“Then, he said the most important words I’d ever heard in my life to that point: Everything’s going to be all right. Clearly, that was a dubious statement, but I latched onto it like it was oxygen. It sustained me, pushed me to live, to hang on while he hefted the heavy beam off me in some kind of adrenaline-induced super-strength, lifted me into his arms and carried me to safety, all while repeating those hope-giving words, Everything’s going to be all right.”
Ah, well, then it couldn’t have been me helping her. I wasn’t the type to tell someone everything was going to be all right—when it clearly wasn’t.
My bubble popped. I sat back, exhaling and frowning.
Sheridan was the most important and famous survivor of that historic day, and someone else had been there for her. Not with a lame offering of a blue-and-gold wrapped box of chocolates or a ride to a stressful event. No, some man had literally saved her from death.
And it hadn’t been me. Why did that sting me so deeply?
Why did I need to be everything to her?
My head throbbed to the rhythm of my pounding pulse.
“My greatest wish is that I could find the man whose words sustained me. And I mean that. His simple words of hope were equally as life-giving as was his physical rescue of my body from the collapsing library. Without those words, I couldn’t have made it through the surgeries, the re-learning to walk, the dark nights that would have otherwise been hopeless.”
Her words hit me like a nail against a tin can. This woman knew what it meant to have hopeful words.
No wonder she’d hated me for refusing to give false hope.
Maybe hope is never false.
I choked on the dust of the Great Quake all over again.
“If you are the man who saved me, please know that I have longed for twenty years to be able to thank you. More than anything in this wide world, I’d love to meet you, to give you my heartfelt gratitude.” Emotion clogged her voice, and she cleared her throat. “If you’re here, would you … come up and introduce yourself?”
Silence stretched. Heads started turning, and the audience squirmed in their seats. Meanwhile, Sheridan’s gaze raked the crowd, at first confident, it grew more and more anxious. She swallowed hard, and after another uncomfortable full minute, the guy with the white hair came up and placed a hand on her back and whispered something in her ear.
Sheridan nodded, looking crushed. “You can’t blame a girl for having hope.”
Hope. There was that word again.
“If you’re out there, thank you for the hope. If anyone else out there is struggling with a great challenge, keep going. You can get there, one day at a time. Hang onto your hope. Thank you for listening.” She stepped away from the podium, and the white-haired guy handed her a huge bouquet of flowers. Not peonies. The audience surged to their feet, clapping for all they were worth. Some would have bruised palms in the morning. Whistles broke out, and cheers of brava!
Sheridan stepped back into the spotlight and swiped at her eyes. She was crying. She gave them all a nod, and then was led away by the emcee.
I couldn’t move. All I could do was process.
Sheridan wanted to find the man who’d saved her. It was her deepest wish. Maybe her only wish.
“Wow, powerful confession.” Carlton elbowed me, snapping me out of my thought-spiral. “Who would’ve guessed she was the Library Rescue?”
I pulled a tight smile at him. I owed Carlton a lot, but I couldn’t talk to him right now. I had to find Sheridan. I had something important to say to her. And it couldn’t wait.