by Chris Fabry
Gina ran from the shade of the woods into the sunlight and around a curve in the course, and Hannah lost sight of her. When Hannah came around the same corner, she heard the crowd in the distance. And there was Gina, still twenty-five yards ahead. But there was something strange about her strides. She seemed to be slowing. And then Hannah realized it wasn’t that Gina had slowed—it was that Hannah was flying, gaining ground with each step.
“You can do this,” her father said. “Give it everything. Catch her, Hannah. Extend your stride.”
She was fifteen yards behind now, and Gina did something Hannah had never seen her do—she turned and looked behind her. And it was in that moment that Hannah put on a burst of speed that brought her to within ten yards of the lead.
“Pump your arms,” her father said.
She did. She pulled five yards behind Gina.
“Keep your eyes on the finish line and fight for it.”
She pulled even with Gina and didn’t glance at her. She was narrowed in on the spot near the bleachers where the crowd cheered and she saw the word Finish.
“I’m right here with you. You can do this. I can see you winning.”
Gina picked up her pace and matched Hannah stride for stride.
“I can see you winning.”
Hannah reached for the reserve she’d kept all through the race. She felt Gina by her side but didn’t take her eyes off the finish line. She heard Coach Harrison somewhere on the sidelines yelling for her to fight. She heard wild cheers from the stands. The voices coalesced into a rich sound track and background that was overcome by the one voice she heard above them all.
“Do it, Hannah. Do it, my daughter. Do it, Hannah!”
She stared at the word Finish, but something strange happened. Her vision blurred and her lungs ached and though she told her body to obey, it wouldn’t listen. She was there, the line was just ahead, and she leaned forward, but it was too far. She lost her balance and barely got her hands in front of her to brace herself before she fell and hit the ground.
CHAPTER 41
As the race began, John Harrison paced like an expectant father, looking at his watch, wondering where Hannah was on the course and whether her father’s words were helping. There was a chance his efforts would backfire. Hearing her dad in one ear could ignite Hannah’s emotions and scatter her thoughts, rather than help her focus. But from the moment he’d gotten the idea, John knew he had to make it happen. It was a gift to both Hannah and Thomas.
John had always wanted to give his athletes something they could cherish the rest of their lives. He’d thought that meant a state championship, a scoring title, or a most valuable player award. But no matter what happened today, he’d given Hannah something she would never forget—the sound of her father’s voice as she ran her race.
There was a chance this would upset Barbara. She could use it to move forward with her threat to sue him or the school. But Barbara’s cold attitude seemed to be thawing. For some reason she had allowed Hannah to write to her father.
John couldn’t believe the Brookshire turnout. Ethan led the cheering section with other students, and they were engaged and listening for updates as the race continued.
Olivia Brooks approached him about eight minutes into the race. “Hey, John, are you not going with the other coaches to the midpoint?”
“I’m not coaching her today,” he said matter-of-factly. “She’s got a better coach.”
It was clear Olivia didn’t understand, but he didn’t explain. He knew she would enjoy hearing the details later. She turned and walked to the stands.
The prevailing opinion was that no one would beat Gina Mimms. She was too fast, too strong, too consistent. And with each update by race officials there was a growing sense the race had been decided before it started. But John had a feeling Hannah might surprise people with her finish. She had gained speed with each practice, and with her father’s voice in her ear, he hoped she would place in the top ten. That would be a fantastic finish for her year.
John had listened as Thomas recorded his words to Hannah, and it seemed like the man came alive when he quoted Scripture or told her he was praying for her. There was passion in his words. There was no script, no notes—he simply poured out everything from his heart. Several times John had to wipe tears from his eyes as he listened and studied the course on the iPad.
The section on the recording about Barbara and how Thomas was praying for her shocked John. This was the woman keeping him from Hannah, but Thomas displayed no anger or bitterness, only understanding. It sounded like Thomas really cared for Barbara and understood her actions.
The final kick, where Thomas encouraged Hannah to track down the lead runner, sent chills through John. Thomas strongly believed that Hannah could achieve more than she could imagine. His words made John believe too.
“We have another update,” an official said through a loudspeaker. “With half a mile to go, it’s Gina Mimms in first, Anna Grant in second, and Joy Taylor in third.”
Amy put an arm on his shoulder. “Do you think she’s in the top ten?”
“I think she can medal.”
“Top three? Seriously?”
“Yeah. Maybe even top two.”
Amy raised her eyebrows. “You have faith in her new coach.”
John nodded and studied the woods. He’d heard Gina’s coach say there were only four runners who had any shot of finishing close to her. Hannah wasn’t on his radar. What would happen if Hannah caught up with the third-place runner?
He saw movement in the trees. The first runner appeared from the woods.
“There’s Gina,” he said to Amy. Everyone knew she would be the first one out, but there was something about seeing her that deflated him. He had such high hopes, maybe too high.
As soon as he mentioned Gina, there was more movement and another runner turned the corner. For a moment, John couldn’t see who it was because Gina blocked his view. He craned his neck to see around her. He saw a blue jersey.
“Is that . . . ?”
