“We did our part.” Marna draped her arm around Abbie’s shoulder as they walked toward the dirt road where they’d left Sommer’s car. “We get out of the way for fresh eyes—”
“And feet,” Sommer added.
“And feet,” Marna agreed. “And we go home and say a prayer.”
“I’m sleeping in here with the hatch up.” Sommer sat on the back hatch of her SUV, glad to get her pack off her tired shoulders. There, she took off her shoes and socks, climbed into her sleeping bag, drew her sleep mask over her eyes, and passed out, not waking again until a parade of cars drove back toward the highway.
Pulling back her sleep mask, she found Abbie sleeping in the back beside her.
Marna was stuffing her tent into its storage bag. “What time is it?” Sommer asked.
“Four,” Marna said. “My stomach woke me. I thought maybe we could get some food on the way back to your house.”
They were still wrung out, and the entire drive—from mountainside to fast food to the suburbs was mostly silent.
When Sommer was within sight of the graveyard on her road, she said, “That was quite the opportunity. I mean, it would have been icing on the cake to find the kids, but it still felt good to be out there.”
“It’s like 9-11,” Abbie said beside her on the front passenger seat.
Marna drew her chin back. “In no way was that like 9-11.”
Abbie twisted in the seat to look back at her. “In a small way.”
“I’ll listen. How is that like 9-11?” Sommer didn’t bother with her blinker as she pulled into her drive. The through trafficfollowed the curve at the stop sign. She had almost zero cars run by her house, which she found peaceful.
“Remember, on Manhattan, when the towers came down, there was what? Half a million people on the island who needed to get home to pets and kids?” Abbie asked.
Sommer came to a stop next to her walkway and put the car in park. “Still not following.”
“The largest rescue in human history happened,” Abbie said. “The officials made the call. We need you if you have a boat. The boats came roaring toward the island, picking people up from Lower Manhattan and delivering them to safety. Anyone who had a boat, they just stopped what they were doing and headed out to help.” She put her hand on her heart. “It gets me emotional every time I think of it.”
“You're comparing this search to 9-11?” Marna unclasped her seatbelt.
“For the family, it was a catastrophe,” Abbie said. “And we all stepped up to help. We used our skills to do our best. Sommer did it running on pure adrenaline and goodwill.”
“Well, that and a triple espresso if I were being totally honest.” Sommer opened her door and climbed out, taking a moment to touch her toes and wiggle her hips.
Abbie climbed out of the vehicle. “Fine. Well-caffeinated goodwill.” She circled toward the back. “Do you remember those guys in shorts and flip-flops at the beginning?”
“I’m not sure how far they got,” Marna said, dragging her pack from the back and moving it to her car.
“They obviously didn’t know what they were doing,” Sommer said, using her fob to open the hatch, standing beside Abbie as it slowly rose. “The story I made up in my mind is that they were at their girlfriends’ houses, and it would have been a bad look for them to stay behind while their dates went out to hunt for the kids in the wilds in the middle of the night.”
“Flip-flops,” Marna said as she came to join them.
Abbie reached in and grabbed her pack. “They surely didn’t last long, but at least they showed up.”
“That describes my sex life of late.” Marna laughed.
“9-11 is a stretch,” Sommer said, dragging her own bag out and slinging it over one shoulder. “But I get the sentiment of a community rallying to help, Abbie. I’d do it again.”
“Same,” Marna said. “I need to use your bathroom before I go.”
“Yeah, come in. I made some lavender lemonade, and it’s delicious.”
Stiffly, the women climbed the steps and moved through the front door.
“Living room lights on,” Abbie said as she led the way in. “Lights on,” she said clearly.
