I Found My Heart In San Francisco

Book 19

Synchronicity

Susan X Meagher

CHAPTER ONE

A warm, dry summer breeze floated across the town of

Hillsborough, California, making the tall, ornamental grasses
by the pool gently sway. Catherine Smith sat on a chaise,
carefully applying sunblock to her fair skin. Comforted by the
perfect temperature, sweet-scented air and glistening pool,
she should have been calm, relaxed. But she’d been feeling
brittle, anxious and on edge ever since the big family meeting
the night before.
Thinking of the family...her new family...brought a smile
to her lips. If anyone had predicted she’d be an enthusiastic
member of a large, raucous Irish-American clan, she would
have thought them mad. But she could hardly have been any
more connected to blood kin. Still, she knew there was a
certain skittishness that greeted her proclamation that she
wanted to petition the court for legal custody of Ryan’s
troubled young friend, Jennie.
For a change, she hadn’t let the lack of obvious support
affect her efforts. Now she sat in the sun and reflected on the
entire process. Amazingly, she had won everyone over. Or at
least they’d given in to her fervid pleas. One didn’t have to be
a mind reader to know that almost everyone in the room had
been against her plan, but her arguments had carried the day.
Sadly, the flush of victory had been short-lived.
Catherine had to admit that it would be better for all
concerned to take things more slowly. Having Jennie spend
more time with her and slowly transition to living with her
full time would probably be best. But things had gone from
bad to worse in the group home, and they were all worried—
to one degree or another—that the girl was not thriving. No
one else seemed as fixated as she on Jennie’s immediate
future, though. They were looking at the long term, which, to
Catherine, seemed too long-sighted.
Since the meeting, she’d been glumly obsessive, going
over every possible negative outcome that could ensue from
welcoming Jennie into her home. Regrettably, there were
many of them, and the unfortunate outcomes that could befall
her, but more importantly could befall Jennie, would not stop
bombarding her brain.
The issue that bothered her the most was one she hadn’t
shared with anyone. She and her therapist had discussed
Jennie on many occasions, and Catherine had always been
reassured by her support. But when she’d told her that she
was planning on taking Jennie in, the support seemed to
evaporate. It wasn’t that Dr. Francis gave voice to any
opposition, but Catherine had been seeing her long enough to
know when she was favorably disposed to something.
 In planning for the meeting, she’d seen the doctor twice,
and they’d spoken of nothing but Jennie, but she still felt like
they’d barely begun the discussion. It seemed as though Dr.
Francis’ main concern was Catherine’s own drinking. She’d
said on many occasions that it wasn’t wise to take on any life
changing events when one was trying to stop drinking. The
doctor hadn’t even tried to smile when Catherine pointed out
that she wasn’t trying to stop, she was merely trying to cut
down. Psychiatrists didn’t seem to have very sharply
developed senses of humor. Nonetheless, Catherine agreed
with her for the most part. This wasn’t the best time to fight
for custody of a troubled child.
Limiting herself to one drink a day was one of the hardest
things she’d ever tried to do. It would be so much easier if she
could speak about her struggle with someone other than the
doctor, but that didn’t seem wise. She still regretted telling
Jamie that she was attempting to cut back. That was the type
of information that had unlimited potential to harm you in the
end. It was much better to make your decisions and try to
keep to your goals without anyone being in a position to
supervise or scold.
What Dr. Francis didn’t seem to empathize with was the
situation that Jennie was currently in. Her living situation was
untenable. There was no other word for it. She had to be
removed from the group home, and if Catherine could have
gotten away with it, Jennie would already be living with her.
But they had to do this properly, by working with her
caseworker and the court.
 The mistake had been in telling Dr. Francis that Martin
and Maeve were also willing to take Jennie in. They both had
much more experience at parenting than she did, and they’d
both been more successful. But Martin was still working full-
time and Maeve baby sat for Caitlin on a very unpredictable
schedule. Having the added stress of keeping an eye on Jennie
was something they didn’t need as they pondered Martin’s
plans for retirement.
Of course, if Catherine was going to be completely honest,
she hadn’t been thinking about her friends when she’d
insisted that Jennie would be better off with her; she was
selfishly thinking of her own needs. Having another chance at
raising a child was something she could not walk away from.
Plus, she and Jennie had a real bond, one that neither Martin
nor Maeve shared with the girl.
If there was anything Jennie deserved, it was to be cared
for by someone who was genuinely fond of her. Just thinking
about the child made Catherine’s eyes well with tears. She
was a lovely girl who had been dealt a very bad hand by the
people who were morally obligated to care for her. Catherine
was going to do whatever she could to help make up for that
deficiency, even though the prospect frightened her to death.
She just prayed her victory wasn’t pyrrhic.
#
Since she’d been thinking about him nonstop, Catherine
decided to call Giacomo in Milan. It always made her smile
to feel her heart rate pickup and feel a tingling in her body
when she first heard his voice. “Hi,” she said. “Do you have
time to talk?”
“I will make time.”
Such simple words, but they made her feel remarkably
important. “You can call me back if now isn’t good.”
“Give me just one moment.” He was gone much longer
than a moment, but when he came back his voice was at its
normal fullness and he sounded much more relaxed. “My
clients can wait,” he said dramatically. “You cannot.”
She knew she sounded very girlish when she giggled, but
something about Giacomo made her do just that. “You’re
being silly. Go make a living, then call me back.”
Expansively, he made a few noises indicating the matter
was closed. “There is nothing in my life more important than
being available to you. Now, tell me that you’ve made plans
to come see me this very day.”
“I wish that were true. You can’t imagine how much I
wish that were true. I do have news, but it doesn’t concern
travel.”
“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me. Tell me
about it.”
“It’s very important to me. We had a big family discussion
last night. Ryan and her parents, Jamie and her grandfather,
and I all discussed what we should do to help Jennie, the girl
you met when you visited.”
“Yes, yes, the girl with the horrible parents.”
This was one of the reasons she loved him. He didn’t think
of Jennie as a bad kid, or a delinquent. He properly placed the
locus of her troubles on her incompetent parents. “Yes, that’s
Jennie.”
“She’s been spending a lot of time with you and Marta,
isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, she has, but not nearly enough time to negate the
bad influences at her home. Last night we all agreed that the
only solution was for one of us to get full-time custody. It
took a lot to convince everyone, but after I broke down and
cried, I got the sympathy vote. So if everything goes well,
Jennie will soon be living with me.”
There was a long pause, then Giacomo said, “I think I
don’t understand something. What is the sympathy vote?”
Chuckling, she said, “That’s just an expression. I was so
emotional that I think everyone was afraid to say no to me.”
“I still don’t understand. Why would anyone want to say
no to you?”
“I’ve talked to you about my failings as a parent. I think
everyone was justifiably wary about my ability to handle
this.”
“Again, I must confess my confusion. All of those people
seemed bright and perceptive, but they couldn’t be if they
don’t realize how lucky that young woman would be to live
with you.”
Her heart beat quickly in her chest when Giacomo’s words
enveloped her. “I made a mistake,” she said softly. “I should
have started out by telling you how much I love you. That’s
the most important message I have today. I love you,
Giacomo. I love you more each time I speak with you, and
that’s something I’ll never be able to say often enough.”
#
They spoke for a long time. Catherine felt vaguely guilty
for disturbing him at work and taking up so much of his time,
but she couldn’t get enough of his voice. It made such perfect
sense why Giacomo was a perfect lover, but she realized why
this perfection wasn’t patently obvious to others. He was so
devoted and so attentive that it probably came off as false, but
Catherine had never had a moment when she doubted him.
She’d had only two significant romantic relationships in her
entire life, and she’d jumped in with reckless abandon both
times. That was probably unwise, but she didn’t know how
else to love someone.
If it turned out that Giacomo was a charlatan, with some
secret plan to benefit from her wealth or her status, she’d
have to face enormous humiliation—again. But even that
prospect didn’t make her cautious.
The things that made their relationship magical were the
same things that made other people assume it couldn’t work.
Having such a great distance between them seemed like a
tremendous barrier, but only being able to be with one
another occasionally made each time special. If they lived
together Catherine doubted he’d be as enthusiastic about her
getting custody of Jennie. Having an unrelated teenager in the
house would undoubtedly cause trouble. But Giacomo didn’t
have to worry about any of that. He could be remarkably
supportive without having to suffer any of the
inconveniences. But the realities of the situation didn’t make
his encouragement any less meaningful. Catherine was
desperate for a partner who treated her like a mature,
competent, thoughtful woman. And if any man could do that
better than Giacomo, she had yet to meet him.
#
Conor pulled up outside of Catherine’s house, trying to
figure out how to drop off the load of electrical supplies he’d
picked up for his cousin Kevin without getting a ticket. They
were deep into converting one of Catherine's spare bedrooms
into a formal library/office, and his patience was wearing
thin. Normally he could park in the narrow driveway off the
side of the house, but there was another truck there. Cursing
his luck, he started to scan the area. When someone knocked
on his window, he barked, “What?”
A young guy was standing there, half smiling at him.
Rolling down the window, Conor said, “What’s up?”
“Miss Smith called me and Miguel last night and told us
to be here when you showed up. Do you want us to move our
truck?”
Conor sat there for a second, then realized why the guy
looked familiar. Catherine had hired some guys a couple of
weeks ago to help him out, but he hadn’t used them yet. “No,
don’t bother. How about helping me unload?”
“That’s why we’re here.” The kid went to the bed of the
truck and dropped the tailgate, while his buddy jogged over to
help.
 Conor got out and they made quick work of it. He was just
about to get back into the truck when the guy said, “Let me
park it. You can show Miguel where you want the stuff.”
“You have a license?” He winced at how stupid that
sounded, but he’d never worked with a Latin guy who had a
valid one, and he wasn’t going to have his insurance canceled
if this kid ran into one of the neighborhood Mercedes.
“Of course.” The guy looked at him for a second and
Conor could see he was offended. “I didn’t just sneak across
the border, dude. I’m from San Jose.”
“Sorry, man. I’m not used to working with guys who are
here legally.”
“Maybe you oughta pay more.” The kid got into the truck
and gunned it, leaving Conor to blink away the grime that
flew out of the tailpipe.
#
The first kid’s name was Fernando. It took a second for
Miguel to refer to him by name, but by the time Fernando was
back, Conor and Miguel had all of the materials inside and he
knew their names. Now he had to discern whether Fernando
was pissed.
He didn’t think he’d have to apologize. Most guys hated
that kind of thing. What he’d have to do was apologize to
Catherine. She’d been really generous in hiring these guys
and he hadn’t even called them. That was a dick move, and
he’d have to let her know he’d screwed up.
He wouldn’t tell her that over the years he’d found raw
rookies to be more trouble than help. They never spoke much
English, they never had a car, and they were more eager than
skilled. That’s just how things were in San Francisco, and
when the housing market was hot and prices went up, it was
hard to find even incompetent help.
It had never occurred to him that these guys would be
locals or that they’d have a truck. Having a guy who spoke
English and could run an errand was sweet!
#
Catherine was game for just about anything, but she’d
refused to have the floor in her new library sanded. She
claimed to have had too many bad experiences with grit
sifting its way into every part of the house to ever do it again.
So they’d had to get creative.
The house wasn’t very old, just around seventy years, but
the floor was in awful shape in spots. It was redwood, top
quality stuff, the kind of wood that was no longer available at
any price. But over the years, the steam radiators had leaked
and had absolutely ruined about two square feet. The room
had been carpeted, but Catherine wanted a wood floor with
area rugs. So they’d decided to take up the old floor, cut out
the ruined parts, and repurpose the sound boards as
wainscoting. A company in Santa Cruz had stripped the
redwood boards, planed them so they were all the same
thickness, and put a finish on them. As soon as the new floor
was in, they’d just have to cut them and nail them on the
walls.
 Conor explained all of this to Miguel and Fernando as
they were discussing how they could work together to move
the project along more quickly.
“I’ll pick the stuff up,” Fernando said. “Santa Cruz isn’t
that far away from me.”
“You can do that?” When Conor heard himself, he winced
yet again. Before Fernando could reply, he said, “My bad. I’m
used to working with recent immigrants. The company I work
for has always tried to find the cheapest help available, and
that never includes guys with trucks, or licenses, for that
matter.”
Fernando laughed ruefully. “You’re talking about my dad.
He and my uncle were illegal, but they got amnesty.”
Miguel piped up. “My parents came up from El Salvador
and got legalized. I was born here, so I’m as American as you.
I could be working in their restaurant, but I wanna build stuff.
Now can we get over this racist shit and get busy?”
Conor nodded. He liked guys who spoke their minds and
moved on. Now he just had to knock some of this racist shit
out of his head to avoid alienating a pair of guys who might
make his life a hell of a lot easier.
#
At the end of the day, Conor looked up to find Catherine
standing in the doorway. “Hi,” he said, stepping over the
bundled strips of maple they were going to use for the new
floor.
She crooked her finger, indicating she wanted him to
follow her. Dutifully, he did, deciding not to try to knock the
dust off his clothes. The oriental runner in the hallway looked
like it had cost more than his truck, and he didn’t want to add
any more dirt to it than he already had.
Catherine turned left and headed for the front door. When
he got outside he did his best to clean himself up, bending
over to knock the sawdust from his hair. Catherine’s gentle
hand touched his head and he stood there motionless while
she flicked something away. “I’d like to offer a formal
apology,” he said when he stood up. It was probably too much
to ask, but he hoped his cheeks weren’t red. Having her touch
him, even in a helpful way, was still more than he could take.
Having a massive crush on your sister’s mother-in-law
sucked.
“Let me guess,” she said, smiling at him with a playful
look in her eyes. “I bet you’re going to apologize for not
using Miguel and Fernando—even though I’ve been paying
them,” she added, her gaze narrowing.
“You’re paying them when they’re not here!” That hadn’t
occurred to him.
“Of course. I wanted them to be available, so I’m paying
them for a minimum of twenty hours a week, whether you
need them or not.” Her smile was gentle, but Conor could see
she was miffed. “I wouldn't have considered hiring people
that weren’t highly recommended. Obviously they’re just
kids, but they did very well in trade school. I know it can be
hard to delegate, but…”
“No, this was my stupidity getting in the way. I just
assumed you’d hired the kind of guy my boss usually hires—
nice kids who aren’t sure of the difference between a hammer
and a screwdriver.”
“That’s not my style,” Catherine said curtly. “If I can’t
find someone who seems competent, I don’t bother.” He
could see her consciously try to get over her pique. “I decided
last night that I was going to have them come and help today,
and if they didn’t make things easier, I’d pay them for the
week and wish them well.”
“They helped a lot. Really.” He smiled at her determined
look. “They’re going to pick up the redwood for me, which
will save hours. And they don’t have to be supervised every
minute. That’s huge.”
Miguel stuck his head out the front door and said, “Can
we use the shop vac on the carpet in the hallway?”
“No!” Catherine yelped, stunning both men.
“It’s okay,” Conor said, chuckling. “I have one with a
good filter on it. I clean the filter every day so I don’t blow
dust into the rest of the house.” He made eye contact with
Miguel. “Thanks for asking first. Use the yellow vac. It’s
cool.”
He smiled at the door as it closed. “I’m gonna stay out
here and talk to you until they’re done cleaning up. That’s the
one part of being a carpenter that I absolutely hate.”
#
Catherine and Conor actually did have a bit of business to
discuss, and by the time Conor went back in, the room was as
clean as his new assistants could have possibly made it. He
stood there assessing their work for a moment, then smiled at
them. “This is gonna work out fine.”
“Is it cool that we let that Mexican lady make us
sandwiches?” Fernando asked. “We didn’t go looking for
them or anything.”
“It’s perfectly cool. She’s Spanish, for what it’s worth, and
a hell of a good cook.” Conor quickly took off for the kitchen
to add his request to Marta’s list.
#
Jordan wasn’t due to arrive home for another hour, and
dinner was in the oven, so Mia had no good reason to ignore
her ringing cell phone. But just seeing the words “Mom and
Dad” in the display almost put her off. Nonetheless, she
picked up the phone and said, “Hi, Mom.”
“Are we speaking these days?”
“We are if you are.” Things had been tense, very tense
ever since she’d told her parents about Jordan, and Anna Lisa
hadn’t made a single attempt at any contact for weeks now.
Their current fight was because Mia and Anna Lisa had
made firm plans to travel to Europe to watch Jordan play. But
when Ryan’s softball team made it to the College World
Series, Mia tried to delay the trip—just a day or two—so she
could be there for her. But Anna Lisa had flipped out, and
took Peter with her instead. Thinking of her mother and
brother enjoying the trip that was rightfully hers still made
Mia seethe with anger, but she was honestly trying to get over
it. It was hard, but she was giving it her best.
 “I was just calling to see where you are. Peter tells me the
team is going to Asia soon.”
“How would he know?” It was impossible to keep the
annoyance from her voice. “I haven’t heard from him since he
went on that lovely trip…that I was supposed to go on.”
Ignoring the jibe, Anna Lisa said, “Well, he’s very busy
now that he’s working as a summer associate.”
Mia knew that was bullshit. She’d known enough people
who’d had summer jobs at the big San Francisco firms to
know that half of their time was spent going to social events
and special luncheons. It was more like a long dating period
to see which of the students fit in with the particular firm’s
culture than it was to judge their talents. “Tell him he should
call me if he wants to know where I am. I assume you still
pay for his cell phone.”
“And I’d pay for yours if you didn’t make such a big deal
about needing your independence. You can’t have it both
ways, Mia.”
Sadly, that was true. “You’re right. I apologize for that.
My feelings are still hurt and stuff pops out before I can stop
myself.”
After waiting a beat, Anna Lisa said, “Sometimes it was
easier for me when you were more immature. At least you
were predictable in your unpredictability. Now I never know
who will answer the phone. Will it be my new mature,
thoughtful daughter, or the old one who just wanted to
manipulate me for more money while telling me as little as
possible about her life.”
 “I’m trying to be the new one; I just backslide once in a
while.” She sighed, feeling the fatigue that engulfed her every
time they spoke. “I really am trying to grow up and be my
own woman, Mom. It’s just that sometimes it seems like you
don’t want that. I think you like us yelling at each other, but
I’m not going to do that any more. I’m just not.”
“I don’t like it, honey, but it’s what we do. We always
have.”
“I know that. And it’d be easier to just yell at you and tell
you how much you hurt me when you took Peter to Europe.
But I’d rather tell you directly. When you blew me off and
took Peter, you not only hurt me, you hurt my relationship
with him. I haven’t spoken to him in weeks—the longest
we’ve ever gone without being in touch. I could call him and
act like everything’s fine, but it isn’t. He betrayed me for the
chance to go to Europe, and that’s gonna take a while for me
to get over.”
“How do you think I feel?” Anna Lisa’s voice had that
“I’m gonna blow” quality to it, and Mia braced herself. “We
made firm plans, plans that I went to a lot of trouble and
expense to make, only to be with you so you wouldn’t be
lonely and bored when Jordan was playing. Having you
cancel so you could watch a softball game was ridiculous!”
Struggling to keep her emotions in check, Mia said, “I
didn’t ever say I wanted to cancel. I wanted to wait one day.
One little day. And I didn’t want to just watch a softball game,
Mom. I wanted to see someone I love do something she
loves.”
 “You’re supposed to love your family more than your
friends,” Anna Lisa said stiffly.
“That’s not how I am. Ryan’s been there for me every
single time I need her. I’ll always remember how ridiculously
happy she was when she scored that winning run, and I’d do
it all over again to share that with her.”
“Since when did sports become important to you? Before
you fell in with these lesbians, you wouldn’t have looked
outside if the Super Bowl was being played on your front
yard.”
“It’d be fine with me if I never watched another sporting
event of any kind, but people I love are totally into sports and
I need to support the people I love.”
“Fine,” Anna Lisa said briskly. “Support the people you
love. But don’t forget your family is in that group. You’re
there for family first, Mia, then you take care of people
further down the line.”
“Mom, if you’d needed me, I would have swum to Europe
to be with you. You just got your feelings hurt when I put
Ryan first for a single day. And that sucks.”
“Of course my feelings were hurt!” She was gaining steam
now, and Mia closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion.
“Wait until you have a daughter. Let’s see how you feel when
she chooses to throw confirmed plans away to go watch a
softball game. Which was on TV!” she added, information
she undoubtedly got from that traitor Peter.
“I’m sorry you were hurt. No, make that I’m sorry I hurt
you. I did choose to be with Ryan, and I’m sorry you equate
that with some lack of love or respect or something. But it
was just a scheduling conflict, Mom. You made it into
something much bigger than it had to be.”
“I arranged that whole thing for you!” Anna Lisa shouted.
“You know how I feel about this thing you have with Jordan,
and I made a huge effort to show how hard I’m trying. And
for my trouble, you put me off for a stupid softball game!”
Tears were already forming in her eyes as Mia quietly
said, “Think about what I said, Mom. Call me back whenever
you’re able to talk about it without yelling.” Then she hung
up and threw the phone over her shoulder, hoping it would
break into a thousand pieces.
#
Catherine merely had to cross the city to get to Brendan’s
office, but Jamie had warned her that parking nearby was
almost impossible. It should have been easy to take a taxi, but
every taxi in the city seemed to cluster around the tourist
hotspots, and Brendan’s office was nowhere near one of
those. The location was so unfashionable that the driver from
the car service gave her a puzzled look when she told him the
address, but they managed to find it by using his GPS.
The office was in what had once been a stately Victorian
home. But it had been cut up into offices at some point, and
Brendan’s group occupied a rabbit warren of tiny,
haphazardly interconnecting rooms on the top floor. Catherine
had never been in an office that seemed so cavalierly
assembled, and it was clear that almost none of the budget of
his particular nonprofit organization was allocated for
furnishings.
Brendan was waiting in a crowded reception area when
Catherine opened the door. Remarkably, he looked even more
earnest and serious than he did at home. A blue, oxford cloth
shirt with the sleeves rolled up showed off his muscular
forearms. His tie was loosened and the top button of his shirt
was open, but he looked harried rather than casual. The khaki
slacks he wore weren’t pressed, but his loafers were polished
to a shine and his bearing alone made him look as if he was in
charge.
“I knew you’d never find my office, so I came out to wait
for you,” he said, bending to kiss her cheek.
She gave him a grin. “You don’t need to handle me like
crystal. I can be very resourceful.”
“I’m aware. Let’s go back to my office and we can chat.”
He led the way past three small offices, the last of which
one had to walk through to get to his. “Just passing through,”
he said to the woman who didn’t look up as they walked right
past her.
Catherine had to squeeze past an ancient file cabinet to
reach the chair that faced his desk, but she managed to do it
as gracefully as possible. He collapsed into a chair that
creaked loudly and placed him a good six inches lower than
he should have been. In fact, he sat so low it was almost
comical. He grabbed a legal pad and picked up a pen, then
gazed at Catherine with a serious mien. “I don’t usually work
with kids, and I’ve never worked on a custody matter, but
Sheila, the woman next door, is going to help me out.”
“I still don’t feel right using you like this, Brendan. It
would be very easy for me to hire someone who specializes in
child custody issues.”
He yawned and leaned even further back in his noisy
chair. “Yeah, you could, but Ryan thinks we should keep this
in the family.” His smile was wry. “I can’t say no to her, and
you probably can’t either.”
“Not from the first,” she agreed, “but it’s important that
we do this properly. I don’t want Jennie to be in that house
one day longer than is absolutely necessary.”
“I’ve got my marching orders. We just have to make a
good case for the court to award emergency temporary
custody. But I can’t make that case without revealing all of
the things Jennie’s told you. That might cause trouble for the
other girls.” He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “How
do you feel about that?”
“I feel fine about it, but Jennie won’t. My concern is more
for Sandy, the woman who manages the house. She does a
good job, and cares deeply for the girls, and I don’t want it to
look like she’s ignoring important issues.”
He twirled his pen, his expression glum. “Well, she has.
Sexual aggression and threats of violence can’t be ignored.
And if it’s true that someone is playing around with
accelerants in the house…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“I know it’s a bad situation, but I truly believe Sandy is
doing a very good job. The girls are just so troubled…”
 “I get that. But the court isn’t going to award emergency
custody if it isn’t an emergency. We can’t just say ‘trust us,
it’s bad.’”
Her anxiety was building quickly, and physical activity
usually helped. She wanted to get up and pace, but there was
barely room in the tiny office to cross her legs, much less
stretch them. “Okay. I suppose we’ll have to reveal the things
Jennie’s roommate told Jamie. She made an overt threat that
her girlfriend would beat Jennie up.”
“That’s not much. Actually, that’s next to nothing. It’s the
sexual aggression that will make the court take notice. I think
we’ve got to bring that in.”
“But Pebbles isn’t in the house right now, and she was the
perpetrator.”
“Ryan says she’s supposed to come back at some point. It
can’t hurt to try.”
“But it might hurt Pebbles. She’s a very troubled girl,
Brendan.”
“They all are, or they wouldn’t be there. I don’t want to be
flippant, but that’s the truth. If you want to get Jennie sprung,
we can’t worry about collateral damage.”
But Catherine did worry about it. A lot. Every day. Those
girls were like frightened puppies that had been forced into
attack mode just to stay alive. Making their lives harder was
unconscionable, but Jennie was in danger and that had to be
the focus.
#
 They discussed the fine points of his argument for almost
an hour, and Catherine was wrung out when he escorted her
to the front door. She barely had the wherewithal to count
each chair in the office and make a mental note to have them
all replaced with proper ergonomic desk chairs. Working for a
nonprofit shouldn’t mean one was consigned to chronic back
pain.
 CHAPTER TWO

