Chapter 8 - The Ascent to the Light
Holding Emma securely in one arm, Andrew reached up with his free hand and grasped the interior emergency ladder rungs attached to the wall of the hoistway.
“Hold onto my neck tight, kiddo,” Andrew instructed gently. “Like a koala bear on a tree branch. We’re going to climb up to your mom.”
Emma nodded against his shoulder, her arms locking around his neck.
With gritted teeth and burning muscles, Andrew pulled himself up through the hatch, hoisting his own weight plus the child’s forty-eight pounds up the slick metal rungs. The wind roared around them, and the tower swayed sickeningly, but Andrew didn't stop until his head cleared the threshold of the forty-seventh floor.
Celeste was there instantly, her strong hands grabbing Andrew’s jacket and pulling them both safely onto the carpeted hallway floor.
The moment they were out of the shaft, Emma tumbled from Andrew’s arms directly into her mother’s embrace.
Celeste wrapped her arms around her daughter so tightly it seemed as though she was trying to fuse them back into a single being. Sobs wracked Celeste’s frame as she kissed Emma’s forehead, her cheeks, her hair over and over again.
“My baby… my sweet, brave baby,” Celeste wept, burying her face in Emma’s neck.
Emma didn't pull away. She didn't freeze. She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck, her small hands resting gently against Celeste’s back.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Emma whispered, her voice clear, steady, and filled with a profound, healing sorrow. “I’m sorry I stopped talking.”
Celeste pulled back, staring at her daughter’s face in absolute disbelief, as if hearing an angel sing. A brilliant, tear-soaked smile broke across her face. “You never have to be sorry, sweetheart. Never.”
Andrew stood up slowly, brushing the dust and grease from his jeans. He felt an overwhelming wave of relief wash over him. He reached into his hoodie pocket, pulled out the blue rabbit, and held it out toward Emma.
“You dropped your co-pilot,” Andrew smiled softly.
Emma reached out, took the rabbit, and hugged it tight. Then, she looked up at Andrew with big, solemn eyes.
“You forgot something,” she said.
Andrew blinked. “Did I?”
Emma pointed a small finger at the rabbit’s right ear. “The secret. You have to read it. Otherwise, it doesn't work.”
Celeste looked from her daughter to Andrew, her expression curious. “What secret?”
Andrew hesitated, looking down at the child. He reached out, carefully using his pocketknife to snip the blue threads at the tip of the rabbit's ear, sliding out the small, neatly folded piece of lined notebook paper.
He unfolded it. Written in shaky, childish eight-year-old handwriting were simple words that instantly pierced the hearts of both adults in the hallway:
“I found Daddy’s walking stick by the trail. He dropped it before he fell. I tried to save him, but he was too heavy. I'm sorry I couldn't pull him up. I love you, Mommy.”
Andrew’s breath caught in his throat. He looked up at Celeste.
Celeste stared at the paper in Andrew’s hand, her eyes widening as the terrible, crushing weight of misunderstanding lifted from her soul. For five months, Celeste had tortured herself, wondering if she had failed her husband, wondering why Emma had locked herself away in absolute silence. She had never known that Emma carried the crushing, impossible guilt of a child who believed she could have saved her father if only she had been strong enough.
Tears streaming down her face, Celeste dropped to her knees right beside Emma, pulling both her daughter and the paper into her arms.
“Oh, my sweet, darling girl,” Celeste choked out, kissing Emma’s face through her tears. “Your daddy didn't fall because of you. He loved you more than anything in the world. It wasn't your job to pull him up. You couldn't have saved him, and it was never, ever your fault. Do you hear me? Never.”
Emma buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of profound release. The invisible wall of guilt and silence that had imprisoned her for 152 days finally crumbled into dust.
“I missed you, Mommy,” Emma whispered.
“I missed you too, my love. I missed you every single second.”
Andrew stood quietly a few feet away, watching them, feeling a warm lump rise in his own throat as he thought of Marie and his own son Leo waiting at home. He quietly turned to walk down the stairs, leaving the mother and daughter to heal.
“Andrew, wait.”
May you like
Andrew paused, turning back.
Celeste was standing up, holding Emma by the hand. The storm outside was beginning to subside, its violent fury tapering off into a steady, rhythmic rain as dawn slowly began to break over the Seattle skyline, painting the horizon in streaks of gold and bruised purple.
