by Shawn Keys
“I’m talking about more than your physical conditioning. It’s the feel for it. I could probably teach MK or Cadence to throw as well as you did after a couple sessions. You automatically adjusted.” He smiled. “They didn’t have all the events at the Nationals. No point if there isn’t enough competition.”
“They had javelin,” she answered.
“But they didn’t have all the events. No decathlon. Or heptathlon, for that matter.”
Irène gawked up at him. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?”
“It isn’t so insane. I competed in the decathlon. My knowledge and skill in all the events aren’t equal to specialists in the fields. I didn’t like all the events equally, either. I’ll try and avoid influencing you too much. But in some ways, I might be better at teaching the full range rather than zeroing in on one. I loved pole vaulting, so I put a lot of work into perfecting it. That’s one reason I’m doing so well with Cadence. But her own instinct for it helps a lot. She… well, she gets what I’m trying to describe to her, even when I mess it up a little. It’s harder with MK. I hate to think about it, but one day I’m not going to have the answer for her. Not up to the level she needs.” He let out a vulnerable sigh as he contemplated that unpleasant future.
To help leave that idea behind, he got back to Irène’s potential. “The events with multiple skills take a different sort of preparation. Sure, you need to excel in a wide variety of talents. But you need stamina. You also need to prepare yourself to do the events in a specific order. There’s a pace to it. A rhythm. And you have the ability to adapt. That’s what I’m seeing in you. Adaptation is a talent all on its own, and I think you have that.”
She smiled back at him, difficult not to do so after such a great compliment. But a glaring problem shocked her out of it. “Hold on! Heptathlon? Umm… 100-meter hurdles like MK, high jump, shotput… I’d have to throw a rock!” She laughed a bit before returning to her litany, “… and 200-meter sprint. What’s next? Oh, right, long jump, javelin and the 800-meter run.”
“That’s the full gamut.”
Groaning, she waved back toward the pole vault. “I’ve worked years on my event! I mean, I know I’m not going to make the Olympic team. Not unless the commission goes all in on pole vaulting.” She threw her hands up in the air. “But giving it up entirely? Couldn’t I… pick like… two or three other events?”
Daniel wasn’t about to lie to her. “You could. That’s an option. Every athlete is going to need to think about how much pressure to put on themselves.” He tried to figure out how to say what he knew he had to say without upsetting her. Turn bad news into good news? Maybe I can manage that. “I hate promising things that I can’t deliver on, Irène. So, I won’t. But I see a talent in you. If you try three or four sports, maybe we’ll find a hidden talent you didn’t know you had. But if not…” He invited her to finish.
“I’ll be coming in fifth or sixth in three or four events including the pole vault,” Irène said, wilting a little.
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I hate telling anyone they can’t do something. That isn’t my place. Pretty sure I wouldn’t be where I am if I listened to those people. Cadence wouldn’t be doing as well as she is. MK wouldn’t be challenging Dior.” Arriving at the javelin, he leaned against it as if it was a fence pole. “But the heptathlon, that’s how you can win. You take being fifth or sixth and turn it into gold. But you can’t do it over three or four events. You need to do seven. And I think you can. Instead of being close to the podium, you’d be on it. Even better, Portesara doesn’t have a heptathlete to believe in, yet. Eventually, someone else is going to get this idea. Especially since everyone is being pushed into thinking about doing multiple events. You could get a jump on the whole field.”
“But not with pole vault.” Deep regret clung to her voice. Her eyes closed, seeing years of effort fading into nothing.
Daniel could understand her pain. He was offering her a chance to medal, at least at nationals, possibly even at the regional championships. A brand-new dream. But only if she gave up on an old one. He had one more offering. One more way he could stop this from being a tragedy for her. But only if she is willing to put in a lot of effort. “Maybe not.”
Hope sprang back into her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“Well, in the short term, there’s no need to pull you out of the pole-vaulting competition. Anything could happen. One of the other women ahead of you in the standings might need to drop out.”