Ryan's cell phone rang at three in the morning. Jamie

didn't hear it, nor did she react to Ryan's leaping from the bed
as though the fire alarm had rung. Grasping the phone with
trembling hands, Ryan opened it and croaked out, "Hello?"
"Oh, shit! Did I get the time change wrong?"
"Jordan?"
"Damn, Boomer, I'm sorry I woke you up. I'm just going
nuts here and I needed to talk to you."
Ryan stumbled through the bathroom and into her room,
where she fell onto the bed. “Wait. Where are you?”
“Japan. Osaka, I think. I’m not really sure.”
“It doesn’t matter. What's going on?”
"Something really weird happened, and I don't know what
to think. I can't imagine she’d do anything like this, but she
was really mad. Really, really mad. I don't think I told you
this, but I had to wrestle her to the ground to stop her from
killing her."
"You've gotta slow down a little bit. I don't know who or
what you're talking about."
"Toni! She got cut today.”
It was cold in the room, so Ryan got up, grabbed a throw
and tossed it over herself. Her mind was not functioning on
all cylinders, and she had to spend a moment letting what
Jordan said register. Toni played the same position as Jordan
did, and having her gone made Jordan’s chances at being
chosen for the team better. “Fantastic! That means you're still
kicking.”
“Yeah, but I don't want it if I didn't earn it."
Ryan smiled to herself, imagining Jordan's earnest
expression. She briefly ruminated that one of the most
attractive things about Jordan was her work ethic and her
sense of fairness. "You're obviously leaving out something
important, because there's no way you haven't earned your
spot."
"Oh yeah?"
Her tone was one Ryan had never heard from her before.
She sounded like a witness in a cheesy television crime show
who was about to blow the lid off the case. "You wouldn't say
that if you thought Mia had gotten Toni kicked off the team."
That caused Ryan to jerk up in surprise. She took the
blanket and covered her shoulders while she sat cross-legged
on the bed. “What in the hell does Mia have to do with this?"
"I think she found a way to plant drugs on Toni."
There was such a note of defeat in Jordan's voice that
Ryan felt her heart start to race, knowing that Jordan would
turn Mia in if she’d done something like that. "Holy fuck,”
she whispered, not wanting to say or hear the words that
would destroy Jordan's dream. "Does Mia hate Toni that
much?”
“At least that much. I had no idea she could be so jealous,
but when Toni made that pass at me…well, I hate to think of
what Mia would have done if she could have gotten her hands
on her.”
 “Yeah, yeah, I know she was mad. But what did she do to
get Toni thrown off the team, and how did she do it?"
"I don't know, but that's the only thing I can think of."
"Wait a minute. Just wait a minute." Now Ryan was fully
awake and her brain was working hard to process the
information. "You don't have any evidence? Mia didn't admit
to this?"
"No. I haven't talked to her. I'm terrified about it because
if she did anything, I'm gonna have to rat her out." Her voice
was shaking when she said, "It's gotta be a felony. I could
send the woman I love more than anything on earth to
prison.”
Ryan's head was starting to hurt. She knew she didn't have
the whole picture, but it was like pulling teeth trying to get
the information. "Okay. Back up and tell me everything."
Jordan blew out a heavy breath. “All right. Telling the
whole story might make me figure out how she did it. We got
to Japan a couple of days ago. We had a game late last night
and we won, mostly because of Toni. She played really well,
coming through in the clutch to wrap up the win. She and the
head coach walked off the court together looking like they
were going to go out somewhere and celebrate."
"Did they?" Ryan interrupted.
"I don't know. We came in this afternoon to warm up and
the coaching staff lined us up like they were going to shoot us
all. We were practically standing at attention and I took one
look down the line and saw that Toni wasn't there."
 Frustrated with Jordan's tortoise-like telling of the story,
Ryan prodded, "Yeah, yeah?"
"The coaches acted like somebody had died. Coach
walked up and down the line like they do in the movies when
your drill sergeant is mad at you. After about five minutes of
silent agony, he said that Toni and Chrissy were gone.”
"That's it? That's all he said?"
"No. He said that cutting Toni was one of the hardest
things he'd ever had to do. They'd been together for years, but
he wanted us to know that none of that mattered. Any mistake
we made would be fatal. He kinda shouted ‘fatal’.”
“What the hell does that mean?"
"I don't know. We were there to do our warm up, but he
told us to get lost. In those words. He sounded like he was
ready to throw us out of the gym and be done with the whole
thing. No run through or practice or anything, Boom. We’re
due at the gym in an hour, and I’m freaked.”
"So where do drugs come in?"
"Just from rumors. We've all been running around trying
to find anyone who knows anything. Toni’s roommate, Jill,
saw the coaches talking with a bunch of officials from the
International Association. She said everybody looked pissed."
Even though she was alone in her room, Ryan held up
both hands as though ordering a speeding car to stop. "Wait.
Are you really saying that that's all the evidence you have that
Mia has something to do with this?"
“Toni played great last night. You don't cut somebody who
has a great game. She's been really solid all year. She can't
jump like the kid from Stanford and she has some nagging
injuries to her knees, but she's got so much experience that
everyone assumed she was a lock."
"And that means Mia planted drugs on her? Are you
listening to yourself?"
"Look, we both know that Mia's more than fond of weed,
and probably other things she doesn’t talk about. We're a long
way from home, and she's had a lot of free time. It wouldn't
surprise me in the least if she's met somebody here in Japan
that she could buy drugs from. And if she could, I believe
she’d do anything, including strangulation, to get rid of Toni.”
"Damn, Jordan, that's a ridiculously harsh charge to level
at Mia. Doesn’t she know you want to earn your way onto the
team?”
“Of course she does. But she wouldn’t do it to get me on
the team; she’d do it to fuck Toni over. She gets…focused and
she forgets about collateral damage.”
“Right. But I think you're asking for trouble to ask her that
directly. It shows you don't have much faith in her character."
"You know how much I love her, Ryan, but she’s going to
hurt Toni. No matter what. Am I wrong?”
“No,” Ryan said softly, her expression grim. “She swore
she’d get even.”
“Yeah, she swore it. Mia’s not the type to forgive and
forget. In some ways, she’s worse than her mom. Don’t tell
her I said that, okay?”
“You will never have to remind me to keep anything you
say between us. Never.”
 “Sorry, Boom. I’m freaked and not thinking clearly. I
know you’re a vault.”
“No problem. I’m a little edgy myself. I know it’s
tempting, but don’t ask Mia if she was involved until you’re
sure of what happened to Toni. Mia’s not easily offended, but
I can’t imagine she’d like for you to think she’s a felon.”
Jordan let out a soft laugh. “I’m not sure that’d bother her,
but I’ll wait anyway.”
#
The team only had an hour before they had to be back at
the gym for their evening game. They had all wasted the day
skulking around trying to see anyone coming or going who
could give them a clue as to what was going on. Everyone
had assumed that Chrissy was not going to make the final
team, but losing Toni was a stunner.
The person closest to the action was Jill, who was Toni’s
good friend as well as roommate. Jordan had been stalking
her all afternoon, trying to get a moment alone with her. She
finally had her opportunity and cornered her outside the gym.
“Did you talk to her?” Jordan asked
Jill looked as if she’d been crying. “No,” she said, her
voice shaking. “She came back to the room late last night and
said coach had told her that she and I were both a lock.”
Jordan had to fight to not show how infuriating that was.
It was unprofessional for the coach to reveal things like that,
but she couldn’t let that sidetrack her. “So what happened?”
“We were both still in bed this morning when somebody
banged on the door at about ten o’clock. It was some guy in
an International Association jacket and he told Toni to get
dressed and come with him. That’s all I know. She didn’t
come back to the room, she’s not answering her cell phone,
and nobody on the staff will say anything. I don’t know what
happened, but I don’t think I can play tonight. I’m sick to my
stomach and my hands are shaking.”
“Mine are too. I’m sure Coach didn’t want to freak
everybody out, but he sure as hell did.”
“I’ve known Toni for years, and nobody knows better than
I do how much being on this team means to her. It’s her
whole life, and it makes me sick to think of her being gone.
Something bad happened, but nothing makes sense.”
“People have been saying it’s drugs.”
Jill looked like she wanted to slap her. “She is so pure, she
could work for the DEA. There’s no way she was taking
anything.”
“That’s what I thought too,” Jordan said, “but it has to be
something, and it has to be something they just found out
about. The only thing that makes sense is a drug test.”
The fury in Jill’s eyes would have been visible from a
hundred feet. “Then the test is wrong. Toni doesn’t do drugs.”
#
It wasn't too hard to get a shuttle bus to take her back to
the hotel, and Jordan showed up in their room right before
Mia was getting ready to leave for that evening’s match.
"What's wrong?" Mia jogged over to her, reaching her in two
seconds. She put her hands on Jordan’s shoulders and held on
to her tightly. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"
 Trying to be diplomatic, Jordan started with the easiest
thing. “I didn't get cut. I'll be here until the final team’s
announced.”
Mia threw her arms around her and squeezed her tightly.
"I knew you'd be here. There wasn't a doubt in my mind."
Gingerly prying herself away, Jordan said, “Aren’t you
curious about who’s going home?”
"Not really. As long as it's not you." She smiled slyly,
showing that she was partially kidding.
This wasn't what she was best at, but Jordan tried to sound
dramatic when she said, "Toni got cut.”
Mia turned and walked over to where her purse was lying,
but Jordan saw the look of pure delight pass across her face as
she moved away. “It couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl,”
she said brightly as she walked back towards Jordan. "Now I
don't have to kill her. I still will,” she amended, “but I don’t
have to.”
"But it doesn't make any sense. She was playing really
well, better than she had been all year.”
"Maybe they just wanted younger people. Younger, better
looking people." She pinched Jordan's cheek as she walked to
the door. "Don’t we have to leave?"
Jordan stood right in front of the door and put on her most
serious affect. "There are rumors that she might have failed a
drug test."
Smiling again, Mia said, "Great! I hope she dies of an
overdose.”
 She didn't want to do it, but she had to ask. Jordan stood at
her full height and looked Mia right in the eye. "Do you know
anything about this?"
Mia dramatically pointed at herself. "Me? What could I
possibly know about it?"
"I'm not sure. All I know is that you swore you'd get her
and now she's been gotten."
Mia smiled sweetly and put her arms around Jordan for a
tender hug. "She's gone now, honey; we never have to talk
about her again." She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss
on her cheek. "She's gone, you're here. This is just how it was
supposed to happen. All is right with the world." With a
spring in her step, she strode down the hallway to the
elevator, and Jordan thought she could hear her humming a
song, but she couldn't make out the lyrics. The fact that Mia
had rarely looked happier didn’t help quell Jordan’s
suspicions in the least.
#
Later in the morning, Jamie rolled over and was surprised
to find Ryan sleeping soundly beside her. She started to ease
out of bed, but before she had her feet on the floor Ryan
reached out and grabbed hold of her T-shirt. "Where are you
going?"
Sliding back into bed and pulling the covers up to her
chin, Jamie nuzzled her face against Ryan's neck. "Why are
you still asleep? I could count on one hand the number of
times I've woken up before you.”
 "I was up from three to five. Jordan called. She got the
time change mixed up in her head.”
"She called from Asia?" She abruptly sat straight up. "Oh
my God! Did she get cut?"
Once again Ryan grasped the soft fabric of Jamie’s shirt
and tugged on it. "She did not," she said dramatically. "I think
we can start making plans for our big trip."
“Why did she call?”
“Toni, the woman who kept hitting on her, got cut.”
Jamie sat there for a second, then blinked. “Did Mia have
anything to do with it?”
“Jordan’s…concerned. You don’t know anything, do
you?”
“Not a thing. If Mia did anything, she kept it to herself.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. I hope Mia’s got
enough self-control to consider how getting involved would
screw Jordan over.”
“She does,” Jamie said immediately, then hedged, “I
think.”
“That’s not a huge vote of confidence.”
“No, but she’s changed a lot since she’s been with Jordan.
I think she’s more...careful now.”
“So maybe she carefully did something to screw Toni
over.”
“Yeah, that’s possible, but I’m still going to get on the
phone today and start making plans. Big, big plans." She
giggled as Ryan groaned and pulled the covers over her own
head.
 #
Later that day, Jamie and Ryan headed from Berkeley over
to Catherine’s Pacific Heights home. Once again they were on
Ryan's motorcycle, a vehicle choice Jamie had noted Ryan
was making more and more frequently. It was close to lunch
when they arrived, and both women were only too happy to
allow Marta to fill them up. The three of them were sitting at
the kitchen table when Catherine came back from her
morning walk.
She glided into the kitchen and stood in the doorway
surveying. "This is the type of domestic scene that makes me
very happy." She walked over behind Marta and put her hands
atop the older woman’s shoulders. Looking at Jamie, she said,
"I’ve found that the only way to keep Marta at the table is to
physically prevent her from getting up."
"She's just being nice, Mom. I think Marta could get past
you without much effort at all."
"Let me make you some lunch," Marta said, sliding out
from under Catherine’s loose hold.
"Ryan's lovely father filled me with tea and scones after
Maeve and I finished our walk. I couldn't eat another bite."
She moved around the side of the table and sat down. "Were
you girls in Berkeley?”
"Yeah, we have to go back every week to check our mail
and make sure a speck of dust hasn't gotten into the house,”
Ryan said.
Catherine blinked, then her gaze traveled from Ryan to
Jamie.
 Jamie put her hand on Ryan's arm and shook it a little.
"Ryan's referring to Maria Los. She cleans the house until it
squeaks."
"She's a good girl," Marta said. "A very, very hard
worker."
"We have no complaints," Ryan said. “I think it’s silly to
clean a house no one is living in, but I recognize she needs
the work.”
“She doesn’t really recognize that,” Jamie said, giving
Ryan a nudge with her shoulder, “but she’s figuring out that
her complaints fall on deaf ears.”
“What's on your agenda for the day?” Catherine asked.
"Tutoring work?"
"That's Ryan's job," Jamie said, smiling at her partner. "I
get to have fun today, and I hope you'll help me."
"I have plans tonight, but I'm free for fun all afternoon.
What do you have in mind?"
"It's looking like Jordan's going to make the team."
Catherine beamed with pleasure. "Excellent!"
Ryan jumped in. "We're getting ready to make our travel
plans for Sydney. You're coming with us, right?”
Catherine gave her a vacant stare. "Am I?"
Jamie reached out and grasped her mom's hand, giving it a
squeeze. "Come with us! Have you ever been to Australia?"
"No, I haven't." She paused for a moment, then said,
"Wait… yes, I was there once. It was ten or fifteen years ago.
Jim and I went for a conference, but I didn't get to see much
since we were only there for a few days."
 "Then you have to come,” Jamie said. "You can clear your
calendar, can't you?"
"I suppose so. Will Jennie come with us?”
“No, and I’ve been dreading that discussion," Ryan said.
"She and Jordan aren't particularly close, but I know she’ll be
very unhappy that she can't go."
"Why can't she?" Catherine asked.
"She'll be in school by then.”
“And?” Catherine just smiled at her, but Ryan could see
something mischievous in those brown eyes.
Jamie interrupted. "I missed a lot of school because of
trips we took. I don't think it ever harmed me.”
"In my view, Jamie learned more from traveling than she
did from a couple of weeks in the classroom,” Catherine said.
“I didn't intentionally schedule trips to get her out of school,
but if something came up…”
Pursing her lips, Ryan shook her head quickly. "I don't
think that's a good idea for Jen. She has to work hard to stay
caught up, and missing a week or ten days right at the
beginning of the term doesn't seem like a good idea to me."
She sat up a little straighter, and added, "That's just my
opinion, of course. You and Sandy have to make the
decision."
"I see your point," Catherine said. "Besides, we’d have to
get permission from everyone from the governor on down to
take her out of the country.” Sighing, she said, “When the
state’s involved, no decision is yours alone. But she’ll be
awfully upset, won’t she?”
 Ryan gave a neutral shrug. "I think Jen has to learn how to
deal with disappointments. You know she has a history of
doing whatever she wants. Getting some experience in having
responsible adults refuse her things is good for her."
"I think she's had an awful lot of experience with being
disappointed," Catherine said. "The poor girl has had more
letdowns than I have, and I’m more than twice her age.”
“She won’t have many disappointments once you’re her
guardian,” Ryan said. “You’ll come through for her.”
“One can hope. I suppose we should get busy and make
reservations if we’re going to Australia,” Catherine said.
“What’s our schedule?”
“I want to be there for the second week,” Ryan said. “I
know the team is gonna do well, and I want to see the games
that mean something.”
With a devilish gleam in her eye, Jamie said, “Get that
crazy idea of staying for only a week out of your head. The
hardest part is getting you to go on a trip. Once we're gone,
we're gonna stick around and enjoy it." She sat back in her
chair, grinning with unadulterated pleasure.
#
While Ryan stayed downstairs to go over Jennie's
homework and break the news about the Olympics, Jamie
went upstairs to Catherine’s office. After checking to make
sure it was a reasonable hour in Osaka, she dialed Mia's cell
phone.
 Mia picked up the line after only two rings. She had
obviously looked at the caller ID, since she answered with,
"Who's my best friend?"
"Your best friend wants to start making some plans to go
to Sydney."
"It's too cool, right?"
"It's absolutely freezing. You guys must be thrilled.”
“I sure am. Jordan’s nervous, as always, but I’m sure
she’ll make it. Are you really going to make reservations?”
Jamie paused for a moment, then said, “You know what? I
am. I'm bound and determined to take a nice long trip this
year, and it's going to be to Australia—no matter what. So I'm
going to go ahead and make our plane reservations."
"Go for it, girl. When I hear that tone in your voice, I
know better than to try to talk you out of it.”
“You’ve got that right. How about you? Are you ready to
make plans?"
“No. Jordan’s worried that’ll put a curse on her. She’s
gotten superstitious all of a sudden, James. She’s not acting
like herself at all.”
“It sure doesn’t sound like she’s enjoying the journey.”
Laughing, Mia said, "Enjoying it? It’s torture for her. And
she’s so suspicious! She's got it in her head that I used my
evil powers to get Toni kicked off the team.”
“Yeah, I heard Toni was gone.”
"Yep. The trash has been taken to the curb."
"Uhm, you didn't have anything to do with it, did you?"
 Mia giggled. "I learned two things from my parents. My
dad always said that most people wouldn't be convicted of
crimes if they kept their mouths shut. And my mom taught me
to never let your spouse get too comfortable."
"That's all you're gonna give me? Your best friend?"
"If I did have something to do with it, I'd never tell
anyone; I would take it to the grave," she said, enunciating
each word clearly. “If I didn't, it would be in my best interests
to let people think I had that kind of power."
"I can see why Stanford let you into the law school. You,
my friend, have vast potential as a litigator.”
#
Not long after Jamie got off the phone, Catherine poked
her head into the office. “Do you want some help?”
“Sure, come on in.”
Catherine sat on the side chair, a luxuriously comfortable
upholstered piece that looked firm and slender but was really
quite lush. “How can I help?”
“Well, I’m looking for ideas on what to see in Australia.
Do you have any suggestions?”
“I know several people who were born there. Shall I call
them?”
“Sure. It always helps to have a native’s perspective.”
Catherine stood up and leaned over Jamie’s shoulder,
scanning her contacts list on the computer.
“Why’s the door to the new library locked?”
“Conor’s orders. He doesn’t want anyone, including me,
to see it before it’s finished.”
 Jamie leaned back in her chair. “Are you serious?”
“Quite. He apparently loves to surprise people.”
“That must be a family trait. Ryan’s exactly the same way.
#
When Ryan’s tutoring session was finished, she and Jamie
left the strangely quiet house. “Jen looked like she’s lost her
best friend,” Jamie said, taking Ryan’s hand for the walk
home.
“She didn’t take it well. She acts like she’s been deserted
by everyone on earth.”
“She’ll get over it. You’re right—she has to learn she can’t
ignore school when it doesn’t suit her.” She squeezed Ryan’s
hand tightly. “All of us have to bear a few things we don’t
like.”
Letting out an aggrieved sigh, Ryan said, “You’re hinting
in my direction. Give it to me straight.”
“Okay.” Turning to face her, Jamie said, “Going to
Australia means taking a fourteen hour flight. I don’t want to
go that far and not see the whole country. So I want to stay for
an additional two weeks.”
“Additional?” Ryan asked, looking a little sick.
“Yep.”
There was something about Jamie’s affect, as well as the
look in her eyes, that showed her mind was made up. The
impression was so strong that Ryan found herself saying, “All
right.”
Jamie stopped abruptly, pulling Ryan to a halt also. “All
right?” She blinked, clearly stunned by Ryan’s response.
 “Yeah. You know I don’t want to be gone for that long, so
you must feel strongly about it to push it. If you really want
something, I’ve got to be a good partner and go along.” She
smiled, her tender feelings showing in her eyes. “Don’t I?”
Throwing her arms around Ryan, Jamie snuggled against
her neck. “You’re the very best partner.” She tilted her head
and they kissed. “I should marry you.”
“Yeah, you should.” They lightly brushed their noses
together before they broke apart. “I’m quite a catch.”
Starting to walk again, Jamie said, “Mom and I worked
out an itinerary that will let us see all of the highlights.”
“With that much time, we should be able to walk across
the country.”
“It’s not Liechtenstein! It’s big.”
“I know. But three weeks is a long time.”
“Uhm…four weeks.”
“What? I told you I only wanted to go for the second
week.”
“I want to see the opening ceremonies. That’s a huge
highlight for me. So adding two weeks to two weeks makes
four weeks,” she said, smiling brightly.
“Boy, the things I do for love.” Ryan tried to pout, but her
attempt was weak.
“Don’t complain or I’ll make you go first class.”
With an audible snap, Ryan’s mouth closed.
Jamie tickled under her chin. “Do you want to hear about
my mom’s plans?”
Ryan’s head nodded, but she didn’t emit a word.
 “She’s interested in seeing Jordan play, and in poking
around Sydney, but she doesn’t want to be gone as long as
we’ll be there.”
“Neither do—” Ryan’s complaint was cut off by Jamie’s
hand clamping over her mouth.
“Mom actually knows someone who lives in Sydney and
used to be a big supporter of the opera.”
“Our opera?”
Laughing, Jamie said, “Our opera, huh? Pretty possessive,
buffy.”
“I own everything that touches San Francisco.” She held
her hands out in an imperial fashion. “All this is mine.”
Jamie patted her cheek indulgently. “Yes, our opera. It’s
really good, you know. There are a lot of people from other
country who support it.”
“Got it. Don’t understand it, but got it.”
Rolling her eyes, Jamie continued, “So this woman got
into some sort of argument with someone on the board of
directors and stopped handing over the big bucks. Mom
knows her pretty well and she’s been wanting to go see her to
make things right. Going when we’re there would make a trip
she should take anyway fun, at least during the time she
wasn’t groveling for money.”
“I’d love to have her come with us. Let’s make it happen.”
“I think it will. She just has to make sure her patron is
going to be home when we’ll be there.” She beamed a smile.
“I love having a good relationship with my mom, and I know
it wouldn’t be as good as it is if not for you.” Ryan was
enfolded in a bear hug that lasted for several long seconds.
“You’re a very good person.”
“I did nothing, babe. You and your mom did all of the hard
work.”
#
Two days after their previous phone call, Jordan once
again woke Ryan. This time it was four a.m. when she
grabbed the phone and tried to calm her racing heart. “I hope
it’s good news this time,” she croaked out. Jamie slept so
soundly that Ryan didn’t bother to leave the room, but she did
walk over to the love seat and flop down onto it.
“It is. Did I screw up on the time again?”
“You did. Where are you now?”
“Beijing. I just got the word from Jill, and I had to tell
you.”
“Luckily, I’m an unemployed bum, so I can take a nap
later. Spill it.”
“This really has to stay in the vault, because Toni’s going
to try to fight it, but…Jill reminded me that Toni had some
cortisone injections in her knees last winter. Apparently they
have a sophisticated new test that can detect things they
couldn’t pick up even a year ago. That last test showed human
growth hormone.”
“A volleyball player doing HGH? What the fuck?”
“Toni denies it, said she only had cortisone, but I talked to
one of the trainers and she says that some people are trying to
regrow cartilage in their knees and ankles by using human
growth hormone. You’ve got to keep all weight off the joint
the whole time you’re being treated, but there was about a six
week period where Toni was away from the team for her
treatment. She could’ve easily been adding the HGH.”
“But she denies it?”
“She swore on her life to Jill, but I could see her doing it.
She’s getting up there in years and her knees have been bad
and getting worse. She probably thought there was no way
she’d get caught.”
“That’s a bitch. I feel for her if she’s guilty, and I feel even
more for her if she’s not.”
“Yeah. It’s not like she was trying to get an edge on other
people; she was just trying to get her old pop back and not be
in as much pain.”
“But at least Mia didn’t do it!”
Jordan laughed. “She’s still screwing with me though. She
said it wouldn’t be that hard to bribe one of the guys who
conducts the drug tests.”
“I know you love her, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to
sleep with one eye open.”
“That’s not a bad idea, but I trust her with my life.” She
laughed again. “That’s because I’m never going to cheat on
her.”
 CHAPTER THREE

