False Start (22 page)

Holding it at eye level, she saw that it was a check for $100,000.

Ducking into an empty conference room, she called her sister.

"Yep. I got mine this morning. Same amount," Claudia announced.

"I'm stunned. I feel like I just won the lottery. Where did she get all this money from? I didn't know school teachers made that much."

"Well, think about it. When she and Uncle Al got married, they stayed in the same house she grew up in. They didn't have a mortgage to worry about. They only had one child, no major disasters, rarely went on vacation…"

"But still." Mattie plopped into a chair and whispered, "I didn't see this coming."

Her eyes brimmed just thinking about her aunt's generosity.

"Me neither. I guess the kids will have a college fund, after all," Claudia laughed. "And you can finally pay off all your bills and still keep your ring, if you want. It's a win-win."

Paying down her financial obligations and being debt-free suddenly seemed like an attainable fantasy. As for her ring, she had stopped wearing it a several months back when it became too loose to stay on her finger. She didn't even miss it. She wasn't even sure where it was.

For the rest of the day, she thought about the implications of her inheritance.

I could quit my job, but I'd be letting my readers down.

I could tell Nick the truth, but he'd probably leave me.

I could just keep playing the game until marathon is behind me, then quit.

None of her options held much appeal.

Depositing the check in her bank account on her way home that night, she paid every single remaining balance she owed to the wedding-related creditors and still had plenty left over.

Feeling that an enormous weight had been lifted, she turned on her stereo, cranked up the volume, and began dancing around her tiny living room, debt-free and jiggle-free.

Just living the dream.

*  *  *

The night before the race, Nick had dinner with his parents. His father, a proud first-generation Italian, looked at him from across the kitchen table. "You sure you're all right, Nicoli? You don't look so good."

Glancing up, but not making eye contact, Nick replied, "I'm fine, pop."

Lucy eyed her son. "So, two races down, two to go, right?"

"That's right." Nick dug his hand into a wicker basket to retrieve a piece of steaming garlic toast and set it on his plate.

"You don't seem very excited about it. Everything going OK? How's Mattie holding up?"

"Oh, she's doing great. She's working really hard. Her times just keep getting better. You wouldn't even recognize her. She looks so
"

His parents waited for him to finish his sentence.

"Confident."

Exchanging glances with Lucy, his father said, "Why don't you bring her by sometime? Maybe for your mother's pasta before your next race. When is it? October? I'll bet she's never tasted food as good as your mother's before."

He gave his wife a quick smile while Nick stared off into space, considering the idea. "I don't know. Maybe. We barely even talk to each other. I coach, she writes. I think that's the way she wants to keep it."

Again, his parents exchanged eye contact. Lucy wrapped spaghetti around her fork, twirling it in her right hand while holding a tablespoon against it with her left. She looked down at her plate and asked, "You don't still believe that she's married, do you?"

Nick let out a long sigh. "No, Linda told me she's not."

He put his fork down, rested his chin on his hand, and stared at the table.

Lucy reached over and rubbed his back. "Well that's good news, right?"

"It would've been better coming from her."

"Ya, well, Good things come to those who wait, huh?"

Nick offered her a half smile.

"How about you stay here tonight?"

"No, thanks." Glancing at the kitchen wall clock, he added, "And I'd better get going. I have to get to bed early. It's gonna be a hot one tomorrow."

"We can't all be heroes because someone has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by."

–
Will Rogers

On the morning of the Firecracker Half Marathon, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the forecast called for temperatures to top out in the nineties. With the humidity providing enough moisture to steam a sauna, Mattie chose her clothes carefully—royal blue skort and matching sport bra with her white Team Plate Spinner T-shirt. While the local news blared in her living room, she braided her hair into a thick rope that started high above her neck and dangled to the middle of her back.

On Nick's urging, she had consumed copious amounts of water the day before. So much so, that she was up every hour on the hour all night long just to go to the bathroom.

So much for a good night's sleep.

She slipped a cap on her head, yanked her braid through the opening in the back, slipped on her sunglasses and said, "Let's get this over with," to her reflection in her bedroom mirror.

Twenty-five minutes later, she found herself in the midst of a mob of other runners in Millennium Park, just behind the Art Institute. It was seven-thirty in the morning. The trees offered no shade, and there was no breeze coming off the lake.

Volunteers, sporting T-shirts imprinted with American flags and carrying red, white, and blue squirt bottles with little battery-operated fans attached near the nozzles, were everywhere. Water stations lined much of the route, and EMT tents were so plentiful, the area near the finish line looked like a war zone.

The plan was to meet Nick at the gear check tent although Mattie had half a mind to ditch him. While she no longer cared about her bonus, the last thing she wanted was to be responsible for him not getting his. And, after what had happened between them just a few days before, she wasn't sure she'd be able to restrain herself. To make matters worse, since the
Gazette
was co-sponsoring the event, cameras would be everywhere.

Just two more races and I can just be me. No husband. No family. No stinkin' morality clause.

She figured all she had to do was give Nick a couple of nods while he delivered his usual coach's spiel. After that, she wouldn't have to see him again until the finish line.
And after that, just a few more months of training, the marathon, and then they'd be done.

Piece of cake.

She zipped her phone into the little pocket on the back of her waistband and stood jangling her keys, watching for him. Before long, she saw him sauntering toward her.

Like most of the men milling around, he was shirtless.

