Between Octobers Bk 1, Savor The Days Series (4 page)

And kept waiting.

“Why isn’t it opening?”

“Give it a second,” he soothed.

His inflections rang sweet in the quiet
space, calling my attention to his lips. Not too thin, not too
full, perfectly proportioned to the rest of his face. It was oddly
engrossing, watching them pull into a slight smile as his long
fingers swept through his unkempt hair.

“Any moment, now.” He smiled, turning back
towards the doors.

I had never heard such a charming English
accent. It wasn’t cockney; his enunciations were too smooth. I
wondered what part of England he came from.

And then the world turned black. The lights
went out. It took about two hot seconds before I realized what was
happening. “No, no, no!”

My senses charged into overdrive and muddled
together before I could think of what to do. My mind went blank
like the slate of coal surrounding me. Anxiety reared up as I
dragged my phone from my pocket.

“No signal,” the cruel screen read.

I hated the confined space. There wasn’t
enough air.

Taking several deep breaths, I tried to calm
down. Telling myself that all this was temporary, and I could
handle this. But nothing mattered more than getting to the opposite
side of the metal doors that refused to open. To be safe, I sent a
text to Noah. If I could just let the kids know what was going on,
check on them somehow, then everything would be okay. But the
possibility was slim. Again, my breath faltered, and I gasped for
air.

The dim screen gave little promise on the
prospect of communication. I moved the phone up and down, as high
as my arms could take it and as low as the floor allowed, searching
for any microscopic space that might offer a bar of hope. All I
needed was one bar, one half of one measly bar! The icon in the
corner of the screen said I was out of luck, but still I tried,
stepping forward and sideways.

The man just moved, doing his best to dodge
my chaos. Occasionally, he was too slow. If the contact upset him,
he wasn’t saying it. I supposed my panicky reaction said
enough.

I was still breathing too quickly and tried
to concentrate on slowing down. Long, deep breaths: in the nose,
out the mouth. It kept me from getting lightheaded, but I couldn’t
relax. My heart still hammered, pumping adrenaline through me. Too
bad it wasn’t enough to create the mysterious super strength you
sometimes hear about. The type that helped a mother pull a car off
the ground to get to her child underneath. Despite the relaxation
exercise, I felt myself tensing again.

I couldn’t be the first person to get stuck
in an elevator. There had to be some sort of safety measure in
place.

“Don’t tell me you’re claustrophobic.” His
voice sounded through the dark beyond my pale shaft of light. “What
are you doing?”

“I have no bars.”

“Care for a smoke? It may help calm
you.”

“What?” The word was more of a bite than a
response and I regretted it immediately, but his question was so
far away from where my thoughts were—he sounded ludicrous. In an
effort to remain coherent, I concentrated on his words. Once I
recognized he was trying to help, a reasonable response was
managed.

“No. Thank you.”

Sudden hope seized me when I remembered that
Sol’s old phone—my phone—was an outdated piece of junk! If this
guy’s expensive clothes were any indication, I’d bet his phone was
expensive, too. Newer cell phone equaled better reception.

“What about your phone?”

I turned the dim light of my screen in his
direction. He pulled a large smart phone from his jacket pocket and
looked for a second, tapping the screen. “Sorry, no signal,
either.”

I whimpered.

My children, all alone in the car, wondering
after me. My imagination ran wild.

I pictured Noah, irritated that I was taking
so long. Would he get out and go look for me once he realized he
couldn’t call? Would he take Caleb? He wouldn’t leave him alone and
vulnerable in the car, would he? Any stranger could come along and
snatch him or steal my car with my baby asleep in the back seat.
God knows what they would do to him!

My heart raced as I thought of how
frightened Caleb would be. I tried to block the images of him being
dragged away by a dangerous escapee from a mental hospital for the
criminally insane.

No
, I told
myself. Noah would never leave Caleb alone. He knows the rules.
They stick together. And odds are against an escaped lunatic or
anyone wanting to take my old ride.

