Authors: Gail McFarland
Weak-eyed, Parker shook his head. “But you didn’t die. I was on duty that day, and I may not be good at a lot of things, but I am a competent surgeon. I was in rotation, and it was my job to give you the best possible care I could, anyway. You weren’t meant to die, Marlea—not that day, and not by my hand.”
“So now you’re God’s agent? Why did you do it?”
“I was…weak…afraid. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Marlea looked at the officer who moved closer, standing directly behind Parker’s chair. “You know, I’m not even sure why I agreed to come here today. I’ve had to learn a lot and make a lot of adjustments in my life—and not by choice. So the only question I have left for you is, what did you get out of all this?”
“I suppose you could say that I’ve had to learn to stand up and be a man.” Parker’s left shoulder rose and fell in a halting shrug. “My mother talked to the judge, you know, but it didn’t do a lot of good. It was Judge Barrett. He lost his wife and daughter in a hit-and-run accident last year, so he didn’t look kindly on me—even with my family name and my mother’s intervention.” Parker trailed a finger along the edge of the table. “Maybe it was because of my family. Anyway, he denied Dexter’s motion to have me serve all of my misdemeanor sentences concurrently. I’ll be here for eighteen months, then I’ll do house arrest for a full thirty-six more months. Four and a half years to serve, and I won’t be able to practice medicine for a total of five years.”
“It took you less than a minute to run me into a wall,” Marlea said softly.
“And now I’m paying for it. Marlea, I’m sorry.” He dropped his head heavily to his chest. “What will you do next?”
“Go back to teaching. What else can I do?”
“You can run. It’s a part of your gift, Marlea.”
“I ran a 10K a little while ago, but it wasn’t the same as the 400.” She noticed the high-barred window in the room for the first time, and wondered why the building’s designer had even bothered. Nearly six feet off the floor, what could anyone see out of it?
Parker’s brow furrowed and his lips turned down. “Marlea, does this mean you haven’t tried to run the 400 since the surgery? Why hasn’t Yarborough tried it with you?”
“Maybe because the 400 requires toes. The need for weight balance is huge, not to mention the overall demand on the forefoot…but, you already know that, don’t you?”
Parker pushed his chair back from the metal table between them and peered under it. The watching officer looked, too. Straightening, Parker looked at Marlea. “You’ve seen a pedorthist, and you’ve been fitted for shoes.” He pointed beneath the table. “Those work for you?” Barely waiting for her nod, he demanded, “You have running shoes, too?” She nodded again, and Parker threw up both hands. “Then why in the world isn’t he training you?”
“You’ve got a lot of nerve quizzing me. What are you talking about—AJ training me? For what?”
“For the 400, Marlea. You can still run it. You can still compete.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marlea’s whisky-toned eyes went back to the high little window and she understood why it was there: to prevent hopelessness. At least thought could hope for the promise of freedom that the body couldn’t yet achieve.
“Marlea, I do know what I’m talking about, though I don’t know all the particulars. You might not qualify for Olympic gold, but what about the Paralympics? Have you thought of that?”
“No, I never really thought about the Paralympics. I mean, I know that they run every four years and that disabled athletes compete, but I never thought…”
“You should.” Eager, Parker leaned forward. “I’ll bet they run the 400 and that you could qualify. It would be a chance for you to run competitively again.”
Qualify? Run competitively again?
Something in her heart stirred, and logic tried to beat it into submission.
I don’t want any special treatment. All I ever wanted was to be the best, but this…
The dream reared its head and she almost felt the rush of the wind against her heated skin. “How do you qualify?”
“I’m not sure, but there most certainly has to be a Website.”
* * *
She hit ‘search’ again and stared in fascination as the site swirled into brilliance on the flat monitor. “Are you sure of the spelling, Libby? It’s
para
, not
paro
?”
“I’m positive.” Libby’s confident voice rang out from the speaker. “Tell you the truth, the only thing I’m not positive about is what brought about this interest in the Paralympics.”
“I had a chance to talk to someone who brought up the topic. AJ and I discussed it, and decided that we needed to know more.”
“I see,” Libby hummed. “Did ‘we’ decide what event you would search?”
Marlea turned to AJ. He grinned and leaned back into the depths of his chair, checking the pages Marlea had already printed from sites she had found.
“We’re looking at the 400, of course. I talked to Adrian Kessler this morning, and he wants to know if I would consider a series of articles based on my training and centered on female athletes and sports rehab issues. I told him I would, and I figure that if the Paralympics has an event and I can qualify, I think it would be…a good thing.”
“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind about this ‘good thing’.”
Marlea tried not to hear the implications lurking behind Libby’s words. The computer search list jumped to life on the screen. Marlea checked the bottom of the page—more than thirty pages of results. “You were right.”
