Chapter 3

When the host announced Herbert Delgado's name, I thought I had misheard.

He didn't get up right away; he glanced at me first.

His look was no different from every time he had comforted me over the past five years, as if telling me not to be afraid. But a few seconds later, he still walked up onto the stage.

Smiling, the host explained that Herbert had been one of the rescue team's most important charity advisors for the past three years. He had helped them line up training venues and medical resources, and for three years running he had anonymously covered part of the equipment costs.

Several photos flashed up on the big screen. One of them had been taken after the flash flood rescue ended, showing Herbert standing beside Rosemary and handing her water. The rescue team's flag hung behind them.

The date in the bottom right corner of the photo was three years ago.

That summer three years ago, I was just starting to try riding an elevator again for the first time.

Herbert went with me every day, from the first floor to the second, and then we'd take the stairs back down.

The first time I managed it, I stood at the elevator doors crying so hard I couldn't breathe, and he held me and said, "Take your time. However long it takes doesn't matter."

So it turned out that was also when he had already started seeing Rosemary again.

The host handed him the microphone. "Captain Pruitt has always said that without your help back then, she might not have made it this far. Mr. Delgado, is there anything you'd like to say?"

Herbert was quiet for a moment. "I just think that a person making one mistake doesn't mean they have to stay stuck in that one thing forever."

Applause broke out from the audience.

My mom was clapping too.

I turned to look at her, and her hand froze in place.

"Mom, you knew?"

Her face went pale, and she only whispered, "Sandra, there are too many people here. Let's talk about it when we get home."

Suddenly it all struck me as absurd.

Five years ago, it was her, in the corridor of this very hotel, pointing at Rosemary and swearing she would never let her appear in front of me again as long as she lived.

Now she sat in the front row, watching Rosemary accept the award, and there was even a kind of relief in her eyes.

Rosemary came down holding the trophy, her eyes red.

"Sandra, I never meant for you to only find out today. Herbert really has helped me so much. When I went through my first formal rescue training, he was the one who found the instructor for me."

"When?"

"Three years ago."

Herbert had already come over. "Let's talk outside."

My legs were still a little weak when I stood up. He reached out to steady me, but I pulled away.

Once we were out in the hallway, the first thing I asked him was, "How much more is there?"

"What?"

"Besides lining up training and giving money, how much else is there that I don't know about?"

He was silent for a moment. "Now and then I'd tell her how you were doing."

I looked at him.

Rosemary explained from the side, "When you started being able to ride an elevator, whether you could close the door at night, which situations set off the worst reactions. Herbert just wanted to be more careful when he prepared me for training."

Those were the things that left me at my most wretched, the things I least wanted anyone to know.

For five years, every time I jolted awake in the middle of the night and curled up against the edge of the bed, how long I threw up after stepping into an elevator for the first time, which kind of door-lock sound would keep me up the whole night—I had only ever told Herbert.

Only now did I realize he had long since passed all of it, bit by bit, to the very person who had closed that first door with her own hands.

I asked Herbert, "Five years ago you said the best way for her to atone was to stay away from me."

His eyes slowly reddened. "Back then I hated her."

"And now?"

"Now I just feel that maybe people really do change."

I nodded.

"So it turns out I'm the only one still stuck five years ago."