Sydney swallowed and looked around, uncomfortable with where her thoughts were going while standing in this venue. No one knew what she was thinking. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to her at all. Everyone seemed intent on the next race, their next competition. But she knew what she was thinking. She hadn’t felt that kind of anticipatory desire in a long time and her body churned with recollection. Her body had been swollen with want at his mere touch. An image of Trish’s legs popped into her reverie and made a sticky mess of everything. Sydney shoved the images from her brain, the feelings brewing down below, and headed toward the pool office. She didn’t want to be in the position where pleasurable recall mingled with the reality at hand. Thoughts, memories, feelings, people... She just wanted to watch a race.
The race. She stopped, turned and checked the scoreboard once again. A burst of nerves erupted in her belly. Q was in lane four! Her gaze swapped scoreboard for Clay and was comforted by the fact that his demeanor had grown sober. Gaze fastened on his son, this wasn’t about her anymore. It was about Q.
Shooting a glance toward Sam, she glimpsed sight of Vic pointing to the board. Sam gave her a brief wave and thumbs-up to let her know the kids were aware this was the one. Sydney’s chest tightened. She could feel the pulse of the crowd rev up. Before each race there seemed to be a lull in noise, a quiet expectation as the swimmers took their place, then applause and cheer would erupt as they rooted their swimmers on. She located Q and wondered how he was doing. Was he nervous? Scared? Perched in place, he pulled the silver mirrored goggles over his head and adjusted his black swim cap. She hoped her pep talk would help. She hoped it calmed his pre-race jitters. But she couldn’t tell. As he adjusted the straps, fiddled with his hair, she had no indication how he was feeling. Her heart squeezed. You can do this, Q. You can do it.
She scanned the roster of swimmers. Competition was fierce today. The gold was at stake and, odds were, it would be close. When up against an easy opponent, her emotions never rocked the way they did when she believed it would be a tough match. Then her emotions screamed. Her nerves screamed, her mind honed to a finely tuned point. Now, everything was about the win.
Sydney watched the swimmers get into final position. Goggles on, a few took the opportunity for a last minute muscle stretch. This group of swimmers was older and obviously more advanced than some she had seen. A few races proved more doggy paddle than swim. But not this one. This one was about the gold and felt every inch as serious.
Sydney checked on Clay one last time. He was rock still. Behind him, his parents sat attentive. His mother held a video camera, his father sat ready to watch. Even Charlie and Trish were paying attention now. Once again, Sydney was struck by her appearance. Sweeping locks of shiny blonde hair, make-up applied to perfection, a body most would kill for, Trish was beyond attractive, even from this distance.
Franklin Stevens, lane one. Jeremy Brown, lane two. Swimmers stood tall as overhead announcements continued. John Adelman, lane three. Charles Rutledge the Fourth, lane four. Her pulse kicked. Okay, Q, it’s show time! Sydney moved to the side of the pool as the rest of the names were called out. Swimmers and visitors meandered about the deck, most pausing to watch as Q and the others took position.
“Swimmers, take your mark,” blared the announcement.
Sydney saw the timer had been reset. Double zeros glowed across the board.
“Get set.”
She held her breath. Her pulse continued to thump.
The horn sounded. Bodies dove. They were off!
Sydney took several steps forward, adrenaline kicking through her limbs as she watched Q dive into the water. Breaking the surface, he launched into an easy rhythm. Fluid and calm, the boy was a beautiful sight to behold. His moves were smooth, his timing like clockwork as he seamlessly cut through the water, stroke after stroke. Q counts his strokes. That’s how he keeps track of time. She recalled Clay’s words and felt like she was watching them in action. Fans yelled all around her. Young girls shrieked at the tops of their lungs. Q was totally in charge as he swam with the pack. Her heart kicked into high gear. He could definitely win this thing.