“Have you decided on a coach yet? You know, I’m still mostly in Florida these days.” She sounded as if she already knew the answer.
“I actually do have a candidate in mind, someone that I have the utmost confidence in.” Pulling another copy from the printer, Marlea stood and flipped through the sheets. Satisfied that she had them all, she turned to drop into the chair facing AJ.
“That would be AJ, right?”
“Who else?”
Libby hummed. “Just don’t get hurt, Marlea.”
“Jealous, Libby?” AJ smiled and pulled Marlea’s bare feet into his lap.
Libby cleared her throat loudly over the line. “Not me, because y’all are both grown, but I swear if you weren’t at home, I would have to tell you to get a room.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Marlea sank low in her chair, almost ready to purr when AJ stroked her sole.
“Yeah, you do. I can hear it in your voice, and I don’t have to be subject to your lust. I’m hanging up now.”
“Now, look what you did,” Marlea teased, moving her foot in AJ’s lap.
“Me?” He looked down at his lap and her probing toes, then up at her with barely disguised glee on his face. “Hard to believe that just a few months ago, you were barely able to let yourself dream of walking again, Silk, and now here we are planning a competitive run.”
“I can’t think of anyone I would rather do it with.”
“You talking about running?”
Her sensitive foot moved again, making him gasp. “That, too,” she said.
Chapter 27
Cascade Center, NY
AJ, I don’t know about this.
Even with all they had done—finding the application, getting medical documentation, submitting verification on the shoes she wore to run, and the endless training—it was scary.
What if I can’t make a legal start? What if I fall again? I haven’t fallen in more than six weeks,
but as nervous as I am, it could happen again.
Think positive,
she admonished herself, but it was hard.
It’s been a long time. I said that, and AJ said I was scared. I’m not scared. I just don’t want to fail—him or me.
Marlea jigged from foot to foot, tried to shake the tension out of her shoulders and legs, and hoped none of the other women in the locker room would notice her jitters. Around her, women in various stages of undress paid her little or no attention.
Bending over her gym bag, Marlea pulled out her shoes and socks, looking at them as though they had appeared out of thin air.
These are the same kind of socks and shoes I’ve trained in. They’re not magic. The magic is going to have to come from my heart and my feet. That’s what AJ said.
I hope to God he’s right.
Her stomach cramped abruptly and she dropped a shoe—
not a good sign
.
A slender hand, skin bright as polished brass, caught the shoe before it hit the floor. “I can only stay a minute, but AJ thought it might help to see a familiar face before you ran, and they wouldn’t let him in here,” Rissa grinned, dropping to the bench beside Marlea.
“How am I gonna run if you hang onto my shoe?”
Rissa pulled at the shoestring then handed the shoe back. “The way you always do, girl.” She slipped an arm around Marlea’s shoulders and squeezed. “You’re gonna run like it’s the only thing in the world. I’ve watched you, and I know you can do it. AJ made me hold the stopwatch when he ran with you, remember? I know you’re fast—even if you don’t.” She squeezed her shoulder again. “Oh, and I have something for you. It was delivered right after you left the house, and I know you’re going to want it.”
Curious, Marlea accepted the small white envelope and slit the flap cautiously. She took her time shaking the single page free. Opening it, she found a narrow bracelet, red, yellow, and orange yarn braided into a diamond pattern. “This has to be from one of my kids.”
“You would know for sure if you read the note.”
“Thanks, Rissa. I can always count on you to point out the obvious.” She ignored Rissa’s wrinkled face and began reading:
Hi Miss Kellogg,
My mom showed me your picture in the paper. It made me very proud, especially when they said that you were not a quitter and that you were going to run again. Looks like the sun really has come up for you. I made this bracelet so you would remember how much I love you. When you run, I think it will help you win.
Your friend,
Katie Charles
PS: Don’t forget to smile when you cross the finish line!
“Hey, that’s one of your kids, right? You gonna wear the bracelet?” Without waiting for an answer, Rissa seized the bracelet. “Hold out your arm.”
“Like I have a choice.” Marlea extended her arm obediently and Rissa twisted the yarn into place.
The small talisman seemed to work instantly. Marlea’s stomach stopped grinding and her heart lifted. “I can do this.” She pulled her shorts and shirt from the bag, then plunged her hand into the depths again and found her bra. “You need to go find your seat and deliver a message for me. You tell AJ for me that I’m about to blow the dust off this old field.”
“Wow.” Relieved to see the change of attitude, a newly relaxed Rissa asked, “Anybody ever tell you that you’re sexy when you’re psyched?”
“Yeah.” Marlea stood and unzipped her sweat jacket. “Your brother.”
