"You jumping again?"
She laughed. "Not this time. But I will. Anyhow, just wanted you to know not to look for us."
"Thanks."
She ran out to me and gave me an awkward slap on the back. "Good for you. Keep going."
My throat tightened. "Thank you. I will."
She smiled, looking choked up herself, then she stopped and I left her and the others behind. While I'd never have said it, I didn't mind that they wouldn't be at the finish. I very much wanted it to be just me and Andrew.
Step after step, I drew closer to that moment. The forty-one kilometer marker loomed then disappeared behind me. A stunned awe crept into my exhausted mind. I had covered forty-one kilometers. I tried for a bit to do the math to figure out what that would be in miles but when I got an answer of eight hundred and seventeen I figured I'd made a mistake somewhere and let it go. When I finished I'd have done twenty-six-point-two miles and that was enough information for right now.
The sides of the road had been nearly empty for a long time, but now the crowd began to thicken. Yet another sign I was approaching the finish.
Still, twelve hundred meters is a long way, longer when you've run forty-one thousand meters already, and I stuck to my steady pace instead of trying to speed up. It felt good, as good as it could at that point, and I didn't want to fall apart.
I'd passed a few people as I struggled with the mile-kilometer conversion in my head, but now I approached a woman walking with her arms wrapped around herself. She had a red ponytail hanging from a hole in the back of her hat, and for a second I wondered if she was the one Andrew and I had seen on the running path the day he'd opened up to me.
When I got closer I realized she wasn't. I also realized she was crying.
I couldn't pass her without at least trying to help. A twinge of nervousness fluttered through me as I remembered the guy at the beginning and how he'd snapped at the nice man who'd tried to soothe him, but I put it aside. Whatever her response, I could handle it.
"Hey," I said when I reached her. "It's okay. Come with me."
She looked over, and she did break into a run. "Thanks. I needed the help."
"Good stuff." I smiled at her. "We're so close to the finish now."
She gave me a watery smile. "I've never been this tired."
"I hear you, trust me. Keep going."
But after only a few more steps she said, "I need to slow down."
"Okay, but I won't," I said, not even considering it.
Without a word, she dropped back into a walk, and as I pulled away from her I almost apologized but realized in time that I didn't want to. I'd done something, I'd tried to help, but I wouldn't give up everything for her. I'd handled it exactly as I wanted to.
The course made a sharp left-hand turn onto Front Street and I saw a beautiful sign.
500m.
Half a kilometer to the end of my marathon.
Both sides of the street were lined with people, packed several deep in spots, and I looked a little further ahead and saw an even more beautiful sight.
The finish line. If I was ever going to speed up, this was the time.
I pulled more air into my tortured lungs and went for it. My legs went numb almost instantly, which did feel better but also made me afraid they'd give way beneath me.
They didn't, though, and I kept pushing forward. I briefly considered looking around for Andrew but there were so many people and I didn't want to take my eyes off the finish line. Keeping focused on it helped me keep moving.
Even with my focus, I felt like it took me an hour to reach the 400m marker. I could hear the race announcer calling the names of people as they finished. Lucky bastards.
After about a week or so, I passed the 300m marker. I passed two people as well, both walking and looking miserable. I didn't have the energy to spend on trying to encourage them, though, and besides if the cheering crowd couldn't do it the odds were I couldn't either.
Mixed with my excitement at being so close to the finish line and my unbelievable fatigue was a calm happiness at finally recognizing how little in life was truly my battle to fight. My race was. Everyone else's race was not.
Two hundred meters left. So close, but the balloon arch that marked the finish looked so far away and didn't seem to get any closer as I kept running. I tried to pick up my pace again, more than ready to be finished, then startled as a white blur shot past me.
"Well, folks," the announcer said, "we've got a polar bear finishing now, the same bear that's run this race all nine years of its existence. Why not, right?"
Why not, indeed. I'd just been passed by a guy in a full polar bear suit complete with huge head. Passed like I wasn't moving. Out-sprinted by a mascot.
I laughed, because what else could I do, and chased that bear across the finish line.
Chapter Forty-Two
I walked along with the other finished runners, panting and grinning and trying not to whimper at the pain in my legs, as volunteers wrapped a thin sheet of metallic plastic around me as a blanket, handed me a bag of food, and hung the all-important medal around my neck. Though I was so tired I could barely walk, I was flooded again and again with delight as I replayed the moment when my feet had made contact with the final timing pad and the race announcer had called my name as a finisher. I'd finished my marathon! I'd known I'd be happy but the pure sweet joy, the awesomeness of the sense of accomplishment, went so far beyond what I'd expected.
"Megan!"
I turned and saw Andrew waving at me, his face full of pride and happiness and affection, and hurried over as fast as my poor exhausted body could manage. He opened his arms to me, and I dropped my bag and blanket and fell into him.
"Good for you," he said, holding me tighter than he ever had before. "You were great today. Spectacular. How do you feel?"
I wrapped my arms around his waist and shut my eyes to savor the comfort of his strong body against my aching one. "Honestly? My legs are killing me, my feet feel like they've been under a steamroller, and I know I've pissed Amanda off and I hate that." He took a breath, but before he could speak I said, "But other than that, I'm fine. You?"