Catherine picked up the ringing phone one morning when

she was at home in Hillsborough.
“Catherine? It’s Brendan. Am I catching you at a good
time?”
Her manicurist had just finished encasing her feet in
paraffin, but she wasn’t about to tell Brendan that. Men didn’t
need to know how much time a woman spent making sure she
was soft and smooth. “Of course. I’ve been thinking about
you every day, but I didn’t want to be a bother so I haven’t
called.”
“You’re never a bother. I’m calling for two reasons. One is
to thank you for the fantastic new office chairs. And don’t try
to play the innocent; I know you sent them.”
Laughing, she said, “You have no proof that will stand up
in court.”
“That’s true, but I know your habits. Anyway, the chairs
are fantastic. It’s really nice not to have to contort my body to
be able to write. Second, it looks like it’s going to be weeks,
if not months, before we can get on the court calendar.”
“How can that be? We’re petitioning for an emergency
order.”
“We didn’t have enough evidence for an emergency. I was
afraid what we had wouldn’t be enough, and it wasn’t.”
“Do you have any other options?”
“Not without manufacturing evidence. We’ll just have to
wait until we can get on the calendar.”
 “We can’t wait that long, Brendan. She’s in danger. Do
you think the court would approve sending Jennie to a Swiss
boarding school?”
“A what?”
“I’m grasping at straws here, trying to think of a way to
keep Jennie safe.”
When Brendan spoke again it sounded as though he was
trying to stifle a laugh. “I can guarantee that you’d be the first
person in the history of this court to petition to take an
unrelated minor to a Swiss boarding school. I suppose it’s not
out of the realm of possibility, but I can’t imagine the court
would grant that on an emergency order.”
“But it is an emergency.”
He sounded a little weary when he said, “Jennie’s part of
the system. The system is never going to treat her like you or
I would treat our children. When many of these kids have an
emergency, it’s an imminent life or death situation. To a
judge, Jennie’s issue probably looks like a couple of girls who
are having trouble getting along.” Catherine started to
interrupt, but Brendan spoke over her. “I know that’s not what
it is, and I agree that we need to get her out of there as soon as
possible. I’m just telling you how the judge will look at it.”
“This is more than frustrating, but I appreciate your
efforts. I know you’re doing all you can. We’ll just have to
figure out some alternative.”
#
On Saturday afternoon, Ryan knocked briefly on her
aunt’s front door and then entered. Caitlin was perched on her
hip, and she was trying in vain to get the stroller through the
front door with one hand. The racket was surprisingly loud
and it summoned Martin from elsewhere in the house. “The
doorframe is only held together with nails, sweetheart. It can’t
take that kind of abuse.” He opened the door fully and pulled
the stroller in. “Did you have a fine day?”
“We did.”
The baby was babbling noisily and Martin stopped to take
a good look at her. “Did you go to the beach or to a mud pit?
How does a child get so dirty in relatively clean water?”
Caitlin was, in fact, a mess. Her pale blonde hair was
plastered to her skull, and her T-shirt and coveralls were
streaked with something black and gritty.
Ryan chuckled as she surveyed her cousin. “It was too
cold to go in the water, of course, but Caitlin thought the
weather was perfect for building sand castles.”
“Is that our dear girl?” Maeve called out from the kitchen.
Ryan beamed a smile. “It is I.”
“Would you be a dear and run these cookies over to St.
Philip’s for me? I hear a rumor that I’m going to have to give
Caitlin a bath immediately.”
“I’d be happy to. But there’s a two cookie tax I’m going
to have to collect.”
Maeve emerged from the kitchen and gasped when she
saw the pair. “If that child were darker and taller, she would
look just like you did at the same age.”
“She plays dirty. What can I say?” She handed the baby to
Martin and took the platter of cookies. “Why don’t you all
come over later? We haven’t made dinner for you all
summer.”
“But you’ve had the baby for hours,” Maeve said. “You
girls must be tired.”
“No, Caitlin did all the hard work. Come over around six
and we’ll have a barbecue.”
“Let me make some side dishes at least.”
“It’s a deal,” Ryan said. “I assume the boys will be around
for dinner, and I’ll call Brendan and Maggie, so you’d better
make a wheelbarrow full.” With that, she was off, dashing
down the stairs while popping the first of her cookie tax into
her mouth.
It was a short but hilly walk, and Ryan glided down the
last hill not long after five p.m. A quick call assured Brendan
and Maggie were on board for dinner, and she was
considering what to serve when she entered the church
courtyard. The Ancient Order of Hibernians was in charge of
the refreshments after the five-thirty mass that evening, and
Ryan planned on putting the cookies on the card table outside
the side entrance and making herself scarce. But her old
friend Father Pender was patrolling the courtyard and he
called out to her. “Oh, Siobhan, come say hello.”
Dutifully she walked over and shared a brief hug with the
priest. “How have you been?” Ryan asked.
“I’ve been well. How about yourself? Where have you
been spending your Sunday mornings?”
She gave him a slightly guilty look and shrugged. “You
know how it is.”
 “I suppose I do.” He lowered his voice and moved away
from the door. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about
something, but since it hasn’t come up, I’ve avoided it.”
“Just from the lead in, it doesn’t sound like good news.”
She looked at him carefully and noted that he looked
surprisingly nervous, an emotion that was quite rare for him.
“Well, I don’t know that it’s bad news, I merely wish to
clarify something.”
She held up her hands. “Clarify away.”
“You were planning on attending mass tonight, am I
correct?”
“No, I wasn’t. I was just dropping something off for my
aunt. Why?”
He laughed, but it sounded more relieved than merry.
“Then forget I said anything. My mistake.” He clapped his
large hand on her shoulder and said, “Don’t be such a
stranger. Both your Lord and Savior and I miss you.” He
started to walk away, but she grasped the sleeve of his black
suit and tugged on it.
His demeanor and his words had made it clear he had
something to say that she wasn’t going to like, and she didn’t
like to delay bad news. “What were you going to tell me?
Let’s assume I was going to mass.”
“Ah, but you’re not.” Now he looked more like himself, a
slightly playful man, overly fond of verbal games.
She looked down at her khakis which were wet from the
knee down. Her running shoes were covered with the same
black, sandy mud with which Caitlin had been decorated, and
she was certain she had a few smudges on her face. “I’ve
changed my mind,” she said, sticking her jaw out defiantly.
“I’ll not only go to Mass, I’ll ask if I can sing with the choir
up in the sacristy.”
He sighed dramatically, an affect that Ryan thought made
him look a little queenie. It flashed through her mind that
she’d never considered his sexual orientation, and she
banished the thought.
“You’re like a bloodhound when you set your mind to
something.”
The exasperated tone made it clear he was not
complimenting her. “If you have something to say to me, just
say it.”
“I will then. We’ve had some recent discussions with the
Cardinal and he stressed to all of us pastors that it’s important
for us to make sure we’re not sending mixed messages to our
parishioners.”
Ryan looked at him carefully, one eyebrow slightly raised.
When a priest started with this kind of opening, bullshit was
sure to follow.
“Since you and Jamie are living together openly, and
you’ve made it clear that you have a romantic and a sexual
relationship, I can’t, in good conscience, offer you the
Sacrament of Communion.”
A thousand rejoinders ran through her mind, and Ryan
knew discussing the matter further was a waste of her time,
however, as was always the case when she knew someone
was being blatantly unfair, she couldn’t stop herself from
getting into it. “The Cardinal told you to do this, huh?”
He bristled, suddenly looking less like the humble
shepherd of a flock and more like a man who was used to a
good measure of unblinking obedience. “He’s made some
guidelines more clear for all of us, but this is still my parish.
I’ve had more than a few complaints from other parishioners
about you and Jamie acting as though your relationship is
sanctioned by the church. You know it’s not, Siobhan. It never
will be.”
She could feel her anger building, knew it was going to
reach a dangerous level, but still couldn’t make herself leave.
She also knew that some of the members of the Ancient Order
of Hibernians were the people who had complained about her.
Her aunt tried to be discreet, but she’d let a few things slip
and Ryan had filed them away, not wanting to go out of her
way to fight a battle she didn’t have much stake in. Now
Father Pender had made it personal.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sara Andrew’s father
take a seat behind the AOH table. He was definitely one of
the complainers. She started talking, her voice loud enough
for everyone entering church to hear. As she spoke, she
moved closer to the members of the fraternal organization to
make sure no one had to strain to hear.
“You probably think my father has given you a hard time
in the past year.” Her cheeks were pink and they grew more
flushed as she spoke. “But if my mother were here,” her voice
broke and she summoned every bit of her fortitude to
continue, “you would really understand the wrath of an
O’Flaherty.” Ryan cleared her throat loudly just to be able to
continue. Her left hand shot up and her index finger hovered
right over Father Pender’s chest, but she managed to contain
herself and not poke him like she so desperately wanted to.
“The mere thought that you have the nerve to deny me my
birthright as a Catholic is unconscionable. The fact that you
pick and choose which grievous sins to focus on shows just
how morally bankrupt you and your entire church are.”
She was just warming up, but Father Pender clearly wasn’t
about to let this young woman lecture him outside his own
church.
“Hold on right there,” he said, his voice low but filled
with anger. “I will not have you speaking to me that way.”
“You can’t stop me,” she said loudly, enunciating every
word clearly. “You’re a bunch of closed-minded men who
think you can order us around the way you’ve done for
centuries in Ireland. But even there they’ve started to see
what a thin veneer of sanctimonious bullshit you’re using to
cover up your emptiness. If even ten percent of you actually
believed in the God you preach about, you’d be on your knees
praying for forgiveness. The God my mother told me about
would welcome lesbians into his church. He wouldn’t…” She
couldn’t stop herself; she had to poke him hard, right in the
chest, “…be so happy about a bunch of guys who like to
focus on a less powerful group to get the spotlight off their
pedophilia.”
 Now she was yelling, and everyone in the courtyard and
on the sidewalk was staring at her. “Now we’re talking about
some real sins. Those are express tickets to Hell, and some of
the same priests who’re giving gay people a hard time are the
ones molesting children. That makes me sick,” she said,
leaning so close that she could see his pupils dilate. “So you
don’t have to worry about me making Jesus cry by coming to
communion. I’m done with you and your diocese and your
Holy Mother the Church. Some mother! Our English
oppressors couldn’t make my ancestors turn their backs on
the church, but you have succeeded. Congratulations.”
She turned and stormed away, leaving dozens of stunned
parishioners staring at her in shock. It took until she was
alone on the street for the tears to come, and by the time she
was halfway home, she was sobbing like a motherless child.
#
Ryan didn’t trust herself to speak with Jamie on the
phone, so she texted her with the news that they were having
a barbecue. She added that she would stop at the grocery
store. The extra stop would give her time to collect herself
and try to get her emotions under control.
She bought enough for ten, assuming that a cousin or two
might show up. It was nearly six when she got home and she
wasn’t surprised to see her father and her aunt already in the
house. Maeve raced over to her and hugged her tightly. “I’m
so sorry he upset you, sweetheart.”
Ryan diverted her attention just long enough to see her
father seething with anger. “Normally I’d tell you to let me
handle this myself, Da, but it’s okay with me if you go over
there and clean his fecking clock.”
Jamie came from the kitchen, smelling of charcoal. She
too looked angry, but her look of concern showed that Ryan’s
feelings were more important to her than her own. Maeve was
still holding on to Ryan loosely, and Jamie snuggled up to her
other side. “How are you doing, Tiger?”
“Not well. I caused quite a scene, which I assume more
than one person has called to relate.” She cast a glance at her
aunt.
Maeve held up four fingers. “I’m sure I’ll hear from many
more. Most of my friends don’t go to Saturday evening mass.
By tomorrow I assume the story will have changed to make it
even more dramatic.”
Ryan shrugged away from the comfort her partner and
aunt were offering and went into the kitchen to get a beer.
When she came back out, she said, “It was pretty dramatic as
it was. I’m not even sure what I said, but everything that’s
been bothering me about the church for the last ten years
spilled out.” She took a long drink. “It wasn’t pretty.”
Martin finally spoke. He looked like he wanted to take
something large and break it into very small pieces, but his
voice was surprisingly soft. “So, what do we do?”
“I quit,” Ryan said. “I won’t go back, not that I was going
much anyway.”
“You can come with us when we go hear that Vietnamese
priest. He might be telling us we’re all a bunch of idiots, but
we honestly can’t understand a word he’s saying.”
 Ryan couldn’t help but smile at that, even though there
was something very sad about her father and aunt being
reduced to attending a mass they couldn’t comprehend. “No,
I’m done. As I told Father Pender, he’s been able to do what
our English overlords couldn’t do with hundreds of years of
oppression—he’s made me give up.”
Jamie walked over and slid her arm around Ryan’s waist.
“Your English overlords wanted you to become Anglicans.
They still do.” She smiled, showing she was just trying to
tease to lighten the mood.
“I think I’m going to be a free agent. Actually, I guess
that’s not the right term, since I don’t want any team to draft
me. I’d like to stay as far away from organized religion as
possible for a while. After this doesn’t hurt so much, I might
be able to revisit it.”
Martin cleared his throat and looked at Jamie. “What time
is the service at your grandfather’s church tomorrow?”
She blinked a couple of times, then answered, “There’s a
service at eight, but the big one with the choir is at ten.”
“I’m going to give it a try,” he said, his grim expression
showing both his determination and his anger. “I can’t in
good conscience support a church that doesn’t consider my
daughter a valid member.”
Ryan eyes welled with tears, and she was so proud of her
father and so thankful for his support, that she was powerless
to stop them.
#
 Martin and Maeve lay in bed that night, neither one able
to sleep. Martin had knocked back a few whiskies, but they
hadn’t dulled his senses enough for him to be able to stop the
fantasy of going to St. Phil’s and breaking each of Aloysius
Pender’s bones. The only thing that stopped him was his clear
knowledge that his former friend was just the bag man for the
Cardinal, and the Cardinal was also just following orders. The
orders came from the Vatican, and he didn’t have the strength
to go all the way to Rome to set that lot straight.
Maeve reached over and stroked his arm. “Are you sleepy,
Marty?”
“No.” He sat up and turned on the bedside light. “I’m too
angry to even keep my eyes closed.” He started to go into his
rant, but he’d been over the same spiel at least three times that
night. “I’m going to send a letter asking to be removed from
the rolls of the parish. Last week’s offering was the last dime
that place will ever get from me.”
He was still seething so strongly that it took a minute for it
to register that Maeve had barely said a word the entire night.
She’d been very sympathetic to Siobhan, of course, but that
had been the sum total of her position. “Will you be going
with me in the morning?”
She gave him a wan smile. “Of course.”
“My father always said not to trust a woman of few
words.” He tried to show that he was teasing, but he knew
Maeve would know he was at least partially serious.
 “I can’t recall the last time you quoted your father.
Actually, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you do it. Should I be
worried?”
He tried hard to force a smile to show that he was being
lighthearted. “No, there’s not much he had to say that I agree
with. But I couldn’t help noticing that you weren’t rushing to
my side in support of my decision.”
She looked like she was on the verge of tears, a state that
was blessedly rare for her. “I’m very conflicted, Marty. You
know how much I agree with you and you know how stupid I
think it is for the church to be so narrow-minded about such a
minor issue, but I don’t know that I’m ready to leave.”
He tried to look calm, but knew his expression was
anything but. “How can you not?”
“I have a lot of reasons. I just don’t know that I can
convince myself that the one true church is no longer that.
Have I been worshiping for naught all of these years?”
“It’s no easier for me. But I’ve heard tell we all worship
the same God. I’ll go tomorrow and see if that’s true.”
“I’ll be with you, sweetheart. You know I’ll always be
with you.” He lifted his arm and she cuddled up beside him. It
was late and he should have been tired, but his mind raced
with ricocheting thoughts about his church, his faith, and his
bride.
#
Catherine pulled up in front of the O’Flaherty house at
around nine-thirty the next morning. She gave the horn a
quick toot and laughed at herself when she considered how
horribly offensive that small act would’ve been to her mother.
Jamie rushed out seconds later, followed by a slow-moving
Ryan dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top. She sauntered
over and perched on the railing of the deck where she waved
to Catherine.
Jamie got in and said, “My princess is not in the best of all
possible moods this morning.”
“After what you told me last night, I’m surprised both she
and Martin aren’t in custody.”
“Oh, she was angry at first, but now I think she’s more
hurt than anything else. Catholicism means a lot to her, but I
think its biggest meaning is cultural.”
Catherine shot her daughter a sly smile as she put the car
into gear. “You might’ve noticed this, but Ryan isn’t fond of
change.”
Jamie laughed a little. “Not to mention unfairness, or
being singled out because she’s a lesbian. That jerk who runs
St. Phillip’s managed to hit just about every one of her hot
buttons.”
They drove the very short distance to Maeve’s. “Would
you be a dear and go ring the bell?” Catherine said. “It’s hard
enough for me to honk at your house, but I do it because it’s
so hard to find parking. I can’t do it if I don’t have a very
good reason.”
“I won’t need to.” As she spoke, the front door opened and
both O’Flahertys emerged. “Martin has probably been
standing by the front door for an hour.”