“And you believed him?” Rissa ducked when Marlea draped her jacket over her head.
“Every time.”
* * *
Exhaling slowly, Marlea counted eight beats and then sucked in another big breath and let it course through her long, lean frame. Exhaling again, she pushed through the heavy metal door and stood outside. Cool, early-fall morning air pricked at her skin, raising goose bumps and her spirits. She fingered the yarn bracelet and squared her shoulders.
Ahead of her, on a slight rise, she could see the track and the field. “Dang, I’m thirty-four and ready to giggle like an eight-year-old just because I get a chance to run.”
“Me, too.” Tall as Marlea and thin as a racehorse, the other woman smiled. “Kendra Asaou,” she said, offering her hand. “This is your first race? I have not seen you before.”
Marlea smiled. “Not my first race, but my first race since my…accident.”
“The first one coming back is always a little hard.” Stepping back, setting her hands against her lean hips, Kendra’s black eyes roamed over Marlea. “What has changed? You look perfect—and fast.”
“I’m an amputee,” Marlea said, surprised that she didn’t stutter. “I lost two toes in my accident.”
Kendra’s eyed Marlea’s feet, inspecting her shoes. “Ah. What do you run?”
“The 400. What’s your event?”
“Hundred meters and relay. The 400 is too much for me.” Kendra ran a hand over her short, tight afro. “You said you had an accident?”
“Yes, it was a hit-and-run car accident. My car was struck, hit the wall, and I wound up in surgery. ”
“The loss of the toes must wreak havoc on your balance and speed. You must be very strong, and one hell of a runner.” Kendra realized that Marlea’s eyes looked expectant. “Oh, me? I was raised in Canada, had an accident on my family’s farm when I was sixteen. It’s my leg, and believe me, I missed out on a lot of dances and races.” She patted her thigh, the sound muffled by her long sweat pants. She smiled brightly when she saw the look on Marlea’s face.
“I make my home in Florida now, though. The last name is my husband’s.”
“You’re married? What about…”
“The prosthesis?” Kendra laughed. “My Paul couldn’t care less about what I don’t have. He loves everything about me that he does have. I love him, too. Mostly because he taught me to celebrate the blessings.” She put a hand on Marlea’s arm. “I kind of think that that’s the reason we get challenges like this, so that we know what to appreciate in this life.” She leaned close and whispered. “I know what you’re thinking. And no, sex has never been a problem. Know what I mean?”
Marlea grinned and looked at her feet. She thought of AJ and blushed. “Uh, yeah, I think I do know what you mean.”
“Oh, you’re that lucky, are you?” Laughing, Kendra squeezed Marlea’s arm.
A loudspeaker blared from the field. “Oh, my. Just when the conversation was getting interesting.” Kendra looked annoyed. “They’re calling the warm-up for my race.” She gripped Marlea’s hand and shook hard. “Best of luck on your race. Hope we’ll meet again.”
“Me, too. Best of luck, Kendra, and let’s both qualify for the U.S. team.” Marlea had just enough time to wave as the other woman trotted to the field. “Qualify for the U.S. team. Least I’m not dreaming small.”
Visualizing herself heading for a lane and bending to the blocks, Marlea’s fingers twisted the yarn bracelet as she concentrated on what it would feel like to release the power and run.
I can do this.
Sliding her hands over her sleek head, she walked to her assigned area. Ponytail intact, she tried to focus, to recall Libby’s mind/body routine.
“Marlea!” For a moment, it seemed she had heard her name, but it was so far away, too far away to distinguish as she bent to stretch. “Marlea!” She looked up into the mass of faces above her and was struck by the abundance of movement and color.
“Silk?”
In her ears, the nickname made a sound like no other and claimed her immediate attention. Her head jerked high, and she saw him.
“You know I had to bribe two security guards to get this close?”
“But am I worth it?” Marlea straightened and jammed her fists against her hips.
“What kind of question is that? You know you are.” AJ reached down from the stands, his fingers just close enough to brush the tips of hers. Truth was, he had handed over a couple of hundred in cash and signed a dozen autographs. But he would never complain, not when it earned him the look that danced in the liquid depths of her eyes and the smile that dawned on her face when she saw him.
Marlea’s fingertips touched her lips before she reached to touch his fingers. “I’ll see you at the finish line.”
“It’s a date,” he promised.
In the distance, Marlea heard the call for the 400. Touching AJ’s fingers again, she smiled. “I gotta go, but you’d better not stand me up.”
“Ain’t no way.” He watched her face as she backed away from the stands. “I’ll be right there to meet you, Silk,” he whispered as she turned and ran toward her place on the track.