“My plan can’t be to wish for them to get hurt!” Irène sounded aghast at the very idea.
“Understandable. It’s also possible the commission really will want to keep that many athletes in the running.”
“But I need to attain a certain ranking to reach the Olympics.”
“Not as high as you might think. But I think the commission won’t send you unless you have every chance of being competitive. They won’t send anyone simply for the sake of bigger numbers. If they are trying to make a statement about the sport they want to excel in, it might be enough to get you in.”
Irène shook her head. “But you don’t think so.”
“I think they will take up to three, but no more. Three is still a huge number for an island our size in any event. It will show our flag just fine without putting all our eggs in one basket.”
“Which still leaves me out of the Olympics. If that’s the case, I’d be better off focusing on what I do have a chance at,” Irène concluded glumly, returning to her regret.
Daniel tugged the javelin free of the ground, using the physical motion to emphasize what he said next. “Not necessarily.”
“What, then?”
“It’s a brave new world out there, Irène. I’m not being sarcastic. I mean it. Equality is the wave of the future. The IOC is always slow to change. In the case of the heptathlon, the governing body over that sport isn’t helping because they are in turmoil. Two sides: one side thinks the sport is perfectly fine how it is; the other side thinks it should evolve into a decathlon similar to the men’s variant. But it isn’t that easy. Will the heptathlon’s 100-meter hurdle become equal to the men’s 110-meter? Will the 800-meter run shorten to match the men’s 400 while adding the 1500? Will the 200-meter sprint shorten to match the men’s 100?” He sighed. “Why haven’t all the sports already balanced out? Ask that question of ten people, and you’d get ten different answers.”
“Most saying women can’t hack doing all ten?” Irène pondered bitterly.
“Some, yes.” Daniel admitted, knowing there were some opinions like that out there. “Amazingly enough, the biggest block standing against the heptathlon evolving are those who claim it is a unique sport that they don’t want to lose. That it is perfect how it is and doesn’t have to change to equal the men’s event.” He shrugged, then laughed darkly. “While others claim that if it was changed, the scheduling wouldn’t work because they run certain events on certain days, and it would be too difficult to adjust the Olympic activity layout, as if their experts couldn’t sort that out if they really wanted to.” He shook his head. “I’d say the one resistance I’ve heard that I trust is from the female athletes already competing in the heptathlon. They have a legitimate fear that with one change, they would be written out of their own sport. Add three new events: discus, pole vault and the 1500-meter run while changing at least two others. That’s a hard ask for those who have committed a life-time learning others.”
“Wouldn’t they give people time to adapt?”
“Normally two cycles from the first announcement. Two Olympics to either change or achieve whatever you are trying to achieve in the old way before the new rules come in.” Daniel met her eyes. “But the change has to be made. It hasn’t been, yet. Who knows how long it will take? Given the way things are going in the world, I honestly think it will happen eventually.”
“Quickly enough to make a difference to me?”
“Maybe not. The opposite might be the case.”
“The opposite?”
“You might be the one advocating for the change, even if you never compete in that format.” Daniel tried to explain, “There are already some competitions being held, especially in America. Women’s decathlon is a rising sport. If you want to stay engaged in the pole vault, I’ll teach you all ten sports. It will mean extra effort from you, learning discus and the 1500 as well as the shorter distances. We’ll stick with 100-meter hurdles for now, since there is no indication that will change. Plus, we can link your training up with MK’s in that. We’ll also pace you for the 400 and 800 meters to cover all the possibilities.”
Irène exhaled at the enormity of the idea. “You really think I can handle all that?”
“Yes. I wouldn’t mention it otherwise. It’s a lot, but you won’t be the first women to ever go for this. The best thing about the idea is that you can use your pole-vaulting skills if you want to be part of the change. We can find decathlon competitions you can participate in. You’re young enough that if they made the announcement tomorrow, you might be among the first to officially participate. If they decide to run a trial to showcase the changes, it might even happen earlier.” He shrugged. “Sounds exciting. But only if you want to chase this.”
