Facts Of Life: Brand New Day

Chapter 1

I

Who can say where the road goes?
Where the day flows?
Only time.
And who can say if your love grows
As your heart chose?
Only time.

Who can say why your heart sighs
As your love flies?
Only time.
And who can say why your heart cries
When your love lies?
Only time.

Who can say when the roads meet
That love might be in your heart?
And who can say when the day sleeps
If the night keeps all your heart,
Night keeps all your heart?

Who can say if your love grows
As your heart chose?
Only time.
And who can say where the road goes?
Where the day flows?
Only time.

Who knows? Only time.
Who knows? Only time.

Only Time, Enya

September 29th, 2001

Natalie Green's Continental Airlines flight from Denver to Newark International Airport was virtually the same model as two of the aircraft that had been hijacked in the terrorists attack earlier that month. One had hit WTC 1, the North Tower, and the other had ended up making giant crater southeast of Pittsburgh, after hitting the ground at almost 500 knots. It had been intended, it was believed, for the U.S Capitol Building.

Natalie and her colleagues at the Denver Post, and, indeed, just about every news outlet in the U.S or the world, had been working almost nonstop since that day, covering local reactions and angles, culling stories off the wire reports, and, like the rest of the nation, simply running on adrenaline. She was finally granted a few days to head to New York after receiving a call from Mrs. Garrett in Peekskill.

Natalie's Boeing 757-200 swung south over East Brunswick, New Jersey, as the usual air traffic that piled up at mid-day along the eastern seaboard occurred. Boeing 757's were also flown by major carriers from Newark, JFK, and Boston, to European destinations like Shannon, Dublin, Reykjavik, Iceland, and either London's Heathrow or Garrick airports. Many of the return legs from Europe would start arriving in the general air space around this time of day, and since they were lowest on fuel, were given priority to land ahead of domestic flights with plenty of fuel.

From there, the aircraft headed due east over the shallows of the Atlantic Ocean, then executed a forty-five greed turn, on what is called the Downwind Leg, heading over Hempstead and New Westbury on Long Island. At a point just east of Glen Cove, the plane swung left again, entering it's Base Leg of the landing program, taking the Boeing narrow-body aircraft over New Rochelle and Yonkers. Just north and east of Hackensack, the aircraft made it's turn onto Final, lining up behind two other Continental aircraft that were landing in front of it.

With the aircraft facing slightly southwest, and sitting on the left side of the aircraft, Natalie could see the cloudy waters of the Hudson River that separated Manhattan from New Jersey, as Runway 22L lined up almost perfectly with that body of water. Into view, finally close enough to truly see it, was the still-smoldering ruins of what had been the World Trade Center towers, the towers that had been a symbol of America's economic might, not reduced to rubble.

As the plane smoothly landed, Natalie Green remembered again why she was here.

______________________________________________________

Dorothy Ramsey and Edna Garrett were waiting down in baggage claim for Natalie. Since that day three weeks ago, only people with tickets were being allowed through the security checkpoints, the nation still on pins and needles, wondering if it would happen again. They looked at the baggage claim board, finding the carousel where Natalie's bag would be off-loaded, and patiently waited.

In normal times, when one of the Four Musketeers would come home, the other three were sure to be waiting. Not today. Jo was at home with Blair, who had been in mourning and a deep depression since that terrible morning. They hadn't been officially notified of David Warner's death until three days earlier, when he and and many from the financial firm Cantor-Fitzgerald had been identified. The offices sat on floors 101 thru 105 of the North Tower, and when the final, gruesome tally was added up, 658 employees of that company were killed on that day-that was fully two-thirds of its workforce in the office, and fully twenty-two percent of those who died that day.

And David Warner, CEO of Warner International Corporation had died with them.

Natalie wearily appeared in the baggage claim area, all three with tears in their eyes. The tears were, in part for Blair Warner, in part for their emotional exhaustion, and in part for their country which had suffered such a grievous blow.

Normally, she'd hug Tootie first, but she was first drawn to Mrs. Garrett. The hug was tearful, Natalie simply burying herself into the woman who had helped her through an attempted rape while at Eastland, and the death of her own father years ago. When she looked up at her dear friend, Edna gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"How is she, Mrs. G?"

No one needed to be told who "she" was.

"She's a mess, Natalie. Jo has been doing her best, with our help, to keep her going. I think your presence will help."

"Well, she helped me-all of you did-when I was assaulted and when dad died. I'll be damned if I'm not her for Blair now." Edna nodded and smiled.

Tootie wrapped herself around the woman that would always be her best friend, her fellow "Snoop Sister". "I'm so glad you're home, Nat", Tootie breathed. "It's been like a nightmare here since that morning."

"How are you holding up, girlie?" Natalie gave her a small smile.

"I'll hold up for as long as Blair needs me to hold, up, Nat, but after Blair gets to feeling better-and she will...she will", Tootie trailed off. "After that, Jo's gonna need some help. It's killing her to see Blair like this. She's at her wit's end."

"Well, let's get over there and pull their wits out of the fire, okay?"

The three woman headed for Mrs. Garrett's car.

___________________________________________________

On the other side of the Hudson River, about an hour later along Jamaica Bay, an Air France Boeing 777 began it's approach into John F. Kennedy International Airport. Those passengers didn't get the up-close look at Manhattan, but they were still just as numb as everyone else around the globe. The event was over, to be sure, but it's consequences were still to be felt.

A war would be starting soon in retaliation for what had been done in the city they were landing in.

In First Class, Monica Warner had said nary a word the entire eight hour and forty minute flight from Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris to JFK. She normally would have, simply to get herself noticed, but this occasion didn't call for that, at least not in an aluminum tube hurtling across the Atlantic.

The ex-wife of the late David Warner had talked to their daughter, Blair, only once since the events on that Tuesday morning, Blair calling her to tell them that her Daddy was missing, and presumed dead. After that, Monica had gone into seclusion, unwilling to answer any other calls from her daughter. Three days ago, Edna Garrett had called her to inform her that some of David's remains had been identified, and the date of the funeral, which would be in five days.

She had not told a soul within David's family that she was flying in for the funeral. She hadn't even told Blair. She had told only a few well-connected friends and associates that she was coming to New York.

Even though she had been divorced from David for a number of years, and the original split had been acrimonious, they had been more than civil to each other over the years. When it was confirmed he was dead, part of her had died as well. She was going there to truly pay her respects to her late husband, and to say goodbye to him.

But it wasn't the only reason she was going to New York.