“I am so sorry I lied to you,” she said. He tightened his grip on her hand, a comforting squeeze.
“You don’t have to … ” he began, but Ariel cut him off.
“It was just a story to me,” she said. “An opportunity to write a thrilling article and make a name for myself. But as soon as I started to get to know you … ” Her voice faltered and she dropped her eyes. “ … to have feelings for you … I didn’t want to write the story anymore. I didn’t know what to do. How to tell you.”
Beth twisted at the waist, still pouring water from the teakettle into two yellow mugs.
“It sounds like you two are having a serious discussion,” she observed. “That calls for pie.”
“But it’s still cooling!” protested Ariel. Jacob frowned at her.
“Whose side are you on?” he grumbled.
“He’s easier to deal with when he has his pie,” explained Beth, putting a mug of chamomile tea in front of Ariel. “That’s not to say easy. Easier.”
“So for Ariel’s sake, you’ll let me have pie now? Thanks, I think,” said Jacob. While Beth took the pie from the windowsill, Jacob took the opportunity to kiss Ariel gently on the lips.
“I overreacted,” whispered Jacob. “I haven’t treated you fairly, either. I’ve been riled up for weeks. Acting like an ass. When I saw Brian shaking you … ” He shook his head darkly. “He’s lucky he’s alive.”
Beth had started at the sound of Brian’s name. “Brian?” she asked, and for the first time, Ariel heard a strained note in her warm voice. “Jake, what happened? Where did you see Brian?” Ariel’s gaze dropped to her arm, the pale skin already darkening with shadowy bruises. Beth’s gaze followed Ariel’s.
“Jake, what happened tonight?” she asked, her voice more level.
“We’ll talk later,” said Jacob. He stood up and circled behind his mother, putting his hands on her shoulders and rubbing them with strong, comforting motions. She allowed her head to drop. After a moment, she reached up to lay her hands on his.
“We need to have a serious discussion, Jake,” she said.
Jacob kissed the top her head.
“With plenty of pie,” he said.
“Is it a two piece conversation?” asked Beth, the sparkle returning to her eyes.
“Yeah,” said Jacob, “maybe three.”
Beth whistled. “That bad, huh?”
“It’s bad,” Jacob confirmed. He sat back down next to Ariel at the kitchen table. He looked at her for a long moment, then looked back at his mother.
“But I think things are getting better,” he said. He grinned that cocky, heart-stopping grin. “I know things are getting better.”
Beth cut a piece of pie and levered it from the pan. She put it on a plate, the golden wedge steaming and fragrant, the apples spilling from the crust.
“Give it to Ariel,” said Jacob as Beth put the piece in front of him on the table.
Beth suppressed a smile as she pushed the plate to Ariel. “My dear, I think he likes you,” she said. Jacob jumped up to get Ariel a fork.
Ariel took a bite of pie. It tasted like autumn in heaven. She beamed at Beth. “He does like me,” she said. “I didn’t understand until I tasted this pie, but now I get it. This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“I wouldn’t give up the first piece to just anyone,” said Jacob. His eyes followed his mother’s every movement as she cut another piece of pie.
“Thank you,” he said, attacking the pie with an eagerness that made Beth and Ariel smile.
“I should bring a piece to your father,” said Beth.
“I’ll do it,” offered Ariel.
Jacob looked at her in surprise.
Beth simply nodded. “That would be nice,” she said. “He’s looking forward to meeting you.”
Ariel entered the dark living room with hesitant steps. A shadowy form stirred in the corner.
“You can turn on the light,” said a deep baritone. “It’s on your left.” Ariel flipped the switch. Jacob’s father sat in the armchair near the couch. He was a powerfully built man, still handsome, with thick brown hair and a chiseled face. Ariel could tell just by looking at him that he must have been extremely strong in his youth. She knew from Jacob that he still hadn’t come to terms with losing his sight. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go blind. To never see the faces of the people she loved ever again. She knew, though, what it was like to lose people she loved. She’d never see her mother or her father ever again, or hear their voices, or feel the touch of their hands. She wondered if the Hunters understood how lucky they were.
