Chasing Hope (12 page)

P
eople milled about in groups almost as far as Brandy could see. Some chatted, others stretched. “Who knew there were so many people who like to run?” She shook her head, trying to make sense of it. “What motivates these people?”

Sabrina didn’t look around at all—she focused her attention on Brandy. “Lots of reasons. Some people are out here because they’re trying to get in shape, some are here because they have a competitive nature, and a few just actually enjoy the process of running.”

“I guess. I don’t know that any of those reasons would have me out of bed at seven on a Sunday morning.”

“So what about you, then? You certainly went far enough out of your way to be here. You can’t even blame this one on me—it was your idea.”

Brandy had to stop and think about that one for a minute. Why did she fight so hard to get here? Was it so she could have a chance to try this away from the prying eyes of other track team kids? Was it because she needed to prove herself after the last race? Either way, she wasn’t going to tell Sabrina all that, so she simply said, “I’m in training, remember?”

“That’s another reason there’s such a large crowd, I’m guessing. Probably, a lot of these people are here because of the upcoming Peachtree Road Race.” Sabrina did look around the crowd now. “Either trying to get in shape so they can actually do it, or maybe looking for a good finish time that will move them into a better start group.”

“What’s the Peachtree Road Race?”

“The world’s largest 10K. It happens right here in Atlanta every Fourth of July. The last number I heard was over sixty thousand runners, so if you think this morning’s race is crowded, you haven’t seen anything.”

“Sixty thousand runners, really? How can you even move?”

“They have different waves. The first group, the runners who might actually win the thing, are released first. Then the next and the next. Still, it’s pretty insane.” Sabrina was smiling now, shaking her head.

“So you’ve done it?”

“Yeah.” Her smile disappeared. “A few times. I got second in the women’s fourteen and under division the year I was fourteen. Then when I was seventeen I got first in the fifteen-to-nineteen-year-old women’s division.”

“Really?” Brandy looked at Sabrina, wishing she could have known her back then, back when she was at the top of her game. “What was your time, do you remember?”

“Forty-six minutes and something when I was fourteen—I can’t remember the seconds. When I was seventeen it was thirty-eight minutes fifty-two seconds.”

Brandy paused and then said, “That’s about a six-minute mile for the entire course!”

Sabrina cocked her head to the side as if surprised by Brandy’s surprise. “I told you I used to be fast.”

“I guess.” Brandy doubled over and touched the sidewalk,
stretching out her hamstrings, but she was still thinking about Sabrina and what her life must have been like. She decided she had a new respect for someone who could be that good at something and then lose it all, but still go on with life without drowning her sorrows in self-pity or pills. The girl was stronger than she appeared to be on the surface.

“Everyone make your way to the starting line, please.” The woman held the bullhorn in one hand, a clipboard in the other. She wore wraparound sunglasses and a yellow visor, in spite of the fact that the sun had barely broken through the overhead cloud layer.

Brandy followed a thousand of her new best running buddies toward the starting area. This was the second when she realized how much she wanted to do well in this race. Not just good enough, but really, really good. Was it because Sabrina had actually brought her here for the weekend, or was it because she was only now beginning to realize what a good runner Sabrina had been? Somehow she felt she owed it to her.

“Pace yourself. Stay steady. Don’t overdo it in the beginning no matter how strong the rush of adrenaline.” She kept whispering these pieces of advice to herself, hoping it would actually sink in. Maybe this time, without the pressure of performing for anyone she knew, she could pull it off.

Her stomach churned until she had to take deep slow breaths in an effort not to puke right there in front of everyone. Breathe. Relax. Breathe. Relax.

“Well, hello. What are you doing here?”

Brandy couldn’t believe her ears, until she turned to see the owner of the voice. Sure enough, same perky smile, same bright eyes, same swinging ponytail. “Erin? What are you doing here?”

“My aunt lives in Atlanta, so she invited me over. This race counts as a qualifier for the Peachtree, and I want to get a good
time so I can get in a good starting wave. What about you? Why are you here?”

Brandy shrugged. “Same as you, I guess.” There just wasn’t any reason to explain it all to her.

“You’re going to run in the Peachtree? That’s great. Maybe we can drive over together. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Runners take your marks.”

Brandy looked over to Erin. “I’m going to try a different pacing method this time, so I’ll just see you at the finish. Okay?”

“Sounds good.” Erin nodded, causing her ponytail to swing in agreement.

The horn sounded, and in spite of her perky agreement, Erin stayed right beside Brandy. The first mile came and went, and still Erin remained. Every instinct inside of Brandy wanted to run faster, to push herself past this girl and leave her in the dust. But, she’d learned that lesson the hard way. She was going to stick with a steady pace until it got closer to the end, then she would burn up whatever reserves of energy she had left.

Sabrina always said a runner should use her very last ounce of energy, so there’s not even enough left to take another step. The trick was accomplishing this the very second you crossed the finish line. That’s what separated a good runner from a great runner.

Just past midway, Erin surged forward. Brandy knew that she could keep up with her if she pushed, but this time she was going to do what Sabrina had told her to do. It grew more and more difficult as Erin’s ponytail got further and further ahead in the pack.

