Waltz of Her Life - Page 205/229

He snickered. "Yeah. You could cut out the dance lessons."

"Don't you start about that!" Her voice raised, filling the entire master bedroom.

When the air stilled again, he continued. "Look, I'm sorry. Will you at least think about it?"

It took her two seconds. They were not going to let Inge go. Having resolved that, she turned over and went to sleep.

September, for her, was a time for renewal. The children would start school, companies started a new fiscal year, and the final quarter of the year brought about all the glorious holidays. The end of the month kicked off the beginning of the spectacular fall colors, as well. October was her favorite month of the year.

By the end of Labor Day weekend, the temperatures had dropped, bringing in the invigorating, crisp fall air that would greet her every morning as she drove to work. Everything was going right for her: she'd long forgotten Lauren's cryptic warning and the patient's horrid nightmares from earlier in the summer.

Then came the Tuesday morning Linda would never forget as long as she lived. It had started out so normally, a warmer day than it had been, with a clear sky and lots of sun. When she arrived, she checked the console and the new arrivals along with noting new chart entries from the third shift nurses. She greeted all of her friends.

By eight-thirty she entered the room of Jill Finnegan, a woman in her mid-thirties who was suffering through breast cancer. She was in such deep sleep that when Linda checked her vitals, she only stirred a little, rather than waking up. In the next moment, the sound of buzzing, anticipatory patter drifted in from the hallway. Connie, one of the unit clerks, was running from room to room. She poked her head through the doorway into Miss Finnegan's room, looked at Linda and said "Turn on the television, now!" "What channel?" Linda called after her as Connie had already pushed herself away from the door frame.

"Any of them!" Connie said.

Linda had to rummage around the room beneath potted flowers, crumpled tissues and get well cards before she could find the remote control for the television atop one of the side tables.

She aimed it at the television and turned it on.

The image blazed onto the screen, of two tall towers with lots of glass. She recognized them as the World Trade Center in New York. A gaping hole in one of them belched fire and smoke. Though her mind swam with the ramifications, she could make out the voice of a reporter talking: "The plane hit the tower at 8:40 a.m."