We laughed and he cuddled me still closer and rubbed my back gently. "Your legs and feet will recover. And Amanda will too."
"Actually, she might not," I admitted. "I think our friendship's over. Such as it was. But you know what? I'll be okay. I still care what happens to her, but it's not my problem and I know that now."
"You're right. Gotta run your own race."
I nodded against him then said, "You know I left Jeanine, right?"
His turn to nod. "I wondered if she was really doing her training, but I figured that was up to her. She did okay to the half today, but then she started to slow down. I was so worried for you when the split times said you were catching up to her, and I cheered right out loud when I realized you'd left her behind."
His support of my decision felt great, but it didn't make me more certain it was right. I'd been sure of that all on my own. Like I'd been sure of my decision about--
Realizing he didn't know about that one, I said, "Yesterday, Amanda asked me to help her move James's stuff out this afternoon."
He gave a grunt of bitter laughter. "Why am I not surprised? Is that what you meant by pissing her--" He stepped back sharply, keeping his hands on my shoulders, his eyes wide. "You didn't say yes, did you?"
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, of course I did. Yesterday. But you'll love this. I called her and said I wouldn't do it. Around thirty-four k, I think. Not sure exactly."
He grinned, relief and amusement smoothing the horror from his face, and pulled me close again. "You called her from the course? I love it."
"Once I left Jeanine I knew I wanted to say no to Amanda, so I called before I could talk myself out of it. Probably sounded like an obscene phone call, I was panting so hard."
We laughed and he said, "What did she say?"
I sighed. "I'm a selfish bitch, apparen
tly."
He squeezed me even closer. "You know that's not true, right?"
"Yes. I think so. Most of the time."
"I'm here to make sure you do. I'll tell you every five minutes if necessary."
I looked up and grinned at him. "Thank you. Every ten minutes at the most."
He grinned back, but as our eyes met our amusement transformed itself into something strong and sweet and serious. Remembering everything I'd thought of telling him on the course, I snuggled into him again and said, "Andrew, you have to know I couldn't have done what I did today, any of it, without you. The race itself, leaving Jeanine, dealing with Amanda... you've helped me so much. You're so amazing, I can't even tell you."
His arms tightened around me. "Same to you. Trust me. What I did yesterday, leaving the foundation..." I felt him rest his cheek against my head. "Without knowing you supported me I wouldn't have had the strength. Either to do it, or to cope with... after."
Sympathy flooded me. "I guess not everyone was pleased with you?"
"You could say that. Sandra... Rhiannon's mom..." He held me close enough that I felt him swallow hard. "No, not everyone was pleased. But it was time. I'll never forget Rhiannon, but I'm ready to move on into a new life." He drew back enough to stroke his fingers over my cheekbone. "Megan, I want you to be a big part of that life. The best part. And not just as running buddies either."
His words warmed my heart and his caress set me on fire, and as I raised my head to study his face my mouth pulled into a smile I couldn't hold back.
He smiled too, his whole face right into his eyes glowing with the same happiness I felt, and he brightened even more when I said, "I would love that. Especially since I'm never running again. I got passed by a mascot, for crying out loud."
He winked at me. "Everyone says that at this point. Well, not the mascot part, but that they'll never run again. But once you recover... we'll see."
I almost insisted that we wouldn't, but I knew I would want to run again, want to feel the joy of seeing myself improve and the delight of crossing the finish line, and since he was leaning in to kiss me I decided I could let him have the last word.
Our lips just brushed at first, gentle and almost tentative, and it hit me that he hadn't kissed anyone since Rhiannon so this had to be difficult for him. As the thought entered my mind, though, he drew me closer and deepened the kiss, and I stopped thinking of anything but the feel of his mouth on mine and the emotions flooding me. Kissing him felt so right, and by the way he held me tight it felt right to him too.
When we eventually ended the kiss, he tapped me lightly on the nose and said, "So, my lovely runner, I guess you've now got the rest of the day off. Any chance you'd like to spend it with me?"
I pretended to think about this but his mock pout made me laugh so I gave in and said, "Only about a one hundred percent chance, my adorable coach."
"I like those odds." He smoothed his hand over my sweaty hair. "One thing. Jeanine passed the thirty-five K pace mat a little while before you finished, so she'll be here in thirty minutes or so and--"
"She's still going?" I cut him off, delighted. "I was afraid she'd quit after I left."
"Which would not have been your fault, right?"
I smiled into his laughing eyes, and my smile widened as I realized I had no doubts on that score. "Right."
"Just checking." He grinned. "I think she's walking but at least she's going to finish. Now, she usually wants to go back to her place alone after a race but this time might be different since she had a rough time. If she wants company, are you willing to give it to her?"
I knew I'd love spending the day with only him, cuddling and kissing and generally being mushy, but I didn't like the idea of Jeanine being left alone if it wasn't what she wanted. I considered both sides, making sure I wouldn't feel taken advantage of, then said, "As long as you're there too, I'm fine either way."
