Gone. All of it.
At least she had escaped.
Not your time to go. That was what her dad would have said. He’d believed that everything happened for a reason, and Kat had always believed that, too.
Lately, though, she’d begun to question. Her losses kept stacking up, and she wasn’t sure what else she had left to lose.
What purpose had her parents’ deaths served? And why would God spare Kat’s life but allow a fire to destroy her home—the home she’d grown up in—and with it all her tangible memories?
The questions swirled through her mind, but she had no answers. For now, she’d just have to clean up and be happy she could do it.
She turned on the faucet and washed her face, grateful for the warm water running over her chilled hands and rinsing the grime away. She pulled her hair out of its makeshift bun and finger combed it, then wet a hand towel, rubbing it along her arms and neck. She looked a little better, but still she stood, staring back at her herself. Willing herself not to think about what would have happened if Sam hadn’t been in the atrium tonight. Forcing herself not to think about his questions, but, of course, she couldn’t stop thinking about them.
Enemies? No one came to mind. She wasn’t prone to conflict, never had been. Growing up as an only child had instilled in Kat a sense of peace and order that she’d carried with her into adulthood. She didn’t like to make waves, and she tried not to hang around people who did. Life was too uncertain, she’d found, to allow anger and bitterness to fester.
Even after Max’s betrayal, she tried not to let her emotions take control. Letting him go had been much easier than she’d expected. She realized that perhaps she’d been more in love with the idea of settling down and starting a family than she’d been in love with Max.
Now she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do after her contract was up. There was a certain allure to the sea, but it was a short-term gig. She could go back to teaching at the university, or she could open a private piano studio. She could take a year off and concentrate on composing music for a new CD. Nothing sounded enticing lately, and she hoped her path would become clear given a little more time.
“God is in control,” she whispered at her reflection. She used to believe that. Even after her mother’s death, Kat’s trust in God had never wavered. Lately, though, she’d wondered.
Surely, He could have given her just a little more time with her father. Why bring her back home and draw her in deep only to take him away so soon?
At least you had some time with him. That was what Morgan had reminded her quietly, and Kat knew she was right. But it hurt. And now she was more alone than she’d ever been.
Watching Sam with his grandmother reminded her of what she was missing, what she’d been missing for most of her life. A real sense of family. People to share life with. Morgan was the closest thing she had to family now, and she was anxious to get back to her room so she could check on her.
A quiet tap sounded at the bathroom door. “Everything okay in there?” Alice called from the other side.
Kat opened the door. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot better now.”
Alice swept a quick glance over Kat and nodded. “Still in one piece, and all cleaned up. Too bad about the dress.”
Kat stepped out into the room. “It was my favorite one. My dad bought it for me.” And since the dress had been at the dry cleaner’s the week of the fire, it had been one of the only things she had left of her father.
Through slurred speech that was painful to listen to, he’d apologized for missing out on so much, for being too absorbed in his own grief to help Kat through hers. Said he should have done the things a mother would have done, like taking her for manicures and buying her a prom dress. So he’d told her he wanted to buy her next concert gown. Morgan had gone with her, snapped photos of Kat in her favorite choices. Later, Kat had come home to show her father the pictures and ask his opinion.
He’d never see her in a wedding gown or walk her down the aisle, but she’d at least shared those moments with him and seen the love shimmering in his fading brown eyes.
The memory hit her suddenly and without warning, and she felt the heat of tears threaten. She walked to the chair and grabbed the blanket, facing away from Alice so she wouldn’t see.
“Still chilly?” Alice said. “I got through to the concierge while you were in the bathroom, and they said they’d get your key to you soon.”
“Oh, thank you. It’ll be nice to change into some dry clothes.”
“For sure. Come on out to the balcony with me. Knowing Sam, he’ll be a while yet.” She smiled, pride lighting her eyes. “He was born for the work he does. It’s as if God gave him an extra little bit of bravery and honor. He’s just...not your average young man. But I’m sure you noticed.”
“He was the only one running toward me while the chandelier was coming down.”
“Exactly!” Alice nodded as if they’d just agreed on some deep philosophical truth. “Now, let’s sit down and try to enjoy this evening,” she said cheerfully. “It isn’t every day we face death straight on and live to tell about it.”
Her words did anything but cheer Kat. She hadn’t faced death once, but twice, and she didn’t want to face it again anytime soon.
The sharp scent of burned wiring stung Sam’s nose as he made his way down the nearly empty stairway. He expected voices echoing up from the atrium, but the ship was eerily quiet. He hurried down the stairs, anxious for a good look at the scene, wanting to get a better feel for what had happened.
He hoped it was simply an electrical malfunction, but his gut told him otherwise. The timing had been too convenient—a lot of people had been streaming through the atrium while Kathryn performed and could have been taken out by the explosion. It was a hallmark of a terrorist act: injure as many people as possible. Ship security was tight, but criminals always managed to find a way.
An image of Kat flashed in his mind: the horror that washed over her face as the flames burst right above her.
He’d seen that same look on his wife’s face many times in his nightmares. For months after the car accident, he saw those terror-stricken eyes whenever he turned out the lights. Had Marissa seen the broken-down truck at the last minute and known her life was about to end? If he’d cut out on work and come home just a day earlier, would she still be alive today? Would he be at home right now, playing with their two-year-old daughter?
He would never find the answers to satisfy his feelings of guilt. Sam wasn’t used to failing, and he didn’t plan to make a habit of it. He would find answers for Kat, and he would make sure that she and his grandmother both made it safely off the ship and back home.
“Sir!” someone called, drawing Sam’s thoughts back to the present. To the musty, smoke-filled air. To the broken bits of piano two floors down. To the two cruise employees who were moving up the stairs, heading straight for Sam.
Neither looked old enough to have graduated high school. The taller of the two caught up with Sam and attempted to stand in his way. Lanky and awkward, he wore a white uniform that was just a little short in the pants and arms.
“We’ve been asked to remind passengers to stay in their cabins until further notice,” he said.
Sam narrowed his gaze and waited a beat. Watched the young men shift uncomfortably.
“Thank you for the reminder,” he finally said. “But I don’t intend to stay in my cabin.”
“I’m