Rescued

"Where is Ms. Young's office? I have some information for her."

"Frankie's office? It's a little hard to find..."

I listened carefully as she told me the many turns and twists that would eventually lead to the social worker's office in the basement, knowing before I left the room that I would get lost. Still, I set out to find her, stopping to ask a few people for directions before I finally located the tiny office. The door was open so I stood in the doorway, taking in the cramped, sterile space while its occupant's back was to me. She was on the phone, her voice just a little tighter than it'd been a few minutes ago. I figured out pretty quickly who she was talking to.

"I don't knowwhyshe would call you, I'm just asking if shedid. She does take care of your daughter you know. I thought she might tell you if she took off for a few days—"

She was silent for a few seconds and I could hear her taking deep breaths. She seemed to do that a lot.

"Fine Pete, thanks a lot for nothing."

When she disconnected the call and turned to see me standing there, I felt like the eavesdropper that I was. I would have apologized if she'd given me the chance.

"Her Ex. He doesn't know where they are. My mother doesn't know, my sister's best friend doesn't know—"

I could feel her panic. It was practically choking me in the tiny space. Because her voice was rising as well, I stepped inside and closed the door.

"Does she usually take off without telling anyone?"

"Not usually, but she has in the past. I don't talk to her every day. Sometimes we don't catch up with each other for a couple of weeks."

She was pacing around the tiny little office, a big, beautiful, agitated, elegant ebony beast locked up in a cramped, confined space. If she wasn't on the brink of a full-fledged panic attack, I would have found the sight quite sexy.

"Look, try not to panic. They might not have been in the building."

"When did this happen?" She asked. I told her the lightening storm hit the day before, early in the morning, at the very beginning of the school day.

"Does she usually get in early?" I asked.

But she didn't respond. She was on the phone again, this time with someone at the hospital I think because she was explaining that she had to leave. Shortly thereafter she was leading me from the small space.

"You'll take me the school? To the site? Maybe they found—"

"I just called. They haven't found anyone. They won't let you onto the site, but maybe—"

"Let's go to her apartment first. Then we'll go to the school if she's not there."

There didn't seem to be any room to discuss the fact that I was exhausted and had planned to take a hot shower and crawl into bed once I made my way to my hotel. Besides, she was clearly distraught and I would feel like shit if I just abandoned her. So I followed behind her, hurrying to keep up with her long strides, as she led me into a parking garage and finally to what had to be the sweetest car I'd ever seen. An older model Corvette. Sleek, shiny, black, sexy...much like its driver. I tried not to drool.

While she was too preoccupied to realize I might be impressed by the car, she wasn't so far gone that she didn't take the time to hold the passenger side door open for me. I smiled a little to myself as I slid inside, realizing it was as beautiful on the inside as it was on the outside. This car was loved by its owner, that was certain. I was still looking around, enjoying the soft, leathery feel of the well cared for, well-worn bucket seats, when she slid in behind the wheel and took off.

We didn't talk as she maneuvered the car expertly, her eyes focused on the dark streets as they sped by. When we passed the famous 'LOVE' sign, I realized we were in Center City and heading west. The entire drive only took about 15 minutes before she was parked and rushing from the car to climb a set of well-worn porch steps.

She was pounding on a door when I joined her and I was about to encourage her to come with me to the site when a light suddenly appeared in the first floor window. I heard locks turn and finally the front door opened.

Neither one of us was expecting to see the half dressed, tall, muscular, rather handsome man on the other side of the door. But she seemed to recover from the surprise more quickly than I as she brushed past him. He'd stepped back by the time I followed her inside. When she didn't see anyone sitting in the small living room area, she turned to him. I could feel the anger and suspicion radiating off of her.

"Who the fuck are you? Where's my sister?"

"Frankie, right? We spoke on the phone once. I'm Darren."

She paused for a moment, seemingly accessing a memory that seemed to calm her a little. But when she didn't respond, simply raising a brow in a manner that was quite intimidating, he quickly continued.

"She's sick. They both are. The flu. They've been sick as dogs for two days. I came over yesterday to help out."