 The couple got in the back seat and exchanged difficult to
place hugs and kisses on both Catherine and Jamie. “I feel
like I’m on some sort of exotic vacation,” Maeve said,
giggling nervously. “Some place where they don’t have a
Catholic church.”
Martin wasn’t smiling when he said, “I feel like I’m going
shopping for something very, very important. I hope I find it
at the first shop I try.”
The tone of his voice and the somberness of his message
made the other passengers keep their thoughts to themselves
for the rest of the short journey.
#
The Episcopal mass was both more formal and more
stately than the masses that Catherine had attended at St.
Philip’s. Going to Catholic services was akin to going to a
relative’s house for Sunday dinner. It was a step up from
eating at home, but still very casual. But the services at
Charles’s church were much closer to a large holiday dinner
where a fine table was set and everyone dressed carefully. It
always struck her as odd that quite a few people went to St.
Phillip’s in jeans and T-shirts, or even shorts on the rare warm
day. There was no proscription against that in the Episcopal
Church, but no one seemed to do it. In fact, most of the men
wore jackets, if not full suits, and most of the women wore
dresses or pants suits. She noticed Martin looking around
with approval as the pews filled up with others dressed in
their Sunday best.
 The opening procession was quite elaborate: the entire
choir in their robes and ornate surplices, three junior priests in
their chasubles, the verger in a black cassock covered with a
purple chimera, holding the ceremonial verge, and six servers
all dressed in cassocks and surplices, leading the way for
Charles. His chasuble and stole were beautifully made
garments, vivid green silk with lush gold embroidery that
Catherine had purchased for him the last time she was in
Rome. He always balked at her gifts, but to her eye he looked
especially regal in it. He winked when he passed them, and
reached out and touched Jamie’s cheek.
As they all sat down, Martin leaned over to Catherine and
whispered, “Now that’s the way to start a mass.”
#
The first Gospel reading was from Exodus, where God
provided the Israelites with manna to sustain them through
their forty years of wandering in the Egyptian desert. When
Charles climbed to the pulpit to deliver his sermon, he
focused on that part of the reading. He spoke eloquently about
how easy it was to complain and how difficult it could be to
take action. As always, he used himself as an example, telling
the congregation how hard he had to work to accept help from
his staff and even his friends and family. He referred to the
passage, “Come before the Lord, for He has heard your
grumbling” several times.
“Remember that God is the most patient of parents, and
He will never tire of our complaining. Nonetheless, it isn’t
wise, for our own sakes, to refuse His and others’ offers of
help. God helps even those who will not help themselves, but
why insist on making it more difficult for Him?” He smiled at
his small joke and continued with the service.
#
After the service they went out to the space between the
church and the school, where representatives of every one of
their many outreach programs gathered. About two dozen
children had just been released from their separate service,
and they ran around happily, dodging around the adults as
they played. There was something friendly and familiar about
the scene, and Catherine was very happy to hear how
complimentary both Martin and Maeve were, especially about
all of the good works the parish was evolved in.
“This makes St. Phillip’s seem very small potatoes,”
Maeve said.
“With a parish roster about one fifth as large,” Jamie said.
“Nearly everyone who attends services here gets involved in
some way.”
“I liked it,” Martin said decisively. “I particularly liked the
homily, not to mention how nice it was to be surrounded by
people who knew you should comb your hair and put on a
clean shirt before going to church.”
Jamie chuckled at him, well used to his complaints about
the slovenliness of St. Phillip’s parishioners. “What did you
like about the homily?”
“I felt it was directed specifically at me. I’ve been
grumbling about the church for years. There are so many
things I disagree with. Maybe the Lord made that blackguard
harass my girl to lead us to this place.” He showed a slightly
embarrassed smile. “Although it was hard for me to believe
that young woman in the vestments was really a priest. When
Siobhan was a little girl, she wanted to dress up as a priest for
Halloween but we wouldn’t allow it. It seemed sacrilegious.
But I think I could get used to it. Change is good for people.
It keeps you limber.”
Catherine was pleased by his exuberance, but she couldn’t
help noticing that Maeve looked far from settled. She wasn’t
certain what made her seem ill-at-ease, but she’d gotten to
know Maeve quite well, and it was obvious she wasn’t nearly
as enthusiastic as her husband was.
 CHAPTER FOUR

For several months, Catherine and Maeve had been

training rigorously for the three day breast cancer walk they
were going to participate in. Jamie and Ryan were doing the
walk as well, but they were hoping their overall general
fitness levels would get them through, and had trained very
little. Jamie worried about their preparedness, but it was far
too late to do anything about it now, with the walk scheduled
to start bright and early on Friday morning. Still, even a little
training was better than none, and on Wednesday morning,
she and Ryan walked home after a moderate five mile jaunt
with Catherine, Maeve, Caitlin and Duffy.
“Why do you look so much the worse for wear?” Jamie
asked her partner, regarding her wet T-shirt and flushed face.
“Could it have anything to do with your having to run up the
last big hill while pushing Caitlin’s stroller?”
“She has a need for speed.” Ryan took Jamie’s hand and
they walked in silence for a few blocks. “How do you feel
about the walk? Are you ready?”
“I’m sure I’ll get blisters and that my feet and legs will
hurt, but I think I’ll get through it. I assume you’re
confident?”
“Oh, sure. I mean, it’s not a walk in the park, but it’s not
going to be like the AIDS Ride. I was in pretty good shape
from playing softball, and I’ve been running, so I’m not
worried.”
 “Has this been fun for you?”
Ryan looked at her for a second, then shook her head.
“Like getting ready for the AIDS Ride? Not in the least. I feel
like we’re going on a long walk with my aunt and your mom.
I don’t have much emotional connection to the event.” She
made a face. “Which is sad.”
“We could have been more proactive. If we’d led them,
we could have gotten Mom and Maeve to be part of the whole
group vibe.”
“Nah. I didn’t want to be in charge. They set this up, so I
thought it best to be a follower.” She stuck out her tongue. “It
doesn’t come naturally to me, but I’m trying.”
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave from my mom’s
place on Friday, but I guess we’ll see.”
“You’ve gotta admit, she usually has a plan,” Ryan
reminded her. “And the plan is usually sound.”
#
They took the BMW to pick Maeve up after dinner on
Thursday evening. Martin walked his bride out to the car and
spent a moment giving her a tender sendoff. Once she was
inside, he leaned his head in and said, “Remember, you don’t
have to keep up with these young cubs. Let them rush ahead;
you and Catherine take your sweet time.”
Maeve blew him a kiss. “I will, Marty. Now don’t worry
about us; we’ll see you on Sunday.”
“I’m still sure I could trade with someone for a day off.”
 “It’s just fine, sweetheart. You go to work tomorrow and
Saturday. When you come on Sunday, you’ll find there’s not
much to see.”
He chewed his lower lip nervously. “Nevertheless, I feel
like I should be there.”
“For God’s sake, Da, let go of the poor woman. She needs
a break.” When her father shot her a malevolent look, she
broke out in a hearty laugh. “We’ll take care of her. You don’t
have to worry about a thing.”
“Who’s going to take care of you? You’re the one who
needs full-time supervision.”
“I’ll keep an eye on both of them, Martin,” Jamie said.
“You have my word.”
“I’ll still worry about all of you,” he said. “But I know
you’ll be fine and do fine. You’d better get going now.”
Ryan waved and started off, saying, “We would’ve been
gone ten minutes ago if he didn’t act like he was sending you
off to the wars, Aunt Maeve.”
“He’s a bit of a worrier; you know that, dear.”
“He has every reason to worry about Ryan,” Jamie said,
“but you’ve trained so well that he doesn’t need to worry
about you.”
Now it was Maeve’s turn to look nervous. “I certainly
hope you’re right.”
#
They pulled up into the driveway of the Hillsborough
house but before they could get out, Catherine and Helena the
housekeeper came bustling out of the house, with Helena
carrying a good-sized suitcase. Catherine carried what she
would probably consider a purse, but to Ryan it was large
enough for a weekend trip. Ryan rolled down the window and
called out, “What gives?”
“It didn’t make sense to drive all the way to Cupertino so
early in the morning tomorrow, so I got us reservations at a
hotel not far from where the walk is kicking off.”
“A hotel?” Ryan looked more than a little aggrieved. “I
thought we were going to stay here.”
Jamie placed her hand on Ryan’s thigh and gave it a
squeeze. “That’s a great idea, Mom. There might be a lot of
traffic in the morning and it’ll be nice to avoid it.” She gave
Ryan a warning look, whispered, “Be a follower,” then got
out to help her mother put her suitcase in the back.
#
When they arrived at the Cypress Hotel, they were greeted
by a young man who acted as though they were long-lost
relatives whom he had missed desperately. Ryan got out and
stood there for a moment, stretching her back. While looking
around at the Santa Cruz mountains sparkling in the distance,
she took time to admire the setting of the hotel. There was
something nice but hard to pin down about the South Bay,
some hard to define fresh scent in the air that seemed crisp
and aromatic. Not to mention the fact that it was always
warmer and usually drier than San Francisco. “Nice hotel,”
she said, when Jamie came to stand next to her. “Who
would’ve guessed?”
 Jamie slapped her in the gut as discreetly as possible and
then followed her mother inside. Ryan walked alongside
Maeve who said quietly, “It’s a different world, isn’t it, dear?”
“It certainly is,” Ryan said, choosing not to offer any
further commentary.
“How do we handle this? Do we let Catherine pay for us?”
“We do. We’d go broke in a matter of minutes if we tried
to keep up.”
#
The hotel was a very short distance from their departure
point, and they didn’t need to be there until seven, but Ryan
was wide awake at six, lying in the sumptuous bed with Jamie
at her side. She felt strangely at peace, even though she knew
it was going to be an emotion-filled day. For reasons she
couldn’t name, the thought of being surrounded by so many
people who were themselves fighting breast cancer, or who
loved someone who had, was soothing. The alarm went off
and she reached for it to silence it. Jamie struggled to wake,
then reached for Ryan, rested her head on her chest, and
immediately fell asleep again. Ryan stroked her head and
whispered, “Not this morning, baby. Today you’ve got to get
up before the sun does.”
“Why?” Jamie mumbled sleepily. “Isn’t it enough to walk
sixty miles? Why do we have to do it before dawn?”
“I’m not really sure, but maybe they think it’ll get warm
later in the morning.”
“Then don’t have it in July in the South Bay. Simple
solution.”
 Ryan patted her butt, then slipped out of bed. “Well, it is
July, so there’s nothing we can do about it now. Get into that
huge shower with me and I’ll wash you. You only have to be
half awake for that.”
“It’s a deal, but only because I refuse to be the only one
who can’t get up.”
#
The setup was very much like that for the AIDS ride, but
there were far fewer men and fewer obviously gay people of
either sex. The walkers spanned a larger age range, too, with
many more people in the sixty-plus category. Ryan noticed
quite a few people who would’ve had a tough time getting a
bike over a hill of any size, but they had on their walking
shoes and seemed more than confident. That was pretty cool.
She felt melancholy at best, but that was to be expected
when thoughts of her mother preyed so heavily on her. But
everyone there had been affected by cancer in one way or
another, and that gave her a feeling of deep comradeship,
even among so many strangers.
Catherine had surprised them with T-shirts she’d had
made up stating they were “Team O’Flaherty”. Ryan’s said, “I
walk for my mother,” and Maeve’s said “I walk for my
sister.” Ryan had, of course, choked up when she saw the
shirt, but she was determined to hold it together and not spend
most of her time crying, like she felt she always did at the
AIDS ride.
Losing her mother had been the defining event of her life,
so participating in a walk fighting the specific cancer that
claimed her should have been a very emotional experience.
But not meeting other walkers and not training with other
groups had really put a damper on the experience. She was
more disappointed than she wanted to let on, but she had a
feeling Jamie knew. Jamie knew just about everything.
Just to get the lay of the land, Ryan set off on her own,
surveying the group. There were well over two thousand
people gathered in little or big cliques, many of them wearing
hats or shirts or jackets that memorialized someone.
She looked down at her own shirt, thinking that she didn’t
just walk for her mother, her whole life was a paean to her.
Everything she was grew from the unshakable love her
mother had showered upon her. She would never accomplish
her goal of trying to make her mother proud of her. No
matter; she’d still strive.
So many of the walkers looked nervous, some terrified.
Her instinct was to approach and give them a pep talk, but
that was a little bold, even for her. So she went back to her
little group and made sure they were all well.
Maeve was uncharacteristically jumpy. Given that she’d
spent her whole adult life walking up and down the hills of
San Francisco, Ryan was certain she’d be able to complete
the walk. But her aunt had a lot of pride, and it was probably
a point of honor for her to finish.
Ryan wasn’t as sure about Catherine. There weren’t many
times in her life that she’d had to push herself physically, and
peeling off twenty or so miles for three days in a row wasn’t a
lark. But she and Maeve had been training pretty rigorously
for over six months, and that really should have done the
trick. If Catherine wanted to finish, she would. If not, she’d
probably hire someone to carry her. Ryan slapped herself on
the side of the head, reminding herself that it wasn’t a good
day to get pissy about the Dunlop/Smith fortune.
Everyone was ready to get going, but every group event
had to be preceded by some speeches. These were good ones,
heartfelt and earnest. When hundreds of women and a couple
of men joined hands in a huge Survivor Circle, Ryan almost
lost it, but she held it together pretty well. Every time her
mind wanted to lament the fact that her mother wasn’t a
member of that group, she curtly reminded herself that the
chips had not fallen that way. Sometimes being stern with
herself actually worked.
Finally it was time to start the walk, and it took a long
time for people to sort themselves out and get moving in the
proper direction. Eventually Ryan and Jamie walked in front,
with Catherine and Maeve just a few steps behind them. The
sun broke through a bank of clouds and the crowd applauded
its appearance. It was going to be a good day. She could make
it a good day.
#
Even on a cool, clear, dry day, walking twenty miles was
quite an endeavor. When you were planning on taking that
walk with a couple of thousand other people it became a
logistics issue as well. Some people walked so slowly that it
didn’t seem possible they would finish; others were
practically race-walking. Even though Ryan hadn’t done as
much training as she knew she should have, she was good at
setting an even pace, and she tried to chart a course that
would have them doing about three miles an hour. They could
definitely have gone faster, but they’d decided they wanted to
take it slowly enough to enjoy the day. Actually, the vote had
been three to one, but Ryan wasn’t going to be a sore loser.
There were plenty of things along the path to make the
event enjoyable. Groups of people came from churches and
schools and Scout troops to bring the walkers drinks and
snacks, as well as the even more appreciated bouts of
applause. Catherine looked almost giddy when she said, “I
had no idea there would be so much support for us.”
“I think that’s my favorite part,” Jamie said. “When
people take time out of their day to show you they appreciate
your efforts, it really feels special.”
They stopped fairly early for a snack and Ryan pulled
some lotion out of her pack and gave her teammates calf
massages. “Despite all of her bad habits, I keep her around
just for this,” Jamie teased.
They didn’t rest for long, and were soon back on the road
heading for Belmont, their destination for the first day.
#
Catherine and Maeve chatted nonstop for the first five
miles. There was so much to see and so much excitement
flowing that it was impossible to focus on the actual walk.
But as they progressed, the crowd thinned out a little and they
had time to reflect.
 Maeve hadn’t spent much time in the South Bay. Aside
from visiting Catherine, the furthest south she’d ever gone
was the airport. But it was a lovely part of the state, and she
now understood why her friend was reticent to give up her
Hillsborough home.
As she had expected they would, her thoughts repeatedly
went to Fionnuala. Every time there was a lull in the
conversation, the image of her sister flashed into her mind.
And looking ahead at Ryan only made those images more
intense.
It struck her like a physical blow to focus on how much it
would have meant to her sister to have seen her baby grow
up. But the world was far from fair or kind. Fi had everything
in the world to live for, and no one fought harder to stay on
this planet, but she’d been whisked away without a second
thought by an unfeeling universe.
The closest Maeve had ever come to striking another
person was when mourners had said God had needed Fi in
Heaven more than on earth. What a horrible thing to think,
much less say. No omnipotent being needed Fi more than her
husband and her small children. To think so was utter
nonsense.
No, that’s not how God interacted with humanity. She
wasn’t sure how it all worked, but she was certain He didn’t
get involved in such matters. A loving God would not have
taken Michael and Fi at such tender ages, and a selfish God
who took blessed souls for His own benefit was a concept she
could not believe anyone took solace in. Fi and Michael died
of diseases, pure and simple. They were in the wrong place at
the right time, and their bodies had failed them, not their God.
No force on earth could make her think different.
Cancer was an opportunistic invader, and people had to
figure out how to stop it. Praying was fine—she did more
than she could begin to calculate—but praying wouldn’t
provide the funds to do the basic scientific research that could
make a difference. And that’s what this walk could help
provide—support and awareness and money. That’s all she
could do for her sister now, and she desperately hoped it was
enough to save another family the pain theirs had gone
through.

