From Ashes to Honor Read online

  From Ashes to Honor

  Loree Lough is a master at weaving deeply honest and heartrending portrayals of the human condition, set against breathtaking backgrounds that make you feel you’re actually there. It must be as much fun to be one of Loree’s characters as it is to read about them, because she takes them on journeys that twist and turn and leave them wanting more—and does it with grace and conviction. She’s one of today’s true storytellers.

  —CARLA BUCKLEY, author of the bestselling The Things That Keep Us Here

  In From Ashes to Honor, talented author Loree Lough puts us in the minds of first responders who courageously met the threat to our nation on 9/11. It’s a believable, gritty, and sometimes humorous story that captures the haunting echoes of the horrific attacks. —DEAN ECKMANN, F-16 Flight Lead, 119th Fighter Wing, Detachment 1 Alert Site, Langley Air Force Base, NORAD first responder to Washington, DC on 9/11.

  One of my favorite things about Loree Lough’s books is that she really gets that God weaves the tapestry of our lives with many thin threads, and that each has a purpose. The characters in From Ashes to Honor are perfect examples of lives drawn together across many miles by one fragile and unseen connection. Lough’s masterful tale draws the reader in by grit of pure emotion and compelling storytelling. Highly recommended!

  —SANDRA D. BRICKER, award-winning author of laugh-out-loud fiction for the inspirational market, including The Big 5-OH!

  From Ashes to Honor is truly one of the most captivating books I’ve ever read. Story and characters. Characters and story. That’s what it’s all about. Loree Lough’s eidetic writing style makes the reader see, hear, feel, taste, and smell what’s going on. In other words, she doesn’t take the story to the reader, she brings the reader into the story. A must read and a permanent addition to anyone’s library. —KEN FARMER, veteran actor (Silverado, Logan’s War, The President’s Man), producer/director (Timber Creek Productions), coauthor of Black Eagle Force with Buck Stienke

  September 11 is a date forever branded onto the minds and hearts of Americans, especially the courageous first responders who risked—and, in some cases, gave—their lives to save others. In From Ashes to Honor, bestselling author Loree Lough weaves a deeply honest and heartrending portrayal of the effects of the tragedy. As always, she has masterfully woven together a powerful storyline, believable characters, and “you are there” descriptions of the disaster, and artfully balanced each with knee-slapping humor and beautiful images of the Chesapeake, DC, and New York. No wonder Loree’s stories have earned hundreds of awards!

  —LYNN SPENCER, author of Touching History: The Untold Story of the Drama that Unfolded in the Skies Over America on 9/11

  Other recent books by Loree Lough

  Suddenly Daddy/Suddenly Mommy (2 full-length contemporary romances)

  The Lone Star Legends series:

  Beautiful Bandit, Maverick Heart, Rio Grande Moon

  Prevailing Love series (3 full-length contemporary romances)

  Tales of the Heart series (3 full-length historical romances)

  Love Finds You in Paradise, Pennsylvania

  Love Finds You in North Pole, Alaska

  Be Still … and Let Your Nail Polish Dry (devotional with Andrea Boeshaar, Sandra D. Bricker, and Debby Mayne)

  From Ashes to Honor

  Copyright © 2011 by Loree Lough

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4267-0769-8

  Published by Abingdon Press, P.O. Box 801, Nashville, TN 37202

  www.abingdonpress.com

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, posted on any website, or transmitted in any form or by any means—digital, electronic, scanning, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without written permission from the publisher, except for brief quotations in printed reviews and articles.

  The persons and events portrayed in this work of fiction are the creations of the author, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Anderson Design Group, Nashville, TN

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Lough, Loree.

  From ashes to honor / Loree Lough.

  p. cm. — (The first responders series ; bk. 1)

  ISBN 978-1-4267-0769-8 (pbk. : alk. paper)

  1. First responders—Fiction. 2. September 11 Terrorist Attacks, 2001—Psychological aspects—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3562.O8147F76 2011

  813’.54—dc22

  2010053762

  Printed in the United States of America

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 / 16 15 14 13 12 11

  To my heavenly Father—the author of all relationships— who blessed me with this story idea. To my loyal readers, whose friendly letters keep me on the path to publication.To my husband, daughters, and grandkids, who tolerate (and support) my oddball work schedule. Special thanks to dear friend Sandie Bricker, who goaded me into sending this series proposal to our beloved editors, Ramona Richards and Barbara Scott, and to Barb, for believing in it enough to issue contracts.To all first responders, whose courageous service and sacrifice keeps us safe. Most of all, this novel is dedicated to every man and woman—whether in New York, Pennsylvania, or Washington D.C.—whose example reminded every American of the real meaning of patriotism, bravery, and valor on 9/11.