And just like that I saw her entire body just...relax. The anger, the fear, the horror of 'what could've been' just left her and I could see her eyes close as the news registered. I thought she might sit for a moment, regroup possibly, but instead she turned and headed toward the back of the apartment to what I could only assume was one of the bedrooms. I was wondering, now that all was well, if I should call a cab, when Darren turned to me.

"What happened? Why's she so upset?"

He clearly had not been watching the news, so I filled him in. I could see understanding register as he began to imagine what had been going through my companion's head.

I heard animated voices hailing from the room Frankie had disappeared into, apologies for not answering the phone, sneezes and coughs. I saw a little person dash from a room directly across the hall and disappear into the room with the two women, the sounds of a muffled, little voice asking questions. I could only imagine her aunt snatching her up into her well-developed arms and squeezing her almost to death. Minutes later all three made their way to the living room. They did look quite whipped by whatever bug had taken hold of them. I also noticed they looked nothing like Frances Young. Caramel colored, dark brown eyes, average height, average bodies (although mom was packing quite a few curves)...they could have been any African American mother and daughter. I wondered if the two women shared a mother or a father, but they clearly did not share both.

I had to fill Briana in on the details, careful not to provide too much gore since Frances Jr. was present. When her mother sent her back to bed, after a horrific little sneezing fit, I told them about the little girl who'd been found earlier that day. Briana didn't know her, but I could see she was still devastated by the news. I placed a call to Mike, letting him know I'd found two more on the missing list and smiled as I heard the shouts of joy in the background as he announced it to those still searching. Now there were only two students missing and I was hoping their stories would end the same as this one.

A short time later, Darren was urging Briana back into bed, apologizing on her behalf. And suddenly I was alone in the living room with a woman I hardly knew and who I had scared to death. I felt like shit, physically and emotionally.

"I'm really sorry. I'm glad they're okay."

She was watching me with those light brown, tiger-like eyes. I shifted a little uncomfortably, wondering what she was thinking.

"You look like crap. I'm sorry I dragged you here."

She was apologizing tomewhen I'd just turned her world upside down? The thought was ludicrous. And did I really look like crap?

"No, I should be the one apologizing. I—"

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just glad they're okay. Come on, let's get you into a bed before you collapse."

I didn't really have the strength to argue, so I didn't. Suddenly we were back in her beautiful car and I was telling her which hotel I was staying at. I could feel all of the aches and pains in my body, now that the excitement was over, so I closed my eyes and trusted she knew where she was going. When I felt the car stop and opened my eyes, I saw a nice, quiet, residential street, not a hotel/motel. I was about to protest, but she was already out of the car and holding my door open.

"Where are we?" I finally asked as I followed her up the short, squat steps to the front door of a rather large house.

"My place. I have an extra room. You can stay here tonight. I'll drive you to get your car in the morning."

She was already opening the door before I could protest. Staying in the home of a complete stranger? All kinds of horror stories ran through my mind. And yet, we'd been through so much in such a short time that I didn't feel like she was a stranger...

"Ms. Young, I appreciate this—"

There was the smirk that had appealed to me on some level at the hospital.

"I think you've earned the right to call me Frankie," she offered, her voice filled with humor.

I nodded, "right. Okay. Frankie, then. I don't think this is a good idea. I don't know if you're a crazed killer and you don't know if I'm one. Can't you just take me to my motel?"

She shrugged, "I'm willing to risk it. I'm too tired to try and find your little motel. It's late and we're both half dead. Let's just get some sleep, okay?"

I was about to protest again, but I was suddenly standing in the living room alone. I looked around, appreciating the soft greens and deep burgundies of the cozy room. The furniture wasn't flashy, just two love seats and a very comfy looking high-backed chair, a large flat-screened TV, a couple of lamps and end tables...simple but tasteful. She was back before I knew it, handing me a towel, washcloth, something to sleep in, and a clean tee shirt for the morning.

"You should find whatever you need in the bathroom. I'll see you in the morning."