Closing in on the wall, she watched his head dunk, his body flip for the turn and just like that, he was on his way to the opposite wall. She cupped hands to mouth and shouted over the others, “Go, Q! Go!” Distance was beginning to form between him and the other swimmers. “Go, Q!” But not the boy in lane three. Heartbeats pummeled through her chest. He and Q were near dead even.
She flashed to Clay. He was shouting, cheering his boy on. His parents were on their feet now as were most of the spectators around them.
“Go, Q!” Sydney yelled, pulling her thoughts away from his family. “You can do it! You can do it!”
Bodies flipped at the wall and headed back in the opposite direction. Swimming the 200 meter freestyle, they were halfway home, yet Q and the other boy remained near even. C’mon, Q. “Push yourself,” she whispered aloud. Push.
Three-quarters of the way down, Q began to pull ahead. She jumped in excitement, heart hammering in her chest. “Yes, Q! Yes!” she shouted. Fans around her shouted, but she only had attention for Q.
He neared the wall first and flipped, quickly followed by his challenger. When heads emerged, Q was almost a full length farther than the other boy. “You got it!” she cried and pumped a fist in the air. He was going to do it. He was going to win! She moved closer to pool’s edge. “You can do it, Q!” Throat scratched and raw, she continued at the top of her lungs. “You can do it! You can do it!” It became a chant across his team.
Q’s lead began to widen and people went crazy. It was the last lap. The last fifty yards. Everyone was paying attention to the two battling for the lead. “Go, Q, go! Go, Q, go!”
Yes, Q. She clenched her hands together and silently urged him on. You’re golden. You’ve got it.
Q’s arm flew up, his body twisted. Sydney gasped as his head slapped the water, then with a grotesque jerk, he went under.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sydney’s heart lurched. “Oh my God—”
The horn blared. Clay shoved between people, dove into the pool.
Sydney watched in horror as swimmers continued to swim while Clay swam beneath them. One by one, they hit the finish line but the crowd was silent. Hands grabbed the coping. Heads turned to check the scoreboard. But no one cheered. They stood shock-still, mouths agape.
Clay reached Q and in a quick tangle of bodies, maneuvered him to the surface. His blond head whipped about. Medical personnel ran to the pool and Clay immediately pushed his way heavily through the shallow water. Clutched within his arms, mouth clenched, Q’s head twitched with repetitive jerks to one side.
Fear clamped down hard and Sydney forced herself to move. She pushed people out of her way and ran toward Clay. Bodies bumped at her passing, lumbering in disbelief. A few elbows jabbed her accidentally. But none of it would prevent her passage.
Two medics dropped to their knees and hoisted Q’s body out of the water, his head continually jerking in the rhythmic manner. One of them gingerly laid him down on his side as Clay climbed out and crouched beside them. Murmurs swept across the crowd of onlookers and Sydney stopped short. Should she go there? Was it her place?
One medic checked for his pulse. Another wrapped a band high up on his arm. A woman and two others appeared on scene to consult with the first two. Sydney’s arms turned feather light by her side. What happened? Was he okay? Was he—?
She sought Clay’s face for clues and froze. His panic-stricken expression said it all. Blood pulsed between her ears. Was he dead?
Sydney didn’t know what to do. She wanted to help Clay, to help Q—but she was helpless, her limbs a shredded mass of nothing. Sam appeared by her side and grasped hold of her arm. “He’s gonna be okay,” she whispered.
She didn’t know that! She couldn’t be sure. Transfixed by the events unfolding, Sydney trembled. A medic tapped the inner crux of Q’s elbow, then in
serted a syringe. Another held a stethoscope to his back, then his chest. At least his head had stopped its dreadful movement.
Medics reeled off comments, words. They turned Q flat on his back. Clay was a statue amidst them.
The sight made her ill.
“Don’t worry.” Sydney felt a warm arm slide around her shoulders. Sam pulled her close and she strained for strength to return. “He’s in good hands. He’ll be okay.”
Sydney wanted it to be true. She willed it to be so. Please. Let him be okay, she prayed. Please.
