Fit for You

by Cynthia Tennent

  My brothers were lavish with my mother. Ned had bought her a new Mercedes that she drove horribly. Chip had bought her a ten-year membership in a golf club. For once I wanted to be as generous as my brothers. Thinking I was going to enjoy a fine paycheck, I splurged and flew both of us to Seoul to visit family. She had a wonderful time. I enjoyed it, too, even though I grew tired of nodding and pretending I knew what everyone was saying.

  The second mistake I made was my big plan of producing my own brand of protein powder. My appearance on Just Lose It was going to act as a springboard for selling it on my blog. Twenty cases of the protein powder were stacked in my mother’s garage. They would expire in eight months.

  I tried not to think about my massive failures in the financial realm. Or the other ones.

  Instead I focused on a single number.

  Two hundred and thirty-three. The leftover funds the Triple C’s had in reserve.

  With that amount I could buy some very basic exercise equipment.

  As for the rest of my problems, well, there was a slogan on a yellow T-shirt that would guide me.

  * * *

  Dinner that night was tacos. The boys debated whether Mentos exploded best in Pepsi or Coke. Tracy and Louise talked about staffing at the senior day care. Olivia asked me all sorts of questions about Los Angeles. I ignored the way Edge’s eyes flashed every time I looked his way.

  “You have to know a lot of actors,” Olivia said, putting her elbows on the table.

  “A few.” Actually, I did. I had helped train several minor television actors.

  “What about a movie star? Melissa McCarthy? She looked great at the Oscars.”

  I shook my head.

  “Leonardo DiCaprio?”

  “No.”

  The funny thing was that at first I had been starstruck by my clients, too. But once I realized that they were real people with real food cravings and muscle-strength deficiencies, I focused on getting them in shape, talked them out of binge eating, and worked on changing their bad habits.

  “Can’t you tell us about anyone?” Olivia asked, leaning on her elbows.

  “I helped Tina Delfio get fit before she went on Dancing Divas last year.” The job had helped me get noticed by the producer of Just Lose It.

  “Tina was an ice-skater, right? She trained outside of Detroit,” said Tracy as she forced Justin to add more lettuce than cheese to his taco. “My friend’s cousin was once her ice-dancing partner.”

  Olivia held her tortilla in the air. “Tina was at the same Olympics that Jackie—”

  “Shhhh!” Sarah spit out, glancing sharply at Edge.

  Edge passed the salsa with no emotion. His behavior appeared normal. But a tight muscle in his jaw gave him away. “We all went to the University of Vermont for a couple of years,” he said easily.

  Louise took the bowl from Edge and adopted a cheery voice. “Salsa, Lily?”

  Olivia didn’t notice the shifting mood. “Too bad about Tina’s injury. She was a good figure skater. We all thought she would compete in the next Olympics and—” She paused and bit her lip.

  Edge stared at his plate. “That’s the way things go. Injuries happen. It’s a way of life for athletes. I am sure Tina understood it just like anyone else.”

  He looked up and our eyes met. He was right. But it didn’t take away the bitter sting that burst a long-held dream.

  I wanted to ask him if he had played a sport. “What—”

  All of a sudden Edge pushed back in his chair until he was on the back two legs and picked up a fork and a spoon, playing a beat on the table. “Guess what song this is, boys.”

  “Edgar,” said Louise.

  Justin and Jason imitated him, much to their mother’s disgust. Everyone began speaking at once and the moment was lost. Not before I could tuck it away for later.

  After dinner, I did my twenty minutes of therapy exercises and thought about my strange day. I wondered about the odd, emotionless way Edge talked about injury . . . I had only known him for a day, but something told me stone-like cynicism was not normal for Edge Callahan.

  What was his real story?

  Putting my curiosity on a shelf for now, I grabbed my crutches and oversize U-FIT GYM T-shirt and headed to the bathroom, leaving my brace on the bed. If I was sharing the bathroom with teenage girls, I was going to need to duck into the shower whenever the coast was clear.