But, what if someone spotted them alone in
the car? A kind stranger, maybe the man in the SUV, was watching
over them, making sure they’re okay while I’m stuck in this dungeon
of an elevator. After awhile, the man might wonder where the
parents were. He’d be so critical of me. Would he think I abandoned
them? He didn’t see me walk in. Would he ask Noah or just call the
police? I couldn’t stop the heartbreak as I considered of the range
of possible repercussions.

“Try to relax, please. You’ll hyperventilate
or something.”

“What?” I snapped, again, as the sound of
his voice pulled me from the nightmare.

He chuckled. “Uh, imagine you’re in an open
field. I’ve heard that works.”

“
I’m not claustrophobic. I just—” what
was I going to say? That I left my children unattended in the
parking garage? “I need to get out of here. Are you sure you don’t
have service?” My quivering voice begged him to check
again.

“No, I don’t.”

“
God, help me. What am I going to
do?”

“It will be alright.”

“You don’t understand. My kids are in the
parking garage. All alone! They’re waiting and I’m stuck in here!”
I kicked at the doors, feeling the waterworks in freefall. When the
light on my screen went out one last time, I dropped the useless
thing in my purse and sank into the corner. A blubbering heap of
self-pity.

“There’s an emergency phone. We could ring
maintenance.”

My head snapped up, blind eyes following the
sound of his confidence. There was a light, much brighter than
mine, but plainly from a cell phone. He was using it like a
flashlight. Genius!

“
The red phone.” I slapped my hands
together, clenching them fervently towards the hidden sky. “Oh!
Thank you, God!”

There was a muffled clatter and his
voice. “It’s ringing . . . won’t be long, now.” A moment later he
spoke again, clearly not to me. “Yes, we seem to be stuck in the
lift.”
Pause
. “The one with
the doors that won’t open, hence my use of the word ‘stuck’. Could
you send someone round to fetch us out, please?”
Pause
. “We’re on parking level 2. But
the doors won’t open and the lights’ve gone out.”

The pause was longer this time. He waited,
impatiently moving the light around the small space, flashing my
face. My pupils ached and shrank, shocked by the power of the tiny
spotlight.

“What kind of maintenance?”

My stomach tensed, waiting.

“I’d prefer another method,” he said and
halted. “Yeah, I don’t care about that. Let’s go with that
one.”

The commanding tone indicated he was in
control. Maybe he did work in the building. I listened while the
one-sided conversation continued. Some moments were calm, during
others he asked questions that implied he was running short on
patience. All the while, he remained courteous.

“Another problem, sir, the woman in here—she
has children in her . . .” His tone changed as he asked me, “How
many children?”

“Two boys,” I inched towards the lighted
screen.

His voice changed again. “She has two
children in her . . .” he paused mid-sentence and cleared his
throat.

I guessed that was directed towards me, too.
“1986 blue Jeep Cherokee.”

“There are two children in a really old,
blue Cherokee. She’s worried about them, so if you could send
someone round to check on them, we’d be grateful.”

“No, no, they need supervision,” I insisted,
moving closer to grab his arm. If I could’ve seen his hand, I
would’ve grabbed it to take the phone and stress the absolute
necessity for personal adult management. As much as I hated having
strangers around my children, the idea of them wandering off scared
and alone was worse. Odds were against any of these strangers being
escaped lunatics.

He must have sensed my desperation because
his next words offered a solution. “Actually, I have a friend
waiting for me in the garage. He’s sitting in a black SUV. Tell him
that Evan says to do what he can to keep the kids occupied. If
there are any problems, have him ring me on this phone. There’s no
cell reception in here.”

He remained polite as the conversation wound
down to completion. I heard the click when he set the receiver
down.

“He was very helpful.” The sarcasm was
unmistakable. My stomach twisted in knots. “I mean, he really was
very helpful and your kids will like Marcus. He can be pretty
entertaining when he wants to be.”

The light on his phone dimmed as I settled
back into my corner. He tapped the screen and took a spot beside
me.

“How long?”