More medical staff arrived, stretcher in hand, awaiting instructions. Nudging Clay to back off, the group of them made space for the mobile stretcher. In one swift coordinated show of movement, the men gently lifted Q’s body from the cement ground and onto the thin cushion. Grasping handles on either end, their squatted bodies rose in unison, lifting the stretcher with them.
Clay hovered close, eyes riveted on his son. The pain etched in his face unraveled her even further. What must he be thinking? What was he feeling?
People backed out of the way in a wave of response as the medics carried Q from the pool. No one made a move. Friends, fans, volunteers all stood immobile. Clay followed the team out through the pool foyer, his parents on his heel. Events were manned by doctors and nurses, specially trained to deal with the needs of the athletes. Sydney knew there would be an ambulance outside, the hospital only minutes away. It was the best they could hope for.
I’ll call Jen,” Sam said. “She can meet us at the hospital.”
Sydney turned, her mind numb. She heard the words, but couldn’t fully compute them.
The static announcement intervened overhead. “Events will resume in fifteen minutes.”
“C’mon.” Sam took her by the arm and pulled her away from the pool. “I’ll drive you.”
“I can’t,” she stammered in protest, her brain suffused with confusion. Work responsibilities slammed down like a steel cage, trapping her in place. “I have to be here for the events.”
Sam looked at her queerly.
“I’m working...” Slightly woozy, pressure seeped from her skull.
“They won’t miss you, Syd. Trust me.”
She couldn’t get Q’s lifeless image out of her mind. Was he alive? Was he—
“Charlie,” Sam called out.
He hurried over, Trish right behind him.
“Cover for Sydney while I drive her to the hospital.”
He glanced at Trish, as though checking with her first, but quickly turned back to Sam. He nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll cover things around here.”
Trish looked at Sydney and for a moment, a sliver of understanding passed between the two, as if she only now did she realize Sydney was an important part of the equation. The Rutledge equation.
Sam tossed a “thanks” to Charlie and then said, “Let’s get out of here.” She pushed against Sydney’s back, directing her toward the exit. Grateful for the strong arm and clear-minded thinking, Sydney allowed herself to be commandeered through the pool building and out the front door. She needed to be with Clay and Q. Even if she didn’t know what she would do, she had to be close to them.
Outside the emergency room the sun was hot, the weathered wooden bench hard and uncomfortable beneath her. Sam was here, but other than the occasional visitor exiting the ER lobby, they were alone. Sitting outside the hospital, Sydney was relegated to worry and wonder, speculate as to what happened, what was going on. They were waiting for word from Sam’s friend, Dr. Jennifer Hamilton. She was a local cardiologist and could access information about Q that neither Sam nor Sydney were privy to. Sydney expelled a sigh. But she had yet to tell them anything new. As it stood, she only knew that Q had a seizure. At present he was stable, but critical. “I wish I knew what was going on.”
“Jen will keep us posted.”
Sydney looked at Sam, the glare of sunlight harsh against her eyes. Not yet noon, the humidity was bearable but the heat was building from the black pavement. Soon it would be too hot to sit outside. And then where would she go? Inside the waiting room, taking up space for people who needed it?
No. She’d bide her time outside, heat or no heat. “Thanks again for calling her. Otherwise, I wouldn’t know a thing.”
Sam shrugged it off with a smile. “Helps to know the right people.”
Because Sydney wasn’t the “right people.” Not a member of the family, she wasn’t allowed to be anywhere near the emergency room let alone in it, bedside, where she wanted to be. She wasn’t allowed to demand information. She wasn’t allowed to sit by and hold Clay’s hand. But as someone growing close to him, she had every need to do that and more.
“Hungry?”
Sydney shook her head. She had no appetite. She had no desire for anything other than information, to be on the inside. It was horrible—frustrating—to watch Trish stroll in an hour earlier. It made the waiting a thousand times worse knowing she could waltz in there after she waltzed out of his life.
“How about a walk?”