  Downstairs was quiet. I propped my crutch against the wall outside the bathroom, having learned too often that a wet bathroom floor and crutches didn’t mix. This morning someone had cleared off all the makeup, cleansers, and tampons from the counter and left a clean towel in their place.

  The shower felt like heaven after a long day. I ducked my head under the streaming hot water and let the weariness melt away. Afterward, I braced against the sink and toweled myself off. I donned the T-shirt, which covered me to midthigh, and combed my thick dark hair.

  Feeling a million times better, I opened the bathroom door and looked around for my crutch. But it was gone.

  Two young voices made strange noises that sounded like bombs from the recreation room at the end of the hall.

  “You’re under attack!!”

  “I can still beat you, even if I’m wounded.”

  I hopped toward the sound.

  Jason, I think, was attempting to walk across the room using my crutch while Justin shot foam arrows at him from the couch. When he saw me, he aimed my way. It hit me in the hip.

  “Ouch!” The arrow was more painful than it looked. Footsteps pounded down the stairs.

  Edge grabbed the next arrow midair and picked up the pint-size warrior, carrying him sideways as if he were a book. He set the boy on the couch and put another broad hand on top of the arrow launcher. Restraining both boys, he lowered his brow and spoke severely. “If I ever catch you stealing Lily’s crutch again, I am going to put you in the back of Uncle Pete’s garbage truck. Do you understand?”

  They nodded.

  He grabbed the remaining arrows. “And don’t let me ever see you aiming these at a guest again. Or anyone. Ever.”

  They nodded.

  Then he pointed his finger to the side door, where I could see a bright light from the apartment above the garage. “Your mom wants you home now. Bedtime!”

  Without a word, they ran to the door, grabbed their coats, stepped halfway into their boots, and ran out the door to their apartment above the garage. Edge watched them until they reached their door.

  “I’m really sorry, Lily. They have an overinflated imagination and anything is a weapon.” He picked the crutch off the floor and turned back to me. “I will—” He paused.

  I must have looked like a schoolgirl at a sleepover with my wet hair, T-shirt, and bare feet. The difference being that if I really were under sixteen, Edge’s look would have been illegal in most states. He started at the top of my head, paused at my braless chest, and continued to my legs. He stopped at my knee, and all seduction stopped. He wasn’t staring at my ugly, swollen right knee. He was staring at the faded scars on my other knee.

  If I could have stretched my T-shirt down, I would have. Because standing in front of Edge, both knees giving away a history I didn’t want to explain, made me feel naked.

  “Twice?”

  I knew exactly what he was talking about. “Soccer tryouts.” For a walk-on position at USC.

  “Tough break.”

  I felt the need to explain it was all right. “It made me switch majors and focus on kinesiology. So, I guess it was for the best.”

  “Good for you.”

  We were both lying. There was nothing good about not making a goal.

  I took the crutch from him. “Well, I’m off to bed now. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  Edge raised his eyes and nodded at me. His mouth curled in a gentle smile. “Good night, Lily . . .”

  I pivoted and crutch-walked back to his bedroom with as much dignity as I could muster. The boys had lost their battle, bu
t I was still fighting my own. I couldn’t understand how to combat the crazy way I felt when faced with the secret weapon that hid beneath a golden beard. Dimples.

  LESSON FIVE

  Educate Yourself

  On Friday afternoon, Elizabeth Lively picked me up from the Callahans’ in her Honda Accord for the big meeting with Truhart’s Fit4You participants. On the way, she filled me in on the history of the area. “It was once a logging town with a booming industry. Unfortunately, when the logging industry moved west, so did three quarters of the population.”

  That explained the deserted buildings in town.

  “What keeps the town going nowadays?”

  “Mostly tourism,” she said. I tried to imagine people flocking to the barren and bleak landscape and my face must have given me away. “Oh, I know, you’re thinking why would anyone vacation in Truhart, right?”