He didn’t dare say it out loud. It was too wonderful to believe.
“That’s Hannah,” Amy said.
His eyes widened and with every ounce of energy he pumped a fist at the ground and yelled, “Run, Hannah!”
Beside him, Amy jumped and shouted. The crowd at the finish line responded. They could see the race was on. The Brookshire contingent went wild, but John was focused on Hannah’s strides. She looked like she had reserved her final burst of speed just like Thomas had coached her. She was finishing fast.
“Come on, Hannah! Run!”
Gina’s coach shouted for her to sprint, and for a split second the lead runner glanced behind her and spotted Hannah.
“Catch her, Hannah!” John yelled.
Hannah was five yards behind Gina now and closing.
“Come on! Catch her, Hannah!” Amy screamed, tears in her eyes, clapping, yelling.
“Fight!” John yelled. “Fight!”
And that’s what Hannah did: with each stride, she fought and clawed at the air. John felt like he was running every step with her, willing her to go faster. When she pulled even with Gina Mimms about fifty yards from the finish line, Gina regained momentum and matched strides with Hannah. The two ran as one, arms pumping in unison, legs and feet pushing them forward.
John looked at the stopwatch. Hannah had never run this fast. The two passed him and he heard a familiar sound—a wheeze instead of deep gulps of air. He leaned out to see around those who had surged forward, but as Hannah and Gina neared the finish line, it was impossible from his position to tell who was in the lead.
And then came the audible gasp from the crowd.
“What happened?” Amy said.
“Dad, she fell!” Ethan shouted from the stands.
John rushed onto the course and sprinted toward the finish line. Gina Mimms stood a few yards ahead, hands on hips, sweating and fully spent, looking back at a figure on the ground. Hannah lay
like a rag doll just past the finish line. She didn’t move. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing.
He knelt beside her and put a hand on her back, and Amy joined him. He heard the telltale sound of an asthma attack as Hannah struggled for air. He looked for her inhaler. It wasn’t there.
“Hannah, come on,” he said, rolling her onto her back. “Hannah? Breathe for me.”
Like lightning, the medical staff were there with equipment, checking Hannah’s pulse.
John lifted her to a sitting position. “She needs oxygen. You got oxygen?”
“Take some deep breaths,” Amy said as the paramedics put a mask on her.
“We’ve got to move her. We’ve got runners coming,” an official said.
John picked her up and carried her out of the way. He noticed the stands were quiet now, no cheering for other runners. Everyone was concerned about Hannah.
John gently placed her on a bench and she was able to sit up. She nodded to answer his questions, and he could tell she understood. She was just trying to breathe now. More runners crossed the finish line, gasping for air. Some fell to the ground. Others walked with hands over their heads, stretching.
Hannah’s breathing evened and she spoke through the oxygen mask. “Who won?” She looked at John and then Amy.
“They’re trying to figure that out,” Amy said. “But no matter what happens, you ran a fantastic race.”
“The way you kicked at the end, Hannah,” John said. “That was amazing. I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”
“I knew I had a chance when she looked back,” Hannah said. “She looked kinda scared.”
“She had a good reason to be scared,” John said. “You saved all your reserves for that final burst.”
“What did you think when you started the recording?” Amy said.
Hannah beamed. “I couldn’t believe it. How did you do that, Coach? How did you get my dad to see that course?”
“He didn’t see the course, Hannah. He saw you. He knew you could run fast. And so did I. He’s going to be so proud of the way you ran today.”
Hannah nodded.
John stood and scanned the judging area. Each runner had an electronic chip that recorded their time. There shouldn’t be a controversy. But the two main judges hovered around a computer. They pointed and replayed the images on the screen, searching for something.
The medics packed up, apparently confident Hannah was breathing well on her own. John and Amy thanked them for their help.
Then John noticed the head official approaching the Westlake coach, who stood with Gina and the others on her team. The man smiled, shaking the coach’s hand. Gina Mimms stood with hands on hips, listening. The official shook her hand too, and John knew the outcome.
So close. Hannah had come so close.
“Hey, I’m very proud of you,” John said, looking at Hannah. “You’ve never run better. You’re amazing.”
“I gave everything I had.” Hannah looked like she was near tears, sensing she hadn’t given enough to outrun the state champion.
Gene Andrews, the association president, made his way to them and knelt in front of Hannah. “Young lady, you doing okay?”
Hannah took a breath as if she was preparing herself for the bad news. “I’m okay.”
“That was quite a finish. A little scary, too. I understand you’ve never won a race before.”
Hannah shook her head. “No, sir.”
John studied her, ready to hug her and tell her how great it was to be second in the state.
Andrews glanced down, then looked at Hannah with a smile on his face. “Well, you have now.”
John put a hand on Andrews’s shoulder. “What did you say?”
“We actually had to go back and look at the video because the computer had the identical time. It turns out you were leaning forward just an inch more than she was. Congratulations. You just won the state championship.”
Hannah burst into tears and leaned back in Amy’s arms. They were tears of joy, tears of victory. The emotion seemed the culmination of everything she had been through, the loneliness and fear, the hurdle of asthma, the guilt over things she had done. The girl who had been abandoned and had great loss, who ran alone with no team. She overcame it all listening to her father’s voice.
