well, I, uh—” He reached into his bag; I could hear the sound of his hand scrabbling against the fabric.
The line of people shuffled restlessly behind us. We didn’t have much time left to barter.
“Will you take this?” I asked, reaching into my pocket and withdrawing the small golden angel pin Rebecca had traded me back in Sam’s apartment. She’d said it wasn’t really her style, but I thought it was pretty. It was about an inch from halo to hem, and the angel’s wings were spread open on either side. There was a small clear crystal set in the spot over the angel’s heart. The clasp on the back was a little loose, but not broken.
Lauren’s eyebrows rose. “For two tickets?”
I shrugged and moved to close my fingers around the angel.
Lauren’s hand flashed out, snatching it from my palm. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t take it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam look from me to the angel and back again. He looked surprised. And maybe even a little unsettled.
Lauren lifted the ID card that hung around her neck and swiped it through the computer scanner. A small click sounded, and she opened a side drawer. Her hand disappeared beneath the level of the counter.
I had a sudden vision of Lauren summoning her supervisor with the push of a button and reporting us for trying to bribe her for tickets. I wondered if she would demand that security escort us out of the building. I stepped closer to Sam.
“You’re not going to get us in trouble now, are you?” He said it as a joke, but a set of worry lines appeared next to his mouth.
“Of course not,” she said, as though offended we would even consider it. Her voice turned brisk and professional. “My manager always sets aside a few tickets for unexpected VIPs.” She brandished two tickets in triumph before handing them to Sam and smiling brightly at us both. “And since you are special guests, please accept these complimentary tickets to the observation deck.” She lowered her voice and patted Sam on the cheek. “Always a pleasure trading with you, Sam. We close at midnight. Have fun.”
She lifted her hand and waved at the next person in line to step forward, effectively edging me and Sam out of line and toward the elevator bank.
It took less than a minute for the all-glass elevator to whisk us up to the top, and when we stepped out onto the observation deck, I felt like the sky had opened up and all the stars had fallen down to light up the city spread out at my feet.
My mouth opened at the beauty before me, and I stumbled after Sam without saying anything.
He led me around the small knots of people crowded close to the edges, the tourists taking pictures of the view and of each other. The small camera flashes glittered like fireflies.
The Empire State Building rose out of the jagged city skyline in all its glory. Proud and majestic, the building was topped with a glow of red, white, and blue lights. Beyond, a swath of black flowed like a shadow—a river, perhaps. Or maybe just more buildings that were closed and quiet for the evening.
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Sam leaned against the tall stone wall, his gaze sweeping across the scene before us.
For as dark as the night was, I was surprised at how much light I could see. Light from the cars traveling the avenues and streets—liquid gold in one direction, red lava in the other. Light from the apartments stacked one on top of the other. Light from the office windows and storefronts. I imagined I could even see the glow that rose up from the distant Times Square like a white mist.
I shivered, but not from the warm breeze that blew endlessly across the observation deck.
My dad was down there, just one small person in an entire city filled with people.
I wondered if he felt as alone as I did. I wondered if he cared.
I pulled out my camera and took a picture. It turned out a little blurry—it was pretty dark and I didn’t have a tripod—but I didn’t mind. I liked the way it looked like an Impressionist painting with the lights and colors smeared across a black background.
“Like what you see?” Sam asked, breaking into my thoughts. “They don’t always light up the building with different colors. I wonder what they’re celebrating tonight.”
“It’s beautiful,” I managed, my throat unexpectedly tight.
Sam turned toward me, lounging against the wall and resting his weight on his elbow. He looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting restlessly. His brown hair fell over his eyes. “Can I ask you a question, Sara?”
The rest of me tightened up in anticipation and dread. I had promised to tell Sam my story, but I didn’t think he’d want to hear it so soon. And things had happened between when I made that promise and when I found him again that would make the telling even harder. I swallowed. “Yes,” I answered.
“Why did you trade away Rebecca’s angel?”