By eleven-thirty Catherine was starving, a state Ryan

couldn’t recalled her ever being in. They reached the lunch
stop and Catherine ate every bite of her lunch and was
surreptitiously eyeing the line as if she was going to get in it
once again. “I have some good snacks if you’re still hungry,”
Jamie said to her mother.
“I’m sure I’ve had enough. It’s just that this much exercise
and fresh air works up an appetite in a way I’m quite
unfamiliar with.”
“Now you’re beginning to understand me,” Ryan said,
laughing. “Maybe now you won’t look at me like I’m from
another planet when I eat everything you haven’t nailed down
in your house.”
 Catherine patted her shoulder. “I will never have an
appetite like you do, but for me, this is gluttony.”
#
At around three o’clock, they still had five miles to go.
They were all tired, but all equally determined. The stopped
in the parking lot of a high school for a snack and were
greeted by Jennie, who ran across the asphalt yelling like she
was slightly crazed.
“How in the heck did you get here?” Ryan said when the
girl threw her arms around her.
“Conor left work early and picked me up so we could
volunteer.”
Months earlier, when Conor had suggested that he and
Jennie could volunteer, Ryan knew that it was going to be a
very ad hoc volunteer opportunity. The 3 Day was very well
organized, and they didn’t let people just walk up and help
out for a few minutes. Especially when they were underage
and unsupervised. So there was no possibility for a valid
volunteer stint. But Jennie was wearing the 3 Day pink T-shirt
and baseball cap that Ryan had bought for her, and she looked
fairly official. Conor came ambling along, also wearing a
pink T-shirt, but his fit him like a second skin and Ryan
watched nearly every woman nearby follow him with her
eyes as he walked across the parking lot.
“Who wants a ride?” he said, grinning. “No one will
know.”
“You’re a darling boy to come down here,” his aunt said.
“And it was lovely of you to bring Jennie.”
 He slung his arm around his young friend. “That’s us—
darling and lovely. Hey, are there any more of those cookies?”
“Don’t even think about taking the food intended for the
walkers,” Ryan warned. “You’ve got a car and a wallet; you
can buy whatever you want.”
“I just hate to waste food.”
“With my newfound appetite, there’s not going to be any
left,” Catherine declared. “Actually, if you could find me
some really good quality chocolate, I’d be forever in your
debt.” She looked at the several sets of eyes that were staring
at her. “What? I like a nice piece of chocolate now and then.”
#
They finished just before five o’clock, with their support
team waiting for them. Conor handed each of them an
expensive artisanal chocolate bar. “I think Hershey’s are
probably just as good, but they say this stuff is super special.”
Catherine ripped hers open and took a bite, making an
ecstatic face. “This is super, super special.” She put her hands
on Conor’s shoulder’s, stood on her tip toes, and kissed his
cheek. “You are a god.”
“That’s what they tell me. So what’s the plan?”
Ryan spoke up. “I think it’d be fun to meet some of the
other walkers and talk over dinner. But we can’t have guests.
Would you to mind having dinner on your own and then
giving us a lift to our hotel?”
Conor looked at Jennie and they both shrugged. “No.
That’s cool.”
 Catherine’s cell phone rang and she pulled it out of her
pack to answer. After speaking for a minute, she hung up and
said, “Marta made dinner for all of us and she’s meeting us at
the hotel. Is that okay, Ryan?” She took a quick look at the
long line of people queuing up for dinner.
“I’m not in charge. Majority rules here.”
“Marta,” Conor said immediately.
“Marta,” Jennie joined in.
Jamie furtively raised her hand, then Maeve joined her. “I
think Marta wins,” Catherine said.
“Well, I’m not going to stand in line by myself to eat
something that will definitely not be as good as anything
Marta can make,” Ryan said. “Let’s take off.” In reality, she
would have much preferred to eat whatever the organizers
were dishing out. It wasn’t about the food, it was about the
camaraderie, but she’d resolved to be part of the group, and
this group clearly didn’t want to socialize.
#
Since the Cypress was the nicest hotel within fifty miles,
they hadn’t checked out that morning, as per Catherine’s
instructions. So they headed back to Cupertino, with Maeve
and Catherine in the front seat of Conor’s truck, and Ryan,
Jamie and Jennie squeezed into the back.
“I apologize for telling you that you didn’t need a ‘crew
cab’ when you bought this,” Ryan said. “It’s come in handy
plenty of times.”
“I’m not one of those jerks who makes his crew ride in the
bed, telling them to keep their heads down if they see a cop,”
Conor said. “Those guys are ass…inine,” he finished, sparing
a grin for his aunt.
“For giving us a lift, you can curse all you want,” Maeve
teased. “I don’t know how we thought we were going to get
back to the hotel.”
“I had it all arranged—” Catherine clapped her hand over
her mouth, grabbed for her phone, and started to dial a
number, saying, “I forgot to cancel the limo!”
#
Catherine and Maeve were sharing a two bedroom suite.
The living room was remarkably large for a hotel room, with
a full sized sofa and several upholstered chairs. It was just big
enough for the whole crowd to gather and enjoy the dinner
that Marta had prepared.
It was clear she’d spent the entire day making delectable
finger food that didn’t have to be refrigerated. The smallish
dining table was filled with sandwiches, a delicious gazpacho,
vegetables and various dips, and an artfully arranged fruit
platter. They all attacked the repast with such gusto that Marta
wore a smile she could not even try to hide. Few things made
her happier than having people enjoy the food she’d prepared,
and she was nearly gleeful at the enthusiasm everyone
exhibited.
Catherine’s phone rang, and she took a quick look at it.
Her face lit up with delight and she said, “Excuse me. I have
to take this call,” then disappeared into her bedroom.
Jamie looked at Ryan and muttered, “Giacomo.”
 Ryan simply nodded. Neither of them was overly fond of
the place Giacomo held in Catherine’s life, but Jamie had a
much tougher time with it. Still, she’d promised she’d try to
be supportive of her mother, and had done an admirable job
so far. Only Ryan had to listen to her not-so-secret
grumblings.
#
Catherine lay down on her bed and answered the phone,
saying, “They said it couldn’t be done, but I did, in fact,
manage to walk twenty-three miles today. I’m not sure how
many kilometers that is, so I’ll say it was fifty and hope you
believe me.”
“The mere sound of your voice makes me smile. I wish
you had a camera so I could see you speak. I know you look
beautiful, because I can hear your beauty in your words.”
She laughed, shaking her head at the over-the-top way he
insisted on characterizing her. Much of what he said was a
ridiculous exaggeration, and some of it was complete
fabrication, but she loved that he said it anyway. “I think the
phone lines must add something if I sound beautiful. I feel
like I’ve been dragged down the street while being trampled.”
“Then you should stop!”
He sounded so outraged that she couldn’t help but feel
cared for. “No, no, it’s not that bad. Maeve and I have walked
further than this many times. We’re tired mostly because none
of us slept well last night due to the excitement. But part of
the endeavor is to do something difficult.”
 “I know we have discussed this before, but I still cannot
imagine how doing something difficult helps other people
with an illness. I would think it would help more to visit the
people with the disease and show them you care about them.”
She laughed to herself, realizing he’d never understand the
concept. “Maybe it’s an American thing. We like to do
difficult things to show we can. A Protestant work ethic,
perhaps.”
“I do not know many Protestants,” he said with a chuckle.
“Just one. A very important one.”
“Jamie brought a camera and she took a lot of pictures
today. Would you like me to send you some of them?”
“Anything that is important to you, is important to me.
But make sure every picture you send includes you. I never
tire of looking at your face.”
“I never tire of hearing from you. I love you, Giacomo.
Very much.”
“And I love you. My love for you grows every day, and
I’m nearly sick with desire to see you again. Will you visit me
soon?”
“No. I’m afraid I can’t come soon. After I get back from
Australia, we’ll make plans.”
“I’ll come to California if you would like.”
“We’ll see. I’d be happy to meet you in New York.
Actually, I was thinking about buying an apartment there.”
“That would be wonderful! Why don’t I plan a trip for
early October? Would you be able to go that soon? We could
look for apartments together.”
 “For you, yes. For you, anything.”
His voice lowered, sounding even sexier than usual. “You
make me very happy. And even though I can tell you’re tired,
you sound very good, very happy. I think you’re proud of
yourself, and I love that.”
She could feel herself blushing. “I am proud for having
done this. And, I don’t know if I can explain this well, but it
feels wonderful to be part of something. I feel like I fit in.
Like all of us sitting in the hotel room this evening having
dinner are truly part of the same crowd. It’s wonderful.”
“You fit in everywhere. Everyone who meets you falls a
little bit in love with you.”
Sometimes his praise went to her head like bubbles in a
good glass of champagne. “Well, they can’t have me; I’m
yours.”
#
A very unhappy Jennie had to go back to Oakland, and at
eight, she and Conor prepared to leave. “We’ll be back early
tomorrow,” Conor said. “And we’ll bring extra food.” He
winked at Catherine.
“It’s not even dark yet, and I’m ready for bed,” Catherine
said. “No wonder athletes aren’t often seen in the chic clubs.
They’re in bed before they open.”
“I’m right behind you,” Ryan added. “That bed was so
comfortable, it felt like lying on clouds. I’ll be asleep in two
minutes.”
Jamie didn’t comment that they could have a bed just as
comfortable if Ryan wasn’t so emotionally attached to the
thirty-year-old mattress they slept on. They kissed everyone
good night, then went down the hall to their room.
“It’s not much like the AIDS Ride, is it?” Jamie asked,
smirking.
Ryan started to strip her clothes off. Her T-shirt was
covering her face when she said, “It could be, if we spent any
time interacting with anyone else, let alone eating and
sleeping with them.” She tossed her clothes near her suitcase
and went into the bathroom, where she stood, naked, with her
hands on her hips, surveying the huge soaking tub. “It’s not
quite the same as waiting in a long line for a vaguely warm
shower in a trailer.”
Jamie walked in and stood behind her, wrapping her in a
hug. “Are you very disappointed?”
Ryan patted her hands. “Yes and no. Once your mom got
involved, I knew I could either go my way or hers. I chose
hers, so this is only slightly more indulgent than I
anticipated.”
“Slightly? Really?”
Ryan turned and grinned. “Okay, I’ll admit I still can’t
guess how many notches she’ll ramp things up. I knew we
wouldn’t sleep on the ground, but I didn’t anticipate a five
star hotel.”
“I think it’s pretty nice. Actually, I think I’m gonna climb
in the tub with you.” She started taking her clothes off as
well.
Ryan sat on the edge of the tub and watched her. “I’m not
saying it’s not nice. If your mom’s involved, it’s gonna be
nice. I’m just saying I don’t think she and my aunt got the
same kind of connection to the event that we got with the
AIDS ride. They didn’t even train with other people, and
there were a million opportunities for it.”
Now naked, Jamie leaned over to start the tub. “My mom
isn’t one for crowds. The mere fact that she did this was
really uncharacteristic for her, and I’m proud of her.”
Ryan turned and wrapped her arms around Jamie, then
tumbled her onto her lap where she started to kiss every bit of
skin she could reach.
“I’m proud of her, too, and of my aunt. I guess it’s better
to have some of the experience than none of it.”
“That’s the way to think of it, slugger. Now climb in and
get ready to relax.”
#
They were both relaxed and sleepy when they got into
bed. Jamie was nearly out when the bed shook, waking her.
“Was that you or an earthquake?”
“Me. My legs keep twitching. My thighs are trying to
remind me that twenty-three miles is a long way.”
Jamie reached over and put her hand on Ryan’s upper
thigh and felt the muscle twitch. She fought off her tiredness
and started to scoot down the bed. “I’ve got a great idea. I’ll
make all the rest of you twitch, and then you won’t notice
your legs.”
Ryan looked down at her sweet face and said, “You are
the most generous of women. The sexiest, too. Let’s get
busy.”
 #
Conor arrived at the group home bright and early on
Saturday morning. Jennie really wanted to be at the start
when the walkers left Belmont High School at seven-thirty,
but Conor couldn’t convince himself that being there that
early would be of any benefit to anyone, especially himself. It
was after nine when he rang the bell and Sandy, the
housemother, answered. “Good morning,” she said.
She’d been a little grouchy the night before when he
brought Jennie home, and he figured her mood probably
deteriorated throughout the day, as this particular house full
of girls could have made a saint grouchy.
“Good morning. Is Jennie ready to go?”
“I think so.” She looked across the room and caught the
eye of a sullen looking girl. “Sabrina, would you go see if
Jennie is ready?”
“Why does she get to go out?” she asked in a heavily
accented voice. “She should have to stay and finish all the
housework.”
Sandy gave Conor a tight smile. “I don’t feel like having
an argument this morning, so I’ll go.” She went across the
room to climb the stairs and Conor walked over to Sabrina.
“What’s your story?” he said. He perched his large body
on the arm of the sofa and gave her an unblinking stare.
“I don’t have to talk to you.”
“No, you don’t, but I’m interested. Why do you give
Jennie a hard time?”
 “She’s a puta.” She practically spat the word. “She gets
whatever she wants because she screws that girl for money.”
That set his hackles on edge, given that he understood she
was talking about his sister. But he tried to remind himself
that no one in the group home had had a good life, and their
view of the world was particularly jaded. “Jennie doesn’t
screw me, and I still like her. Some people like each other
without getting sex.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Why would she sleep with
you? You’re a faggot.”
He jerked when she said that, then realized that it didn’t
do a bit of good to try to reason with this bitter child. He
considered threatening her, but she’d probably been
threatened her whole life and it had only made her meaner.
“How about this? Everybody likes money, right?”
She rolled her eyes, but nodded.
He pulled out his wallet and found two twenties and a ten,
the last of his cash. He held it out to her and said, “If you just
ignore Jennie, I’ll pay you fifty bucks a week.”
She looked at the money, then back at him. “What else?”
“Nothing else. I just want people to quit busting her
chops, and I’m willing to pay to make sure that happens.”
She reached for the money and started to tug on it, but he
was still holding on tight. “If you even say a nasty word to
her, I’m not paying. You have to either ignore her or be nice
to her. I’ll ask her every week and she’ll tell me the truth, you
know.”
 “I say nothing to her, and you give me the fifty dollars.”
She looked at him like he was telling the biggest lie she’d
ever heard.
“That’s right. Ignore her, and I pay you.”
This time when she pulled on the money, he let go. “I will
never even look at the little whore again.”
“Then we’ll both be happy.”
#
They’d been in the truck for a while, but Conor hadn’t
spoken much. He was torn over what to tell Jennie about
Sabrina, knowing that he could easily dump the whole
incident in Ryan’s lap and be done with it. But he’d made the
deal, and he wanted to be in the loop. Plus, Sabrina seemed
like the type to take the money and knock Jennie’s block off
just to see if she could get away with it.
“Hey, uhm, something happened when I was waiting for
you,” he said, making Jennie’s head snap up in alarm.
“What?”
“Nothing bad. I talked to your roommate for a minute.
Nice chick.” Sarcasm dripped from his words.
“Yeah, she’s an angel.”
“I’ve never seen a girl who looks so…”
“Mean?”
He laughed. “She does look mean. And she’s got a filthy
mouth. Does she talk to Sandy like that?”
“Nobody gives Sandy a hard time. She doesn’t put up with
too much. What did Sabrina say?”
“Well, I started it. I asked why she was so bitchy to you.”
 Jennie choked at that, coughing loudly for a few seconds.
“You asked her that?”
“Yeah. I guess I shouldn’t have, but I did. She didn’t have
a good reason.”
“I don’t think she’d even notice me, since I’m hardly ever
there. It’s her girlfriend who makes a big deal out of her
sharing a room with another girl. Like I’d hit on her!” Her
eyes were so wide, Conor had to laugh.
“No, I can’t see you choosing her as your prom date.”
“I’m afraid to look at her. She keeps telling me that her
girlfriend is gonna cut my throat.” She laughed nervously. “I
think she’s full of it. At least I hope she is.”
“Look, I…uhm…probably shouldn’t have said
anything…”
“What did you say?” Her voice was three times louder
than it had been just a moment earlier. She actually looked as
if she might hyperventilate.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I told her I’d pay her to leave you
alone.”
Jennie was silent for a moment, and when Conor shot a
look at her, she was gazing at him with narrowed eyes.
“You’re gonna pay her? To do what?”
“To do nothing. I’m gonna pay her to ignore you. Her and
her girlfriend. I told her that I’d check with you every week.
If she leaves you alone and doesn’t get up in your face, I’ll
pay her.”
“Why?”
 He looked at her again, unable to discern what her real
question was. “Why what? Pay her?”
“Yeah. Why pay her?”
“It’s all I could think of. I was gonna threaten her, but I
thought that might backfire.” He shrugged. “I didn’t have
anything else to offer.”
“Do I hafta pay you back? ’Cause I’ve got, like, no
money.”
“No, Jen, you don’t have to pay me back. It pisses me off
that you’re stuck in that situation, and I wanted to do
something to help. What do you think? Will it help?” He
snuck another look, and saw a sunny grin aimed at him.
“It sure couldn’t hurt. My only idea was to run away, but I
knew Ryan would dog me.”
“You don’t need to run away. Hang in there, Jen. We’ll
figure out a way to keep you safe.”
#
They only had to cover a bit over sixteen miles, but that
included a five-hundred-foot climb to Skyline College in San
Bruno. It was warm, much warmer than any of them were
used to. Doing their training in San Francisco might have
been a mistake. It was hard for people outside the Bar Area to
understand, but the microclimate in the city was dramatically
different from that of the South Bay. On many of their
training walks, it was fifty degrees in the city and eighty-five
in the South Bay.
Of course, training in the heat didn’t necessarily acclimate
one for exercising in it. Catherine guessed most of the
walkers trained in spots that experienced normal summer
temperatures, and still they wobbled up the hill. She’d lost
count of how many people slowed and finally stopped,
plopping down on the side of the road to wait for a van to
take them the rest of the way.
She wasn’t good at guessing temperatures, but Catherine
would have wagered it was hotter than eighty-five at the
moment. The black macadam radiated heat, and it felt like her
feet were being slowly roasted.
She hadn’t expressed her intention to anyone, but she’d
decided she was going to walk every step of the sixty miles. If
she got sunstroke, she was going to mark the spot and return
to it when she was released from the hospital.
The notion made her laugh, thinking of how her eagle-
eyed young companions would notice any signs of heat-
related trouble before she did. But even though she was one
hundred percent determined, the stress of climbing the hill
was getting to her.
Maeve was doggedly marching up the hill alongside her,
and she wasn’t about to let her friend, who was nearly ten
years her senior, best her at this non-competition. She was no
Ryan O’Flaherty, but she had her pride.
#
Once again, Conor and Jennie were waiting to fetch them.
This time, they presented a cooler filled with ice and various
kinds of teas and flavored waters.
 Catherine picked a green tea and delivered another kiss to
Conor for pulling out an icy chocolate bar along with her
drink.
#
The only accommodations that came close to Catherine’s
standards for their overnight stay was a hotel near the airport.
They didn’t have a two bedroom suite, so she had to accept a
one bedroom with two queen beds. She could have easily
reserved two such rooms, or gotten Maeve her own standard
room, but she was trying hard to be part of the group while
not making her friend uncomfortable. It was often difficult to
get her own needs met while being respectful of the
O’Flaherty lifestyle, and she’d pondered hard how to offer a
hotel room without offending Maeve. Sharing a room seemed
the easy way out, but she had second thoughts as soon as they
entered what suddenly seemed like an intimate space.
“Is this all right?” she asked when the bellman placed
their suitcases on racks near the ends of the beds.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” Maeve said, sounding sincere.
Catherine hadn’t shared a room with a woman since
college, and it felt very odd to share, not just a bedroom, but a
bath. But she so desperately wanted to belong that she forced
herself to consider this an adventure. An adventure she’d like
to not have to repeat. Next time Maeve could suffer in her
own suite. Catherine would chink away at that O’Flaherty
money aversion one bit at a time.
#
 The hotel had a small, serviceable pool and a hot tub.
Jennie, Jamie, and Ryan were making use of both of them
when Conor quietly told Catherine and Maeve about the deal
he’d struck.
“Oh, that’s unconscionable!” Catherine looked like she
wanted to hit someone. Her cheeks were pink with anger and
Conor was glad he’d never made her mad.
“I probably shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought I
might be able to…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I
thought I could do, but it didn’t work.”
Catherine patted his arm. “You did a very nice thing. I’m
sorry Jennie had to learn that we’ve got to pay protection
money to keep her safe, but I suppose she wasn’t surprised.”
“No. Jen only seemed surprised that we all care about
her.”
#
Lying in bed that night, Catherine tossed and turned for
hours. For the first time in her life, she couldn’t use her
money or her influence to get her way.
Her influence would eventually, she was sure, have Jennie
living with her. Jim would find a way to pressure someone if
the normal channels didn’t work. And if he couldn’t do
anything, she’d find someone in the governor’s office who
could pull the right strings for the right donation to the right
campaign fund. But Jennie was in trouble now…right now…
and not being able to whisk her away from danger was
frustrating Catherine in a way that was unique and very, very
unpleasant.
 #
They were all a little stiff and cranky when they started
out on Sunday morning. They had twenty miles left to cover,
and it was early…far too early to be traipsing across San
Francisco.
They’d taken the BMW to the starting place, figuring
someone would give Ryan a ride back to fetch the car later.
Catherine and Jamie got the group ready early so they could
stop at Starbucks, a cappuccino or an espresso being a
required part of Catherine’s day, too.
It was cold and damp, and so foggy that they had a police
escort when they started off. Catherine had never been so
happy that she’d decided to stay in a hotel. The thought of
sleeping on the ground in a windy, wet, and foggy night was
beyond her imaginings.
She and Jamie let Ryan and Maeve walk ahead while they
sipped their second cups of coffee. She knew it looked silly to
be walking while holding two steaming cups, but Catherine
needed a boost and she didn’t know where to obtain any other
performance enhancing drugs.
“I hate to admit how much I love a good bed,” Catherine
said quietly, “but I don’t think I slept for twenty minutes last
night. It was like sleeping on a mat on the floor.”
Jamie wrapped an arm around her mother and gave her a
squeeze. “Part of the reason I’m anxious to buy a house is so
Ryan will finally part with the bed we sleep on. It was her
parents’.” She gave Catherine a pointed look.
“But her mother’s been gone since she was a child.”
 “Exactly. She’s very attached to it, but I’m going to
convince her it has to stay in the family home. Actually, I
shouldn’t worry. It would probably turn into dust if we tried
to move it.”
“I suppose I could love a man who was attached to an
uncomfortable bed, but he’d have to be quite a man!”
#
By the time they’d knocked off five miles, the fog had
dissipated and the temperature started to climb. Fortunately
they were heading towards the water, and the cooling breeze
from the bay kept them relatively comfortable.
Ryan watched the hundreds of people snaking down a
long hill and found herself misting up. Just being part of a
group this big was impressive, and doing it for something that
meant so much to her made it more so. She reached over and
took Jamie’s hand, smiling at her when Jamie turned. “I’m
happy,” she said.
Jamie squeezed her hand tenderly. “I am too. I’m liking
this, but I’m looking forward to doing the AIDS Ride again
next year. Even though this is hard, it’s not hard enough.” She
gave Ryan a lopsided grin. “Does that make any sense?”
“It does to me. But I think the main issue here is that
we’re not really a part of it. Staying with the group would
have made it more fun.”
“Yeah.” Jamie was quiet for a few minutes. “But I’m
really glad we did this with our moms.”
“Me too. Next year they can train their butts off and do the
AIDS Ride with us.” Just thinking about Catherine standing
in a long line for a shower after riding a hundred and fifty
miles made Ryan giggle.
#
Catherine surreptitiously watched Jamie and Ryan’s
playful interactions. There was something so heartwarming in
seeing them so happy that she repeatedly felt herself misting
up.
She wasn’t at all sure how the AIDS Ride had been
organized, but she was sure it had been much more rustic than
the past two days had been. Jamie generally didn’t care for
roughing it, but she was so malleable when it came to Ryan’s
desires that she would probably have slept on a bed of nails if
Ryan had insisted.
What made Ryan prefer to overcome discomfort was a
mystery to Catherine, but she recognized it was an elemental
part of her personality. It was so elemental that she had to be
disappointed that the walk was fairly stress-free—at least for
her. But it hadn’t been easy for Catherine, and she was
confident Maeve felt the same.
They were each doing the walk for their own reasons;
Catherine’s goal had been to do something challenging with
Jamie. As she looked at her daughter, walking confidently and
easily with her partner, she considered that she’d fully met
that goal. Of course, they could have suffered more, but
suffering for no point seemed awfully self-indulgent to
Catherine. There were times in life where one couldn’t avoid
pain. Inviting it into your life seemed foolish at the very least.
 She might not be able to express it as well as she would
have liked, but the past months had been deeply pleasurable
for her. She’d grown very close to Maeve, had gained some
ability to work through discomfort, and had, without doubt,
increased Jamie’s respect for her. That was an achievement
she hadn’t anticipated, but it was the most rewarding one.
Having Jamie’s respect made every sore muscle and blister
entirely worth it.
#
They’d slowed down for the last ten miles. There was no
rush, really, and it didn’t make sense to arrive before five,
when the closing ceremonies were scheduled to take place.
So they stopped for a long lunch, instead of the “grab ’n
go” tactic of taking a sandwich and eating it while they
walked.
There were chiropractors and physical therapists and
masseuses available, but the tiny team let Ryan soothe their
aching legs. She gamely rubbed three sets of legs, then
accepted a nice rub from Jamie.
The break had been nice, and starting up again was hard.
All of them felt stiff, and Catherine’s shins were starting to
bother her.
“Let’s do some stretches,” Ryan said. “We can get rid of
those aching shins.”
Catherine looked like she wanted to argue, but it was hard
to make much headway with Ryan, so they all did the
suggested stretches. When they finished, Catherine’s shins did
feel better, and they continued to walk towards the bay that
they could catch a glimpse of now and then.
#
They cruised into Marina Green at four-thirty, just in time
to meet up with their posse. Jennie managed to find them
moments after they’d finished, and she offered enthusiastic
hugs to all. “We’re having a big picnic!”
“That was a surprise,” Conor said, gently punching her
arm.
“That’s fantastic,” Catherine said. “Where’s the picnic?”
“Way over there,” Jen said, pointing in the distance.
“They’ve got most of the Green sectioned off for you
guys,” Conor said, “so we had to set up practically in the
Presidio, but it’ll be worth the walk. We’ve got enough food
for most of the people here.”
“Do you have chairs?” Catherine asked, sounding weak.
“We do. Lawn chairs for each of you. And a cake,” he
added dramatically.
#
The closing ceremonies were, in Maeve’s view, much
more moving than the opening had been. Maybe that was
because people were no longer anxious to get on their way.
Or maybe they were just more emotionally open after three
days of physical and mental ups and downs. Whatever the
reason, all four of the little gang were in tears when the
volunteers paraded along, twenty abreast. It took ten minutes
for all of them to pass, a chorus of applause and shouts of
thanks spreading all along the long greensward.
 Their foursome was standing with their arms slung around
each other’s shoulders, and feeling engulfed by that warmth
made Maeve teary-eyed.
They’d all gotten closer during their months of training,
particularly she and Catherine. Her friend had experienced a
very tough year emotionally, and Maeve knew the walk had
given her a certain structure that had been very healing.
They’d talked for hundreds of hours that spring and summer,
and she’d learned many things about her, things she was
certain Catherine shared only because of their growing
closeness. Maeve was confident Catherine was healing,
slowly but surely, and the walk was another watermark of her
growth. The girls probably would have done things
differently, but the way they’d done it had worked well and
Maeve wouldn’t have changed a thing. She’d gotten close to
Catherine, had participated in something that meant a great
deal to her, and had honored the memory of her beloved
sister. She was beyond content.
#
As with many such events, the organizers didn’t seem to
want it to end. They called upon person after person to say a
few words, but the people were so moved by their experience
that they had a hard time being succinct. Catherine was
edging towards the picnic, sneaking a few feet away when
everyone’s back was turned. Jamie caught her and pulled her
back into the scrum. “Mom’s voting to ditch. Who’s in
favor?”
 As with each vote, it was three to one, and Ryan went
along peaceably for the final time.
 CHAPTER FIVE