“I wanted to bring you a piece of pie,” said Ariel, “before Jacob ate the whole thing. I’m Ariel Hayes. I’m … a friend of Jacob’s,” she finished, feeling the blush spread across her face as she tripped over her words.
Her stutter had raised the ghost of a smile on Jacob’s father’s lips. He put out his hand and Ariel balanced the fork across the plate and placed it on his palm. As he fixed his grip on the plate, Ariel looked at the walls. They were covered in family photos. Jacob in a blue snowsuit, tufts of white-blond hair escaping from his woolen hat. Jacob leaping into a swimming hole, his legs almost painfully thin.
Ariel watched him grow up from picture to picture. His hair turned to a darker blond, his chest filled out, his legs thickened with muscle. That grin, though, it stayed the same from picture to picture, year to year. Infuriating. Irresistible. Ariel moved closer to look at the chubby blond child that appeared with Jacob by the Christmas tree. The little girl with blond ringlets in the party hat. The beautiful, somber teenager posed on a low stone wall for her yearbook portrait.
Jacob had never mentioned a sister.
Ariel heard footsteps behind her. Beth and Jacob had come into the room. Beth moved to sit on the side of the couch nearest her husband. Jacob put his arms around Ariel’s waist.
“That’s my sister Karen,” he said. He guided Ariel to the couch and, there, sitting with the Hunters, she heard the whole story. Jacob talked for over an hour, filling Ariel in on Karen’s battle with addiction. Some of the more recent events were clearly new to Jacob’s parents — Ariel saw Richard clench his hands into fists when Jacob talked about finding drugs in Karen’s hospital room.
“What kind of place are they running?” he burst out.
“How would you know?” retorted Jacob. “Have you ever visited?” The words snapped like a whip-crack. Jacob’s father flinched.
“That’s not fair, Jacob,” said Beth, quietly. “Don’t be cruel.”
Jacob’s father had turned away. Now he turned his face back toward his son. His face was pale. “So I should show up? Go to the hospital?” he asked. “With my cane? Remind Karen how tough her life is? That her father is … ”
“What, Dad?” said Jacob. From the urgency his tone, Ariel could tell that this exchange was a long time in coming. “That her father is what?” said Jacob. “Blind? That her father is blind? We can say it, right? We have to say it. To face it. Blind.”
“Useless,” Jacob’s father burst out. “That her father is useless.” He half-rose from his chair, his voice shaking with emotion. “Goddamn useless.” He threw himself back into his chair. The room fell silent. Beth reached out and put a hand on her husband’s arm. He didn’t move, didn’t shrug her off.
“We love you, Richard,” she said. “We love you and we need you.”
“You’re not useless, Dad,” said Jacob. But he sounded defeated. Lost.
This wasn’t Ariel’s family. It would be bold to speak. But for the second time that evening, she felt like she had to say her part.
“My father used to tell me he felt useless, too,” she said. Everyone turned at the sound of her voice. Her voice was trembling, but she kept going. Beth’s expression comforted her. Jac
ob had put his head in his hands.
“He was in the car,” said Ariel. “My father was in the car with my mother when they were hit by a drunk driver. My father was okay, but my mother died. She died at the scene. There was nothing my father could do. After it happened, I didn’t speak for months. I hardly ate. My father didn’t know how to help me. He couldn’t help me. I was his little girl and I was suffering. And he couldn’t take away the pain.” Ariel took a deep breath. Jacob had raised his head. Slowly, he drew her hand into his lap. Caressed her palm. His golden eyes shone.
“When I was at Julliard and had to have foot surgery, he came to New York City,” continued Ariel. “I couldn’t stop crying. My dream of being a professional ballerina had shattered. I felt like everything was over. My father didn’t heal my foot. He didn’t even pick the right things to say. He kept trying to comfort me with Shakespeare quotes about fate. It was actually a disaster. He made me so angry I threw him out. I made him go to the Natural History Museum.” Ariel laughed. Again, the faint smile ghosted Jacob’s father’s lips.
