She waved her hand at me. "Off you go then. And remember, I was just kidding."
I walked down the hall, nearly running to burn off my anger and frustration, telling myself off for not telling her off. I stood up to my brother now, I'd stood up to Mom with Kim... why couldn't I handle Amanda?
Chapter Thirty-One
A hugely pregnant woman shuffled along the row in front of us, reminding me of the lunch fiasco, and I turned toward Andrew. He smiled. "I know what you're thinking. Me too." He shook his head. "That Amanda really is a piece of work."
I shook my head too. "I know. I've been thinking about it all afternoon but I still don't know what I should have said."
"Well, I've been thinking about it since you told me at dinner and I have no clue either. You did tell her how you felt about it, which is good, but honestly I don't think anyone could convince her that pretending to be pregnant, or worse being pregnant, to trap him is a bad idea. You'd just have been wasting your breath. And you're going to need that on Sunday, so don't waste it on Amanda."
I smiled at him. "Got it."
"Speaking of Sunday, where's your water bottle?"
I held it up. "Half gone. And this is my second one since the end of the school day."
"Good. Keep drinking. Being hydrated will help." He grinned. "Of course, there is a downside." He glanced at his watch. "Five minutes to go. I think I'll hit the bathroom so I don't risk having to bail out during the show."
I'd already gone when we arrived, so I smiled and watched him leave then went back to reading the program. I was tired enough myself, I couldn't imagine how Jeanine felt after all those weeks of rehearsals and then a crazy week of performances. But I was excited to watch her final performance and to see the seven little kids who played the Von Trapp children since Jeanine had raved about how cute they were, and then to go to what Jeanine promised would be a great party afterwards.
I was especially excited to do those things with Andrew. We had dinner together at least a few times a week now, not always after a run, and we chatted during the day with friendly emails and texts. He was certainly the closest thing I'd had to a boyfriend in a while. But we hadn't talked about our relationship at all, and our physical contact was limited to the occasional shoulder squeeze or hand touch and our goodbye hugs, so I couldn't say we were dating even though I'd have loved it.
My phone buzzed with a text. Kim, to let me know dinner on Monday worked for her. I wrote back to say great and also to tell her that I'd be turning off my phone for the show, then sat thinking about how weird and wonderful it was to actually be friends with my sister now.
After her skydiving and the kiss afterwards, we'd gone out for dinner and Kim and Ross had been so cute together, sweet without being cloying. I'd loved seeing my sister's joy, and I'd loved hanging out with her then and in the days to follow as we bonded over Mom's guilt-inducing emails. She really hadn't expected us to go through with the skydiving plans, and though she begrudgingly agreed to have a dinner the following Sunday to celebrate Kim's birthday a week late I knew she wanted us to feel bad. Kim brought Ross to that dinner, and she was so vibrantly happy that Mom's grumpiness didn't even register. I wondered if someday Andrew and I would be that happy together. I hoped so.
He returned as the orchestra was tuning up in their pit below the stage. "Got back just in time," he murmured, and picked up his water bottle.
I held mine out to his and we clinked them together with a dull plastic sound. We grinned at each other, then the house lights dimmed and we settled back in our seats to watch the show.
The girl playing Maria did an amazing job of her first song, then she left the stage and the nuns took their places. Andrew nudged me and I nodded since I'd spotted Jeanine too.
She stepped forward, facing what was clearly the lead nun.
Then she stood silent, as did everyone on stage. I couldn't see her face clearly beneath the white headdress she wore but I saw the other nuns shifting uncomfortably.
Andrew muttered, "Uh-oh."
I reached out and grabbed his hand on the arm rest beside me before I realized I was going to, my terror for Jeanine making me long for comfort and support.
He flipped his hand over and squeezed mine, and we sat in silence for what could only have been seconds but felt like eternity until a nun leaned in to Jeanine and hissed something.
Our running buddy jumped then said, "A cowbell! We should have put a cowbell around her neck, Mother Superior."