Brandy began to strain to see the sign post that was her signal to let go and run hard. She and Sabrina had driven the course yesterday, noting mileage, and then they’d walked the entire length. Sabrina had pointed out things to be aware of:
“Just ahead, the course narrows for a couple dozen yards. So tomorrow, when you see this sidewalk mailbox, I want you to immediately look
at who is just ahead of you. Is it someone who’s losing steam? If it is, you need to do what it takes to get around them, to make sure you don’t get caught behind them for any length of time.”
They’d continued on their journey, with similar tips.

Finally, Sabrina put her hand on the post of a pedestrian crossing sign.
“When you see this, it mean’s there’s about a half mile to go, so start picking up the pace. Lots of people will have pushed too hard by this point, and you’ll be able to blow past them without a lot of effort. Don’t push to the point where you won’t be able to finish, but push until your leg muscles are burning and begging you to stop.”
Then they’d walked just a little further.
“From here on out, give it everything you’ve got.”

The pedestrian crossing loomed just ahead. Brandy quickened her pace. She could still see Erin’s ponytail ahead of her, and instead of focusing on the pain or how much course she still needed to eat up, she focused all her thoughts on catching that ponytail. Coach Thompson always said to find someone in front of you and reel ’em in . . . well, that’s what Brandy was going to do. Her feet pounded against the pavement faster and harder. Her breathing became loud, but with each exhale she grew just a tiny bit closer to the ponytail. And by the time Brandy reached the give-it-all-you’ve-got spot, Erin’s ponytail bobbed only twenty yards ahead of her.

Every stride hurt more than the last one, but now, with a goal so firmly within her reach, Brandy had reached familiar territory. Her legs burned like fire, but she knew if she pushed through the pain for just a little longer, it would be so worth it. So she concentrated on long strides, standing straight, landing on the ball of her foot, arms straight up—all the things that Sabrina harped about.

The finish came into view with Erin still ten yards in front of her. It was now or never, so she pulled up her last shred of courage
from deep inside her and concentrated on moving faster. Wavy lines began to form around the edges of her vision, but still she forced her legs to move faster. With every few strides she was rewarded with a closer view of that ponytail, until she was close enough to reach out and touch Erin’s shoulder. Three more yards to the finish, she thought of Sabrina’s finish time at the 10K and vowed to make her proud. At the last possible second, she leaned toward the finish line to cross a mere two inches behind Erin.

They made their way through the finish chute, and at the end, Brandy finally collapsed to the ground. Erin leaned over and grabbed her knees, taking deep breaths. She looked up, and when she saw Brandy she sort of laughed—as best a person could laugh with oxygen-starved lungs. Brandy’s vision was still wavy, and she wondered if she would ever be able to breathe normally, or even walk on her spaghetti legs again.

Finally, Erin said, “I heard someone coming up behind me. I didn’t know it was you, but I’m so glad it was. The clock said 18:16 when we crossed. That’s my best time ever—thanks to the sound of you coming from behind. I was determined not to get passed at the end.”

“And I was determined to pass you.” Brandy managed to get off the ground, although it was difficult. She bent over, pretending to stretch, but it was less about stretching and more about exhaustion. After a couple of minutes, she was able to walk off a cooldown. There were hundreds of people milling around the finish area, but Sabrina did not appear to be among them.

“There’s my aunt.” Erin waved over to a middle-aged woman whose tailored pants and jacket seemed a bit out of place in this setting. The woman waved back and started toward them. “Do you need us to give you a ride anywhere?”

Brandy shook her head. “Nah. My . . . aunt is here, too. I’ll just go find her.” Brandy made a quick getaway before Erin asked
to meet this nonexistent aunt. She hurried through the crowd, not daring to look back for quite a while.

Finally, on the very outskirts of the crowd, she saw Sabrina sitting on a bench. She had her back turned to the race crowd and was faced toward the distant skyline of downtown Atlanta. “What are you doing way out here?”

“I saw your running buddy from school. I figured she’d be suspicious about me coming to Atlanta to watch a race to write my paper, so it was just easier to blend into the background until she moved on her way.”

“You have the natural skill set of a criminal. If your interview doesn’t go so well tomorrow, let me know. I could set you up with some people who could have you working in no time.”

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Sabrina quirked one eyebrow and grinned. It was a nice change from her usual serious expression. She looked down at her watch and the grin faded. “We need to get moving. We’re going to have to hurry to get showered and changed before the second service.”

Brandy’s legs still felt wobbly and weak. “We could just go back to the condo and take a nap. That sounds good to me.”

“Nothing doing. I promised your grandmother if she’d let you make this trip, I would see to it that you made it to church today.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Not happening. Now get moving.” Brandy followed Sabrina toward the car. As much as she really wanted to go back and just lie down for a while, something about the fact that Sabrina kept her word at all costs made her feel a strange warmth. There weren’t many people left who were like that. At least not in Brandy’s world.

