I pass them quickly, my body fueled entirely by the fear and anger pumping through my system. The fear of my dad catching up with me. The anger, for everything, that I’ve held onto for too long.
Maybe he is waiting for me at the top of the mountain, with a sheriff in tow. And now I’m thinking, So what? Now, as the trail gets steeper, my mind has no more room for worry; it takes all my energy to keep my legs moving, to keep my breathing steady. Let them take me to prison in shackles. At least I will make it to the top.
The mist has thickened into a soup-like mix that prevents me from seeing more than fifty yards in any direction. I am alone again, and I must be making good progress. I’ve left several slowing runners behind, and I feel as though I’m in the nether land between the large, main pack of runners and the small lead pack. And though I have no idea how close I am to that lead pack, I’m happy to be ahead of the rest.
And then, suddenly, I am falling.
It was a tree root, I think, that tripped me—I hadn’t been paying close enough attention—and I feel myself tumbling, scraping my way down rocks and bushes, very much the way I’d plummeted down the mountain trying to escape Victor and Roman. It seems as though I’ll fall forever—until I stop at last, when my head slams against a tree.
The blow is fierce, and it may even have knocked me out for a moment. When I open my eyes, I blink into the white nothingness all around me, looking up at the tree that stopped my fall. I’m bleeding from a large gash below my left knee. I can see hardly anything else, I’m so fogged in. I know which was is up, thanks to the steepness of the mountain slope I’m sprawled on, but I can’t see the trail. I can’t see or hear any other runners.
That’s it. The race is over. I’m done.
I begin to get to my feet, slowly. I’m thinking maybe I’ll head down the mountain through the woods. I can’t use the trail because it’s filled with runners, and there’s no point in trying to get back into the race. I’ve already lost precious minutes, and I don’t know how many more I’ll lose just trying to find my way back.
Then I see movement in the fog above me—a figure, or, rather, the shadow of a figure. I peer at it through the mist, thinking it’s a runner, that maybe I am closer to the trail than I think. But there is no trail where this figure is.
A shiver goes through me as I remember something Roman said to me: Lithia is filled with—shall we say—spirits.
And just like that, the figure rushes toward me, and as I close my eyes, I feel it whoosh past, and then it’s gone.
But it’s enough to get me running again.
With a fresh jolt of adrenaline coursing through me, I suddenly feel as though I can get back in the race. Maybe not finish anywhere close to the top, with my aching head and my bleeding leg, but enough to get back in and finish it at least. To be able to say I’ve run Cloudline.
But even as I run back uphill, I’m not getting to the trail. It seems to have disappeared. How far off the path did I fall?
I hear a sound behind me and I glance over my shoulder. I see it again—a giant, shadowy figure, growing larger, gaining on me. The strange thing is that it’s completely silent. Even Roman and Victor had made noise, had announced their presence in the forest.
Now I’m sprinting, not knowing where I’m going, glancing behind me and taking my cue from this ghostly being, steady and looming behind me, forcing me to move faster and faster, to turn this way and that, hardly aware of the energy I’m exerting, running as if I’ve got the finish line in sight.
And then the ground shifts and I’m on the trail again, still sprinting all out, running like a madwoman.
I glance behind me. Nothing is there. Nothing but the distant bobbing shapes of a couple of runners pushing their way up the mountain.
My breath is coming smoothly and steadily, as though I’ve been keeping a steady pace all along. As if I haven’t just been running for my life. I notice that my head no longer aches, and that’s when I glance down at my injured leg.
There’s no blood. Only a few splatters of mud from the trail.
I want to believe this was just part of my mind wandering, but I know better. I remember the night Alex and I sat in his favorite tree, waiting for the stars to come out. He told me that we’re never alone in the forest—but he wasn’t referring to the animals. He said, There are beings not known to most humans. Who have remained hidden by choice.
You mean like ghosts? I asked him.
Call them that if you’d like. Maybe you’ll meet one someday. They will make themselves known to people who are in tune with nature. When the time is right.
Are they scary? I asked. Do they hurt people?
At this he laughed. Of course not, he said. They’re there to take care of you. If you need them. They exist to take care of the planet—but they know that this planet can’t survive unless the humans take care of it, too. So sometimes, they need to take care of all of you.
Now I’m wondering if I encountered one of these beings. Was this what had chased me back to the trail?
I’ve lost all track of time, of the miles. I am still passing people, but I don’t know whether these are the runners I’ve already passed. Yet I feel fine, and I keep running.
Up ahead, I see what looks like a gateway cut out of stone. As I get closer, I see that the gateway is actually several huge rocks, taller than trucks, lining each side of the path as if they were placed there by giants.
The boulders.
Just like Alex said. This is where the race begins.
I pick up my pace, slowly at first but then with more confidence, amazed that I still have the energy to keep going. The hill is so steep at times that I can almost reach out and touch the ground in front of me, like shaking someone’s hand.
I hear voices ahead and then I see two women holding cups of water. The last water station.
“One mile to go,” the first woman says.
I can’t believe it. I’m almost there.
“You’re only three back!” the other woman says.
