Christopher Nicole - Her Name Will Be Faith

“And so are you, Sam. Thank God for that,” Jo said.

“Listen, Michael was a hero, Jo. I told you, if it hadn’t been for him we’d have gone down much sooner.”

“Yes,” Jo said, and thought, if it hadn’t been for him you wouldn’t have gone down at all — you would have been snugly moored in Hamilton, Bermuda. But that was a thought she would have to keep to herself.

She put the children in the Cadillac and drove over to Pinewoods. One look at the faces of Big Mike and Babs told her that they knew… much more than she.

Babs embraced her. “Oh, Jo,” she said. “We’ve been hunting for you everywhere. Mike drove into town and went to the apartment, but you weren’t there, and the place was wrecked… we were so worried.”

“When was this?” Jo asked.

“Yesterday.”

“Oh. We were… staying with a friend.”

They went on to the patio; Pinewoods had suffered even less damage than the cottage, and the children immediately rushed off to change for the pool. Jo and Big Mike and Babs sat on the loungers, silently for several moments, their brains teeming with things which had to be said, questions which had to be asked… each afraid to start.

“Have you told the children?” Babs asked at last, watching Owen Michael and Tamsin diving into the pool.

“No. I only found out an hour ago, from Sam Davenport. I’m not quite sure how to do it.”

Babs nodded. “We haven’t told Belle yet. About either of them.”

“Either…” Jo’s heart sank into her stomach; the absence of Marcia had been one of the questions she had been afraid to raise. “Marcia? I tried to contact them… Friday night. I even went there… but they weren’t home.”

“They were home Saturday,” Big Mike said. “I drove down there yesterday, as well, when I was looking for you.”

“And?” Jo prompted in a whisper.

“When I told them I was her father, they let me in to the Village,” Big Mike said, his voice toneless. “Two army boys came with me.” His head bent, and he covered his face with his hands, shoulders heaving. “They were in the kitchen, in the basement. The whole goddamned building was on top of them. But… they had drowned. Would you believe it? Drowned, in their own kitchen.”

“Oh, God!” Jo gasped, the breath knocked out of her body. She remembered her last visit to them, their excitement, their pride in the transformation of their house — and the baby.

“And then, you,” Babs said. “We didn’t know… that man Connors kept telephoning…”

“Oh,” Jo said. “I’d told him I was leaving town. I guess he was worried.”

“But you didn’t leave town,” Big Mike said.

“No. We had an accident, so we went back to the apartment.”

“And sat it out there,” Babs said. “Was it very terrible?”

“We sat it out,” Jo said, very carefully.

“Tamsin…”

“She’s okay. I guess having Owen Michael with her helped.”

“You have to tell them,” Big Mike said. “They’ll cry, but they have a lot to be proud of.” Tears were streaming down his own face. “Their daddy died a hero, and he died doing what he liked best. He’d have defied that fucking storm to the end. He was a hero.”

“Yes,” Jo said. “He was a hero. I won’t let them forget that.”

She went inside, and after a moment Babs followed her. “It was all over between you two, wasn’t it?”

Jo’s shoulders rose and fell. “That doesn’t mean I don’t grieve for him, Babs. I guess the shock hasn’t quite got through to me, yet. He was a great guy, in his own way. Just… not a great husband.”

“I know.” Babs put her arms round her daughter-in-law, and the two women wept together. “What are you going to do?” Babs asked, when she was able to control her voice.

“Oh, pick up the pieces, I guess.” She attempted a smile. “There are an awful lot of pieces to be picked up. I don’t even know if I still have a job.”

“You’re still our daughter, you know.”

Jo wanted to weep afresh. She had no idea how to go about telling Babs about Richard — that would have to wait, for a while at least. And the children had to come first — although she had an idea Owen Michael already understood the situation. He and Richard had appeared to like each other… but Owen Michael had thought his father was still alive. Now… there were crises ahead. But she would face them, with Richard.

After Jo left, Big Mike gazed at the pool, shoulders hunched. “Jees,” he said. “All gone. Just like that. Michael, Marcia and Benny, Lawson, Eleuthera… Palmer tells me the office is wiped out… God Almighty, it’ll be like starting from scratch, all over again.”

“Would you like a hand, Dad?” Dale asked, quietly.

Big Mike glanced at him; the boy had hardly said a word since hearing of his brother’s death.

Dale flushed. “So I don’t have a college degree. But I can learn. If you’ll have me.”

“Have you? Christ Almighty, boy, if I thought you’d settle down… It’s going to be tough,” Big Mike said. “We’ll still have our clients, I guess. But sorting out the mess… but hell, I reckon that with all of Wall Street hit, and the Stock Exchange under several feet of water, we’re all in the same boat. If you’re serious…”

“Try me,” Dale said.

Big Mike held out his hand, and his son grasped it.

“I want you to know, Richard,” said J. Calthrop White, “that when you were publicly commended by the Mayor of this city for what you did, I felt as proud as if I’d done it myself. I was additionally proud because I knew you had taken such action in the certain knowledge that I would back you to the hilt, regardless of the consequences.” He did not even flush as he spoke, and allowed his gaze to drift over his massed employees in the main studio of the rebuilt NABS building. “But I also felt pride in my entire network, in all my employees, who remained at their posts throughout the ordeal, and who like that gallant man, Julian Summers, were prepared to die at their posts.”

He paused, and there was a ripple of applause from the assembled staffers, and a loud sniff from Jayme.

“But I know,” JC went on, “that Julian would have wanted the station to continue on its glorious way, bringing to the people of this great nation the best in television, regardless of the forces of nature that may be gathered against it. And that he, and all of you, will be as proud as myself when I have to tell you that NABS has been granted a franchise to operate a television company in the United Kingdom. The news came through today.”

He paused to allow another ripple of applause.

“Yes, folks,” he went on, “the news of the acceptance of our bid has only just been received, but, and many of you will not know this, the bid was made on that fateful Saturday last July, and our success is at least partly due to the unremitting efforts of your Vice-President, Derek Kiley.” He beamed at Kiley. “It was Mr Kiley who commanded the ship, if I may say so, during my absence, and it was Mr Kiley who brought her safely through.”

More applause, and Kiley gazed at Richard, who gazed back — Kiley had been in a state of collapse throughout that day.

“My only regret,” JC continued, “is that I was unable to be here with you during those terrible hours, to share your burden. You all know how hard I tried to get to you, and how I was nearly killed. Yet I bitterly regret my absence. So now, Richard, it gives me great pleasure to present you with this scroll, signed by all the civic authorities and business organizations in this city, and by myself, as a small token of our appreciation of your actions during the approach of Hurricane Faith. And to offer you a new lifetime contract with NABS. I believe you have already seen the terms.”