And just like that she left me standing in the living room as she closed her bedroom door behind her. The entire experience was beginning to feel surreal to me. I walked in the direction of her bedroom, glancing into the tiny bathroom right across from it. It was spotlessly clean. I went past it to the final room in the apartment. The room was small, but neat. A patchwork quilt decorated the full-sized bed, an armchair adorned a corner, and there was a much smaller television on top of a chest of drawers. The furniture seemed old, maybe even second hand, but it was more than comfortable enough for a night. I closed the door, realizing there was a lock on it, which I turned slowly, hoping she didn't hear the click. I undressed, slipped into the oversized, worn, comfortable tee shirt that smelled faintly of men's cologne, and crawled beneath the quilt. I was sleeping before I realized it.

*

She wasn't there when I woke the next morning. She'd left a note taped to the bathroom mirror explaining that she'd been called back to work. I showered and dressed in my dirty jeans and her clean, oversized green Eagles tee shirt. It, too, smelled faintly of some men's cologne. A nice scent actually. She'd left phone numbers for cabs and some cash on the tiny table in her kitchen, just in case I didn't have any money. She was right, I didn't have any cash considering it had been stolen the night before. I poured a glass of orange juice, deciding to get something to eat at the school when I arrived. Very often businesses donated food for the rescue workers, so I was certain there would be food there. I stripped the bed of the soiled sheets, cleaned up as best I could, left a note thanking her for her hospitality, and locked her apartment door behind me.

*

I didn't have time to think about the odd events of that night for the next two days. That's how long we searched before someone finally tracked down the last two students. They, too, had simply been absent from school. There was relief and joy in the air once we received word.

It didn't take long for the rescue workers to begin clearing out afterwards. Lucky for Toni, she managed to avoid me, Mike and the others with whom I'd shared my ordeal. In fact, I was told later, she was one of the first people to leave the site. So, after four days of stress and chaos, I drove my 10-year-old Toyota home to New York and fell into my own bed completely exhausted.

***

My life went back to normal. The last thought I had of the social worker in Philadelphia was the check I sent her to reimburse her for the cab money and tee shirt. After that, I re-focused on my first graders, drilling the basics into them before the statewide test that was rapidly approaching. I'd promised to hang out with a few different friends when I returned, so even my nights and weekends were busy. I didn't really have time to process the assault, much less Frankie Young. She didn't really come to mind, even when I received a letter from the Philadelphia police a few weeks later. The letter stated the case was "closed." No surprise there considering, I had opted not to press charges. I didn't think much about it, putting it away as an adventure in my life that was over and done with.

I was at home, grading tests, waiting for a friend to pick me up for dinner one evening when my doorbell rang. I stood from the sofa, stretching, glancing at the clock on the wall, quite surprised my guest was early considering she hardly ever was. I opened the door, a smile on my lips, ready to deliver a smartass comment, when I realized it was not her on the other side. Instead, thereshewas, the over-sized, gorgeous model look-alike with the golden eyes. A woman I had convinced myself I'd imagined meeting so many weeks ago. I stood there, frozen, not sure what to say or do. Finally, with a smirk, she leaned against the doorjamb.

"I don't remember being so rude when I invited you to my home," she offered.

I blushed under her intense gaze, flustered as I moved aside and invited her in.

"S-sorry. Uh, you caught me by surprise."

I closed the door behind her, quickly gathering the tests that were sprawled all over the coffee table and stacking them on an end table. I indicated the sofa, inviting her to sit. Once she was sitting, I realized she still wore her jacket.

"I'm sorry, I should have taken that."

She stood and shrugged out of the leather jacket, handing it to me. The leather was baby soft, the jacket worn in some places. I tried to focus on the jacket instead of the emerald green sweater and close-fitting jeans that adorned her frame nicely. I hung the jacket on my coat tree and then nervously took a seat across from her.

"I'm actually waiting for a friend. I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you. How are you? How is your sister? Your niece? How did you find me? Did you get my check?"

She was watching me, that smirk that I found so attractive dancing around her full lips. When I ran out of steam, she said, simply, "fine, fine, fine, I work at the hospital and yes."