“But you know,” said Ariel, “even though my father couldn’t do anything to help me, he wasn’t useless. He wasn’t useless because he was there. That’s all that mattered.”
Jacob was fingering the bracelet on Ariel’s wrist. She felt him touching the charms and smiled.
“I lost my father years ago,” she said. “I miss him every day. But he’s still not useless. Even now. Just thinking about him gives me the strength to go on.”
“So what you’re saying is this, and stop me if I’m wrong,” said Jacob’s father. He’d leaned forward in his chair again. Was he offended? Had she overstepped her role? Ariel felt a wave of anxiety. Jacob’s father was a proud man. What if he interpreted her heartfelt speech as some kind of lecture? He rubbed his hands together as though thinking.
“What it boils down to is plain as apple pie,” he said. “If your father can still make a difference in your life and he’s dead, I can make a difference in my daughter’s life while I’m alive and kicking. Even if I can’t see my way straight to aim a kick at Brian Jenks’s jaw.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” cried Ariel, relieved.
“You’ve got a son to kick Brian Jenks in the jaw, Pop,” said Jacob. “We can delegate responsibilities.”
“Let’s not have any more kicking,” said Beth. “Jacob, you could have been arrested.”
“But I wasn’t,” said Jacob. “And now Karen is safe. She can recover without Brian trying to screw up her life. She can get back on her feet.”
“How is the training going?” asked Jacob’s father, and Jacob brightened at the question.
“Awesome,” he said, and launched into a description of his training schedule so detailed that the next thing Ariel knew, she was being lifted off the couch and held against Jacob’s wide chest. The house was completely dark. How many hours had passed?
“What … ” she murmured.
“You fell asleep,” said Jacob. “I should have known you never worked for Cycling Today. I’d barely said the word ‘training’ and it was lights out.”
“It’s not that I’m not interested in your training,” said Ariel, slapping his chest. “I’ve had a long day.”
“I know,” said Jacob gently. He carried her down the narrow hall.
“This used to be my bedroom,” he said. “Now it’s a guest room.” He deposited Ariel onto the double bed.
“It’s late and my parents asked us to stay. My mom wants to make her internationally acclaimed raspberry buckwheat pancakes for you in the morning. Do you mind?”
“I don’t have anything to sleep in,” said Ariel and Jacob’s eyes glinted.
“It’s your childhood room,” said Ariel.
Jacob sat beside her on the bed. The humor vanished from his eyes. “Thank you, Ariel,” he said. “For talking to my parents. For being here. For being you.”
“I’m glad to be here,” said Ariel. “I thought I’d lost you. This morning, I thought I’d lost you.”
He pulled her against him and showed her it wasn’t true.
The next morning, over raspberry buckwheat pancakes, Ariel laughed and chatted with Jacob’s parents. She felt like she was a part of something. A part of a family. It was almost too good to be true. When she climbed onto the motorcycle behind Jacob and waved goodbye to Beth, the uneasy feeling increased. Every foot that she and Jacob descended down the mountain seemed to make the weight on her shoulders heavier.
Jacob’s teasing words of the previous evening came back to her.
I should have known you never worked for Cycling Today. I’d barely said the word “training” and it was lights out.
He’d been joking, but there was an element of truth to his words. She didn’t know anything about cycling. And cycling was Jacob Hunter’s life. Cycling took him to Italy, France, and Spain. It took him all around the world. Away from her. Panic rippled through Ariel’s body.
She needed to call Theo. She needed to back out of the article. Her career was in shambles. But could she really let herself believe that Jacob Hunter was any kind of alternative? By the time they arrived at the Alpenhof, Ariel could barely breathe. Why was she so upset? It must be the intensity of the past few days combined with spending the night at the Hunters’. Getting to know Jacob’s family. Wanting to belong so much it nearly killed her.
Because she couldn’t have it. Not if she admitted the truth to herself. It was an impossible dream. Jacob seemed to care about her, but he was kidding himself, too. It would never work.