  I felt bad. “I’ve only been here a couple of days, and I’ve hardly seen the town.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not offended. Unfortunately, you came at the worst time of the year. We have winter, summer, and autumn around here. Spring, you’ll see, is more like the muddy season. But summer is amazing. A dozen lakes and several rivers make water sports and fishing prime activities. Most of the cottages fill up with our summer residents from downstate. Truhart even manages to lure a few out-of-staters, like me.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Ohio.” She turned onto the country road. “My grandmother used to live farther up on Crooked Road. I moved into her house and stirred things up. Long story.”

  “You don’t need to tell me,” I said.

  “You’ll find out eventually. I’m a little compulsive about cleaning and making things perfect. Coming to Truhart was one of the best things I ever did for myself.”

  “Best things?” I couldn’t imagine what kind of redemption a place like Truhart could offer a perfectionist.

  “Stay here long enough and you will understand. My first few weeks were an absolute mess. I was almost tackled by the deputy sheriff. I fell into a bog. And I pretty much started a mini war.”

  “And you stayed?”

  “What can I say? I fell in love.” She smiled. “Oh my God. I sound like a bad Hallmark movie. You must think I’m crazy.” She changed the subject. “Tell me what you are going to say to everyone today.”

  I explained my ideas for getting Truhart into shape. By the time we finished we were approaching Main Street. The sun was going down and the lights from several establishments, including the diner, cast a glow on the snow at the side of the road.

  “I love your enthusiasm, Lily. I can tell already that we picked the right woman.”

  I shook my head. “You picked the only woman for the job. Come on, admit it.”

  She laughed. “Well, we didn’t have a lot of applicants. But yours was amazing. The ladies went crazy when they heard you had been on Just Lose It.”

  “You know, my accident happened before they taped the second episode.”

  “Doesn’t matter. To everyone here you are a rock star.”

  I clenched my jaw. Someone should tell them I was playing an air guitar.

  The new “gym” was already half full when Elizabeth and I walked in. When Regina saw me, she took my elbow and led me around the room. She introduced me to more people than I could ever remember. I scanned bodies, assessing their fitness levels, but it was hard given the way they were dressed for the weather. As coats were shed over the backs of the various folding chairs people brought, it became clear to me that there was work to do.

  Over a hundred people gathered in the room. That was a far better turnout than I expected. Truhart was a town of 1300 residents. Ten percent participation was promising. In fact, by the time we were about to start, there were so many people crammed into the room that someone had to prop open a door to let the cool evening air in.

  Regina started the meeting. “Good evening, everyone. Thanks for coming out. As you know, we received a grant from Fit4You to help our town get fit and healthy.” She rambled on about the grant for so long that a few people started looking at their phones. Finally she held her arm out to me. “And so here is our new fitness trainer, Lily Shue. She comes with all sorts of wonderful recommendations. She knows a lot of stars in Hollywood and she was even on Just Lose It before coming to Truhart.” My stomach contracted. “Lily comes to us from California, so please give her a warm Michigan welcome.”

  I joined Regina at the front of the room, impossibly trying to obscure my crutch. I could practically feel the heat of the stares on my knee.

  Raising my chin, I imagined I was my brother Chip, and summoned my best public voice. “Thank you all for that great welcome!” Instead of sounding like a peppy motivator, my voice was like a strangled rabbit. I cleared my throat and tried again.

  “It’s great to be here in this beautiful town.” Several people giggled. I wasn’t trying to be sarcastic. Perhaps I didn’t need to lather it on quite so much. “Well, I hear it will be beautiful when the weather changes.” Louise Callahan sat next to Addie Adler and her eyebrow went way up. I took the warning and cut to another subject.

  Taking a deep breath, I told everyone of my professional background. Not the one that had to do with TV shows or B-list Hollywood stars. The serious one. The one that came with a degree in kinesiology from the University of Southern California. I discussed my background in diet and nutrition. Then I listed a few specific accomplishments. The work I did with underserved populations. The after-school program in South L.A. Even the urban-garden work I had loved.

