by Pol Robinson
“I’d shake your hand, but...” Cass shrugged, juggling the oars and her shoes, trying to keep her gym bag on her shoulder.
“That’s fine, no need. Really.” Dismissing Cass with a sniff, Shelly turned her attention to Laura.
Shaking her head slightly, Cass muttered, “It’s nice to meet you.” Barely able to look at Laura, Cass shouldered her way past.
“Ex-girlfriend.” Laura glared at Shelly a moment before reaching out to catch Cass’s shoulder. “Ex, Cass. Ex. I don’t want you to think...I mean, we, you and I—”
“Look, it’s okay,” she said. “We’re friends, right? So, no explanations necessary. Go on, she came a long way to see you. I’ve got to get this stuff washed down. I’ll tell Artie we’re back so the others can use the, um, shells. And, ah, so you can...” Cass trailed off, aware that she was babbling. Shaking off Laura’s hand, Cass quickly left the dock but remained within earshot, missing the flash of pain that crossed Laura’s face.
Spinning around, Laura gripped Shelly’s elbow. “What the hell is this about? You’re not my girlfriend! You dumped me, remember?”
“Oh, sorry. Am I ruining something?” Shelly tossed her hair back, giving Laura a saccharine smile. “I’m ever so sorry to have ruined your day.”
“What do you want, Shel?”
“Oh, come on Laura, I thought it was funny.” Shelly lifted her sunglasses, her blue eyes hard as ice chips as she stared at Laura. “It was funny, you and I. Funny right up until you killed my baby sister.”
Cass clenched her fists. She kept her face turned slightly away and tried to focus on what she was doing, fighting the urge to jump up and pull Laura away. To get them both out of here. Everything in her screamed to go back, but this, she realized, was none of her business.
Laura shuddered again and squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her fists as she fought for control. Then she glared at Shelly, her green eyes blazing in the evening light. “I did not kill Brenda, Shel. She killed herself.”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“You may not have been the one to put the razor to her wrists, but you sure as hell helped her along.”
“Shel. Shelly, I—” Laura swallowed, hard, her face paling slightly. “God, Shel. I tried everything I knew. I told her, I told you that I was not qualified. That she needed to see someone better, someone more experienced. I—”
“No. This was not Brenda’s fault and it’s certainly not mine. You, Laura. It’s all on you. And someday, you’ll get what you deserve. And, if there is a God, I’ll be there to see it happen.” Shelly spun quickly and strode up the dock, pushing aside several rowers returning from their workout, leaving Laura shaking in her wake.
Cass stayed where she was, her back to the dock gate, as Shelly blew past. She doubted the woman even noticed she was still there.
Laura slowly sank down to her knees, her every movement slow, painful to see. She slipped her feet over the side and into the water, resting her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Cass went to her. Whatever she thought they’d had, whatever it was that Shelly thought she and Laura still had, Laura was still a friend. A friend in so much pain that it pulled at Cass, leaving an ache in her chest. She silently approached Laura, where she sat hunched on the edge of the dock and, hesitating briefly, laid a gentle hand upon her shoulder.
Laura’s head jerked up at Cass’s touch and when she turned to face her, her green eyes blazed bright and angry. It took everything she had not to recoil at the venom in Laura’s gaze. The flash of fury was so brief that Cass wondered if she imagined it.
She opened her mouth to speak, but Laura shook her head. “Go,” she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Leave me alone.”
Laura sat and stared at the water, her eyes and thoughts far away, and Cass left her.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Coach Sheila Adler kicked her sneakers off and settled her stocking feet up on her desk. This was her quiet hour, the time after dinner. She wanted to review the team’s upcoming time trial slots and take a quick look at the performance times of her crews. Overall, things were looking good, and she wanted to do what she could to keep it that way. A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Hey, Coach, got a minute?”
“Sure, Cass. I told you to call me Sheila, remember? We’re not so formal around here, you know. What’s on your mind?”