Have mercy.

Then she noticed the bib pinned to the front right leg of his shorts.

What the—?

"Mattie. Listen. About the other day. We gotta talk," he started.

"Are you running this?" she interrupted. "Why are you running this? You said you weren't running this."

He handed his keys and wallet over to the gear check volunteer who put them in a clear plastic bag and put them in a box that corresponded with Nick's bib number.

Pointing to her keys, he asked, "Is that all you have?"

Before she could answer, he took them from her hand and asked the volunteer to put them in his bag.

"You don't have to run this," she reiterated. "I'll be fine."

"Not in this heat, you won't. Now take your shirt off."

"What? I don't think that's a good idea."

He held up a tube of sunscreen. "Take your shirt off."

She pulled her shirt over her head, careful not to dislodge her hat. Nick took it from her hand and handed it to the now exasperated volunteer.

"Sorry, could you add this to my bag, too, please?"

It came as no surprise to either of them that, just as he started smoothing the lotion across her shoulders, Charlie Clark and his most annoying camera appeared.

"Hey, Mattie. Nick. It's gonna be a hot one today, huh?"

Nick positioned himself behind Mattie, smearing the lotion across her back and around her waist while she plastered on a big smile for Charlie.

"How 'bout a nice one of the two of you? Nick. Stand next to her, huh? It'll just take a minute."

Standing up straight, he slipped on his sunglasses and folded his hands in front of him. The classic high school coach's pose.

"You look like you're her body guard. Put your arm around her or somethin', would ya? Loosen up."

Nick took off his shades and did as Charlie instructed.

Click, click, click.

After what seemed like an eternity, he announced, "I'm gonna go check out the start line. I'll catch up with you guys later."

When he was gone, Mattie snatched the tube from him and started rubbing lotion on her arms, neck, and face. The feel of Nick's hands caressing her body was not getting her into race mode. Not one bit.

"Hey, get my back for me, would ya?"

Are you frickin' kidding me?

"Turn around," she demanded.

She squirted some of the white goo into the palm of her hand and reached up to run it along the width of his shoulders.

Oh my.

"As I was saying, about the other day…"

"Forget about it."

He turned around and watched her for a moment before responding, "Not gonna happen."

When she looked away, flustered, he reached down and grabbed the sunscreen out of her hand.

"Hey, I'm not finished."

"That's all right. I covered myself before I walked out the door this morning," he said with a wink.

Mattie rolled her eyes. "You realize Lester probably has cameras lining the entire route."

Nick tilted his head. "If you're so worried about it, why didn't you wear your wedding ring?"

She clenched her bare left hand and stomped to her start corral.

I've got a very bad feeling about this.

Nick hovered over her, keeping her close. Given the heat, his presence was already starting to annoy her. What she practically begged him to do just three days earlier, she was now regretting with every fiber of her being.

When the officials opened the gate between the runners in their group and the start line, everyone moved forward like cattle.

She looked up at him. "So you're not worried about your bonus?"

"What?" he shouted

The blast of the air horn signaled the start of the race, and all of the runners in their wave started making their way north through Chicago's city streets.

Mattie charged out with a sprint, darting through the crowd.

Nick chased after her. When he caught her, he panted, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting this over with," she snarled.

"Haven't I taught you anything? You're gonna die out here if you don't pace yourself. Now, slow it down."

She resumed her usual pace which made the course feel that much longer and the air that much thicker.

After just a mile, Nick reached out for water from a volunteer holding out cups for runners as they passed by.

Holding it in front of Mattie, he barked, "Take it."

She took a swig then handed it back to him. He held up his hand in protest. "Finish it."

She splashed more in her mouth, crumpled the cup, and tossed it to the curb.

At each of the next three-mile markers, the same scene played out. In between, Nick kept a close eye on her, shouting things like, "slow down your breathing," and "relax your shoulders." By the fifth mile, she'd had enough.

"Would you just stop?" she sputtered.

"What?"

"God. It's just like when we were kids. Always getting in my way."

Nick was quiet for a while. At the next water station, he took a cup and downed it himself.

"You asked me to run with you."

Mattie's reply was nothing short of combative. "No, I didn't."

Nick looked at her, confused, his concern growing with each stride. She was beginning to labor in the heat. Her gait, usually rhythmic, was plodding.

"You oughta stop. You're getting overheated."

Mattie just shook her head. "Just like at the wedding."

"What are you talking about?"

She was breathing in short gasps. Despite her cap, sweat dripped into her eyes. "You sabotaged me then, and you're doing it now."

"Unbelievable." He took a cup of a sport drink from a volunteer standing on the edge of the course and held it out to her. "Mattie, please drink this."

She smacked it out of his hand and ducked to her left, blending into a dense pack of joggers. When they turned onto a narrower side street, the stream of them thickened, and she got what she wanted. She had ditched Nick.

By mile nine, Mattie thought the pavement rolling out ahead of her looked like shimmering pools. She chased it down, wanting so badly to dive into the cool water. Greedily accepting cups that were held out to her, she ducked with the rest of the runners under a cool mist station. This revived her just enough to make it to through to mile twelve.

The sun was baking the course. Mattie's feet felt like they were on fire. If she weren't so focused on the road that stretched out endlessly before her, she would've noticed runners starting to leave the race to her right and her left. Some were being helped off by volunteers. Others simply called it quits.