“Running?” Rissa smiled apologies at the people she brushed against in her rush to follow Marlea. “After AJ?”
“This damned race.” Marlea said, and renewed fire swirled deep in the whisky gold of her eyes. “I’m running.”
Chapter 22
“AJ, I want to do the race, too.” Sitting on the stone wall surrounding the terrace, Marlea laced her shoes and looked ready for the challenge. “I won’t try to run much, no more than I can do comfortably. I’ll walk if I have to.”
“Yeah, I can just see that, you walking anywhere you can run.” AJ pulled the laces tight on his shoes. He took longer than necessary tying them and refused to face her. “The race is tomorrow. You’ve been here for six weeks, and you just started running distance again. Do you really think we’ve trained well enough?”
“Man, AJ,” Marlea countered, her eyes sweeping the blue sky, “you really want to try to hard sell me on that? Two to four hours a day in the gym? Every day? Five miles, three times a week? All the walk-running I’ve done? Running with Rissa?” She smiled slyly. “All the walking we’ve done—together?”
Marlea thought about putting on her specially padded running shoes and climbing the wooded acreage surrounding the house. She thought back to how secure she felt when AJ took her hand to help her over some obstacle, back to what they had shared on those walks. We’ve talked about everything on those walks, including Bianca Coltrane. According to AJ, she was beautiful and smart.
I would sure like to give him an earful, tell him what I think of her. But deep in her heart, Marlea knew she would never tell him about her encounter with Bianca. I wonder if Rissa said anything? Looking at AJ under a cloudless blue sky, with a soft breeze touching them, she guessed that AJ’s sister had somehow found the strength of will and character to keep her mouth shut—for a change.
But AJ is a smart man. It was hard to understand how Bianca’s real personality got by him. Driven and goal-oriented, he called her. More like cold and calculating when Rissa told it, though. Even Mrs. Baldwin in a weak moment said that the woman had a cash register for a heart and an ATM for a soul.
Frowning, AJ was still lecturing. “Walking is not running, especially not under the Georgia sun. This is still September, and the day is subject to break hot.”
“Come on, AJ, I’ve been outside before.”
AJ looked dubious.
“Before you say no,” Marlea rushed on, “I talked to Libby and told her about the reception last night. She said she was sorry she missed it. I also told her that I wanted to run this race, and she agreed. She said I was probably ready to tackle something harder.”
“She probably did, but she doesn’t work with you every day like I do.” AJ stood and pulled the Nike sweatshirt over his head. Balling it up, he dropped it at his feet and began to stretch. “Libby is guessing long-distance.”
“But she’s right,” Marlea insisted. “I’ve done three- and five-mile runs with Rissa and Dench and did just fine. And I’ve walked the malls and a couple of tracks with Jeanette and Connie. They’re nurses. They would have said something if I had shown any sign of trouble.”
“They’re not runners.” He was adamant.
“I can do better than six miles on the treadmill, and I can do it at better than five miles per hour. AJ, you know that even with programming, the treadmill is a sanitized course, nothing like a real outdoor course, and you wanted me to gain confidence.” She took a deep breath. “I can do this, AJ. I know I can.” She blew out hard and waited.
“Let me think about it,” he said, jogging off the terrace.
“Don’t think too long! The race is tomorrow,” Marlea yelled at his back.
“He’s gonna say no, you know.”
“What makes you so sure, Rissa?”
“You.” She stretched her long legs and nodded in the direction AJ had gone. “That man? My brother? Honey, he’s falling…No, I take that back. He has already fallen so hard for you that he’s afraid.”
“Afraid?” Marlea looked hard at the woman in the three-striped sweatpants and matching shirt. “Not AJ. He’s one of the bravest souls I’ve ever met. He’s not afraid of anything—least of all me.”
“Believe that if you want to. He’s afraid of losing you.”
Marlea swung her legs to the terrace floor and stood shifting from foot to foot, testing her shoes. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” Dench said from his place by the terrace door. “She couldn’t be more right if she had to be.”
