Gasp (Visions) - Lisa McMann Page 0,6
out a single word. I hear Sawyer swear under his breath from somewhere behind me. I didn’t hear him approach. I didn’t hear anything. And then he’s explaining things in gibberish to the interns and security guards who have followed us, apologizing, and then when the people stop crowding around us he’s ushering Trey and me into the open elevator and pushing the buttons.
The elevator door closes and my senses return.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Oh my God—Rowan?”
“She’s fine. She’s the one who called me.”
“What about Mom and Dad? Tony? Aunt Mary?”
Trey shakes his head, dazed. “I don’t know anything else for sure. Rowan was pretty hysterical. She and Tony and Mom were the only ones in the restaurant, and when she called me she was standing outside with Tony. She said she thought Mom got out but now she can’t find her. . . .”
“Oh my God, Mom!” I scream.
The elevator door opens to a few curious stares. Sawyer pulls us out of the hospital and points in the direction of the car. We start running, blindly snaking around buildings and down car-lined streets. I pull my phone out of my pocket and see I have three messages. One from Rowan, two from Trey.
“Shit,” I say, nearly tripping on a crack in the sidewalk. I dial Rowan, and she answers.
“Rowan! What’s happening?”
“Did you find Trey?” She’s sobbing.
“Yes, he’s with me now. Is Mom okay?”
“I don’t know!” Rowan screams. “Just get here!”
“Oh my God,” I say as I climb into Sawyer’s car. “What about Dad?”
“I don’t know! I haven’t seen him, and the firefighters won’t let me get any closer. Tony’s running around to the front and he told me to stay here and watch for them.” Her voice hitches in a sob. “Just hurry up!”
“We’re driving. Sawyer’s going as fast as he can. We’ll be there in less than an hour.”
“Forty minutes,” Sawyer says.
“Forty minutes,” I tell Rowan. “Just, whatever you do, stay safe! And call me when you find Mom and Dad.”
“I will.”
I hang up. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
From the backseat Trey says, “She told me it was just her and Tony in the kitchen and Mom was out in the dining area. There were only a couple of customers . . .” He trails off. “Tony must have spilled some oil or something.”
“Or it could’ve been a pan on the stove. . . .” Only three of them working. So Dad must have been upstairs. Neither of us says it.
Sawyer grips the wheel and stays silent, concentrating on the road. If we talk, I don’t remember any of it. All I need to focus on is that Rowan is okay.
• • •
When we get close to home, we can see the lights of police and fire vehicles. The whole block is cordoned off and the sky is filled with smoke, lit up by spectacular, horrible flames. Sawyer parks as close as he can, and Trey and I jump out of the car, pound the pavement, and dodge onlookers, searching for Rowan in the back parking lot.
And she’s there, a stranger’s blanket draped around her. Trey and I run to her and fold her in our arms and hold her. Her phone shakes in her hand and her face is streaked with tears. “They’re okay,” she says. “They’re on the other side. Dad was on a delivery . . . I didn’t know . . .”
“Mom and Dad?” I ask, making sure before the hope can rise too far. “Both of them are okay?”
“Yeah. Tony just called me—Mom twisted her ankle helping customers get out. She crawled out and has been stuck on the other side all this time trying to find me and calling me from other people’s cell phones because she left hers in the restaurant. But I wasn’t answering because I was trying to call her and you guys and Tony and Dad. Dad was doing the last delivery, which I didn’t even know about, and he’s back now, and they’re both fine.” She releases a shuddering sigh. “Tony and Dad are helping Mom walk around the block to meet us here.”
“Thank God,” Trey says. He hugs us both again. And then we hear warning shouts from firefighters who have been spraying down the buildings on either side of ours—a florist on one side and a bike shop on the other, with apartments above, just like ours. Their buildings are so close to ours that there’s no possible way the entire block hasn’t gone