The day after the walk, Catherine surprised Maeve with an

invitation for a pedicure and lunch. Maeve couldn’t accept
quickly enough, and soon they were seated next to each other
at a salon not far from Catherine’s house, enjoying strong
cups of green tea from a new shop that had opened nearby.
“I would say this is possibly the best cup of tea I’ve had in
San Francisco,” Maeve said. “I don’t know why it’s so
difficult to find someone who can boil water properly, but for
some reason, it’s beyond most Americans.”
“My mother drank a lot of tea, and she would only hire
English cooks because she said they were the only people
who knew how to make it.”
Smiling, Maeve said, “She probably didn’t know many
Irish.”
“I’m certain she didn’t. Her world was remarkably insular;
I’m confident that all of her friends were WASPS.”
“I have no room to talk. All of my friends are Catholic. As
a matter of fact, they’re all Irish! I suppose we tend to stick
with what’s familiar.”
“I’m glad Ryan was adventurous enough to choose an
Episcopalian.” Catherine sat there for a moment, trying to
decide how direct to be. She wouldn’t normally discuss
something so intimate with a friend, but Maeve was
becoming more than that. “There’s something that makes me
believe Martin might be alone in coming over to attend
services at Charles’,” she said. “Am I wrong?”
Maeve didn’t reply immediately. She took another sip of
her tea then shook her head slightly. “It’s very difficult for
me. Martin’s anger is powerful enough to allow him to
change his faith without a single look back. but I don’t have
the same emotion forcing me out. I’m going to have to choose
to leave, and the choice isn’t easy.”
“Do you mind talking about your decision?”
Maeve reached over and gently patted Catherine’s hand. “I
feel comfortable talking to you about everything, but my
thoughts around this are such a jumble, I’m not sure what to
say.”
“What makes you want to leave the Catholic Church?”
Maeve let out a weak laugh that sounded more derisive
than happy. “I’m embarrassed to say how long my list is.
When I think of the throttle-hold that the church had on
Ireland for so many centuries, I’m filled with both anger and
deep, deep sadness. Some truly evil men ran roughshod over
my mam in particular. And she didn’t have any way of
understanding that those were bad people. She’d been so
thoroughly indoctrinated that the priest was a direct emissary
of God that I’m sure it didn’t occur to her. But ignoring my
history, I have to face that both my oldest son and my dear
niece are unwelcome. Aggressively unwelcome in the
Cardinal’s eyes. And I don’t think you need a degree in
theology to know that was not Jesus’ message.”
 She grew quiet then, compelling Catherine to eventually
say, “But it’s still hard for you.”
“Intensely. My whole life has been entwined with the
Catholic Church. Every major decision I’ve ever made has
been based on my faith. I’ve come to realize that many of the
priests are poor representatives of God’s message, but I’ve
still always believed that we follow the direct message of
Jesus handed down to St. Peter.” She looked like she was
about to cry. “How do I let go of that? Isn’t it my duty to stay
with the church and try to change the things that are wrong
with it? That’s what I would do with my own family.”
Her voice had taken on an edge Catherine had never heard
from her.
“I was married to a man who beat me and was abusive to
my darling boys, and yet I never considered divorcing him.
That was because I had pledged myself to him before God.
Was I just a fool?”
Tears started to slide down her cheeks and Catherine
handed her a tissue while putting an arm around her for a
tender hug. “Of course you weren’t a fool. You’re doing what
you truly believe in. There’s no shame in that, Maeve. None
at all. And if you decide to stay with the Catholic Church, I’m
certain that no one will hold that against you.”
“Not even Siobhan?”
“You know that girl as well as anyone. I know she would
respect you for doing what you think is right, even if it didn’t
match her beliefs.” She squeezed Maeve’s chilled hand. “You
know that.”
 “I do.” She shivered, even though the salon was quite
warm. “I definitely haven’t made up my mind, but I have
greatly enjoyed going to Charles’ parish. He’s a wonderful
homilist.”
“I know I feel much better for having gone back to
attending fairly regularly. Charles always gives me something
to think about.”
“The same goes for me,” Maeve said, “even though those
thoughts are often very uncomfortable.”
#
A few days after the walk, Brendan unexpectedly rang
the bell at Catherine’s San Francisco home. As usual, Marta
answered the door and asked Brendan to wait in the living
room. Minutes later, Catherine arrived, looking rather smug.
“This is a lovely surprise,” she said.
“I don’t like to drop in unannounced, but I was on my way
home and found myself driving down your street.”
“Unexpectedly?”
“Very. It’s a mile out of my way, and traffic’s pretty bad
tonight.” They were both standing, and he moved closer to
her and peered into her eyes. He acted as if he were a scientist
and she were a creature he’d heard about but had never seen
in captivity. “I just couldn’t get you off my mind this
afternoon. I don’t know how you work your magic, but I’m
glad you’re on my side.”
She showed a smile that was both demure and crafty. “I
can’t guess what you’re talking about.”
 Chuckling to himself, he headed for the door. When he got
there, he turned and looked at her. “I’m sure you already
know this, but the judge somehow found an open spot on his
calendar. See you in court tomorrow morning at nine.”
#
Catherine was waiting outside the assigned courtroom
when Brendan came jogging down the hallway of surrogate’s
court the next morning. He looked very much like he had the
day she saw him at his office, although today he had added a
dark blue blazer. “Sorry I’m running behind,” he said. “I had
a couple of emergencies at the office this morning.”
She stood on her tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re in plenty of time. I hope you know how much I
appreciate your doing this for me.”
He grinned boyishly. “I appreciate that you’re doing this
for Jennie. Once she gets settled, her life is going to improve
tremendously.”
“I’m going to do everything I can to make that come
true.” They set down on a bench outside the courtroom. “I
feel like I’m playing hooky. This is the first day in months I
haven’t gone for a long morning walk.”
“You deserve time off for good behavior. You’d better
watch out, or Ryan will have you doing the AIDS Ride next
year.”
“That might actually kill me,” she said, laughing.
A bailiff emerged from the courtroom and signaled to
Brendan. “The judge is ready for you.”
 They got up together and went in, finding the courtroom
filled with a variety of people waiting for their turn. But
instead of joining the crowd, the bailiff led them past the
bench and into the judge’s chambers. Before they had time to
sit down, another man entered, looking harried. “Jerry
Downs,” he said, offering his hand to Brendan. “I’m
representing DCSF.”
Before they had completed the introductions, the judge
entered and sat down behind his desk. He didn’t bother with
formalities, just picked up the file and thumbed through the
first few pages. Finally, he looked up. “Who’s from the
state?”
Mr. Downs raised his hand.
“Do you have any objection to the minor being placed
with Mrs. Evans?” He looked down at the folder again, then
corrected himself, “Sorry. Ms. Smith.”
“No, your Honor,” Mr. Downs said.
“Okay. The state will do the usual investigation and as
soon as they’re finished, I’ll issue a temporary order awarding
custody to Ms. Smith. Within one hundred and twenty days of
that order, we’ll have a formal hearing to determine
permanent custody. Any questions?”
“Does that mean Jennie can stay with me right away?”
Catherine asked.
“As soon as someone from DCFS can complete an
evaluation of your home and do a background check. I can’t
predict how long that will take.” He paused, then added,
“They can’t be rushed. The evaluation is critical, Ms. Smith.”
 “I understand.”
“I know you’re anxious to get this done, but...”
“I’ll wait patiently. Thank you so much, your Honor,”
Catherine said, beaming at him. “This will mean more to
Jennie than you can imagine.”
“My pleasure. Say hello to your…Senator Evans for me.
He and I worked together a few times over the years.”
“I definitely will.” They all stood and shook hands, then
started to walk out of the chambers. Mr. Downs waved
quickly and said, “Gotta go.” Then he took off as though he
were running for a bus.
“Things move very quickly around here,” Catherine said.
Brendan gave her a half smile. “They can, especially if
someone has the ability to shake things up.”
 CHAPTER SIX