She shook her head again. She needed to be near. Even if they didn’t know that she was here, she did. She didn’t want to be out of sight when information was delivered. She wanted to be ready and waiting.
“Okay,” Sam said. “I’m good with sitting.”
Sydney looked at her. Wanting to shield her eyes but not caring enough to lift her hand, she merely squinted. “What about your kids?”
“Vic can handle them.”
“Are you sure?” She hated to think that she’d ruined their day.
“Of course. I think Gabby prefers Vic to me, anyway,” she added with a wink.
“She’s eight, Sam.”
“And very bright for her age.” Sam beamed. “She has Vic eating out of her hand.”
“She does?”
“Oh yes. He spoils her rotten and she soaks it up.”
This caused Sydney to smile. “He’ll make a great dad, someday.”
Sam rolled her eyes. “So I hear.”
It seemed Sam was still not budging on the kid thing. She refused to become engaged to Vic, refused to have children. But Sydney believed it was only a matter of time. Eventually she thought Sam would cave in and marry Vic—though she was running out of said time. In another year she’d be forty, limiting her chances for pregnancy.
Sydney hugged her arms to her body. If she had a man like Vic, she’d marry him in a minute—maybe even break down and have kids. Why not? He was as devoted and caring as they came, gave Sam the space to be who she wanted to be, professionally and personally. From what Sam said, he was all about hands on parenting. Seemed like the perfect match. Her gaze drifted toward the glass doors labeled in block white letters, “EMERGENCY” and her heart sank. The man inside those doors seemed pretty perfect himself.
Sydney watched in silence as an ambulance pulled up. No sirens, only lights, the paramedics moved without hurry. They opened the back doors, slid out a stretcher. Another routine delivery. Or a patient too late for medical care.
“And how about you?” Sam asked. “This Clay fellow seems to be quite the dad himself. Is he still interested?”
Sydney twisted the morbid line of thought closed and replied, “Wouldn’t know.”
“Do you want to know?” Sam pressed.
Sydney spanked her with a heated gaze. “We’re not back to this, are we?”
“Back to what?”
“Your matchmaking tendencies.”
Sam swept her hands around through the air, taking note of nothing in particular and said, “We’re sitting outside an emergency department waiting for word on his son’s condition. If that doesn’t speak to your feelings, I don’t know what does.”
“I’m concerned about the boy, okay?”
“So are a lot of other people but they’re not here.” Sam quieted. “We are.”
About to rebuke the statement, Sydney realized there was no point in arguing with Sam. She was right. They were the ones hanging around waiting. Every
one else continued with the games.
“Why is it such a problem for you to like this guy?”
“Did you know that blonde at the pool is his ex-wife?”
Sam peered at her with a quizzical look. “How would I know that? And what does it matter? She’s the boy’s mother, right? Makes sense she’d show up for his big games.”
“But why now?”
“What do you mean, why now? Because now is when the games are...?”
Sydney felt every bit as ridiculous as Sam made her sound. And she didn’t like it. Not one bit. “She doesn’t care about Q.”
“What?” Her mouth fell open.
“Oh never mind.” Sydney tried to brush it off, hating the condemnation building in Sam’s reaction. “You don’t understand.”
“Help me out. I’m a quick learner.”
“She left Q when he was a baby. She hardly ever sees him. Suddenly she shows up for his events?”
“Maybe she regrets the error of her ways.”
“Or maybe she wants to reconcile with Clay.” Jealousy sliced clean through her. And it hurt. A lot.
“Where did that come from?”
Sydney angled away, momentarily unable to meet the face of Sam’s logic. “You should have seen her the other day. She was hanging all over him.” And in her private heart of hearts, Sydney felt she was no match. If this Trish woman wanted to dig her claws back into Clay, she’d fly off with him like a hawk with its prey in her talons. She had the looks. She had the biological connection. She had the advantage. “Her intentions were clear.”
She’d win. And Sydney would lose.
“Sheath the daggers, darling. You’re going to hurt someone.”
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