Irène was silent the rest of the slow walk back to the javelin run-up.
He handed her the javelin he was carrying.
She took it and slid it back into the holding rack. Her hand ran along the sleek length of it. Her fingers closed over the light-weight spear. The hand uncurled and curled a few more times. Then, she turned back to him, a smile emerging on her lips. “Yeah. Let’s do it. I don’t want to play second fiddle to anyone. If you honestly think I can excel, then let’s do it.”
A genuine smile came to Daniel. “I really do.”
“So, when do we start?”
“There’s no way you can be ready for the Caribbean Games. Three weeks? That isn’t enough time. We’ll set our sights on the French Language Games. I’ll put the application into the sports commission. But don’t get your hopes up. Even four months isn’t much.”
“You still want me to pole vault at the CACGs?” Irène sounded surprised.
“I’m willing to let you talk me out of it. I’d understand if you want to step back and focus on this new idea.” Daniel met her eyes. “But it would be good experience. Nationals is one thing. Being under the cameras from two dozen countries is a whole other level. It’ll be worse at the FLGs. You’ll already be under the pressure of participating in a new sport there. No need for it to be your first international event.” Daniel smiled. “You put in the effort to get on the team for this. Get out there and give it your all. We’ll spend the next few months getting you ready for the other elements of the heptathlon. Once we get past the FLGs, we’ll broaden the scope and make sure you’re ready for the decathlon as well. You’ll get pole-vaulting back, and we’ll have your path into the future. Sound good?”
Her grin rivaled the sun. “Sounds great! Thanks, Coach. This… well, this is a chance I never thought I’d get.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, and meant every word.
Chapter 6
Cadence finished initialing the legal documents, reading a little more carefully than a normal person might. It was mind-numbing, but anything that involved her father these days was worth making extra-sure that all the details were the right details. Once she reached the bottom, she scribbled out what passed as her signature. Formal schooling had been an off-and-on thing with her. Until meeting Daniel Toussaint, her only future was that of being a waitress in her uncle’s restaurant. Neat hand-writing hadn’t been a high priority for her.
She flipped back to the front page. Her eyes caught on the key numbers in the document. As of signing, she owned 49% of her father’s business: Fell’s Brewery. The other 51% was Liam Chapelle’s, who was standing on the far side of the high table in the tasting area of the microbrewery. It was the only way Liam had been willing to do this. Cadence wasn’t willing to take on the burden of running the brewery, and he had demanded a controlling stake so he could evolve the business as he wished. In the end, Cadence was surprised she was being given this much.
She suspected it was her father’s best hope to gain a piece of his business back once he was out of prison. Along with Gregoire, he’d been given 12 years in prison on similar charges surrounding what they had done to Daniel. Portesaran law forbid criminal convicts from owning non-residential property. Felix Amirault would keep his house, but lose his business. His choices were to sell to someone he trusted or let the bank liquidate his assets. Liam was a family friend and she was his daughter, no matter how dysfunctional their relationship had become. That gave him two opportunities to weasel his way back in once he was free.
I won’t fight him on that, she thought. This place doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. I’m not sure it ever did.
“Thanks for doing this, Cadence.” Liam sounded genuine, though a bit of sorrow clung to the edge of each word.
“Not sure I’m doing you a favor.”
“Oh?” Liam hummed thoughtfully. “This place is turning a profit. There are two workers that know their job inside and out and run most of this place. Happy to help them stay employed. The label was starting to earn itself a decent name. If it doesn’t keep going, it’ll die. Buying it now is the best thing for everyone.”
“Guess you’re right.” Cadence sighed, “Wonderful news.”
Liam watched her face, reading what lay beneath. “I know you don’t care about your father’s legacy.”
Her answering smile was equal parts wry and tired. “Did he talk to you before he did what he did?”
“We talked all the time.” He scrubbed at his face, looking weary himself. “But not that night. I wish we had. Maybe I could have talked him out of his idiocy.”
