Nick McGovern was heading down
Broadway when he noticed her. Hair ash blond, frame slight, shoulders
slumped. Her sky-blue eyes mesmerized him. They were the saddest he’d
ever seen. At Broadway and Vesey Street, she stood and stared down
Vesey, where it intersected with Church Street—and then Nick
understood. That wasn’t just any place she couldn’t bear to go—ahead
was Ground Zero.
The grief on her face drew him
toward her. “Excuse me?” he said softly.
“May I help you?”
He nodded in sympathy. “I lost
my wife on 9-11.”
Surprise flickered in her eyes.
“Believe me, visiting this
place and talking about it hasn’t come easy. It’s something that’s
taken lots of practice—and a little therapy.” If she thought he was
kooky for seeing a psychologist after his wife’s death, so be it.
“My counselor’s been nagging me
to get here, but I kept putting it off. I didn’t want to come alone,
but I also didn’t want a friend or family member watching me. Today is
Terrence’s thirtieth birthday, though. I couldn’t stay away anymore.”