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We take turns answering the little bell she’s been ringing whenever she wants something.
Really hamming it up with the sympathy stakes, but we both love her so much it's impossible not to play along.
And even once Abby’s on her feet again, it’ll still be weeks before she’s ready to perform.
But she insists that we both go ahead to New York without her once she hears about our own near attempt to go find her. To see for ourselves just what was going on.
It turns out Sage and Abs were doing the same thing, they only beat us to it by one night.
So with the official reason for going to New York being so Jen can have her first real out-of-town trip, I’m careful to make sure I don’t forget the only piece of luggage apart from Jen that I’ll ever need.
Tucking it into my pocket.
Already counting the seconds as we set off running on a schedule I can’t fully explain to Jen on the way either.
But let’s just say that in this case…timing is going to mean everything.
I’ve never been on a first-class train trip either. And apart from realizing just how small everything’s made nowadays, even in first class, we’ve still got way more room than we would on an airplane.
We have our own little cabin with fold-out, drop-down everything, which Jen explores with the same excitement she’s had since we left home.
Seeing her so excited and happy instead of worried and nervous, like she was not so long ago.
It’s easy for me to make sure all our future trips are by rail or road only.
And after a day and a night onboard, with silver service that’s matched only by the level of privacy we have, the city that never sleeps rolls into sight.
Jen gasps and points. Proving to me at least that she really never has been anywhere except home her whole life.
I’ve arranged to have our luggage sent on to the hotel, and surprised but not totally surprised by the limo, I let Jen know we can do a little sightseeing before we get there.
I suggest Times Square.
Our driver letting me know we’re making good time, but we’ll need to keep up the pace.
“What does he mean bythat?” Jen asks me once we’re lounging in the back of the limo.
An interior that I actually can fit into quite comfortably. “I guess they have a schedule like everyone else,” I reply absently.
Fingering my pocket.
Relieved but starting to feel my hands get clammy when I feel it there.
The only reason I’m drawing breath right now—the whole point of our trip, my whole reason for existing is hanging on today.
It’s about a half hour before we’re deep in the city, but traffic’s light.
Our driver buzzes me through the car phone, letting me know we’re a tad early.
I ask him to swing by Broadway’s theater district, mentioning the name of the theater Abby was supposed to be playing at.
“Excellent choice,” our driver hums. “It’ll give us a little extra time.”
“We can see where Abby almost performed,” I volunteer, not meaning it to sound as heartless as it sounds.
“She’ll have her name up in lights soon enough,” Jen smiles, her hands gripping the armrest as she spins and pivots in her seat.
Hungrily soaking up the sights and sounds of the big city. Her eyes wide with wonder and excitement.