Sheila waved Cass to one of the chairs in the tiny office she shared with her assistants. Cass gingerly sat, perched on the edge of the chair, looking as if she’d flee at the first sign of trouble. After watching Cass fidget and shift for fully a minute, Sheila softly cleared her throat.
“So, is this a social call?”
“Uh, no. It’s not a team thing either. Well, it is, sort of, but...” Cass thrust her fingers through her hair, disrupting the curls and sending them tumbling end over end. She abruptly stood and began to pace the small office. Two strides away, stop, turn, two strides back.
“I uh, well, the other night Laura had a nightmare. I mean, you know, we’re all out in the common room and... Anyway, she had a really bad dream and told me...she told me. About Brenda, about the suicide, about Shelly blaming her.”
“Okay.”
“Fine. Okay. Well, we’ve, Laura and I, we’ve been getting along really well and...” Cass stopped again and stared at Sheila for a moment, a puzzled expression on her face. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”
“Maybe you just need to talk, Cass. It’s okay.”
Cass took a deep breath and returned to her chair. “Okay. Today, this afternoon, we were at the docks. Messing around, you know? I challenged her to a race, so we borrowed the practice singles and, well, had a blast, really.”
“So I heard.” Sheila’s tone was dry. She’d heard about the impromptu singles race from one of the assistants, who was chortling about Laura’s poor showing. Sweep rowers made bad scullers, with no practice time to adapt. Personally, Sheila was delighted that Laura was willing to play; however, the coach side of her wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. One thing was sure, though, she’d never seen her number one rower relax enough to simply have fun. That made for a nice change.
“Yeah, well, anyway. Someone...Shelly, showed up at the docks, and—”
“What?” The coach sat forward. This wasn’t good news.
“Yeah. Shelly. She introduced herself as...” Cass swallowed hard, her face a pale shade of green. “Laura’s girlfriend.”
The office was silent as Sheila studied Cass’s miserable face. It was obvious the younger woman was in pain and that bothered Sheila a great deal. Romances on a team always meant one of two things; either everything ran better than ever or everything went to hell. If Sheila wasn’t careful, the team that had been moving along smoothly might soon be opening door number two. She watched Cass struggle for control while she thought things out. Obviously, Cass was in far deeper than her “getting along well” statement implied. She knew the two women were becoming close, but Cass looked more upset than a simple friend would normally be by the sudden appearance of an apparent girlfriend. Well, there was something she could do about that, at least.
“That’s crap.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“No, Cass. What I mean is, Shelly is not Laura’s girlfriend.”
The relief on Cass’s face was almost comical.
“No?” Cass backpedaled quickly. “I mean, I didn’t think so and after the last few weeks...but it...I...I mean, she. Shelly. She was so...damn. She was so confident. You know?”
“I do know and the answer is still no. Laura told me that Shelly ordered Laura to get the hell out the night of Brenda’s...well, the night Brenda died. As far as I know, Laura hasn’t seen her since. Shelly even had Laura barred from the funeral.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, I’m not.”
Cass collapsed weakly back into h
er chair, as if she couldn’t help herself. “I knew it. I knew I couldn’t fall...I mean, I didn’t think Laura would...” Cass stood again, this time going to stand at the window. It was night and with the lights on in the office, the only thing visible in the window was her own reflection. She turned to face Sheila, her expression clear, her voice firmer now than it had been when she came in. “Thanks, Coach. I mean, thanks, Sheila. I guess you’re the only person I could ask, you know?”
“Why didn’t you ask Laura?”
“I think I was afraid of the answer.”
“Understandable. Cass, look. This is an emotional time, and I don’t just mean for you all. It is for everyone. The Olympics generate their own weather, if you will. Emotional weather. Don’t get too caught up in it—” Sheila held up her hand before Cass protested. “Wait.” Her voice was commanding, but still caring. “Don’t get too caught up in it, but don’t close yourself away from the possibilities either. Trust me, I know from personal experience. Magical things can happen in this atmosphere, but for them to happen you have to put your fear aside.”
