Now Knickers was returning, but she was slinking back as though fearful of something, the rain running off her face.
"Come here, baby," Ally said, reaching out. "What is it?"
The darkness of the river flowed over her now, and for the first time ever, she wished she'd brought along a flashlight . . .
That was when, out of the rain, she finally heard the sound. It was an engine lowering from the sky, which Knickers must have already heard. Then a helicopter, a McDonnell Douglas, materialized, lowering onto the empty sports space on the pier.
The downdraft of the rotor threw spray against the FieldTurf and into her eyes. But she gazed through it, unblinking, feeling an unexpected sense of power entering her limbs. The rain should have felt cold, but she didn't really notice.
Maybe, she thought, they had to meet. They were bonded.
As the pilot cut the power, the engine began to wind down—whoom, whoom, whoom—until it came to a dead stop and there followed an unnatural silence. Finally the door on the side opened and a metal step dropped down.
After a moment's pause that seemed to last forever, he appeared, at first a vague figure in the rain, but then he stepped down and came toward her. He was wearing a white hat with a wide brim and a tan raincoat that seemed more like a cloak than a coat.
"Alexa, I so appreciate your making time for me."
It was hard to tell in the rain, but he appeared to be strong, and there was actually a kind of radiance about him, as though he carried his own special luminosity. He seemed completely transformed. The question was, transformed how? He looked years younger than the last time she saw him.