August the fifteenth. Exactly one month before the start of

the Sydney Olympic Games. All summer long, everyone at
training camp had been assured the final squad would be
announced while they were in Asia. But the coaches had
delayed, and had decided to announce the final roster one
month before the opening ceremonies.
Since everyone had been working towards the day the
team would be finalized, and then the decision had not been
made as promised, Mia had seen a marked diminution in
effort, as well as results, once the original date had passed.
She wouldn’t have ever said a word to Jordan about it, but the
team looked as flat and lifeless as she’d seen them.
Still, Jordan plugged away while maintaining her
remarkably strict diet. She could now eat more vegetables, so
she wasn’t as bored by food as she’d been, but she was still as
lean as a greyhound. Her sleep hadn’t been sound while
they’d been traveling, but nothing stopped her from working
hard and focusing her best.
When Mia opened her eyes she squinted across the dark
room, finally focusing on Jordan who was straddling a
straight back chair. Jordan had either gotten up before the
alarm, or she hadn’t slept at all. Given how she looked, the
smart money was on the latter.
“Honey?”
“Yeah,” Jordan said softly. “I’m here.”
 “What are you doing?”
“I’m sitting here thinking about how my life is going to
change today. After that noon time press conference, I’m
either going to be an Olympian or a washout.”
Mia got out of bed and walked over to her. “You’re going
to be an Olympian,” she whispered fiercely.
Jordan tilted her head and looked into Mia’s eyes. “I think
so too.” She shook her head almost imperceptibly. “I’m not
sure making the team is the better outcome.” She swung a leg
over the chair and went to the window, where she leaned
against the frame and stared out onto the darkened buildings
of their apartment complex. “Sometimes it’s scarier to have
your dreams come true.”
Mia wanted to go to her and offer some comfort, but she
was at a loss. She’d never had a goal like Jordan’s, and not
having that frame of reference made true understanding
difficult. It would probably take someone with Jordan’s drive
and determination to be able to really be empathetic. The best
Mia could do was offer sympathy. She knew that wasn’t the
same, and it probably wasn’t what Jordan needed, but it was
all she had in her bag of tricks.
#
Now that they lived alone, Jordan had to take the car to
get to the training facility every day. That usually wasn’t a
problem, but today having access to the car would have come
in handy for Mia to get to the press conference where the
team members would be announced.
 She spent a ridiculous amount of time on the phone and
the Internet trying to find the best way to get to the Olympic
facility from their apartment via public transportation. After a
while, she felt as if she was the only person in the history of
Colorado Springs who had wanted to go in that particular
direction. Eventually she had her marching orders. She left
the house at ten-thirty, just to make sure she wouldn’t be late;
she reached her general destination at eleven-fifteen. It took
some wandering around the campus to find the appropriate
building, but she was there well before noon.
Having never been to a press conference where they were
announcing an Olympic team, Mia had no idea how long it
would take. Luckily, given that it was scorching hot and she
was sitting in the full sun, it was over by twelve-fifteen. At
twelve-seventeen, the front door of the building opened and a
group of exuberant volleyball players, trainers, and coaches
emerged. Mia’s heart was hammering in her chest as she
searched the faces, looking for Jordan. Her cell phone rang
and she grabbed for it just as a gorgeous creature reached the
threshold of the building and met her eyes. That beautiful
woman shoved her phone back into her pocket and launched
herself into the air, performing three essentially perfect
cartwheels, stopping just short of where Mia stood. Jordan’s
golden hair shone like the brilliant sun, her eyes sparkled with
a blue that Mia was unable to even name, and her smile could
have lit the city. Mia had never seen a lovelier woman.
“Guess what.”
 “You’re an Olympian,” Mia said, even though the
question had obviously been rhetorical. “And I’ve never been
prouder of you.”
#
For the first time since they’d been together, Jordan
seemed completely and utterly relaxed. All of the anxiety of
their pre-dawn discussion was gone, replaced by a surfeit of
confidence that Mia found remarkably attractive. This was a
Jordan she’d only seen snippets of, and each snippet had been
compelling.
They spent the afternoon calling everyone they knew and
fielding calls from friends all over the country. Mia was
amazed at how many people from Jordan’s volleyball career
found her number and called to congratulate her, but she
realized she’d do the same thing if she were one of them.
Jordan was a wonderful teammate. She wasn’t overly
friendly, and was never the one to suggest going out to
celebrate a victory or moan over a loss. But she was rock-
solid, always empathetic, and consistently supportive of
everyone she played with. That was a remarkable, admirable
quality. When you put that together with the sleek body and
gorgeous face, it made perfect sense that Mia wanted to throw
the phone away and spend the rest of the day worshiping her
Olympic goddess.
#
A few days after the team was announced, Mia checked
the mail and found a nice card from her parents. She showed
it to Jordan as soon as she got back from practice. “Somebody
loves you,” she teased, making the card dance up Jordan’s leg
and land on her chest.
Jordan took the card and looked at it for a long time.
When she’d finished, she thwacked it against her leg a few
times. “This was really nice. It was sweet of your mom to
ignore the impulse to send champagne. Not sending it
because I couldn’t drink it is as thoughtful as actually sending
it. Nice.”
Mia sat on her lap and draped her arms around Jordan’s
neck. “I could have had the whole bottle. I’m not training for
anything.”
“Sure you are. You’re training to be the world’s best
girlfriend.” She kissed her gently. “You’re doing great, by the
way. I think you’ve got a lock on the gold medal.”
“My mom did send a present we can both use.” She
reached into her pocket and took out a check. “Twenty-five-
hundred bucks. She said they wanted to make sure I could
afford to travel with you and stay in a decent hotel.”
Jordan hugged her tightly for a long time. “That’s really
thoughtful. They obviously love you a lot, even though I
know they’ve hurt you this year.”
“Yeah, they do. I’m beginning to feel their love again, and
that’s big.” She put the check back in her pocket. “If I were a
nice person, I’d tell my mom Jamie gave me a ticket to
Sydney months ago and return the check.” She took a nibble
out of Jordan’s ear which was too close to ignore. “I’m not a
nice person.”
#
 It took a very long time to get out of bed. When they
finally got to their rubbery legs, Jamie took a look at the
clock. “It’s only eight? What time did you make your not-so-
subtle suggestion that we hump like bunnies?”
“About seven, I think. I didn’t look at the clock, but I
think we’ve been playing for around an hour.”
“That sounds right. I need a good hour to savor you
properly.”
“A good hour is right.” Ryan showed her most sated grin.
“You got me good.”
Jamie walked over to her and held her in a loose hug.
“What’s on the agenda now that we got that sex thing out of
the way?”
“Jen’s final exam’s this morning, so I thought I’d pick her
up from school.”
“And do what?”
Ryan looked adorably puzzled as she scratched her head.
“I didn’t think that far ahead.”
“Are you going to work?”
The summer vacation Jamie had envisioned, of lying in
the grass while reading fascinating novels, had been partially
realized. Sadly, she’d realized it alone. Ryan was working
nearly every day helping the O’Flaherty Cousins partnership
fix up a dilapidated apartment building in The Mission, doing
jobs that were far beyond Jamie’s interest or capability.
Jamie had had no idea how much work it would take to
turn a distressed apartment building into a nice one. The
project was taking up every second of free time any of the
boys had. Though she wasn’t technically part of the group—
financially, at least—Ryan was putting in more hours than
any of them, but that wasn’t surprising. Jamie had offered to
help do whatever unskilled labor was required, but when she
did show up it seemed pretty clear the cousins were having to
create work for her, and she didn’t want to be a burden.
“Yeah, we’re going to start tearing shingles off. We’ve got
to remediate the whole area.”
Jamie nodded agreeably, though she had no idea what
Ryan was talking about. Many construction terms were a bit
over her head, and she wanted to keep them there. “So what
will you do with Jen? Just take her home?”
“Nah. That’s not much of a way to celebrate the end of
school.” Ryan’s eyes brightened. “I’ll take her with me to
OFC. She’ll dig that.”
“I bet she’s a wonderful remediator. Or something.”
#
Ryan climbed up a twelve-foot ladder for what seemed
like the thousandth time. They were removing asbestos
shingles from the OFC building, and her job was to work on
an era that was too high to reach from the ground and too low
for the scaffolding they’d had to rent. She’d just reached the
highest rung she could safely work from when she heard a
very familiar voice say, “Which one of you is my girlfriend?”
Turning her head, Ryan waved. “C’est moi,” she called
out. “Don’t come any closer. Actually, move across the street.
I don’t want Duffy to inhale anything.”
“What about me?” Jamie asked. “Shouldn’t I come first?”
 Ryan slowly made her way back down, hoping she didn’t
look as tired as she felt. As she crossed the street, she
removed her respirator, her goggles, and the hood from her
white hazardous material suit. She was still a little leery that
asbestos might have gotten on her, so she stood a couple of
feet away. “You always come first; I just assumed Duffy
would be the one more likely to sniff and lick things on the
ground. But if you’re feeling adventurous…”
“Can I kiss you?”
“No, I’d rather you didn’t.” She chuckled. “Make a note
that this is the first time I ever said that.”
“You look beat.” Jamie held up a white paper bag. “How
about a chocolate malt?”
Ignoring the fact that she wore gloves that were likely
impregnated with a variety of hazardous materials, Ryan
snatched the bag and ripped it open. “Ooo. Two malts. Good
job.”
“One is for Jen, goofball. Where did you stick the poor
thing? I know she’s not one of those tall people over there.”
“No, that’s Liam and Seamus. Jennie’s inside with Kieran.
We only had extra large suits.”
“What’s Jen doing?”
Ryan hated to speak the truth, but she did anyway. “I have
no idea. But she hasn’t come out to complain, so she must not
be bored.” Jamie started to reach out to pat her partner, but
Ryan jumped back. “I know you can’t hurt yourself with a
few asbestos fibers, but I still worry.”
 “Okay, sport. You go tear things apart; Duffy and I will
walk home.”
“Where’ve you been all day?”
“I took Caitlin over to the Hayes Valley. I’m teaching her
how to shop.”
“Good lord, she’s just a baby!”
“Gotta start young.” Jamie reached into her back pocket
and extracted something that she held up before Ryan. “And I
swung by my father’s office and picked these up.”
“Giants tickets!” Ryan squinted to read the details. “For
tonight. Hooray.”
“Is someone finally too tired to do something fun?” Jamie
teased. “That was a very weak exclamation.”
“I’ll rally. Worry not.” She started putting her gear back
on as she dashed back across the street. “Thanks!”
#
Instead of making the trek to Oakland, Ryan called the car
service that Catherine had on retainer to swing by the OFC
and take Jennie home. The moment she got into her own
house, she unlaced her boots, kicked them off, stripped off
her sweaty clothing, and flopped onto the bed. “Wake me at
the last possible minute.”
Jamie sat beside her and rubbed her damp, gritty back.
“Oh, honey, we can go another time. I’m sure some of the
boys will take these off our hands.”
“They’ll have to pry them out of my cold, dead hands,”
Ryan mumbled, her face partially obscured by the pillow.
“All right. I assume we’ll eat at the park.”
 “You assume right.”
“I also assume you’ll want to take MUNI?”
“Also right. Put those variables into the nap calculation
I’m charging you with.”
“Will do.” After one last pat, Jamie got up and went over
to the love seat to read. First, she did the math, adding in ten
minutes for a shower, a variable Ryan hadn’t mentioned but
which was mandatory.
#
They’d been near the new baseball stadium but never
inside, and they spent a good half hour wandering around,
looking into every nook they could find. “Way, way cool,”
Ryan said, looking about as happy as she was capable of.
“Why was I so opposed to leaving the ’Stick?”
“You like tradition. But you’d have to be nuts to prefer
Candlestick to this place. The weather is better, too. I bet
there won’t be nearly as many people suffering hypothermia
here.”
Ryan laughed at her exaggeration. “No, it’ll be better all
around. And it’s so ridiculously easy to get to. Maybe we
should pony up and buy four seats. We could go in with the
cousins.”
Clutching at her heart as though it had stopped, Jamie
gasped, “Buy tickets? You want to part with major bucks?”
“Not major bucks. If we bought seats way up there,” she
pointed to the highest reaches of the stadium, “and split the
cost with twelve other people, it wouldn’t be much at all.”
 “Let’s sponge off my dad’s connections for a while. I like
to be able to see the stitching on the ball.”
#
Their seats were, as expected, fabulous. Ryan almost hated
to use them, since she didn’t want to develop a craving for
seats she’d never be willing or able to purchase. But so long
as she periodically reminded herself they were just visiting,
she wallowed in the lap of luxury.
They had waiter service, but there was a service charge, so
she insisted on standing in line. “Go right ahead, “Jamie said,
“but you go alone. I’m perfectly happy to pay someone three
bucks to save half an hour.”
“It won’t be that long. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Jamie’s estimate was much closer to the truth, but she was
polite enough not to mention it when Ryan returned. The food
was remarkably tasty for ballpark grub, and by the fifth
inning Ryan needed to top up her tank. “I think I’ll have a
bratwurst,” she decided. “Anything for you?”
“No, I’m still working on my beer. That’ll fill me up.”
“Odd, but cute.” Ryan leaned over and placed a swift kiss
on Jamie’s cheek, then took off.
Twenty minutes later, she strode back down the aisle and
stopped dead in her tracks. A stranger in the row behind them
was leaning over, chatting Jamie up. Ryan practically ran
down the aisle, ready to tell the guy to sit back and leave her
woman alone, but when she saw that Jamie was wearing a
heavy Giants letter jacket—something she clearly had not
brought with her—Ryan’s blood pressure soared skyward.
She was just about to give the guy a piece of her mind when
he said, “Just because we’re not at the ’Stick, doesn’t mean
you don’t need a coat.”
A woman! A woman was violating her turf! Ryan turned
in her seat and scowled, trying to look as territorial as she felt.
Then she gave Jamie a quick glance and said, “I’ll buy you a
jacket if you’re cold, honey.”
“It’s okay,” the woman said, as if Ryan had spoken to her.
“I’m not cold, so I don’t need it back.”
“Have we met?” Ryan asked, barely managing to be
polite.
“Nah. I don’t think so.” Addressing only Jamie, she said,
“I was just going for another beer. Do you want one?”
“No, thank you,” Jamie said, smiling sweetly. “You’d
better take your jacket with you. We might leave before you
come back.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Take it back,” Ryan snapped, pulling it from around
Jamie’s shoulders. She tried to smile when she handed it over,
but was certain she looked more like a dog baring its teeth.
“Fine.” The woman got up and put the coat on. Now she
addressed only Ryan. “You oughta take better care of your
girl.”
Ryan’s jaw dropped and she nearly chased after their
officious neighbor, but Jamie grabbed her belt loop and held
on tight.
 “The nerve! I’ve never been dissed that bad in my whole
life!” Ryan was turned all the way around in her chair,
scanning the crowd to locate her new sworn enemy.
Jamie’s laughter finally made her turn around. “You
encouraged her,” Ryan sulked.
“I did not. But I really was cold, and when she offered, I
didn’t think there was any harm.”
“Then why did you say we might leave? You know I never
leave until the last out.”
Leaning over, Jamie kissed her cheek repeatedly, keeping
it up until Ryan finally smiled. “Because it finally dawned on
me that she was poaching, and I knew you’d be mad.”
“Poaching, huh? That’s a good term.” She stood and held
her hand out. Jamie took it and they walked up the aisle
together. “Let’s go to the upper deck and see if we can find a
pair of empty seats. There’s a better class of people up there.
No poachers.”
#
Jamie woke to the realization that it was colder than it
should have been. She pried an eye open and focused on the
window. Nothing but gray. It was either before dawn or
another foggy August morning in Noe Valley. A hand slid
across her back and started to creep under her T-shirt. Fog, it
was, because Ryan knew better than to try to wake her before
dawn.
The playful hand hovered over her belly and Jamie
mumbled, “Don’t put that icy thing there.”
 Ryan fought through the jumble of sheet and blanket to
plaster her chilly body over Jamie’s warm one. She’d
obviously snagged the blanket into place at some point in the
night, but Ryan had stayed outside, as usual.
The cold hand withdrew and headed south to settle on the
back of Jamie’s thigh.
That might mean Ryan wanted to make love, but it was
hard to tell without seeing her face. Her “let’s make love”
looks were many, and Jamie had learned all of them. They
ranged from playful to laden with emotion, but they were
easy to interpret. A hand on the thigh was another matter.
Given her druthers, Jamie would have always preferred to
shower and brush her teeth before sex. Ryan, on the other
hand, seemed to actually prefer their natural scents. In the
morning, she also seemed to enjoy giving small signals rather
than making an overt move. She probably knew that morning
wasn’t Jamie’s favorite time, so she almost always let her call
the shots.
This was one of the downsides of being a lesbian. They
were always trying to be thoughtful and guess what the other
wanted rather than press their advantage. She’d never had that
problem with Jack. A thousand other problems, but not that
one.
They hadn’t made love the day before, so Ryan was
probably ready to go. But if she wasn’t, Jamie would have
happily gotten clean, had breakfast, and taken a sex break
later in the day. It was time for a test.
 She arched her back and yawned. As her back arched her
butt pressed into Ryan, who took her now warm hand and
placed it low on Jamie’s belly.
That was a clearer signal, but it wasn’t crystal clear. If
Ryan was really into it, Jamie was happy to go along, but if
she could delay it…
Straightening, she turned her head and pressed back
against Ryan, who immediately kissed her neck—not a quick
kiss, a longish, tender one. Almost crystal clear. Just to make
sure, Jamie let out a tiny purr and Ryan responded by biting
her neck gently. No doubt.
Now the issue was how to get started without kissing. It
was stupid, really. Ryan truly didn’t seem to notice if she
smelled like lemon sherbet or a can of sardines, but Jamie
was overly concerned with scents of all kinds, her own breath
being high on the list. So when they made love first thing in
the morning, Jamie always tried to find a way to get in the
mood while avoiding kissing.
She’d learned the best way to get over the hump was to be
aggressive. Ryan loved it and it made her own motor rev
faster than normal too. She squirmed around until they were
face to face. The playful, sexy grin that greeted her made her
breath catch. What a gorgeous face to wake up to. How lucky
could one woman be?
Sliding down, Jamie captured the prettiest nipple in the
world in her mouth, pleased when it hardened on contact.
Nothing felt at good as having Ryan’s body respond to her
touch. Nothing ever could.
 Her tongue swirled around the firm skin and Ryan’s legs
slowly opened. Tugging Jamie’s thigh between her own, Ryan
gently pressed against it.
Now they were getting somewhere. Ryan let out a soft
sigh and Jamie caught a hint of…peppermint. Her nose
followed the scent, landing right on Ryan’s smiling mouth.
She was such a cheat! Jamie tossed off the covers and worked
her way down, smelling fresh, clean skin all the way. She’d
taken a shower! That was playing dirty. Or clean. Whatever it
was, Ryan was clean and sparkling while she…wasn’t.
Jamie propped herself up on her hands, looking into
beautiful blue, guileless eyes. What the hell. She lowered
herself and caught the minty lips in her own. The growl that
Ryan emitted took Jamie’s mind off her own unscrubbed
teeth. This was a small price to pay for the wonder of having
Ryan O’Flaherty lying under her, squirming for love.
#
That Wednesday night, Jamie once again walked over to
the OFC, this time pushing Caitlin in her stroller. “This is a
heck of a walk when you’re pushing someone,” she said when
Ryan ran over to them.
Caitlin was struggling to get out of her confinement, and
Ryan raised an eyebrow at her partner. “I love to see you,
honey, but bringing Cait—”
“Was probably not a great idea. Oh, oh, now she sees
Tommy and Kevin.”
Cait started to cry when she couldn’t get to her daddy or
her uncle, and Jamie picked her up to take her closer.
 When she continued to shriek, Tommy peeled off all of his
protective gear and held his hiccuping child in his arms.
“Nice thought,” he said, smiling gently at Jamie, “but she’s
nothing but a liability at this point in the project.”
“Sometimes I don’t think things all the way through.”
“I needed a break anyway. I’m gonna head down to
Mission for something to snack on. Do you want anything,
Ryan?”
“Yeah. Whatever.” She tried to reach for her wallet, but
her white jumpsuit prohibited access. “Float me?”
“I’ll buy. Be back in a few.”
He and Caitlin took off, and she leaned over his shoulder
and happily waved bye-bye all the way down the street.
“It really did seem like a good idea,” Jamie said. “And
Annie was very much in favor of the suggestion.”
“Annie would let you take Cait to a knife fight if you
caught her on a bad day,” Ryan said, chuckling. “So what’s
shaking today?”
“Not a lot. I spent the morning with my mom, just hanging
out, then I went to pick up Caitlin. The hours just tick away.”
“They tick more slowly when you’re climbing up and
down a ladder.”
“It’s good for your butt. Hey, I want to go to a new series
of Bible study classes at my grandfather’s church. They start
tonight. Any interest?”
“None that I can muster. I’m too tired anyway, babe. A
nice dinner and a beer while we sit on the deck is all I’m up
for.”
 “Hmm. I’m gonna leave at five-thirty. That won’t give us
time for dinner.” Ryan just stared at her and Jamie added, “I
actually thought I’d grab some sushi on the way. Are you sure
you don’t want to come?”
“You’re gonna—” That sounded too needy. “So this
means a lot to you, huh?”
“Well, I don’t know about that, but I’m interested. If I like
the first one, I’ll keep going.”
“Huh. I didn’t know you wanted to talk about the Bible.”
“Yes you did. I told you earlier this summer that I wanted
to get more involved. They didn’t have a lot going on in July,
but this series sounds interesting. The woman who’s running
it has a Ph.D. in archeology and theology. She’s going to talk
mostly about the historical Jesus.”
“That does sound interesting. I might go next time.”
Jamie smiled sweetly and touched the small section of
exposed skin showing on Ryan’s cheek. “I’ll let you know if
it’s worth it.” She waved and took off, heading down the
street to find Tommy and Caitlin.
Ryan stood there for a moment trying to figure out exactly
what had happened. She’s actually going to go to this thing
every week? Alone? Damn, I can’t even put into words how
much I was looking forward to a nice dinner. And not alone!
#
When Jamie returned at eight thirty, there was a note on
the bed.
Trivia Night with the boyos. We took the bus, so don’t
worry about us driving.
 R

