False Start

by Barbara Valentin

  "Hello…" she sang out.

  He glanced at her. "What?"

  "The half. I can't believe it's in three days."

  "Oh, yeah."

  When he said nothing more, she prodded, "That's it? If you're trying to motivate me, I have to tell ya, I'm not feeling it."

  Nick stopped abruptly and shot his arm out in front of her as a car turned onto the street they were about to cross over.

  "Sorry. I've got a lot on my mind."

  "Care to share?" she ventured as she jogged in place, waiting for the traffic to clear.

  As desperate as he was to share his feelings with her, exposing himself to the kind of rejection he was expecting in return would be more than he was willing to deal with—especially with three solid months of training to go before the marathon.

  Instead, he replied by wagging his index finger in her direction. "Uh-uh. Strictly business, remember?"

  She either missed or completely ignored the mocking tone in his voice. "Right. Sorry."

  She jogged along a bit more then asked, "Hey, any chance I can talk you into running the half with me?"

  He was surprised by her question, but ready with answer.

  "No. I only registered you."

  This seemed to agitate her. Her mood darkened along with the clouds above. "Can't you just run with me anyway?"

  "What's the problem, Ross?"

  "Finishing the 10k was a lot harder than I expected. I'm not sure I'm ready for double the distance. Especially if it's this hot."

  Nick dismissed her concern with an icy observation. "From what I saw, you did just fine at the 10k. You ran a 54:05. Do you have any idea how good that is for somebody who just started running a couple of months ago? Besides, if it's this hot, the organizers will be more than ready. Tons of water stations and emergency personnel."

  Glancing in her direction, he added, "And me running with you won't make the distance seem any shorter or the air feel any cooler."

  After several more yards, she tried using his own rules to persuade him. "What about 'you're not in this alone'?"

  "Mattie," he started, his voice sounding sterner and more irritated than he intended, "How many times do I have to tell you, you're never gonna succeed if you keep telling yourself you can't?"

  With that, they ran along in stony silence. By the time they passed Belmont Harbor, he noticed the path ahead and behind them was virtually deserted. Despite the wind whipping off of the lake, the air began to feel thick and charged with electricity. The sky to their left looked like a chalkboard that had just been wiped clean with an eraser. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Nick slowed. "Come on. Time to head back. We shouldn't get caught in this."

  Just as they turned around, the sky opened up. He grabbed Mattie's hand, and they ran over a quarter of a mile before taking shelter under a hidden prairie-style wood and stone structure on the northern shore of a secluded pond just to the west of the park.

  Tucked away from the bustle of the city, the shelter was nestled in a dense, untamed wooded patch that curved around it like a green, leafy hug, open only to the serene pond that was carpeted with lily pads in full bloom. It was an unofficial habitat for many of the exotic birds at the zoo and a favorite place for weddings and couples looking for, um, privacy.

  In the relentless downpour, it resembled a miniature rain forest, still and hushed.

  Soaked through, Mattie backed herself into a dry corner trying to catch her breath. She undid her ponytail and fluffed her hair over her shoulders.

  Nick stood dripping a few feet away watching the downpour, agitated and wishing he hadn't snapped at her. He cast a sideways glance in her direction as she stood against the wall made up of thin limestone slabs stacked like crackers. Even though she had pulled her shirt back on, her clothes clung to her like plastic wrap.

  When a chilled gust of wind blew through, she gasped and crossed her arms across her chest, looking self-conscious and vulnerable—much like he remembered seeing her between classes in high school, hating who ever it was that had caused her to feel that way. Only this time, he knew there was no one to blame but himself.

  "How can you be cold?" he asked, unable to keep the hard edge from his voice. "We just sprinted all the way down here."

  Would you just shut up?

  Mattie narrowed her eyes, emerged from her dry, secure corner and demanded, "If you have something to say to me, why don't you just say it?"

  She was so close. Dangerously close. He could smell the rain in her hair and was very eager to find out if her lips tasted as sweet as he remembered.

  I could take you right here, right now.

  Nickel-sized hail started falling like snow, pelting the flowers lining the path circling the pond.

  Barely able to restrain himself, he asked, "Aren't you the one who has something to say?"

  Mattie blinked. Caught off guard, she lifted her chin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  He shook his head and let out of short laugh. "Like hell you don't."