Rissa brought her palms together in soft applause. “Well said by the brother in the corner. I’m a lawyer, girl. You know I do my research.”
“Then what are we going to do about it, because I’m going to run that race, start to finish.” Marlea couldn’t help it; challenge cut her heart when she heard Bianca’s words infiltrating her mind again. “It must be hard to be treated like a pet by a man you can never have, but it’s nice for AJ to have a pet, even if it can’t perform.” Intentionally cruel, the hateful words bore a threat she couldn’t ignore.
But I’m going to have the last laugh. I’m going to run the hell out of this race. “How are you going to help me?” Marlea demanded, approaching Rissa.
“Slow your roll there, sister.” Dench came close and rested a protective hand on Rissa’s shoulder. “If you register, even late, I’ll bet he’ll know about it. You have to have a number to run and if you try to get one, he’ll know about it. I can’t think of anybody you can ask, at this late date, either.”
“There’s you.” Light suddenly shone in Marlea’s eyes. “You have a number, and you don’t really want to run, do you?”
“AJ wouldn’t like that,” Dench drawled.
“But who’s going to tell him?” Rissa grinned, pulling her feet into the chair and hugging her knees. “I know what you’re thinking, and I can so keep this to myself.”
Thinking fast, Marlea dropped into the chair beside Rissa’s. Looking up at Dench, she hummed. “You two don’t run together, do you?”
“No way. He’s seeded and usually way up in the crowd. I’m back with the sluggers and plodders.”
“Sluggers and plodders?” Rissa made a face. “Nice to know you think so highly of me, sweetie.”
He gave Rissa’s shoulder a squeeze. “Present company excluded.”
“I’ll settle for plodding. Can I have the number?”
Unconvinced, Dench shook his head. “I don’t know, Marlea. What if AJ is right and you haven’t trained enough. What if you can’t make it?”
“Come on, Dench. I can make it; I know I can.”
“I don’t know…”
“I’ll run with her,” Rissa volunteered. “I’ll stay with her every step of the way.”
“Like you can keep up with me,” Marlea sneered.
“Go ahead, bite the hand that feeds you. I’m just trying to help you out, but if you think I run too slow, and you don’t think my help is…”
“No, Rissa, no! I never meant anything bad. Run with me, please run with me.”
Her pride salved, Rissa relented. “Since you’re begging…”
“What’s in it for me?” Dench was in a bargaining mood, and Rissa’s grin was sly when she placed her hand over his on her shoulder. “Oh, well, you want the number, Marlea, you got it. How we gonna make the switch?”
“Easy.” Rissa obviously enjoyed plotting. “We’ll all dress and head for the race, just as we planned, but we’re going to run late. I’ll figure out something to stall us. We don’t need a lot of time, about ten minutes ought to do it. Once we’re there, Marlea and I will hang back at the car, doing girl stuff. AJ will become impatient and run off to handle whatever it is he’s supposed to do. Plus, as you said, he’s seeded. He’ll never see you hand over the number, and by the time he finds us at the finish line, she will have run and what can he say then?”
“Cool. Sounds like it’ll work.” Dench looked at Marlea. “But why are you willing to go to such lengths to run a
race?”
Because I am not a pet. Marlea shrugged. “Part of me wants to do the run as a personal challenge, but another part of me would be lying if I didn’t admit that I want to do it as a surprise for AJ.”
“And she met Bianca at the reception,” Rissa blabbed.
“Mouth like a sieve,” Marlea sighed. “Yeah, I met her and she made it sound as though my not being able to run made me less of a person.” Biting the inside of her lip, Marlea kept the rest of Bianca’s words to herself.
“Don’t let her push your buttons like that,” Dench counseled.
“No, it’s not about her. This run is for me.”
* * *
“He looked at you funny, but AJ never said a word about you being dressed out. My brother can be so oblivious sometimes.”
Trying to stifle the tremor of excitement that threatened to make her scream, Marlea pulled at the snaps on her windpants, then stepped free of them. She made a stab at folding them before tossing them on the jeep’s back seat. “I can’t believe your plan actually worked.”