"Got it. You won't get rid of me without a fight." He shook his fist in front of my face, then chuckled and kissed my temple.
"But I don't know how to fight. You're guaranteed to win."
He grinned. "Perfect."
I giggled and pulled his head down so I could reach his lips.
After a glorious lingering kiss, he drew back and said, "I could do this all day, but you need to walk off the race. Let's get moving."
"I ran twenty-six-point-two miles and you're making me go further? Slave driver." My indignation was only part mock since my legs still felt awful.
"Why, thank you. And yup. Or you'll be stiff as a concrete slab tomorrow. Walking will help loosen you up." He held out his hand to me. "Come on. Short-term pain for long-term gain."
I muttered but knew he was right, so I accepted his hand and took the first painful steps, even more agonizing than before since we'd stood still. As we walked, though, my legs began to release their awful tightness and pain. Andrew didn't rush me, instead moving steadily along at the slow pace that was all I could manage, and I realized his 'short-term pain, long-term gain' philosophy was right for more than just now.
Saying no to people, living my own life, focusing on my wants and needs, wouldn't be easy. I'd have challenges with Amanda, since though we'd probably never be true friends I'd still have to work with her, and maybe with Jeanine, and definitely with my mother and Brandon. But I'd faced and conquered an amazing amount of pain during the race, physically and otherwise, and I'd use that new-found strength. Every step I took in learning not to abandon myself to fix everyone's problems would make the next step easier, and with Andrew at my side I'd have support for every last one of those steps.
I'd support him too, without taking his problems as my own, as he figured out how to move on. We'd take our steps together, help each other through the short-term pain, and build lives together that were better in the long-term than we could ever have managed alone. It wouldn't be quick, but it would be wonderful, and we would find our happy pace.
"So, you really don't think you'll run another marathon?"
"I will. I'll do this one again next year, in fact." I looked up at him and smiled. "I have no choice in the matter."
He blinked. "Why not?"
My smile widened. "Next year I'm going to beat that polar bear."
ALL AT SEA
Chapter One
"Hurry up, Mel!" Owen shouted over his shoulder.
Stressed beyond endurance by knowing I'd made us so late, I nearly snapped something I'd wanted to say for months. "Melissa! Three syllables!" But I needed my breath for chasing after him and I knew he thought Mel was a cute nickname, so I kept quiet and ran for the cruise ship terminal.
A uniformed woman standing near the door called to us, "We're pulling the gangway in seven minutes. Hurry!"
The idea of literally missing the boat gave me an added burst of energy, and despite the weight of my suitcase and backpack and awkward-to-carry dress bag I reached the door right behind Owen. The employees in the empty terminal rushed us through the check-in process, and had us on board with a good thirty seconds to spare.
We stood watching and panting as the gangway began to move away from the ship, and I turned my best puppy-dog eyes on Owen and said, "You wouldn't have left me behind, would you?"
He grinned at me. "Hard to get married without you."
"You could find some rich divorcée on the ship."
He laughed. "Unless she spent all her time in the casino, I wouldn't. And then she probably wouldn't be rich. Plus I kind of like you."
I gave him a mock pout. "Only kind of?"
"I don't like being late."
My amusement faded. I knew. Oh, how I knew. "I told you I was sorry in the taxi. I didn't realize the drive to the port would take so long or I wouldn't have--"
He squeezed my hand in his 'stop talking' way. "It's okay, we made it. And of course I like you. I love you. I just hope that book is worth what it nearly caused."
"I love you too." I patted my backpack where I'd stuffed the book I'd bought. "
It will be, I think. I've never seen a slower checkout line, though."
"That cashier just would not stop talking." He rolled his eyes. "If she'd asked to read every page of the book to you right there in line to make sure it would help you with your writing, or had offered to read your book if you ever get it done, I wouldn't have been surprised. Well, at least we made it. Want to go check out our stateroom?"
"For sure."
We headed off, and he pointed out the ship's landmarks since this was his twentieth time on board this particular ship and he knew every corner of it, and I listened and began to relax. Yeah, he called me Mel and he didn't think much of my writing. So what? Mel was part of my name, and since I hadn't done more than toy with my partially finished novel for two years he had no reason to think much of it. The important thing was that in less than two weeks we'd be married. I'd have a smart successful husband, like I'd always wanted.
"Mrs. Melissa Reel," I said.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Not yet, but soon. Not soon enough for me, though."
Touched, I snuggled into him even though we were in the hallway and he wasn't much for public displays of affection. "Me either." I chuckled. "Not that we've exactly been dragging things out."
He drew away and looked at me. "So? Why wait when you know it's the right thing to do?"
"I didn't say we should wait," I said, sighing inside. Somehow he never seemed to understand what I was trying to say. "It's just, we met on New Year's Eve and we'll be married March sixteenth. It's fast, that's all."
"But we knew it was right."
"I know, it's just..." I shook my head. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."
"It was fast," he said, brushing his fingertips over my cheek. "But it's right."
Recognizing and accepting his concession to my statement, something he didn't give me very often, I smiled up at him. "No doubt, Mr. Reel. Now, where's this stateroom?"
Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9) Page 67