  As she stood there, staring at him, her narrowed eyes started to well up.

  Nick held her gaze and leaned into her. "Come on, Mattie. Be honest."

  Blinking back tears, she gasped, "I have to go."

  She had just stepped out from under the shelter, when a bright white flash and an explosive, ear-popping crack of thunder forced her backwards with a cry.

  Nick caught her and yanked her towards him. "I've got you."

  As her body trembled against his, he held her tight. She felt warm and, tucked into him like that, fit like a missing puzzle piece. He rested his cheek against the top of her head and closed his eyes, pretending, if only for a few precious seconds, that she belonged to him and not some fabricated spouse.

  After a short while, the rain stopped as suddenly as it started, and he eased his grip, but she stayed put and looked up at him, her face flushed.

  "I'd better"

  Before she could get the words out, something in Nick took over, something out of his control. Shedding his fear of rejection, he slipped a big hand on each side of her face and spoke in a raspy whisper. "Mattie, I can't get you out of my head. I've tried, but I can't."

  She looked like she was in the front seat of a roller coaster that was about to derail. "Nick. Don't. Nothing personal, remember?"

  "That was your rule, not mine."

  He kissed her tenderly at first, but when he felt her arms tighten around his waist, he hungrily covered her mouth with his. Clutching the back of her shirt, he lifted her off of the ground as he tried to consume every bit of her that she was willing to offer.

  When he was finished, he brushed her mouth with a soft kiss, whispered, "See you Saturday," and was gone.

  * * *

  "Oh my God, he knows. How does he know?" Dianne asked before putting her face in her hands.

  Mattie sat languidly in a chair facing her editor's desk, still basking in the glow of Nick's very intentional display of affection. "I don't know," she sighed. Then, staring out the window, she added, "And I don't care."

  Dianne put both hands on her desk, "Did you kiss him back?"

  Mattie just looked at her, cheeks aflame.

  "Oh, you did, didn't you? I knew this would happen when you stopped wearing your ring. And you never replaced those pictures on your desk like you said you would. Didn't I tell you to move in with your sister?"

  "Everything will be fine," Mattie replied. "Lester doesn't know, and I doubt Nick's going to tell him. He needs his bonus."

  "Oh, and you don't?" Dianne shot back.

  "I suppose."

  Dianne, her face etched with skepticism, asked, "You're in love with him, aren't you?"

  Gripping the arms of her chair, she lied, "As far as I'm concerned, our relationship is still strictly business."

  Dianne nodded and said, "That's what I want to hear."

  Mattie left, but after seeing Diane's expression, she'd have been a fool to think her editor believed her
.

  * * *

  Later in the day, a rousing debate was taking place between the assistant fashion editor and three guys from the IT department who had clustered in the corridor near Dianne's office. The topic was what Mattie should wear for the half marathon. The choices were a sparkly red, white, and blue tutu or a "skort" with Team Plate Spinner embroidered across her derriere.

  Looking to fill her water bottle at a nearby cooler, Mattie passed by and declared that the topic was not up for discussion. When she returned to her cubicle, she found a lithe, sweaty delivery biker waiting for her.

  A jittery type with his hair slicked back into a greasy ponytail and his helmet dangling from his wrist, he sputtered with a thick accent of indiscernible origin, "Special delivery. You sign."

  What now?

  She held out her hand and took the large envelope from him. The return address was of a law firm in the Loop. Goosebumps crept up her forearms.

  "Where do I sign?"

  He held out a portable electronic signature pad.

  Scribbling like a doctor writing a prescription, she waved him away and stared at the envelope, thinking of nothing but Claudia's warnings about fraud and misrepresentation.

  She was certain Dianne would have given her a heads up if legal action of that magnitude were imminent.

  Wouldn't she?

  She held it up to the light, but was unable to see through the envelope. Curiosity getting the better of her, she took out her letter opener and sliced it open. She pulled out several photos and a letter with a notary seal on it. A smaller piece of paper wafted into her lap.

  As she read the letter, the words "executor" and "Vivienne" jumped off the page in between a lot of "herebys" and "heretofores." With trembling fingers, she lifted the small piece of paper that was still in her lap.

  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."

  CHAPTER TEN

  "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 h
im 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.