Page 34 of Finding Noah

And she looked like an angel.

I nodded. “Y-yeah. Are you Meg?” I asked, just to be certain, even though I already knew.

I'd know her voice anywhere.

I was going to remember it for the rest of my life.

“I am,” she said with a smile, then gestured at the seat beside me. “Would you mind if I sat here?”

I shook my head. I didn't mind at all.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her hands against her knees. She was acting the way Mom did sometimes when she wanted to talk to me about something but didn't know how, and it was making me feel weird.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I work here,” she replied with a smile. “I answer 911 calls. That's how I talked to you.”

“No, I-I know,” I said, feeling dumb. “But I thought … I don't know … maybe there was a whole other building or something for 911.”

She sniffled a little laugh, but I didn't feel like she was laughing at me. “I thought the same thing when I was a kid. But, no, there's a room here where we answer the 911 calls.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to say.

“I, um … I actually just got off the phone with my dad. You know him, I think. His name is Officer Patrick Kinney.”

“Oh!” I exclaimed, nodding. “Yeah! My friend Jay … his dad's a cop, and Officer Kinney is his partner.”

“Right,” she said with a nod, her smile barely fading. “So, my dad … he's with your mom. He’s going to be here soon to take you to her. But I wanted to tell you … Soldier … he was hurt. Very badly.”

My lips fell open with a gasp, but I was also grateful that she’d told me. I wondered if Officer Mike had known, but just didn’t want to say anything.

I swallowed. “I was too slow,” I whispered, only to keep my tears at bay.

I didn’t want to cry again. I was so tired of crying.

Meg shook her head, her curls bouncing against her shoulders. “No. None of this is your fault. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“Is … is he dead?”

She seemed to hesitate, as if she didn't know how to respond, but then, again, she shook her head, and I closed my eyes, even more grateful than before.

“But he's very, very hurt, and he's not out of the woods, which means—”

“I know what that means,” I interrupted. “You mean he could die.”

She faltered for a moment, then nodded. “Yes.”

I sniffled and dipped my chin to hang my head. “He saved us,” I told her, my voice warbled with impending emotion. “He got me out of the house, and he promised Mom would be okay. He kept it. He kept his promise.”

“He did,” she agreed. “Your mom wasn't hurt at all.”

Then my brow furrowed, and I lifted my head to look at her, a question nagging at my mind that hadn't been asked yet. “What about my dad?”

“Your dad,” she repeated, looking into my eyes.

Hers were the most beautiful shade of blue I had ever seen. Like the sky on a warm, lazy July day without a cloud in sight.

“Yeah.”