John didn’t know what to do, where to go, how to act. He threw both arms up and leaped in the air. He spun like a top and pumped his fist and yelled, “Yeah!”
The Brookshire crowd erupted.
“Hannah, you did it,” Amy said, hugging the girl and crying along with her.
John raised both fists and walked toward the stands, looking at Ethan and Will and Olivia and the others in the stands. Some covered their faces with their hands, overcome with emotion. Others laughed and cheered, unable to contain their excitement.
John was a man looking for something he couldn’t find, looking for someone to share what he felt inside. He ran back to Hannah and hugged her. “You did it, you did it, you did it!” He said it over and over. Then he pulled back. “Hannah, you’re the state champion. You are number one in the state.”
Emotion subsiding, she smiled and sat back on the bench, the audio player still strapped to her arm.
Ethan and Will and a horde of supporters ran to her and hoisted her high on their shoulders and began the chant: “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah!”
With her face turned toward the sky, John saw Hannah point and say, “Thank You, Lord.”
CHAPTER 42
Barbara intended to watch the start of Hannah’s race and head to work. She stood by the concession stand and had a view of the starting line. Standing here, waiting, she realized how much she had missed.
All her life, Barbara felt on the outside looking in. It had happened as a child and then in her marriage. With Janet, she’d felt like life had spun out of control and all she could do was stand back and let it whirl by like a tornado. All she got from that was debris and Hannah.
Was there a different way to live? Through the chain-link fence, she saw the runners milling about. Hannah glanced her way, and Barbara gave a little wave, hoping that was okay. She didn’t want to make her nervous. Barbara watched her stretch and then Mrs. Harrison pinned a number on her jersey.
Something strange happened at that moment and Barbara couldn’t figure it out. It was like a different flavor put into some recipe that you noticed with your tongue but couldn’t quite place. Hannah turned and Barbara saw her profile, and a picture flashed in her mind. She saw T-bone in the picture that Janet kept in the box. And then she realized Hannah was wearing #77, the same as her father all those years ago. Had the Harrisons worked that out, or was it happenstance? Or maybe it was God answering her prayers, opening another door for her to walk through.
The girls lined up, the gun fired, and off Hannah went, disappearing into the crowd of runners heading for the woods.
There. She’d done it. She’d risked being late to see the start of the race. As she walked to her car, she heard someone call out her name and Olivia Brooks ran to her in her bright-blue Brookshire T-shirt. The woman was all smiles. “Barbara, you made it!”
“Yeah, I wanted to at least see the start before I leave.”
“Your granddaughter is really an inspiration to us. I hope you know that.”
“Inspiration?”
“With all the challenges she’s faced, she’s made some really good decisions this year.”
Barbara spoke softly. “And she wouldn’t have had the chance to make them if you hadn’t stepped up. I wondered if you had given that scholarship. Did you?”
Olivia put a hand on Barbara’s shoulder. “I loved Janet. And I was so sorry for what you went through. The Lord placed Hannah on my heart a long time ago and I promised God that if I ever got the chance to be part of her life, I would do it. This was just my small way of getting involved. And I’m so glad she’s with us.”
“Well, we’re both grateful for what you’ve done.”
“Are you staying to the end of the race?” Olivia said.
“No, I have to get to work. My boss is going to be upset the way it is.”
“I understand.”
Barbara walked to her car and put the key in the ignition. Only days earlier, seeing Olivia or anyone from the past would have devastated her, but hearing Janet’s name and knowing Olivia cared for Hannah sparked something. She’d felt a change in the last few days. She had lived trying to avoid pain. In the process, she pushed God and church people away. She worked and provided and worked some more and fell into bed each night, only to get up the next day to do it all over again. And there was a comfort in the exhaustion.
But when she looked into the unseeing eyes of Thomas Hill and observed a changed man, the world tilted. She felt she was looking at that man in the Bible—what was his name? Lazarus. Old Lazarus had died and they wrapped him tight and put him in a tomb where it was all dark. Just like Thomas. She’d considered T-bone as good as dead. But in the Bible story, here came Jesus, weeping for His friend Lazarus and calling his name. And out he came, old Lazarus wrapped up and tied up. The people around the tomb helped unwrap him and turn him loose.
Thomas had said he experienced the same thing. He was blind and his body was failing, but he had a hope for life that Barbara didn’t have.
Reverend Parks had helped unwrap the cloth around her own heart. His story about his son, the loss he’d been through, and the way he said God had walked with him gave her hope.
Sitting in her car, the key in the ignition, a light flashed on the dashboard of her soul. All the pain she had tried to avoid, all the hate she held on to was there in front of her. Seeing Hannah run and hearing what Olivia said and remembering what Reverend Parks told her made Barbara think she didn’t have to live outside of God’s love any longer. Maybe the pain and struggle could lead her to something good, something unexpected.
Her phone buzzed in her purse. She looked at the number and shook her head. She wanted to ignore it, but she answered the call.