I laughed, trying to match her answers to my questions, struggling to remember the order I'd asked them in. Besides, laughing seemed to ease the tension I was feeling.

"What are you doing here? Did the check bounce?"

She raised a brow, "should I have expected it to?"

I shook my head, "I'm a little flighty and I've been known to bounce a check or two if I forget to move enough money between accounts."

She shrugged, "I wouldn't know, I didn't deposit it."

A little surprised, I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything. We sat like that, in silence, for a few moments, before she glanced at the watch on her wrist.

"So, your plans for the evening, are they unbreakable? I was hoping to take you to dinner."

I stood, digging in my back pocket for my cell. I probably should have been surprised that I was so willing to cancel my plans for her, but I didn't really think about it. I just called Justine and begged off, promising to make it up to her next week. Then I glanced down at my jeans and tee shirt and felt my cheeks warm. I was wearing her Eagles tee shirt. I hadn't really paid much attention to the habit, but I'd started slipping into her tee when I got home from work every evening. Embarrassed, I wiped my slightly sweaty palms on my jean-clad thighs.

"Uh, I should probably change..."

"You're fine, don't worry about it. Nice shirt."

I know the color of my cheeks deepened to a soft red, but since she didn't mention it, neither did I. Instead, I watched her magnificent form stand from the sofa, retrieve her own jacket, and hold the door to the apartment open for me.

We waited for the elevator in silence and she held that door open for me as well when it arrived. I lived on the fourth floor of a relatively small building in Spanish Harlem, so it didn't take long to reach the lobby. Once there, she held the lobby door open for me and then followed me from the building.

"I put my car in a garage, so I hope a cab is okay."

I nodded, wondering how she'd found a garage in my neighborhood when she wasn't from New York, but relieved she'd put that gorgeous car somewhere safe. She hailed a gypsy cab and held the door for me once again, giving the cabbie instructions to a well-known, slightly upscale restaurant on the upper west side of the city. It was a restaurant I was pretty familiar with and I wondered if I should tell her that we needed reservations. I decided not to bother considering there were other places to eat right around there if we couldn't get in.

Once we were settled in the cab and on our way, I turned to her.

"What are you doing here?" I asked her again.

She raised a brow again, "are you always this rude? I bet your mother would not be happy with you right now," she teased.

I shrugged, "I haven't spoken to my mother in eight years. And you didn't answer my question."

She seemed to file that information away before responding. "I realized I didn't thank you for telling me about the incident at the school...and for allowing me to drag you with me that night."

I nodded, surprised, "you don't owe me anything. You let me sleep at your house and gave me a tee shirt, which I have yet to return, so I thought we were even."

She smiled, a sight that had the butterflies in my stomach stirring just a bit.

"Uh, that's the other thing. I want my tee shirt back. I bought that in 2004 when the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl."

I smiled cheekily, "didn't they lose that game?"

She looked at me with mock anger, "are you bad mouthing the Eagles?" She asked in a soft, threatening tone.

I shook my head, "oh heavens no. Not when you're buying dinner."

We both laughed, relaxing in each other's company. I followed that comment with questions about her sister and her niece, asking about the school. She told me they had decided to have the elementary school occupants share a building with a nearby middle-school. Surprisingly, according to her sister, there seemed to be enough space for both schools in the one building. There were plans to rebuild the elementary school, but it would obviously take time. She then asked about my first graders, a question that caught me off-guard until she explained she'd glanced at the exams on the coffee table and assumed I was either teaching first grade or some really, really slow high school students. And that seemed to set the tone for our evening. Jokes, teasing, laughing, and easy, comfortable questions about our lives.

When the cab pulled up in front of my building several hours later, I was sad the evening was coming to an end. She'd told me she was heading back to Philadelphia and I had no idea when I would see her again. Still, I didn't want to end the night on a sour note, so I kept my thoughts to myself. Standing in front of my apartment door, she had to take the keys from me after I fumbled with the lock for the third time. She slid the key into the lock easily, winking at me.