S
abrina splashed some tepid water on her face and groaned. Of all the times, why did this recurring cold have to show up the morning of the most important interview of her life? She dried her cheeks with a towel and looked in the mirror to see just how terrible the dark circles under her eyes might be. “You are kidding me.”

She dropped the towel on the sink and leaned closer to the mirror. And why, of all mornings, would there be a large zit on the left side of her nose? She shook her head and pulled out her face scrub, determined to minimize the damage in any way she could. She popped a couple of Tylenol and got busy getting ready.

By the time she opened the tall glass doors of the Kershaw Building, the Tylenol had kicked in, clearing her head slightly, and the side of her nose was a little less like Rudolph the Reindeer and a little more like pink bubblegum. Neither situation was perfect, but she intended to make the best of it.

She rode the elevator with a dozen other people, none of them looking at one another. By the time she reached the twenty-fifth
floor, there were only three people left: two middle-aged men in business suits and an older woman with a cane. Sabrina doubted these were her competition.

The doors opened with a ding, and she walked through to find herself standing before a large reception desk, all done in glass and blue granite. Original pieces of art hung on every wall, a couple of life-size sculptures flanked the doors on each side of the lobby, and an exquisite chandelier of blue and green glass curling out in every direction hung directly above her. Remembering similar works from an introductory art class, she had no doubt it was a Dale Chihuly. Everything about this place screamed modern, meticulous, and successful.

She thought about the brochure she’d brought in her bag and suddenly it seemed old-fashioned and amateurish. Why hadn’t she spent just a little longer on it? By the time she’d taken the dozen steps to the receptionist’s desk, she could feel little trembles that started in her fingers and moved all the way down to her toes. “Hello. I’m Sabrina Rice, I have an appointment with Ms. Davenport.”

The woman at the desk, her glossy black hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail, didn’t bother to consult a computer screen or even a handwritten list. She simply nodded and smiled. “Yes, welcome, Ms. Rice. We’re expecting you. Come with me, please.” She stood and walked around the counter, her footsteps silent in spite of the fact that when she emerged into full view, Sabrina could see her four-inch heels.

The trembles increased, and a dull, churning nausea began to burn at the pit of her stomach. While Sabrina had researched all about the work and scope of Grace Rose, somehow she had never fully understood the utter magnificence of this place. What had possessed her to believe that she could fit in here?

“This is your stop.” The receptionist opened the door to a
small conference room. A rectangular mahogany table surrounded by leather chairs filled the space. At each seat there was a water pitcher and a heavy glass with the GR symbol engraved on it. “Take a seat at the end. They’ll be with you in just a moment.” And with that, she closed the door, leaving Sabrina alone with all her inadequacies.

Two hours of information blast had taken its toll until Sabrina wasn’t certain she could even string one more sentence together. Her head was swimming in a sea of questions, discussions, tours, and company facts. Various people of varying positions in the company had come in and out all morning. Some to ask questions, some to simply convey information. Their names and faces were starting to blur, but Sabrina struggled to keep them all straight—at a place like this it would be expected that you could remember names.

Candace Davenport reentered the conference room, prompting Sam . . . Sal . . . no, Sage from accounting, to stand up. He reached out to shake Sabrina’s hand. “Nice to have met you.”

She concentrated on keeping a firm handshake. “Nice to have met you, as well.” She tried to smile, but her whole body ached and she wasn’t certain the muscles in her cheeks were fully cooperating.

Candace, as she’d insisted that Sabrina call her, took the seat beside her. “Have we managed to overwhelm you yet?”

Again, Sabrina attempted a smile. “Almost.”

“Well, we’ve just about finished up here. There is one other question I wanted to ask before you go. There’s something in your resumé that I feel certain will come up during our intern-hiring discussions, and I want to get the facts directly from you.”

“Okay.” The nauseous feeling kicked up again.

“Your freshman year of college you went to the University of Tennessee, and as I understand it, you were on a full-ride, four-year scholarship.”

Oh no. Not this, anything but this.
“Yes, that’s true.”

“Might I ask what provoked you to switch to Southern Tennessee State your sophomore year?”

“Well . . . I . . .” Sabrina knew she was stammering, an absolute point killer, but she hadn’t counted on this question and had not prepared herself to answer it. She studied her hands, locked together on the table in front of her, then forced herself to look back up at Candace. “I had some . . . physical problems that prevented me from being able to fulfill my obligations to the track team.”

“I see. But you don’t see those—physical problems, did you call them—as something that would prevent you from fulfilling your obligations here? Is there anything about you that we need to be aware of?”

Sabrina shook her head. “I have rheumatoid arthritis. That keeps me from running, but it doesn’t keep me from being a hard worker.”

Candace looked long and hard at Sabrina, her hazel eyes squinted. “All right, then.” There was nothing in her tone that revealed whether this last statement was said in acceptance or outright dismissal. She reached out her hand. “Nice to have met you. We’ll be making our selections in the next couple of weeks. You’ll hear from us soon after.”

“Thank you.”

Sabrina walked back down the hallway, out through the reception area, and down the elevators, having no idea what kind of impression she might have just made. She could only hope it was better than she felt.