Pulling her thoughts away from AJ and focusing on the race took some effort, but she managed to find the number four slot without incident. “Number four,” she whispered to herself. “That’s got to be my lucky number. It was my number in St. Louis, and I ran the race of a lifetime there. It’s going to be good for me here, too.”
Hands on her hips, she walked to the start and took a deep breath. Looking at the three women on her left and the two on her right, she realized that she was running in a field of six.
I guess that either makes us six of the fastest women in the country without full use of one foot, or we’re the six who never realized what we couldn’t do.
Kicking her toes along the dirt track, Marlea wiped her hands against her shorts, then pressed her hands against her thighs. Flushed with a sudden sense of kinship, she smiled at the women lined up next to her. It felt good when they smiled back, offering competition and fellowship.
Good luck to all of you,
Marlea thought,
but I’m taking this one. This is my race.
“Runners, take your marks…”
Four little words that anchored so much of her life sent shivers racing up her legs. But it was the tingling in her foot that made her think of the first time AJ touched her.
“Get set…”
The stance was slightly modified from the one that Marlea had used for most of her running life, but it kept her head up high enough to sight the finish line, and to see AJ’s gold and white jacket move through the crowd.
“Go!”
Her face tightened and her arms pumped when she heard the crack of the starter’s pistol. The first strike of Marlea’s foot against the cinder track ignited the speed in her soul. With no thought for anything but the run, she picked up her pace and grinned at the struggling woman next to her, fighting to stay even and praying to pass.
Seeing challenge in the woman’s eye, Marlea dug deeper and pulled on her resolve.
It’s only 400 meters.
Driving hard, her chest burned and threatened to burst at 200 meters, but she could see the goal.
Breathe!
When the woman fell steps behind, Marlea could almost feel the push of time against her hot skin.
In the stands, binoculars found the number four runner and held. Her head was high, shoulders level, and her hips tight. Marlea had a nice long stride, the rhythm setting her ponytail swinging, and she seemed determined to finish fast. Her kick was high, and her speed unbound as she crossed the finish line well ahead of the other runners.
Marlea’s arms came high and her head fell back as she ran, her throat was arched and tight with triumph when the silvery white banner broke across her chest. Behind the leveled binoculars, Bianca Coltrane’s eyes narrowed, and she pushed her full lips together.
“…finishing with a time of…”
“Who, the heck, cares?” Bianca turned in her seat, aimed the binoculars at the hard running figure in the gold-and-white jacket. “AJ.” She would have known him anywhere. Around her, the cheering crowd was on its feet and waving flags, sweaters, and anything else they could find. Bianca stood, too, training her binoculars on the track. AJ was running full force when he reached Marlea. “What kind of silly victory dance is that?” Bianca muttered, struggling to dial up the magnification on her field glasses. “She ought to be ashamed of herself.”
“You know her?” A big-eyed woman in a baggy tennis sweater looked hopefully up at Bianca, begging her to say yes.
Bianca took her time looking down at the woman.
It’s bad enough that I had to leave my apartment today to drive all the way up here to witness this spectacle, and now you want me to act like I’m glad to be here? If I didn’t need to know what was going on, I would be…I would be doing something more useful than this!
Bianca didn’t bother to utter a word, but when she looked down, her eyes held fire enough to singe the pudgy woman’s red hair, and she moved a few steps away before resuming her cheer.
Bianca raised her binoculars again.
On the field, AJ whooped, jumped a fence, and made straight for Marlea. Yelling his name, she leapt for him, landing with her legs wrapped tightly around his hips and her arms threaded around his shoulders. Her face pressed against his, and she might have been crying. “No dignity,” Bianca frowned, sitting hard.
Reaching under her seat, Bianca pulled out the leather binocular case and carefully repacked them. “I’ll return them to the store on my way home.” She tucked the case under her arm and stood to edge her way along the row of seats to the aisle. Gritting her teeth, she picked her way down the steep stairs and headed for the exit, all the time debating her next move.
She stopped talking to herself out loud when a pair of tall beer-bellied strangers offered to show her a good time. Keeping her thoughts to herself, she bared her teeth at them, then hastened from the stadium.
She’s a winner now, and she’s got a hold on him; their bond will be stronger than ever. But I can’t let that get in my way. I saw him first, he loved me first, and he’s still mine. That means that I’ll have to shatter this relationship irreparably if I’m going to break AJ away from her.
So what will it really take to drive them apart? If it were just AJ, it would be all about trust.
Clearly, that little hotfooted ragamuffin is going nowhere.
Bianca thought hard. According to all the gossip she had heard, and she had heard plenty from her little clique of Atlanta-based spies, Marlea Kellogg would have cut off her whole foot before she would betray AJ.