“He guesstimated twenty minutes. That isn’t
so bad, eh?”

I curled my arms around my raised knees.

“Could be worse. You could have them in here
with us, right now. That’d be . . . noisy. Possibly smelly,
depending on their ages.”

His expression did not match the tone of
playful optimism. He must not have been aware that, though the
light was trained mostly on me, I could still make out his face and
the charade he was putting on. I was not fooled, but appreciated
the effort.

“Do you have children?”

“Not that I know of,” he smirked.

“There’s nothing worse than not being able
to protect them.”

“They’re safe with Marcus and you’ll be out
before you know it. Do you mind if I smoke?” I looked to see his
hand was open. On his palm rested a small, oblong cylinder. “Not
the whole thing.”

“Is that a joint?”

“No,” he laughed, “Do you want to get high?”
The light tilted as he placed the phone on his leg to search his
pocket.

“No, thank you. I couldn’t tell what it was.
You go ahead, do what you need to.” It was the least I could do.
He’d already coordinated our rescue.

“For the record, I’m going to quit.”

A flame flickered, illuminating his face.
For an instant, I could see the perfectly straight slope of his
nose. In the smolder of his long drag, I watched the smoke billow
and float towards the ceiling. The burning red glowed bright,
receding as the ashes grew on the fiery end. He flicked them into
the opposite corner. Small flecks of red burnt out across the hard
floor. The fumes were tolerable, though the space was confined. I
watched the shaft of light move as he smothered the remnant on the
bottom of his shoe. After, he shoved the scorched end in his pocket
and started talking.

“It has been very difficult. Not with the
addiction to nicotine, my issue lies in trying to find something to
do with my hands.”

He mimicked the motions and I laughed,
surprised at how easily the sound bubbled through my anxiety.

“You should take up knitting.”

“Ah, knitting. Now that is a good idea. One
can never have too many mittens.” His tone was so serious; it made
the content of his words all the more ridiculous.

I giggled again, holding out my hand. “My
name is Grace.”

“It is nice to meet you, Gracie.” Taking my
hand, he placed it between his own in a very respectable,
gentlemanly gesture that immediately put me at ease. “My friends
call me Evan.”

The moments ticked away as his hands
encircle mine. But before I could get too uncomfortable, he
released me. Must have been my imagination—time does stretch in the
dark.

The light of his phone dimmed again, and he
tapped the screen.

“What do your enemies call you?”

“Family.” The retort was quick and lacked
irony. Before I could decide what to make of it, he negated. “No, I
can’t say in the presence of a lady.” He laughed, weakly.

Something inside me stirred and I wanted to
know what made him speak in such a way. Humor or something more?
But, if he wanted to talk about it, he would have left the slip-up
open to response. Lily’s nosiness was rubbing off on me.

“Thank you,” I whispered—probably the result
of all my probing. I don’t know why I cared so much. I didn’t know
him. But I could not shake the sense that we’d met before.

“For what?”

“For being calm. It was kind of you to have
your friend stay with my boys.” It eased my troubled heart and
mind.

“It was the only role left. You took ‘the
panicked woman’ without even asking if I wanted it.” A light
chuckle sounded.

“Does your friend have children?”

“
No, but he’s very
immature.”

“That’s comforting.” The nerves came back,
settling in my stomach.

“They’ll be fine, really.” His tone conveyed
a quiet assurance. It was all I had at the moment, so I clung to
it. “Everyone likes Marcus. How old are your boys?”

“Five and fifteen.”

The light he held, which was between us,
moved to train directly on me. “You’re not old enough to have a
teenager.”

“I started early.”

“When you were five?” He laughed, centering
the light between us again. “How old are you?”

“Haven’t you ever heard it’s impolite to ask
a woman’s age?” I tried to put on like I was offended, but just
smiled.

“Right. Sorry. So . . . why stop at two?
Didn’t you want a girl?”

A lump tried to take up residence in my
throat. I held it off with a hard swallow. “Two’s enough.”

“Do you plan to have more?”