Chapter 6

      When Kelly next opened her eyes, the room was submerged in darkness. She was soaking wet. Her heart raced. She felt exhausted. Were they still after her? Panic contracted the muscles in her stomach. She blinked, attempting to clear her head and her eyes. Had she gotten away?

       She tried to sit up and felt the weight of the cast hold her in place. A thin streak of light filtered in through the partially opened blinds. Where was she? She looked wildly around and by degrees her pounding heart slowed. It was only a dream, she realized, a dream that had its genesis in reality, but a dream nonetheless. This was her bedroom in Atlanta, not the back woods of Mississippi, or the alleyways of Chicago’s South Side. She was safe here. Home.

       Kelly reached for the bedside lamp and the room was bathed in a soft light. The antique shade in a bronze-colored velvet with its dangling clear crystals—a present from her grandmother—cast prismatic shapes against the winter-white walls.

       Propped up against the lamp was a note. She picked it up and opened it, recognizing immediately David’s simple print. She stared at the paper and said each word aloud and slowly.

       “‘Food in oven. Will call later.’”

       She smiled. The always-thoughtful David. She slowly eased her legs over the side of the bed. She reached for her crutches and pushed until she was standing. She made her way into the kitchen and found a Pyrex dish in the oven filled with tender veal cutlet Parmesan and angel-hair pasta. Her stomach grumbled.

       After several attempts she was finally able to get the dish out of the oven, while balancing on her crutches and not falling on her face.

       She savored every morsel, taking sublime pleasure in each mouthful. It was the first real meal she’d had in a week. But she knew what she’d have to do. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure if only for the moment, dropping her fork against the yellow-and-white-checkered plate.

       It was times like this, late in the evening when she wished there was more to her life than the next day on the track. She had no real friends or family. Although she had teammates and they went out from time to time, she never felt like one of them, that she was really accepted. For the most part she kept to herself and was ultimately branded a diva. What a joke. If they only knew.

       Kelly pushed up from the table and took her dish to the sink. She turned on the water and watched as it mixed with the remnants of sauce to gather in a stream of red and disappear down the drain. It was as if she were suddenly watching her life dissolve in front of her. All that she’d endured, all that she’d worked for could wash away like the sauce on her plate, disappearing into a black hole of no return—unless she fought back. All she had was her skills. She wouldn’t lose the only thing in life that she’d ever succeeded at—not without a fight.

       The phone rang.

       She ambled over to the wall phone. “Hello?”

       “I know it’s late, but I wanted to check on you.”

       “David.” Her insides warmed.

       “Did you get your dinner?”

       “Yes, I did. Thank you. How…did I get in my room?”

       “I carried you. You were totally out of it and I didn’t want to wake you. And I certainly didn’t want you to fall off the couch.”

       She laughed. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

       “You need your rest. It’s one of the best remedies for any ailment. Do you need anything? I can drive back over if you do.”

       As much as she wanted the company she declined. “I’m fine. Really.”

       “Well, I’ll be there in the morning.”

       “Don’t you have to be at practice?”

       “Reggie can run the team through the drills. I don’t want you to be alone.”

       She didn’t want to read more into what he said. He was only offering his help to an injured member of his team. He would do the same for any of them.

       “I’ll call you when I get up.”

       “Make sure that you do,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

       “Okay.”

       “Good night, K.”

       “Good night.”

       Thoughtfully she hung up the phone. She’d known David since she was seventeen years old and he was standing at the finish line when she’d won her race at a high school track meet.

       “You’re good, but I can make you better,” he’d said by way of introduction.

       She bent in half to catch her breath and looked up at him. “Who are you?”

       “Your future coach.” He grinned and her heart did a funny little dance in her chest.

       “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

       “I am.”

       She stood up and braced her hands on her hips. “How do you know I want a coach?”

       “Because you want to be a winner.” He handed her a towel.

       She stared at it for a moment before taking it and wiping her face. “Thank you.”

       “So what do you say? If you want me to talk to your family, I will.”

       “There’s no one to talk to. Thanks for the towel and the offer. But forget it.” She handed him back the towel, turned and jogged away before he could react.

       But as Kelly soon discovered, David was as determined as he was handsome and that was saying something. David Livingston was tall and lean, his features angular but with the kind of even brown complexion that women slaved to maintain. His smile was as generous as his eyes and his deep laughter reminded her of winter nights sitting in front of a fireplace.

       He showed up for every track meet. He was the loudest in the stands as she jetted to the finish lines. David became a fixture to a point where she looked for him in the stands, listened for his cheers among the crowd.

       Finally one day after practice she walked up to him.

       “Okay, I give up. What can you do for me?”

       “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

       They’d been a “team” ever since.

       But not even David knew all her secrets.

       Slowly she went into the bathroom, pulled up the toilet seat and stuck her finger as far down her throat as she could.