I must have heard her wrong, but as she shoves the water into my hand, I realize I heard correctly.
I slow a bit as I drink the water, splashing it all over my face and shirt. Only three back. Erica and another woman—and me.
The sky seems to brighten, as if it’s dawn, and I look up and glimpse a patch of blue sky above. Alex had told me that by the end of the race, we might emerge above the clouds. Sure enough, the fog ahead is thinning out, and I see a woman ahead, tall and lean, wearing shorts with slits up to her waist. She’s moving slowly past a tall bank of rocks, and I quickly pass her by. Past the rock pile there’s more blue sky and only a handful of men ahead, not so much running the trail as climbing it.
I still have half a mile to go. Half a mile to catch Erica, and I don’t even see her. I push myself further.
Straining my eyes against the bright light, I see Erica a hundred yards ahead of me on the trail, so steep it’s as if she’s above me, and I give my body one final push.
This time, it hurts. My lungs are burning, my legs so numb I can hardly feel them, hardly realize they’re moving.
I think of Stacey. Of how proud she’d be if she could see me win. I reach up and touch her hat. Running for Stacey, as Roman said to me before the race.
Wait. Why did Roman say that? I never mentioned that to anyone. Not even David.
Roman said it when he saw the hat. Stacey’s hat. He must’ve recognized it from back when she used to wear it.
Except that it was new. She’d worn it for the first time that day. The day she died.
And Roman had seen it.
The truth hits me like one of those gigantic boulders, nearly bringing me to my knees.
It was Roman.
I feel my legs going out from under me, and I’m on the ground, knees frozen in the snow.
No. Get up.
I touch Stacey’s hat and leap to my feet. I see Erica up ahead, but now it’s not her I’m looking for. I’m looking
for Roman. He must have finished by now.
When I run up alongside Erica, I hear her breathing intensify, her little gasp of surprise. I feel her increase her stride, and we run side by side, the finish line in sight ahead of us, the sounds of people cheering from the sidelines.
But then I see Roman, so tall he stands heads above almost everyone, and I see the look of surprise on his face as he sees me racing for the finish. I am so focused on him that I barely notice leaving Erica behind.
And as I meet Roman’s gaze, I wonder if he sees the fury in my eyes and in my runner’s pace. It’s only from the corner of my eye that I see a yellow ribbon being raised, and it’s only in the distance that I hear cheers and cow bells, and all of a sudden Roman’s face disappears, and he’s gone.
And then I feel the ribbon on my chest, wrapping around my arms, the gentle touch of nylon that says you’ve won.
Twenty-four
From the top, Mount Lithia feels like an island, floating in a sea of clouds.
I feel as though I’m on the highest peak of the island, as I stand on a makeshift podium, overlooking the other two hundred runners along with their families and friends. The winner’s podium.
Somehow I did it—I won the women’s race. I still don’t know how. Maybe I was helped along by the spirits Alex believes in. Maybe my emotions are a stronger fuel than I ever knew.
Or maybe I am just good at running.
I should be happy, grateful. I know I should muster a smile for the crowds. But I’ve done this for Stacey, and when I think about her, all I can think about is the person standing next to me. The winner of the men’s race.
Roman.
It is a Cloudline tradition for the winners to present the first-place medals to each other. And I don’t know how I will be able to look at Roman now that I know what I know.
It all makes sense now. The secrets he kept alluding to. The haunted look in his eyes. I know that, deep down, he feels guilty about the wrongs he has committed, but my sympathy is spent. I think of how he kept trying to put me in the same category he is in—as if our secrets are the same. But they are not. Even through the haze of my own guilt I can see that our crimes are different.
Roman is holding my medal in his hand, dangling from a shimmering blue ribbon. He turns toward me, and I avoid making eye contact as I lean my head forward so that he can slip it around my neck. As he does, he whispers in my ear.
“Congratulations, Katherine. I knew you could do it.”
I say nothing. Someone hands me Roman’s medal, and it’s my turn to reciprocate. I hear applause, and I turn back to Roman, still trying to avoid looking at him. I can’t bear to see his face.
He lowers his head, and I place the medal around his neck. And I whisper into his ear.
“I know it was you.”
He pulls his head back, and finally I meet his eyes. He is still smiling, basking in the attention. So I try again.
“Stacey,” I say. “I know it was you who killed her.”
His face swivels toward mine, revealing a flash of shock. Then the actor in him takes over, and his face goes blank. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not,” I say. “But you will be.”
I turn away and step down from the podium. I push my way through the crowd and begin walking back down the hill. I hear someone shouting my name through the sounds of the crowd, but I keep walking.
When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I whirl around, expecting Roman. But it’s David.
“What’s your hurry?” he says, smiling. “Don’t you want to stick around and enjoy the moment?”
“I—I’m just exhausted, that’s all.”
David is beaming, the happiest I’ve seen him since I first arrived in town. He reaches over and examines the medal hanging from around my neck.
“Stacey would be proud,” he says. “You did great.”
I lean into him, tears mixing with perspiration.