Cass nodded thoughtfully, her eyes distant. After a moment she raised her head and Sheila was pleased to see the familiar grin back in place.
“Got it, Coach, and thanks.”
“No worries.” Checking her watch, Sheila decided that she’d call it quits early tonight. “Join me for some coffee at the café?”
“Can’t. Gotta go find someone.”
Sheila walked with Cass outside, then watched her athlete head back to the dorms. She had a feeling Laura wouldn’t be able to run from this one. And that was a good thing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“...as you know Bob, I have competed against some of these women and they simply are the best in the world.”
“Very true Michelle. Very true. I understand you weren’t too bad yourself, once upon a time. Can you give us any inside scoop on the U.S. team’s chances this year?”
“Well, Bob, overall the team looks solid, although I have to say that it seems the coaching staff has made some questionable decisions this year.”
“How so?”
“Well, first there was the addition of an older and, to be quite frank, somewhat less experienced athlete to replace the injured Gail Kennedy. Flynn is a bit past her prime, if you ask me. Rumor has it she’s not even one hundred percent following the tragic accident of last year. Then, of course, there’s Laura Kelley and her history well, it’s all unproven of course, but—”
Amy hastily snapped off the radio, almost breaking the knob in her hurry to silence Shelly Michaels’ spiteful voice. She looked around quickly, hoping everyone was too involved in their own workout routines to notice what the commentator had been saying. No such luck. Cass sat frozen on the low bench, weights dangling forgotten in her hands, her eyes locked on the floor at her feet. Across from her, Laura stood facing the mirror, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her shoulders taut with anger. The rest of the team looked uncomfortable.
“Fucking bitch.”
Laura’s low rumble startled Amy. She stood and reached around Laura, pulling her hands free of the bar.
“Shh, pal, I know. She’s a bitch. I don’t know what you ever—I mean, I’m glad as hell that you’re...” Amy stopped, obviously uncomfortable.
“No worries Ames. I know what you mean.” Laura kept her back to the room as slowly activity began to pick up around them. “She’s been at it like this all week. I wish to hell I could figure out her angle. She’s bitching and sniping at all of us and, other than making herself look bad, I just don’t get it.”
“Yeah, I even heard the anchor from CBS say something about it the other day. I know Coach has about had it.”
“Good.” Laura shook out her hands and wrapped her fingers around the cold metal again, her grip so tight that her knuckles were white. She glanced in the mirror as a flash of auburn curls passed quickly by. Keeping her voice low, she asked Amy, “Did Cass hear?”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.” Laura let the bar drop back into its rack, the loud clang startling Amy. “She doesn’t need that, Amy. Is she okay?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“I can’t. I—crap. I just can’t, okay?” Laura grabbed her towel out of her bag and wiped her sweaty arms and face, her frustration and anger clear on her strong features. She lifted her face from the towel and pinned Amy with a piercing stare. “Make sure she’s okay, will you Ames? I’m going to run a bit.”
“Wait, Laura—” Amy’s words were lost as Laura left the gym, her bag banging loudly against the door.
“God damn it!” The little cox’s frustrated curse was lost in the thump and rumble of gym equipment.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Thanks for the lift.” Cass grabbed her duffel from the back of the English crew van and headed toward the boathouse. Giving the driver a final wave, she jogged down the path, around the corner of the building and along the waterfront, hoping to catch the team inside. She stopped just outside the cavernous space that housed the boats, appreciating, as she always did, the order and neatness of the place.
“Please, ma’am. Pass?”