  At that point a hand went up. An older woman asked, “But what stars did you work with?”

  “Yeah!” several other people chimed in.

  “Well, that is a bit confidential. But—”

  A thin man with a big head of white hair leaned in. “Come on. We won’t tell.”

  “I heard it was Leonardo,” a woman nearby said.

  I was losing control. “I always promise my clients that I won’t talk about them in public. I hope you understand.” Three people in the back of the room stood up to leave, and I panicked. “Of course, Leo was great to work with. A real gentleman.”

  And there it was. A shameless lie. Nobody knew that, though. Except Louise and the big bearded guy leaning against the back wall. Edge’s grin was as wide as his shoulders.

  I used the extra attention to my advantage and passed out some of the paperwork. “So if you are ready to get started on the road to fitness and health, we can begin.”

  Fortunately the subject of stars was dropped when I outlined my plan. I explained to them the three steps to working out. First, an assessment of their goals and health. “Dr. Manning at the Harrison County Hospital has agreed to partner with us and work with everyone who needs medical supervision during this process. If needed, we’ll modify your workout.

  “I am placing sign-up sheets for the fitness groups on the, uh, coffin here.” Someone snorted at the irony. I held up the first sheet. “This is for the walkers. You can walk daily or weekly, depending on your schedule and the weather.”

  “That means never,” someone grumbled.

  I ignored him and held up the second paper. “This is for the creative fitness classes.” I had no idea exactly how I was going to handle that with my knee, but I had notes all over the desk in Edge’s bedroom.

  “I am going to ask every participant to fill out a form.” I passed the papers around the room. “If you participate, I must receive one. It includes a health history questionnaire along with your weight and height. Please be honest.”

  “Sure we will, honey.” A large man winked at me.

  “What is this paper for?” asked Marva, holding up a form.

  “That is for our healthy nutrition challenge.”

  A tall bald man raised his hand. “Great idea. I can help with that.”

  Regina explained “Mac is the cook at Cookee’s Diner.”

  My heart sank as I thought of greasy b
urgers and French fries. At the very least I might be able to persuade him to offer healthy items on his menu.

  “I am available at any time to work with you on finding healthy options for you and your family. I will be holding my first seminar Thursday.”

  I put the signs at my feet and shifted my weight off my bad knee.

  “Just tell me I don’t have to cut out beer,” someone barked in the back of the room.

  “You better not,” said a grizzled man with sideburns, wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt. “I still expect everyone to come out to Lori’s for the NCAA finals tomorrow night. And the Tigers’ home opener in a couple weeks.”

  Now was as good a time as any to start talking about good eating habits. I stepped forward. “The issue of food and drink is an important one. No one wants an overly strict diet that is going to make them miserable. Right? I don’t plan on forcing you all to eat celery sticks and carrots all day.”

  That drew a big cheer. I was galvanized by the enthusiasm. “But it is also important to understand that to make a positive change, you need to alter the way you think about food.”

  The cheer morphed into a groan.

  “It doesn’t have to be major. But you do have to make some substitutions.” My mind was going blank. I thought of the first thing that came to my head. “For example, I know it is really tempting to stop around the corner for ice cream after work or dinner.”

  Several heads turned, searching for something in the back of the room.

  “Think about avoiding that kind of pitfall by substituting sweets with something else.”

  Elizabeth Lively stared at me with overly wide eyes and put a finger across her throat. I had heard she had a sweet tooth, but she shouldn’t be so sensitive.

  “We all like sugar. But it is like an addiction. Once our bodies have a little, they crave more and more until we crash. And study after study has shown the harmful effects of too much sugar in our system. Besides the obesity problem, diabetes is on the rise. Among other things, sugar lowers your immunity. If you want to be successful, you have to cut it out. Tell yourself no when you find yourself heading to the . . . the Dairy Cow, is it?”