“And the helicopter.”
“Among other reasons.”
Vivian looked through the window toward Rescue Six.
Its paint looked even more tired from inside.
“Forty-seven people.”
Ethan nodded.
“Forty-seven.”
Vivian took another sip of terrible coffee.
Then something on the wall caught her attention.
A framed newspaper clipping.
Old.
Sun-faded.
A photograph showed a highway partially submerged by floodwater.
A helicopter hovered near an overturned SUV.
The headline was too small to read from the table.
Vivian stood.
Walked closer.
In the photograph, Rescue Six looked newer.
But the tail shape was unmistakable.
Below it was a second image.
A woman wrapped in a blanket.
A girl beside her.
Maybe eleven.
Dark hair then.
Face partly turned.
Vivian felt something inside her chest stop.
She stepped closer.
The date:
May 18, 2002.
Her fingers touched the frame.
Ethan noticed.
“What?”
Vivian did not answer.
She read the caption.
Briar Ridge volunteers airlift mother and daughter after Cedar River bridge collapse.
Her mouth went dry.
“No.”
Ethan stood.
Vivian pointed.
“That’s…”
She removed her sunglasses.
Pete came closer.
Vivian stared at the child in the photograph.
“I was eleven.”
The room went still.
Mia looked up.
Vivian turned toward Ethan.
“That’s me.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“My mother and I.”
She looked back at the photograph.
“Our car went through the guardrail.”
Ethan stared.
Vivian remembered rain.
Cold water.
Her mother screaming.
A man breaking the rear window with something metal.
Then rotor noise.
Loud.
So loud she had covered her ears.
A blue-and-white helicopter.
A woman leaning out.
Red helmet.
Vivian had not thought about the helicopter itself in years.
The crash remained.
The hospital.
Her mother’s broken leg.
Her own ribs.
But not the tail number.
Not the airfield.
Pete whispered:
“Jesus.”
Ethan walked to the clipping.
He read the caption.
Then looked toward another photograph.
His face changed.
Vivian saw.
“What?”
Ethan touched the image of the rescue crew standing beside the helicopter.
One woman.
Red flight helmet beneath her arm.
Long brown hair braided over one shoulder.
Ethan’s late wife.
“My wife was on that flight.”
Vivian stared.
Ethan looked as surprised as she felt.
“She wasn’t pilot yet.”
“Flight medic.”
Vivian stepped closer.
“That woman…”
“Yes.”
“She pulled me into the helicopter.”
Mia had left her desk now.
She stood beside them.
“My mom saved you?”
Vivian swallowed.
“She helped.”
Mia looked toward Ethan with wide eyes.