  Author’s Note

  If you’re old enough to read this, September 11, 2001, is a day you’ll never forget. And if you’re like me, you’ll never forget where you were and what you were doing when news of the attack on our great nation reached you. If you close your eyes, you can probably see the horror that befell New York, Shanksville, and Washington, D.C., on that terrifying and tragic day.

  Before that infamous date, 9-1-1 represented the numbers you dialed when injured, afraid, or threatened, believing— even as you pressed the digits—that help would reach you soon.

  Right this minute, in police and fire stations all across our land, brave men and women are checking and re-checking every piece of equipment in preparation for the next emergency that will deliver them to the line of fire. And when the crisis is over, they’ll return to their posts and start it all over again, to ensure they’ll be alert and ready for the next call.

  I find it remarkable that the courageous firefighters, police officers, EMTs, and search-and-rescue team members respond to our calls, never knowing as they speed toward our homes and businesses whether or not this call might be their last— and yet they go.

  Their brave dedication prompted me to ask myself: Just how does one properly thank those who risk their lives every time they roll away from the stationhouse, sirens blaring, strobe lights flashing? How do we show our gratitude to the professional life-savers whose skills lead them to find lost children, save accident victims, and carry unconscious victims from burning buildings, all while making life-and-death snap decisions that affect every patient delivered to the ER and their concerned loved ones, as well?

  Unable to come up with a satisfying answer, I felt called to write “The First Responders” series. It’s my hope that through these stories, we’ll all learn a little more about our nation’s silent heroes. The novels will serve as my humble and heartfelt thanks to each daring man and woman who utters this prayer (written by the Reverend Robert A. Crutchfield):

  Father in Heaven,

  Please make me strong when others are weak, brave when others are afraid, and vigilant when others are distracted by the chaos.

  Provide comfort and companionship to my family when I must be away.

  Serve beside me and protect me, as I seek to protect others. Amen.

  I hope you’ll write me (c/o Abingdon Press) to share your own 9/11
and first responders stories. Until then, may the good Lord shower you and yours with joys too numerous to count!

  Blessings,

  Loree

  Prologue

  They cried to the Lord in their trouble,

  and He delivered them from their distress.

  Psalms 107:6

  New York City

  8:40 A.M.

  September 11, 2001

  As on every morning, the sweet scents of cinnamon and mocha mixed with drugstore aftershave and pricey cologne.And, as on every morning, Austin ordered a large black coffee with a shot of espresso.

  A strange vibration rumbled above the whir of blenders, busily whipping milk into froth for cappuccinos and lattes. A New York City trash truck, or another fender bender? he wondered as his cell phone chirped. It only took a quick glance at the caller i.d. to inspire a low groan.

  Eddy smirked. “Your brother?”

  “Third time this week.”

  “Sheesh. And it’s only Tuesday.”

  Becky, the counter girl, held out one hand. “That’ll be a buck fifty, cutie pie.”

  Austin handed her two singles and told her to keep the change.

  “Let me guess,” Eddy said. “He wants you to get a safer job, one with a more predictable schedule, so you can spend more time with your mom.”

  “Bingo. All I can say is, thank God for unlimited minutes.The two messages he left yesterday?” Austin pocketed the phone and cut loose with a twonote whistle. “To call ‘em long is an understatement.”

  “You know what they say about paybacks.”

  “What?”

  “Well, all I can say is, rambling messages must be in the Finley DNA.”

  “Bite me,” Austin said, grinning as Becky handed him his coffee.

  “No, seriously, Finley.” He looked left and right and waved Austin closer, as if preparing to divulge a state secret. “Listen up, dude. There was a big story about birth order on the news this morning.” He shrugged. “This stuff with Avery? It’s all ‘cause he sees you as his baby brother.”

  “Aw, gimme a break. He’s five stinkin’ minutes older than me.”

  “Big difference, five minutes. Made him ju-u-ust older and wiser enough to become a hot shot Wall Street investment banker.” He gave Austin the once-over, from close-cropped blond hair to spit-polished black shoes. “And develop the opinion that he needs to watch over you. Y’know, since you’re only one of many tiny little cogs that make the City’s gears—”

  Austin chuckled. “Yeah, well, you can both bite me.”

  Becky wiggled a forefinger at Eddy. “Your turn, honey pot.”

  He leaned a forearm on the counter and frowned. “Holy moly, Beckster, you gotta quit partyin’ all night, ‘cause—shooeee and wowza, dudette—you are some kinda green around the gills this mornin’!”

  She blew a baseball-sized purple bubble and popped it with her front teeth. “Some days it’s hard to believe you found a woman willing to marry you.”