The whole theater relaxed, and the performance continued.
Andrew continued holding my hand.
I didn't want him to stop, of course, but I couldn't help being surprised that he hadn't.
His grip was strong but not over-tight, and I could have extricated my hand with ease. Instead, I left it there, where I wanted it to be, and we sat holding hands until the next song had finished and it was time to applaud.
I reluctantly released him so we could clap, and when the applause was over I watched out of the corner of my eye as he returned his hand to the arm rest, exactly where it had been before. Except this time he placed it palm-up, like he was hoping...
Hoping, myself, that I was reading him right, I laid my hand in his.
He closed his fingers around it at once.
We spent the entire first half that way, holding hands then clapping then going back to holding hands, without a word or even a glance at each other, and though I didn't know what this meant I knew I loved it.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Once the performance was over, Andrew drove Jeanine and me to the wrap party at the theater group's rehearsal space. Jeanine babbled away about the show and her momentarily forgotten line and how everyone was calling her "cowbell" backstage to tease her, and she didn't seem to notice that Andrew and I were barely responding.
I didn't know about him, but I was busy thinking about what had happened with us. True, holding hands wasn't that big a deal, but it felt like one since we hadn't had that level of contact before. We'd gone back to it after the intermission, too, reaching for each other the moment the lights went down. That had to mean something.
When we arrived at the party, Jeanine excitedly introduced us to everyone. Andrew was friendly enough but he still seemed quiet and withdrawn, not grouchy but lost in his thoughts. I had a brief flash of wondering whether he had been annoyed by my actions in constantly re-taking his hand, but even as it hit me I dismissed it. He'd done it too, after all. No, it couldn't be that. Whatever it was, I felt sure it had nothing to do with me.
I'd been taking a sip of water when that sank in, and I nearly choked.
I always thought everything had to do with me.
At least, I used to.
The concept shone as bright as the stage lighting had: I could choose to help when and if I wanted, but that didn't make other people's problems magically become mine. I could be there for them without giving up everything that mattered to me or taking the blame for everything they suffered.
After promising myself I'd remember how clear and simple and true this felt, and especially that I'd remember the next time I felt compelled to take on one of Amanda's problems, I complimented the truly adorable littlest Von Trapp girl on her performance and agreed with Jeanine's friends that we should henceforth call her "cowbell" and generally had a lovely time until I saw a pretty petite blonde woman wearing a black dress and sleek black boots with the loveliest silvery shawl I'd ever seen wound around her shoulders.
Before I could point her out to Jeanine, who I knew loved scarves and shawls, she beckoned the blonde over.
"Andrea, these two are Megan and Andrew. I run with them. Andrea plays clarinet with us."
"That's a gorgeous shawl," I said, smiling at her. "It looks so soft!" Up close it was even more intricate. "Where'd you get it?"
"She made it, if you can believe that," Jeanine said.
"Crocheted it," Andrea agreed. "It's alpaca lace yarn. Want to feel?"
When I nodded, sh
e draped a fold of the shawl over my hand. All I could say was, "Mmmm," as the unbelievable softness settled onto my skin and I gently rubbed it with my other hand.
She laughed. "That's exactly what I said. That's why I bought the yarn in the first place."
"Andrea always has the best stuff," Jeanine said. "It's still a toss-up for me whether I love these boots or your brown ones more. Maybe I'll just steal both pairs."
Andrea chuckled. "Keep your paws out of my closet. But thanks. I love all my stuff. Don't buy it unless I do."
I glanced down at my black low-heeled shoes, which I had only bought because I needed to dress up a bit for parent-teacher conferences and had never even particularly liked never mind loved, then looked up and said, "Great philosophy."
She smiled at me, and I realized I'd never seen someone quite so comfortable in her own skin. This woman knew who she was and what she wanted, and she made sure she got it. I envied her.
