20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Elise
C ow bells. Why did it have to be cow bells? I stood midway up the most challenging hill along the racecourse screaming my lungs out to be heard above the clanging of all the stupid cow bells Dylan had given to the parents and friends that had shown up to cheer on our team.
“Let’s go, Tanner! Pump your arms up the hill!” I called.
His forehead dripping, he gave the briefest nod and continued running. Jaxon came next, followed closely by a boy from one of the other teams we were racing.
“Lose him on this hill, Jaxon. We run this course all the time. You know what you’ve got to do,” I instructed when the boy rushed by.
Grunting, he charged a little harder up the incline. Two more of our boys passed with no sign of their opponents. I checked my watch. The boys were on a pace of just over five minutes per mile. If they kept this up, we had a great chance of winning our invitational race in a few weeks and placing at nationals.
Next came Curtis, just behind another opponent.
“You own this hill, Curtis!” I shouted. “This is our course, and you know how to run it. It’s go time!”
Not surprisingly, the kid quickly overtook his competition. The guy was a monster when it came to hills. It helped that he lived at the top of the tallest one in the city and had to run up it at the end of every at-home training session.
That was our fifth boy. If he finished ahead of that other guy, our team’s final score would be nineteen, four points away from a perfect score.
Many more kids from our crew jogged past before the boys’ race was finished. I hurried to the starting line in time to give the girls some final instructions before they started.
A few minutes later, I shot the gun that signaled the start of the girls’ competition. They poured past the line like a wave breaking against the sand. Their pounding feet made an audible rumble as they passed. Sighing, I let all the tension of the past days and weeks flow out of me. The thunder of runners starting a race was almost as familiar and comforting as my own heartbeat.
This was where I belonged. Where Dad had always been most happy, most alive. Where that joy now lived in me.
“Is this what I’m supposed to be doing, Dad?” I whispered.
A familiar voice that most certainly wasn’t Dad’s droned behind me, “Reluctantly crouched at the starting line. Engines pumping and thumping in time.”
I spun to face Dylan.
“They’ve got a good start.” He pointed to where Gabby and Eden led the pack of girls now curving around the edge of the park. “And our boys totally kicked some trash.”
“Agreed. But why on earth did you give everyone cow bells? I already have a headache, and we’re only halfway done.”
“Sorry.” Dylan slipped the hand holding his own devilish noise maker behind his back. “I was just trying to get everyone pumped up. You know, like ‘I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell.”’
Curse it all, I laughed. With the image of Will Ferrell in a belly shirt banging the heck out of a cowbell on Saturday Night Live in my mind, how could I not?
Dylan gave me the most handsome smile I think I’d ever seen in response. He probably would have whipped out his phone and shared the full sketch if I hadn’t reminded him we needed to get to our posts along the race course to cheer on our girls. We picked up our stuff and moved to leave when a hand gripped my arm.
“I have a bone to pick with you,” said an unfamiliar man in an expensive looking suit.
“Dad, not right now.” Dylan tried to steer him away. Even though he was almost a head taller than his dad, the guy didn’t budge.
At least he dropped my arm before speaking again. “I came here to say my piece and I’m going to say it. I will not have another generation of my family destroyed by the Sudbury’s.”
I took a step back. Should I walk away completely, or would he just follow me? We needed to be out there supporting our kids, not wasting time arguing.
“Everyone from that cursed Del Ray team is a bunch of murderers. The reason your dad is dead is because his choices finally caught up to him,” the guy shouted even though I stood only a pace away.
Should I punch him now, or figure out what he means and then punch him?
“Dad, that’s ridiculous. You need to go home and let us coach.”
Dylan gave the man’s arm another tug, but he yanked it away and gave a humorless laugh.
“This is a joke. I never should’ve let you start running in the first place. Maybe if I’d stopped you, we’d still be in Arizona, and I’d still be earning money.”
“Dad, Cross-Country had nothing to do with what happened in Arizona. I’m really sorry for what I did, but it has nothing to do with Elise or these kids we’re supposed to be coaching right now. Leave them out of it.”
Arms folded, nostrils flaring, the man glared at me. Was he unhinged enough to have killed Dad? He was certainly angry enough.
“What do you mean my dad’s choices finally caught up with him?” I shouted.
I’d never yelled at a stranger before, but I needed to push this guy and see if anything helpful spilled out.
“As if you don’t know. I bet you’re just like him. I bet you all are.” He made a sweeping motion to include the whole park.
I closed the distance between us, my heart thudding. Was I really doing this? “We’re all like what, Mr. Harper?”
“Killers. Liars and killers.”
Really, was that all the information he had to give me? That wasn’t remotely useful. If Dad had a secret, it definitely wasn’t murder. Needing more space, I stepped back.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. My dad was the most generous man I’ve ever met. He gave everything he could for this team. Now that we’re the coaches, we’re doing our best to follow his example. You should be proud of Dylan. He’s a great guy who does his best to help others. It’s sad that you don’t get that.”
Did I really just say that?
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do. You can take your bitter story somewhere else.”
Applause followed me as I turned and stalked away. Not a very wise decision on Dylan’s part, considering he had to live with that blowhard.
I didn’t see him again until after the race was over and we were tallying the results. Our girls had swept the race, ten of them finishing before a single competitor crossed the line.
Looking at the poster board with each of the finisher’s race tags attached, I broke into a grin when I saw Rose’s time. Thirty minutes and thirty-two seconds, not an impressive pace by most people’s standards. What made it awesome was the fact that even though she was two minutes behind every other finisher, and even though the race was covered in hills, Rose had run the entire thing without walking, a first for her.
“Do you have a minute?” Dylan asked me after we waved goodbye to the last of the coaches from the other schools.
Except for an elderly man walking his dog, the park was now empty. We moved to a nearby bench shaded by a weeping willow.
“Listen, I am so sorry for the way my dad treated you today. Ever since we moved back here, he’s been really frustrated, and I think he’s focusing a lot of that frustration on my aunt’s death. But that doesn’t excuse the way he acted. Last night, at dinner, my sister said she thought it would be fun to run for us on the Cross-Country team when she’s old enough, and he totally flipped out. I should’ve known he’d come to the race just to chew you out today.”
“It’s not your fault. Does he honestly think everyone on the team somehow killed your aunt?”
Before he could answer, my phone’s ringtone sounded. The name on the caller ID was Clive Anderson
“You should answer that,” Dylan said, and I brought the device to my ear.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Elise. I was wondering if you had some time tonight. I need to tell you something.”
Bessey’s ears perked up at the sound of Clive’s voice.
“Uh, sure. When do you want to meet and where?”
“Are you free now?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Dylan gave me a thumbs up, then pointed to himself.
“Do you know the Lynnfield Aviary?”
“I’ve never been there, but I’ve driven past it.”
“Could we meet there in twenty minutes?” Clive’s voice was shaky.
Dylan grabbed my hand and used my own fingers to point at his chest.
“Sure. Do you mind if I bring Dylan along?”
The only sound on the other end of the phone was Clive’s breathing.
“He really likes birds, and I’m sure he would enjoy getting to see the aviary.”
“Um, I guess that’s okay. See you there in twenty minutes?”
“Sounds good.”
I ended the call and stared at the phone. Could this be the breakthrough I was looking for?