“He didn’t want anyone talking him out of that.” Cadence scoffed. “Don’t bullshit me, Liam. I’ve known you too long, even if most of that was when I was too young to get a vote on anything.” She glared right at him. “His pride was hurt. He was acting like the big man. Had a few beers with his brothers and they swallowed Gregoire’s idea like gaping fish grabbing bait on a hook.”
Liam objected, “I’ve known your father all my life, Caddy.”
“Don’t call me that,” she said reflexively.
“Caddy –”
Cadence smashed the table with her open palm. “I walked out on my father for not listening to me, Liam! Do you really want to piss off the person who owns half your business?”
He opened his mouth to talk again.
“I swear to God, Liam. I have Julian’s contact information. I’ll cede my half to him for a dollar!”
The man’s jaw clenched as she trolled the name of his nemesis in front of him. “All I’m trying to say, Cadence, is that I’ve known your father a long time. He’s not a monster. He loves you. He’s… not all bad.” He shrugged. “Fine. You don’t care about his legacy. Fine. But I’m going to do right by him. And since you own half of this place now, I’ll do right by you, too.”
Cadence rolled her eyes and stalked over to the door. “Yeah. That’s what I expected to hear from his friend. Thanks for reminding me that you aren’t really mine.” She fixed him with another glare. “He’s my Dad. That isn’t going to change.” She shook her head. “And neither is he.”
She yanked open the door and walked out. By the time she was close to her car, she was already berating herself. What was I expecting? I should have just signed those papers and gotten the hell out of there.
Tugging open the car’s door, she tucked herself behind the wheel and sank against the fabric. Stewing in her anger, she didn’t turn the ignition quite yet. She hadn’t been driving all that much or all that long. Being in a fit of near-homicidal rage while driving didn’t seem like a good match.
She had come into the city for two errands, but a large part of her wanted to simply return home. By now, Daniel would be back and snuggled up w
atching TV with Evelyn. Her thoughts drifted over what she wanted to be doing. Cuddling up on the other side of him. Feeling his strong arm wrap around her shoulders, inviting her to lean against his chest. Reaching across him to link hands with Evelyn. Their joined hands slipping further south and circling something harder, pumping slowly… insistently…
By the time she surfaced from the fantasy, she felt calmer. A little stirred up, but that was a pleasant haze over the calm. It wasn’t purely the idea of sex that eased her out of her anger. It was part of the larger feeling of belonging she felt with them. After spending an entire life in service to a family while getting her own dreams trampled, being ensconced in a loving albeit unconventional relationship where not only did her dreams have full liberty and support, but also her fantasies… it was different. Wonderful. Almost euphoric, at times. An unfailing defense against almost any bad mood.
Maybe one day that wouldn’t be the case. Could she be this happy all the time? Isn’t that unhealthy or something? The age-old question: if you can wake yourself up by pinching yourself but it was the best dream ever, why risk it? Simply because you really should be back in the real world?
A private smile stole across her lips. I am pretty sure this isn’t a dream. Daniel loves to pinch my nipples and Evelyn loves nibbling on my clit. If it is a dream, neither has managed to wake me up yet.
She reached forward and started the car. When she pulled out, she did a tight U-turn and aimed toward the restaurant district. There was no sense putting off her other obligation. She was a big believer in ripping the band-aid off all at once. Her family was the equivalent to a festering wound, so the metaphor was apt. Get in there. Clean out what she could. Cut away whatever was dead and better left forgotten. Seal it up until the next time it demanded her attention.
She wasn’t going to be poking at the most sensitive parts of that wound on this trip. That would involve visiting her father in jail. Umm… no. Or, it could involve a search for her brother, but she hadn’t undertaken such a walk into the worst areas of the island to find signs of her brother in years. Even longer since she had been to her mother’s grave. That was what she felt most guilty about. She wasn’t angry with her mother. Not really. Her mother hadn’t been strong enough to stand against him. That wasn’t her fault. Neither she nor her brother had blamed her. But going back there brought everything crashing back to her. More than anything. Even smelling the brewery’s interior again wasn’t the same.