"Well, Jeanine's right about your boots, and this shawl is spectacular," I said, reluctantly releasing the delicate fabric.
"Thanks. Do you crochet?"
I shook my head. "I've never tried."
"If you ever want to learn..." She dipped into her purse and passed me a business card. "I host a crochet group at this yarn store. I'd be happy to help you out."
I tucked the card into my pocket and smiled. "I might take you up on that."
Jeanine nudged me. "You should. Once the marathon's over, you won't know what to do with all your spare time."
I couldn't help a quick glance at Andrew, since I hoped I'd get to spend at least some of that time with him, but he was looking at Jeanine and didn't notice.
"Marathon?" Andrea said. "So brave!"
"Or foolish," I said, and we began chatting about running. She didn't do it herself, but she said that Loren had started six months ago and was enjoying it.
"Loren's her..." Jeanine turned to Andrea. "What do you call him again?"
She smiled. "I call him Loren."
"Yeah, but--"
Jeanine lost her audience. A tall blond man, a little husky but clearly in decent shape, had come up to join us and Andrea couldn't look at anyone but him. I could see why, since his eyes were an amazing rich blue-green and they lit up when he looked at her.
She said to him, "You have to go?"
He nodded. "Clarissa can't stay with Dad much longer."
"I'll walk you to the door," she said, and they left after smiling at us all.
Jeanine shook her head. "It's the weirdest thing. They've been together a year now, but they only see each other one night a week."
I blinked. "How come?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't bring myself to ask. It's usually Thursday, I think, but they changed it this week because of the show's final performance."
"So they're dating?"
"She called him her part-time boyfriend once, so I guess you'd call it dating. But it's strange." She shook her head again. "From the sounds of it, they don't even talk the rest of the time."
I glanced toward the door, where I saw Andrea and Loren in the hall locked in each others' arms and lost in a kiss. "I guess it works for them."
She followed my gaze and nodded. "They always seem thrilled to see each other, and I know she's busy and he takes care of his dad who's got Alzheimer's. It's just... weird. It seems wrong."
Another quick peek showed me the couple releasing each other and clearly saying goodbye. Then Loren left and Andrea returned to the room, joining a group near the door and wrapping her arms around the waists of a tall brunette and a taller man with red-gold hair who both smiled at her arrival.
"If it works, if it makes them happy," I said, finding myself unexpectedly defensive of people making choices that not everyone liked, "then it's nobody else's business. People have to do what works for them."
Jeanine blinked, and Andrew turned to me, his eyes serious, and said the first thing he'd said in ages. "Nobody else's business. I think you're right."
Chapter Thirty-Three
We were a quiet bunch when we met up at the race expo the next afternoon.
Poor Jeanine looked wiped out, which didn't surprise me since she'd been dancing and singing like crazy every night for a week. It must have been like running daily hard workouts, during the time we were supposed to run only a little to rest for the race. I hoped she'd be okay.
I hoped even harder for Andrew. He smiled at Jeanine and me when we met but seemed distracted. My attitude of last night was gone and now I worried that I had upset him by holding his hand. I knew I didn't need to, especially since he'd had ample opportunity to end our contact if he wanted to, but I couldn't stop myself.
In a weird way I almost welcomed the worry about Andrew, because it stopped me worrying about how I would manage moving James's stuff out after the race. I couldn't imagine how awful I'd feel hauling boxes down Amanda's stairs, but it couldn't be much worse than how I felt inside at the mere thought of it, furious at Amanda for asking me and myself for agreeing. In fact, it would probably feel better: I'd rather be physically exhausted than emotionally torn up.
Andrew had warned me not to be cocky about the race, but sadly I hadn't extended that to my newfound ability to say no. Shutting down Brandon was one thing, but Amanda was a far greater challenge and I'd failed.
Would I fail with the race too?
Andrew usually would have noticed my tension and helped me relax myself, but this time he just went on digging in his race bag and barely seemed to realize I was there.