“The beauty of simplicity,” Rissa smiled, reaching for the safety pins she had gone back to the house to collect, thus causing the ten-minute delay in AJ’s schedule. “Can you believe he was so ticked off with me that he just ran off without a backward glance?”
“Leaving this for you,” Dench grinned, handing over his race number.
Marlea’s fingers trembled when she took it from him. Reverently pressing the sheet against her shirt, she accepted pins from Rissa. Once her number was secure, she looked up at both of them, tears in her eyes. “Thank you. Both of you.”
“Girl, you’re going to make me cry.” Rissa folded her into a hug.
Dench couldn’t help joining in. “You’d better hurry and find your time group if you don’t want to miss your race.” He sniffed and stepped back. Planting his hands in the small of his back, he looked skyward. “Good luck.”
“He’s a big ol’ softy,” Rissa whispered, keeping an eye out for AJ.
Finding their place behind the starting banner, Marlea had only a second or two to cherish the excitement of the race. Granted this was slower and longer than her beloved 400, but it was a race, and adrenaline shot through her veins in a hot rush.
“Runners, take your mark…”
Shaking off anything that had nothing to do with the run, she planted her right foot and prayed for the all-important balance that would carry her over the distance. Coiling her body, she gave her foot a twist, digging the toe of her shoe into position.
“Get set…”
Breathe…find the rhythm, hold the balance.
“…go!”
The banner fell, trampled instantly by eager feet, but Marlea was more than ready, as her body broke free. Long legs working with hydraulic precision, Rissa at her side, her feet found their path. Marlea could hear her own breathing and feel the gravel crunching beneath her feet.
A mile into the run, Rissa looked across at Marlea. If there was a problem, she couldn’t tell. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine.”
Three miles later, the answer was the same, and Rissa wondered if she was the only woman running through Welcome All park wishing that the race was over.
Marlea’s answers were automatic because Rissa’s questions barely registered. Her feet, trained for more years than she could count, ran where she directed them. Her thoughts ignored her control and ran straight to AJ.
Great day for a run, clear skies, not too hot. Wonder what his time will be? I know he’s slowed down, and runs about an eight-minute mile. She checked the steel-banded chronometer on her wrist. We’re an hour into this race, which means he should be finished. Curving along the asphalt turn of the street encircling the park, a bit of memory brought a flash of AJ and the first time she had seen him.
Funny, that day was a 10K, too. I never saw him until he fell out of nowhere and into my life. She smiled and remembered caramel skin, closely barbered dark hair, and a neat mustache over a nice…no, that day, nothing about him was nice—the big sweaty oaf!
Even features and broad shoulders and feet the size of Texas. Towering over her five feet, eight inches, he had barreled into her, knocking her flat. When her body was tangled with his, he seemed all broad shoulders and long, strong-muscled legs. And as bad as it seemed then, things have changed…fate sure does have a sense of humor.
Her breath pulled tight through her nose and rushed out past her open lips. Her mouth felt dry and her lips were parched. Her feet burned and she was pretty sure they would be blistered, but her legs felt as though she could run for an eternity.
Abuse, complaint, and agony, Rissa thought, hating Marlea just a little when she sprinted up the hill ahead of her. Ninety minutes of my life that I will never see again, and I’m running behind a woman! But I guess it was worth it. All she could see of Marlea was her back as she took the turn toward the finish line.
Her feet slapped the ground, but her pulse was still racing as she crossed the finish line, and Marlea wondered if AJ was right about the training. Man, I’m sucking wind like a…
“We did it,” Rissa exalted, slapping an arm around Marlea’s sweaty shoulders. “Ooh, girl, we did it.” Grinning and laughing, she hugged Marlea. “I must really like you to do something like this. I don’t work this hard at my real job.”
Marlea hugged back and checked her chronometer over Rissa’s shoulder. “And we did it in less than ninety minutes, that’s…uh-oh…” Her arms fell and her face grew wary.
“What?” Rissa turned to find the imposing shadow of her big brother’s presence darkening her optimism. “Uh-oh.”