“Are you okay?” Jacob asked her as they walked into the lobby.
“I … ” began Ariel.
“Fratello!” called Jacob.
“Jake, where have you been?” called Steve, running over to them. “Hi, Ariel.” He gave her a brief smile. “Listen, you already missed your morning ride. We held the van for you and everything. Coach is pissed. You better get ready for sprints. You haven’t won this race yet, you know.”
“I’m ready,” said Jacob. “Just tell the guys to wait. I’ll be back in the lobby in ten minutes.”
As Steve nodded and walked away, Jacob looked back at Ariel. “What were you saying?” he asked.
“Nothing,” said Ariel. “Nothing.”
Chapter Fifteen
As she listened to the ring on the other end of the line, Ariel rubbed her eyes. They were smarting, burning. For what felt like the thousandth time in the past few days, she was on the verge of tears. She hadn’t cried so much in years. Sure, she’d been on autopilot. Going through the motions of life. Focusing on her career, on external markers of success. Ignoring her emotions.
Jacob Hunter had changed her. Broken through her defenses. She felt again. It was like he had given her the gift of herself … access to a deep well of love and faith. Her heart was broken. But at least she knew it was there.
The phone rang on and on. Ariel bit her lip, tried to pull herself together. She was dreading the moment when Theo answered. She knew he would. He was umbilically attached to his cell. She didn’t want to say what she had to say. Didn’t want to do what she knew she had to do.
Theo picked up. “Hi, sweetie!” he chirped.
Ariel choked back a sob. Theo would never understand everything that was at stake for her in this conversation. She just had to get through it. Make him believe that this wasn’t the most heart-wrenching decision she’d ever made — that it was no big deal.
Hadn’t Theo himself said she was a good actress?
Aiming for a casual tone, Ariel replied: “Hi, boss. How’re things in the big city?”
“There’s nothing new under the sun, my dear,” Theo answered, chuckling. Then the question Ariel dreaded: “How’re things with you? How’s the story coming along? Have you dug deep? Do you have tantalizing details to
share with me and your reading public?”
“Theo,” Ariel took a deep breath, “I can’t write the story. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry to have wasted your time. The magazine’s money. I feel terrible.”
“Ariel,” Theo asked testily, “why on earth can’t you write the story? A story? Any story? Even if Jacob Hunter isn’t using drugs, he’s an interesting character. I’m sure you can come up with something worthwhile to say about him. You’re an excellent, incisive journalist. You have a fascinating subject. Make something out of it.”
“I can’t explain to you why I can’t write the story,” Ariel whispered. “Any story. You’re going to have to take my word for it. I know that’s a huge leap of faith and that I haven’t done anything this past week to merit that kind of trust. But I hope you can trust me.” She paused. “I haven’t found out anything interesting about Jacob Hunter at all.” Ariel hated lying. But sometimes it had to be done.
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. When Theo spoke again, it was in a different tone. “Are you all right, Ariel? You know I don’t care about the story as much as I care about you. I hope you’d tell me if there was anything wrong.”
Ariel shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears that wanted to come. She was so not all right. Then she realized that Theo couldn’t see her shaking her head from New York City.
Verbalize, Ariel, she told herself. You do this all the time.
“I’m fine,” she told Theo, then repeated herself in a more confident tone of voice: “I’m fine. Thank you for asking. I miss you. I miss the city. I want to come home.” Another lie.
She wondered, for the thousandth time, if she was doing the right thing. No matter how much she loved him — and she did love him, tremendously, passionately — she couldn’t see how a relationship between her and Jacob Hunter could possibly work out.
He was an international cycling star who spent most of the year traveling from place to place, training from dawn to dusk, in the company of his teammates. If she tried to go with him, she’d be nothing but a camp follower. A groupie. She couldn’t see herself in that role. And she couldn’t imagine asking Jacob to give up his cycling career for her, even to step it down, to stay in the same place for part of the year, every year. Cycling was what he lived for. The thing he loved more than her.
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