  Eddy snickered, then ordered decaf with double cream, pretending not to hear as Austin and the rest of his cop pals agreed with Becky. The good-natured taunting came to a halt when a second rumble shook the windows and rattled the mugs, stacked pyramid fashion on glass shelves behind the counter.For a blink in time, the West Street Coffee Shop fell completely quiet. Then a chorus of buzzing cell phones, radio bleeps, and the sputtering of dispatchers summoning all available personnel to the World Trade Center ended the eerie silence.

  Amid the clamor of cops and firefighters charging into the street, Austin disregarded a second call from his twin. Tossing Eddy the keys to their cruiser, he growled “You drive for a change. I’m afraid I’ll take my bad mood out on some ‘Got my license in a gumball machine’ sightseer at Battery Park.”

  Siren blaring and lights flashing, they peeled away from the curb. “Smart decision,” he said, honking and shaking a fist at the slow-moving taxi that blocked him from the destination, just half a mile away.

  Emergency vehicles, city buses, cabs, and limos joined the rows of cars and delivery vans that rolled to a dead stop.“What’s the holdup?” Eddy demanded. “Can’t those clowns see that the light is green?”

  “I hate these stupid tests. It’d make a lot more sense for the big shots at city hall to do stuff like this when the roads aren’t clogged with traffic.” Austin shook his head. “But no-o-o, we’ve gotta put on a good show for the tourists.”

  “Guess we can’t complain about getting paid to sit on our duffs.”

  “Yeah? Well, I can complain, about these exhaust fumes for starters.”

  The radio buzzed and hummed with steady static, and Austin beat a fist on the dash. “Oh. Great. Now this piece of junk decides to die, leaving us clueless about what’s going on at WTC.”

  “I hate to break it to ya, pard, but you were clueless before we—” Eddy draped his upper body over the steering wheel and looked up. “What—Is—That?”

  Squinting, Austin scrubbed the inside of the windshield with the heel of his hand. “Turn on the defogger, genius.”

  But the murk was outside. Fierce, roiling white smoke stained the blue early-autumn sky. “I have a feeling this is no ordinary test,” he said grimly. “We’d better hot-foot it the rest of the way.”

  “You’re right. Ain’t like we’re gonna block traffic.”

  Side by side, the partners jogged toward the Towers, and the closer they got, the harder it became to see through the smog.

  “Must be one heckuva fire to make a mess like this.”

  In his pocket, Austin’s cell phone buzzed, and he ignored it for the third time in five minutes. When he got hold of his twin later, man, was Avery gonna get a piece of his mind.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Discussion Questions

  COMING SOON

  1

  New York City

  10:00 AM

  January 2003

  Would you agree that the ‘watched pot never boils’ maxim applies here?”

  Austin looked up from his watch and hid his annoyance behind a grin. “May I remind you, Doc,” he said, slow and easy, “that you were fifteen minutes late for the fifth time in a row, and, as usual, wasted another five tidying your desk before we got down to business.” He shrugged one shoulder.“I’m only trying to make sure those high muckety-mucks at headquarters get their money’s worth outta these sessions.”

  “How noble of you, particularly under the circumstances.”

  Translation: The Department put him on desk duty, and that’s where he’d stay until the doctor deemed him fit to hit the streets again. That fact galled him, but he’d grind his molars to dust before he’d give her the satisfaction of scribbling “easily provoked” in his file. “They’re just going by the book. I’ve got no beef with that.” A bald-faced lie, but no way he intended to admit it to her.

  She leaned back in the too-big-for-her chair. “If you think hostility will get you
out the door faster, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  Hostility? He looked left and right, as if to say “Me?”

  Lifting her chin, the doctor added, “A talent for doublespeak might be useful on the streets, but it won’t get you anywhere with me.”

  First hostility and now doublespeak? In Austin’s mind, she’d just confirmed the old “You need to be half nosy and half crazy to become a shrink” theory.

  “Cooperate here,” she said, tapping her desk blotter, “and maybe I can help you get back out there.”

  The only person who’d ever talked to him that way—and got away with it—had been Principal Buell. Well, Buell and Lieutenant Marcum, who cornered him in the bullpen six weeks earlier with a snarly “You’re at the end of your rope, Finley. See the department shrink, this week, or you’re through.”

  The threat made him call to schedule that first appointment, then arrive on time five weeks in a row—more than he could say for Dr. Samara. It also explained why he’d stretched his patience to the breaking point, and why he hadn’t provoked her by admitting what a waste of time it was, nattering on and on about feelings. He didn’t acknowledge that wearing stylish business suits instead of a burqa didn’t fool him, because everything—from her name to her green-rimmed brown eyes and sleek, dark hair—branded her a Muslim. It galled him that she wielded the power to end his career, especially since, for all he knew, her kinfolk were 9/11 terrorists. But he didn’t tell her that, either.

  “You’ve been dancing around these police brutality incidents in your file long enough, don’t you think?”