“What the hell were you thinking, running 6.2 miles on a new shoe?”
Though their mouths opened, neither of the women could find words in the face of AJ’s anger.
“And you let them, helped them to do this?” he said, turning to Dench. “You know better!”
“They’re grown.” Dench shrugged and yawned, making it abundantly clear that he couldn’t have cared less.
“Let me speak for both of us.” Walking backward, facing her brother, Rissa threw both hands into the air. “As far as Dench and I are concerned, we did you both a big favor. You wanted to be sure that Marlea could go back to her life, now you know she can. She wanted to run again, and now she knows she can. What’s the problem?”
His sister’s words hit home. AJ stopped walking and shook his head. He checked the runners still crossing the finish line and then looked at Marlea. His gaze and voice softened. “You ran the whole race?” She nodded, and he did the time and distance math. “Pretty good time. How do you feel?”
“My feet hurt.”
His face clouded. “Serves you right, Marlea. I told you…”
“But I finished, and you owed me a tee shirt anyway.”
“I’m getting nowhere with you, am I?” AJ finally laughed.
“The tee shirt line is over there,” Marlea pointed and headed for the line with AJ following.
“Looks like she handled that,” Rissa giggled.
“Like he was going to refuse her anything.” Dench used his thumb to catch a stray drop threatening Rissa’s vision. She stood patiently, letting him mop her sweaty brow, figuring that she deserved the small pampering. “Old boy was pretty mad there, at first.”
“Meant nothing,” Rissa said with finality. “Those two couldn’t be separated if their lives depended on it.”
“Suppose we find ourselves another ride back to the house.” He kissed the top of her head. “Let them have some time to figure that out for themselves.”
“I think we can do that.” Rissa tipped her head to offer her lips—it felt like the natural thing to do. Well, that and the fact that she liked the way he kissed, and he didn’t seem to mind doing it at all. She was beginning to figure out some things for herself.
Chapter 23
“Are you sure you didn’t want to go with Rissa and Dench and the rest of the committee to eat?” AJ s
wung the door of the jeep wide and offered his hand.
“No, I’m glad you were willing to pass.” Slipping her hand into his, Marlea eased from her seat and winced in pain when her foot touched the ground.
“What’s wrong?” AJ looked down and saw the crimson flush climbing her damp sock. “Marlea, your foot is bleeding.”
“Oh, God.” She reached for the door and leaned heavily.
Grim-faced and wordless, AJ surrounded her with his arms and scooped her close to his body. Holding her close enough to share heartbeats, he carried her past the cozy, ivy-covered, narrow white banister and across the small, stone porch.
A wave of vertigo threatened, and she raised her arms, linking her fingers behind his strong neck. Closing her eyes, trusting his strength, Marlea let herself be carried through the lead-paned door and into the kitchen.
“Oh, Lord! What happened to this girl?”
Marlea opened her eyes to find Martha Baldwin’s worried face and fluttering apron heading her way. “I’m okay, Mrs. Baldwin.”
“You don’t look okay. You look bad, is how you look.” Martha’s eyes accused AJ, and she flapped the apron again. “What did you do to her?”
“I told her not to do what she did,” AJ said, proclaiming his innocence. “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“You’d better,” Martha fussed as AJ passed her.
“She’s going to get you, you know.” Marlea dropped her head back to AJ’s shoulder and moaned softly when he lowered her to the chintz-printed chair in her bedroom.
Kneeling in front of her, he loosened her shoe, then gingerly removed it. He watched her bite her lip, fighting not to cry out. “Hurt?”
“A little,” she lied. Her foot hurt like hell.
“Let’s see what I can do about that.” Rising, AJ went into the small bathroom. Marlea heard him run water, but was still surprised when he emerged with towels and a basin. Kneeling, he pulled rolls of gauze from the stack of towels and set them to the side. Pulling over a small tapestry-covered stool, he sat and tenderly brought her foot to the towel draped across his lap. Rolling her blood-tinged sock away, he exposed her foot.
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