Miserable and scared, I joined him and Jeanine in looking through the bags, finding cards advertising other races and tiny bottles of sunscreen and the same foot-care magnets that were plastered on Andrew's fridge. He and I did exchange a small smile when we discovered those, but we were nowhere near as connected as we usually were. I missed him.
After we discussed the official race shirt and how I shouldn't wear it for the race itself, Jeanine said, "I'll just hit the bathroom and then we can look at the booths, okay?"
She headed off and Andrew and I sat in silence. I wanted to say something, anything, to break the stiffness between us but I couldn't think of anything but, "Do you hate me now?", and I didn't think that would help.
After a few minutes, I saw Jeanine walking back, and my heart sank.
Then it jumped, as Andrew said urgently, "Megan, listen."
I turned to face him and my heart leaped again as I saw how nervous he was. He hadn't been ignoring me, he'd been trying to find words. Three of them. "I did it."
I blinked. "You-- oh!" I could only think of one thing. "You left the foundation?"
"You knew right away," he mumbled, sounding awestruck. Then he said, "I did it this morning. I need to move forward with my life."
His eyes, glowing with intensity, held mine, and I was just gathering the courage to say, "What does that mean, exactly?" when I heard Jeanine say, "You guys ready?"
If only the bathroom had been just a few more feet away!
"Yup." Andrew got to his feet, then held out a hand to help me up.
His grip was warm and strong, and I loved the feel of his skin on mine, but I longed to know what 'move forward' meant.
Chapter Thirty-Four
By the morning of the race, I still didn't know.
We had cruised through the expo's booths, Jeanine's presence making it impossible for Andrew and me to really talk, and then I'd been off to the early dinner I'd arranged with Tosca and Theo to keep me from obsessing over the race. I had a good time with my two favorite coworkers, who were officially still just friends but clearly moving toward more at their own pace, then I went home thinking about but not contacting Andrew.
I didn't want to text or call him. I wanted to talk in person, to see the look in his gorgeous blue eyes when he gave me the details of his leaving the foundation. I couldn't imagine it was easy on him, and I wanted to support him.
I also wanted to kiss him and wrap my arms around him and kiss him som
e more, and I wanted to see his face to know if any of that was remotely likely. He'd decided to move on, but move on to what? Did he want to start dating? Did he want to start dating me? I hoped so, and I thought so, but I didn't know and I so wanted to.
I was meeting him and Jeanine at the start line at five-thirty to make sure we had plenty of time before the race. I woke up at three-thirty, too nervous to sleep any more, then lay in bed thinking about Andrew until my alarm went off at four-fifteen. Since I'd packed all my stuff before going to get my kit, and had checked it twice before going to bed, I didn't need to worry about my supplies. All I needed to do was put on my running clothes and eat a little breakfast and have a few good freak-outs over what I was about to do.
All those tasks accomplished, I left the house a little earlier than I needed to, hoping that maybe Andrew would do the same and we'd have a chance to talk before Jeanine arrived. Unfortunately, Jeanine was already standing by the start line when I reached it. Andrew arrived moments later, and his wry smile told me he'd also been hoping we'd beat her there. That made my heart flutter even more, and far more pleasurably, than my fear was already doing.
"Hey, Andrew," Jeanine said. "Well, folks, are we ready?"
I looked around at the start line and the steadily growing crowd and the fencing that would corral us all in the right direction. "I have no idea. Are we?"
"You'll do great," Jeanine said, through a yawn, but I was looking into Andrew's warm blue eyes.
He gave me a sweet smile. "Let's go find out."
*****
We wandered around, checking out the start area and drinking water and using the portapotties and accepting sample packs of sport jelly beans being given out at a booth. "They're not bad fuel," Andrew said to me, "but you remember not to try something new during a race, right? Stick with the gels you used in training."
I nodded, and Jeanine said, "Worst upset stomach I've ever had in a race came from drinking something I hadn't used before. I thought my guts were turning inside out."
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 63