“It’s okay,” he says, and I lose track of time again, of how long I cry on his shoulder. This time it’s not the forest but David taking care of me—and I’m grateful for him, for all, human and otherwise, who have sheltered me since I’ve arrived in Lithia. Whether I’m deserving of their care or not.
David offers me a ride back to town, but I tell him I need to walk it off. It’s true that I’m exhausted, but it’s not what he thinks—it’s a mental weariness, one that can only be overcome by driving the body to the point of collapse.
It’s a long, long walk down, back through the cloud. But at this point the lack of visibility suits me just fine. Because I don’t know what I’ll do when I get to the bottom of this mountain.
I walk down the trail, passing volunteers who are cleaning up discarded water cups, taking down trail markers. By the time I get down to the road, the traffic cones are gone, the streets open again.
A car pulls over ahead of me. An old beat-up Subaru covered with bumper stickers. Alex.
He steps out of the car, watching me. “We have to stop meeting this way,” he says.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not leaving town this time.”
“Good,” he says. “Does that mean I can give you a ride?”
Suddenly my legs feel as worn out as my brain, and they begin to shake. “I would like that.”
He seems to sense how unsteady I am; he comes over, puts his arm around my waist, and begins leading me to the car. I notice that he, too, is still wearing his running clothes, and suddenly realize that I hadn’t seen him at the finish. I’d been so upset about Stacey, so obsessed with Roman. “How’d you do?” I ask. “In the race?”
He grins. “I let Roman win. Again.”
“Clearly. I wish you hadn’t.”
He shrugs. “I don’t run to win,” he says. “Never have.”
“Why didn’t I see you at the finish?”
We reach the car, and he opens the door for me. “Because I was behind you.”
“What?” I’m confused. Alex had started running with me, then pulled ahead. I’d assumed he’d finished way up with the elite male runners. “How—”
“Shhh,” he says, and puts a warm hand against my cold, tired face. “I sensed something happening to you out there. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“But—” I think of that ghostly form that had sent me back into the race, right back to where I needed to be. “But I didn’t see you. I didn’t see you anywhere.”
“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t there,” he says.
I wrap my arms around Alex’s neck. I see now that I don’t need to see everything, that sometimes the most important things are, like the mountain shrouded in clouds, hidden from ordinary view.
And then he kisses me, and I forget all about my tired legs and weary mind. I forget everything but Alex and me, together, the medal I’ve won pressed between our bodies as we stand by the side of the road.
~
When we get back to town, I ask Alex to drop me off at the cemetery. He offers to stay, but I tell him I need to be alone. That I will see him later. He promises to take me out to dinner, to celebrate.
On my way to my mother’s grave, I pass the headstone marked Roman, and I wonder how many others he has taken from their loved ones, and how long he has been at it. Hundreds of years? Thousands?
I arrive at my mother’s grave and feel the ground slipping beneath me. I fall to my knees and begin to talk to her. I hope she is listening, somewhere, as I tell her all about the race. About Stacey. About Roman and Alex and how little I know about men. About how much I wish she were here to guide me.
And I also tell her that I feel she is guiding me, somehow—that as alone as I have felt over the years, she must be with me in some way because I have landed on my feet. I’ve made it back to Lithia, and I’ve finally chosen the right man, and I’m starting my life over again. It’s still too hard to believe I’ve done it all on my own.
I reach out and touch her headstone, running my hands along the letters that make u
p her name. The name that we share—Healy—my name, which I’ve hidden for too long. Maybe this investigator showing up was a good thing. Maybe it’s time that I stop hiding. Time to be who I am, who I really am. To start over, here in Lithia where it all began. This time, I can dare to hope for a happier ending.
Hearing footsteps, I wipe the tears from my eyes and stand up. When I look over to see who it is, I feel fury rise within my tired body. It’s Roman.
I know that I could find it within me to run—anger being the strongest fuel of all—but I am finished running. Especially from him.
So I stand as tall as I can. “How dare you come here,” I say. “I don’t want you anywhere near me.”
“I came to apologize.”
“There is nothing you can say to make me forgive you.”
“Please,” he says. “Give me a chance.”
“For what?”
“Let me try to change,” he says. “I know I can be that person you want me to be.”
“I don’t believe you can, Roman. I thought at first that you could, that I could help. But you’re beyond help.”
“Katherine, there will be no more secrets between us anymore. I promise.”
I’m staring at him, and that’s when I realize that he’s looking at my mother’s grave. My heart skips as I make the connection.
“Oh, no,” I say. “You didn’t—”
He cuts me off. “No.”
“You killed her, too,” I say, “didn’t you?”
“No,” he repeats. “I—”
“First my mother, then Stacey. Who else are you going to take from me, Roman?”
“Katherine—”
“Don’t keep telling me you can change,” I say. “You’ve been here forever, preying on humans. That’s why I looked familiar to you when you first met me, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he says. “Yes, I knew your mother—but I did not hurt your mother.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I swear. I swear on my grave, or what used to be my grave.”
“That means nothing.”
“She didn’t die of a bear attack,” he says. “That much is true.”
“Then what happened?”
Out of Breath Page 17