The white-gloved security officer stepped forward, partially blocking Cass’s entrance to the building. Cass wasn’t certain what the little guard was there to prevent, she looked as if just about anyone could bulldoze past her. Smaller than Cass by nearly six inches, she was outgoing and friendly, and, Cass thought, about as threatening as a butterfly. She had haltingly told Cass earlier in the week that she loved to practice her English with anyone willing to cooperate and it was clear that she was simply enamored of all things American.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Cass fished around under her T-shirt for the badge that hung around her neck. “How’s it going, Yanmei?”
A smile blossomed on the young woman’s face. She bowed slightly and waved Cass inside. “I am...well. Thank you,” Yanmei said. “Please. Do you practice alone today?”
Cass raised her eyebrows and turned to face the guard fully. “Um, no.” She glanced around, this time noting that all of her team’s boats were secure in their racks. “Crap.”
“I am sorry?”
“Oh. I’m sorry, Yanmei. That was rude. Uh, have you seen other members of my team? Team USA?”
“No. No, I do not see them today. It is only the English here and the Germany. No others are on my...plan?”
“Plan? Oh, your schedule. Great.” Frustrated, Cass turned and left the boathouse, wondering what to do next and how she’d gotten her information so mixed up. She checked her watch—just short of ten in the morning. She was certain Sheila had said the team was heading over here after breakfast. She’d missed the team bus because she’d needed to have some ultrasound therapy done on her leg over at the clinic to relieve some cramping and now it looked like she was going to miss whatever the coach had planned for the day. Cass shaded her eyes with one hand as she studied the crews out on the water. The Brits are still in mid warm-up. Germany? Maybe I can catch a ride back with them. Who the hell put the village thirty-five miles from the venue! It’s probably the other way around, dummy. Crap. I don’t want to ride back with—
“Lose something?”
Shelly’s brittle voice cut through Cass’s thoughts, bringing other, more unwelcome things to mind. She knew the woman had deliberately misrepresented herself when they’d met on the dock the other day, and she was still mad at herself for giving Shelly the satisfaction of a reaction. She was sorry the woman had lost her sister, but to lay all of the blame at Laura’s feet... She certainly isn’t here to get Laura back, at least not in the romantic sense. “No,” she snapped back. “Have you? Oh, sorry, you can’t lose what you’ve tossed away, can you?”
A neatly shaped eyebrow rose in the only reaction Shelly showed to Cass’s comment. She dismissed Cass as quickly as she had the other day on the dock—unimportant, though worth trifling with if it suited her ultimate goal.
Cass shook her head. “Sorry, can’t say.”
“You can’t say? Or you won’t?”
“Can’t, I’m afraid.”
“Oh? Did she leave you behind, too?”
Taking a deep breath to control her already short temper, Cass silently counted to ten. “What do you want here?”
“What I want is for you to tell me where Laura is.” Shelly buffed her nails against her crisply pressed polo shirt. Examining the tips, she said, “Network wants to interview her.” She turned away from Cass, scanning the waterway. “We’re looking to interview members of the squad we feel have the best chance to...well, you understand.”
“Certainly.” Cass swung her gym bag up and over her shoulder. “When I see Laura, tonight, I’ll pass along your message. I’m sure she’ll be...thrilled.”
Shelly caught Cass’s arm as she turned away. “Look,” she began, “there’s no need for us to be adversaries. I have nothing against you, personally.”
“Well, isn’t that nice. I guess telling your colleagues and the American audience, that I’m ‘half-crippled and past my prime’ was your way of saying ‘let’s be friends’?” Cass shook Shelly’s hand off her arm. “I don’t know how I misunderstood.”
“Been listening to my show? How nice.”
“I couldn’t find the Farm Report.”
“You should watch your step with me. And I’d be careful about who you pick for your friends while you’re at it.” The conciliatory tone was gone, replaced by icy venom.
“Really?” Cass stepped back again and studied the new boathouse and the bustling foot traffic moving in and around the building. She turned again to Shelly, noticing for the first time the small wrinkles peeking through the woman’s carefully applied makeup. “I think I’m doing just fine in the friends department, but I’ll keep your words in mind, thanks.”