That didn’t sound like a woman who only wanted to sit on

her deck and watch the sun set. She always had more energy
than she could inventory.
It was after midnight when Ryan came down the stairs,
making much more noise than was her habit. Jamie’d been
sound asleep, but she woke enough to say, “Did you have
fun?”
“Yeah.” Ryan’s voice was much louder than usual,
indicating that she was a bit “toasted”, as she put it.
“Did you have a few drinks?”
“Just a wee dram or two,” Ryan said, sitting down hard on
the edge of the bed.
There was a good chance she’d break the antique if she
continued to abuse it, and Jamie hoped that happened sooner
rather than later. “You smell like…” she sniffed around
Ryan’s mouth, “…whiskey.”
“Uisce beatha,” Ryan declared, her Irish accent coming
out when she’d had one too many.
“You know,” Jamie said, trying to be delicate, “when
you’re out with the boyos you act like I do when I’m out with
Mia.”
“The hell you say!” Ryan stood, swaying a bit. “I’m
perfectly fine. Liam and I matched drink for drink, and I
won.”
“What did you win, honey?”
 “I won…” She stood there, looking blank. “Something.
It’ll come to me.” She went into the bathroom, and when she
emerged she declared, “We had a contest to see who could
recite the alphabet backwards. After four shots I could still
thump him.”
“That’s fantastic.” Jamie pulled the sheet back, hoping to
entice her partner to get in and shut up.
“Z,Y, X, W…” Jamie could hear her whisper, “L, M, N,
O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V…” Then she spoke at her regular
volume. “V, U…”
“It’s okay, honey. I’m sure you can do that better than
anyone else. I haven’t had a thing to drink and I can’t do it.”
“T!” Ryan said loudly. “I got stuck on ‘T’ for a minute.”
“‘T’ can do that to you.” She put her arm around her
partner and hugged her close, trying not to inhale her whiskey
infused exhalation. “Let me rub your head for a minute; we
can play your game tomorrow.” Damn, I hope I’m not this
goofy when I drink too much. This is downright
embarrassing!
#
As was her habit, Ryan woke with the sun the next
morning. But for a change, the bright light entering her
bedroom was an unwelcome visitor. Her head ached;
someone had obviously fed her a few ounces of acid and then
stuffed her mouth with a sock.
She demanded that her legs swing off the bed and hit the
floor, and they did so—reluctantly. After a visit to the
bathroom, Ryan put on some running clothes, grabbed a pair
of shoes, and went upstairs. Duffy was wildly happy to see
her, and she found it hard to glower at him. Chugging a bottle
of Gatorade diluted the acid in her stomach, and she forced a
baseball cap onto her aching head and went for the door.
Duffy was well-mannered enough to be off-leash most of
the time, but she normally kept him on it for a block or two,
just in case something fantastically interesting was occurring
at street level. But today she trusted the fates and flung the
door open.
The big dog stood right by the door, looking at her as if he
wondered why she’d changed the rules. “Come on,” she said,
slapping at his head. “I want you to bite anyone who honks a
horn or talks too loud.”
Buoyant with his freedom, Duffy ran down the stairs and
took a left, racing for the end of the block without bothering
to sniff every visitor who’d marked his territory in the last six
hours.
Ryan had wanted to turn right, but since Duffy was in
charge, she didn’t complain.
They headed uphill, another choice she wouldn’t have
made, but sometimes it was best to power through pain rather
than give in to it.
Slogging up the hill, they cruised past St. Phillip’s, where
Ryan did a double take when Duffy paused then scooted
across the street, happily greeting his grandmother.
“Oh my!” Maeve said when he nearly knocked her down.
Ryan caught up a second later. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t
bring his leash, and he ran so fast I couldn’t tell him to stop.”
 “That’s all right, dear.” She stood on her tip toes and
kissed Ryan’s proffered cheek. “I love him, too.”
“Coming or going?” Ryan asked, twitching her head in the
direction of the church. From the corner of her eye she saw
Father Pender emerge, still clad in his vivid green vestments.
“Ahh, taking in early Mass.”
Maeve looked strangely embarrassed. “Let’s keep this
between us, shall we?”
“That you went to Mass?” Ryan stood there, trying to
figure out the problem, then it dawned on her. “Da doesn’t
want you here.”
“He hasn’t specifically asked me not to come,” Maeve
said, “but, yes, he doesn’t want any of us to return.” She
looked up at Ryan with a host of emotions showing on her
face. “I’m just not ready to leave.”
“I understand.” Ryan put her arm around her aunt and
gave her a gentle squeeze. “If Duffy doesn’t spill the beans, I
won’t either.”
“He’s altogether untrustworthy,” Maeve said, laughing.
She patted Ryan’s waist. “But you’re not. Why don’t you
come over for breakfast?”
“You don’t happen to have a cure for a hangover, do
you?”
Maeve’s eyebrows hiked up. “You?”
“Indeed. I’ll keep your secret if you’ll keep mine.”
 CHAPTER SEVEN

On the last day of August, Ryan was stomping around the

Berkeley house, trying to organize her packing for their trip.
Jamie had tried to stay out of it, knowing that her style did not
match Ryan’s in any aspect, but she finally had to step in.
Ryan was standing in front of her empty case, which lay
on the bed. Next to it were enough shoes to easily fill it, along
with a scant assortment of clothing. Jamie put her hand on
Ryan’s back and scratched it gently. “Honey, we’re going to
be gone for a month. I think you’re going to have to take
more than one suitcase. And,” she picked up a big pair of
hiking boots, “if you pack just half of these shoes, you won’t
have any room for clothes.”
The look on Ryan’s face was charming beyond belief, but
she didn’t like it when Jamie made fun of her foibles so Jamie
held her tongue.
“It’s kind of rugged out where we’re gonna be, so I
definitely want to do some hiking. And they’ve got all kinds
of bugs and snakes and spiders…”
Ryan trailed off, and Jamie was reminded that her partner
had zero experience in the wild. “I like to wear the heaviest
shoes I’m going to take, so wear your hiking boots and pack
two other pairs of shoes.”
Ryan jiggled her hands in front of her just like Caitlin
sometimes did when she was frustrated. “No, no, I can’t wear
the same running shoes two days in a row. So that’s two pair
right there. And I know you’re gonna make me dress up at
some point, so that’s another pair.”
They stood together, assessing the situation. Jamie didn’t
state that having shoes as big as Ryan’s made things tough.
“How about this? Wear your hiking boots, take your dressy
sandals, and buy two pairs of running shoes when we’re
there.” She held up the best pair of running shoes Ryan
owned. “These are about ready for the trash bin.”
Looking like she’d just lost an important battle, Ryan
dutifully started to put clothing in the suitcase. She wasn’t
taking nearly enough, but Jamie had learned to pick her
battles.
“I’ll be done in about ten minutes, then we can head back
over to the city, although going to a cocktail party the night
before we leave on a huge trip isn’t my idea of fun.”
Jamie patted her cheeks, applying a little more force than
was strictly necessary. “Your idea of fun will never include a
cocktail party, even when it’s to show off a room that your
brother and cousins built.”
“I’d like it better if it wasn’t the day before a trip!” she
called to Jamie, who had departed before she had to listen to
another moment of Ryan’s grumbling.
#
They missed the grand opening. They were right on time,
of course, but Martin and Maeve had gotten there a half hour
early, so they were the first to take in the glories of
Catherine’s new library.
 Six cousins, three aunts, and two uncles had already
joined the confab by the time Jamie and Ryan got there. They
walked up the front stairs right behind Annie and Caitlin, who
were running similarly late, although right on time.
“Caitlin decided this was a perfect day to go naked,”
Annie said. “That tear-streaked face is the result of a tantrum,
the likes of which I’ve never seen. I was about two minutes
away from duct taping a garbage bag to her and tossing her in
the stroller.”
“Did you walk? That’s a couple of miles.”
“We did. That’s why we’re late. I couldn’t subject the
people of the City of San Francisco to another tantrum while I
made her sit down on the bus.”
Ryan swiped the grasping baby from Annie’s grasp. “Oh,
you must be kidding. This little angel would never throw a
tantrum.” She tickled under Caitlin’s chin, making her giggle
and slap at Ryan’s hand.
“You know,” Annie said, “you don’t need a ticket for a
baby if she rides on your lap. Don’t you think it’s time she
saw Australia?”
“She can wait a little while. She’d never enjoy it without
her mommy, and you don’t qualify for the lap-sitting pass.”
The front door was unlocked, and they all streamed in and
then followed the noise. Caitlin was really feeling
obstreperous, and she insisted on wriggling out of Ryan’s
hold to climb the stairs on her own. She was frankly awful at
it, since she refused all entreaties to hold on to the banister.
For some reason, she preferred doing it the way competent
adults did, just sticking her foot on the next stair with no
assistance. That meant she required intense supervision, since
falling backwards was a certainty. Ryan waved Jamie and
Annie along, saying, “We’ll be up in a minute. Or twenty.”
“Gosh, Ryan,” Annie said, “I’d argue with you, but I know
you want to spend some quality time with Caitlin before you
leave.” With that she practically ran up the stairs, giggling as
she went.
Catherine proved to be a great help when called from the
top of the stairs, “Hurry up, Caitlin! We have biscotti.”
The toddler looked up at her cousin, stuck her hand out,
and accepted assistance for the rest of the climb. “Nice
move,” Ryan said, after kissing Catherine’s cheek.
Stooping to pick up the inquisitive child, Catherine kissed
her and presented a freshly baked biscotto in her hand.
“Bribery works on all age levels.”
Ryan entered the room and whistled a low, long tone.
“This is sick,” she marveled. “That means really great,” she
hastily added.
The new floor was a warm, wide planked maple, covered
with a gorgeous dark red oriental rug. The original,
repurposed redwood floor was now rich wainscoting that set
off the cream colored walls. Muted halogen lighting and
lovely lamps on the desk and side tables made the cozy room
even warmer. Ryan plunked herself down onto one of the
remarkably comfortable chairs that were upholstered in a red
and gold Turkish style fabric. “Sweet,” she said, nodding in
approval.
 Conor walked over and flicked a pair of fingers against
her head. “Took you long enough.”
“It looks great,” she said, ignoring his greeting. “Those
wooden shutters are awesome.”
“All custom,” he said. “We had to fix them in the center
instead of the sides like you normally would. But I think they
came out great.”
“I like that they’re the same color as the walls, but I’m
glad I don’t have to repaint them if the color scheme ever
changes.”
“You’re first on my list to call,” Catherine said, putting
her arm around Ryan and hugging her.
“As soon as we get back from Australia, I’m gonna come
over here and actually read a book.”
“You’re always welcome, even if you simply want to look
out at the bay.”
Ryan hopped up and threaded her way through her
relatives to get a better look at the view. Jamie joined her and
leaned heavily against Ryan. “Are you sure we can’t live in
Pacific Heights?”
“You have no idea how much I wish we could.” Ryan took
her hand and inclined her head until it rested against Jamie’s.
“I just don’t think I could bear the thought of having to walk
to Noe every time I wanted to see someone. The bus system
sucks.”
“Not if you’re going someplace obvious.”
 Ryan smiled at her. “Upper Noe to Pacific Heights isn’t a
huge draw for commuters. We’d be the only people on that
bus.”
Catherine walked over with Conor, and she gathered the
other cousins around her. “I want you all to know that even
though Conor and Kevin did most of the work, I realize all of
you had to suffer because of the time they spent here. So I’m
going to pay Fernando and Miguel to work on your project
for…” She smiled. “I’m not sure how long you’ll need them,
but they’re going to show up every day.”
“No, no,” the cousins started to object, but Catherine cut
them off.
“No arguments. They’re nice young men; Conor used
them very effectively. Having a project like yours under their
belts would help them get started in their careers. I insist.”
The men shot sidelong glances at one another, but none of
them had the nerve to refuse Catherine Smith when she had
her mind made up.
#
It was no secret that Ryan didn’t enjoy travel, but Jamie
hadn’t realized how tense the whole ordeal made her partner.
Ryan had taken so many short trips in the past year that Jamie
had assumed the travel experience itself wasn’t difficult.
She’d obviously been wrong. Ryan was up that morning
before dawn, and even a long run hadn’t calmed her down.
She’d checked her suitcase twenty times, had her passport in
her pocket—which she checked another twenty times—and
spent the rest of the agonizingly long day going over her
meticulous checklists.
The flight wasn’t until ten-thirty that night, but Ryan
insisted on being at the airport by seven-thirty. Jamie finally
gave up. She called Conor and asked him to drive them to the
airport as soon as he got home from work. At six-thirty they
were sitting at a restaurant in the airport terminal, having
dinner.
“Can I see the tickets?” Ryan said.
“They’re in my purse; I swear on my life they’re in my
purse.”
“I just wanna see ’em.”
This was a quick pathway to another argument, but Jamie
couldn’t think of a reason for refusing. She took them out and
handed them over.
Immediately, Ryan’s face clouded. “Business class?”
“Yep. Business class.”
Ryan complained a full minute, but Jamie was actually
proud of her for trying to control herself, even though she had
been unsuccessful.
“These had to cost four or five times what an economy
class ticket would cost. How can you justify throwing money
away like that?”
Jamie snatched the tickets away from her and put them
back in her purse. “Easy. If you’d like to, you can march right
over to the counter and trade yours in for coach. They’ll
charge you a change fee, but it won’t be that much.”
“You won’t go with me.”
 Jamie took a sip of her drink, then smiled sweetly. “I’ll be
with you, just a dozen or so rows in front.”
Ryan leaned back in her seat, giving Jamie a look that
showed a healthy measure of befuddlement. Jamie had come
to interpret that look as saying, Why don’t you think like I do?
“You’d really rather sit alone? It’s a fourteen hour flight, you
know.”
“Allow me to turn the question around and direct it right
back at you.”
Ryan rested her hands on the table and drummed her
fingers for a few seconds. Jamie actually enjoyed this part of
their dance. It was fun to guess which of Ryan’s standard
arguments she was going to pull out in any given situation.
“Maybe you don’t understand why it bothers me to be in
business class.”
Smirking, Jamie said, “Maybe you don’t understand why
it bothers me to be in economy.”
As she often did when she was trying to make a point,
Ryan ignored Jamie’s comment. “I don’t like it because it’s
taking a limited resource and giving more of it to certain
people who can afford to pay for it. If they took the plane and
divided it up into equal spaces, everybody would be
comfortable.”
Jamie nodded, conceding that Ryan had a good point. “I’ll
make you a deal. As soon as you find the plane where they’ve
done that, I’ll happily fly on that airline. Until then—”
“You know it doesn’t exist. But I’m still really
uncomfortable about being able to lie down while a hundred
and fifty people behind me are unable to move more than
three inches.
Jamie took her hand and looked deeply into her eyes. “It’s
a 747. There are three hundred people behind you.”
That comment seemed to perturb Ryan even more.
“Honey, we’re never going to feel the same way about
this, but I really don’t want you to be uncomfortable. So, go
ahead and trade your ticket. I’ll come back and visit you
every hour or two.”
Ryan looked as if she’d been slapped. She sat up straight
in her chair, mouth slightly open. “You’d really let me sit by
myself for that long a flight?”
“The other option is for me to be angry with you for
fourteen hours. I don’t think that’s a good one.”
Ryan picked up her hamburger and took what looked like
an angry bite out of it. They sat there in silence for a few
minutes, then Jamie said, “This probably doesn’t help, but if
there weren’t suckers like me who pay the outrageous fees for
first class and business class, tickets for everyone on the plane
would go up. I agree that my seat takes up the space of two
seats in economy, but I’m paying more than twice as much,
much more than twice as much when I have to buy them
outright. You can do the math.”
Ryan sat there quietly for a minute, then nodded, almost to
herself. “If I went over and talked to the people at the counter,
would they tell me how much the different seats cost?”
“They’d tell you how much they cost today, but the price
for seats can change constantly, depending on demand. And I
used rewards points for the upgrade to business, and that
screws the whole equation up.”
Thoughtful, Ryan continued to eat her meal. Jamie knew
this had been but a minor skirmish in a long war, but she
thought she might have made at least one good point, one that
would give Ryan something to think about rather than pacing
up and down the long corridors of SFO.
#
Strangely, once they were in their seats, Ryan was
delighted by them. She played with the entertainment system,
flicked her personal lights on and off, adjusted her seat a
hundred times, and played with the amenities packet like the
eye mask and slippers were made of precious jewels. All
before they’d taken off.
The takeoff was strangely bumpy, and Jamie marveled at
the delight that shone in Ryan’s eyes when it felt like they
were on a bucking bronco. “Awesome,” she heard Ryan
whisper, seemingly the only person in the cabin who enjoyed
hurtling through space while every part of the big plane
creaked and groaned from the stress.
 CHAPTER EIGHT

The following Monday, Catherine returned home late in

the afternoon to find an annoyed looking woman sitting in her
living room. Marta practically jogged from the kitchen,
explaining, “I called your cell phone, but the call didn’t go
through.”
Walking over to extend her hand to the woman, Catherine
said, “Catherine Smith. And you are?”
“Marcia Jackson. From DCSF.”
“Oh. Did we have an appointment? I wasn’t told…”
The woman sat back down and opened a folio, then began
to write in a distracted fashion. “No, we didn’t. I’m here to
ask you a few questions about…” She rustled through the file,
then nodded. “…Jennie, so we can get this process started.”
Catherine sat down across from her. “Did Marta offer you
something to drink?”
“Yes, and something to eat, too. Is this your home?”
“Yes.” Catherine had never felt more out of her element. It
was as if she had been thrown onto a field and expected to
know how to play a game she’d never seen.
“Do you rent or own?”
“I…own.” What a strange question.
“How long have you lived here?”
“Not very long. Just a few months, actually. I go between
here and my main house in Hillsborough.”
 The woman put her pen down and wearily lifted her head.
“You live in more than one place?”
“Yes. Well, no, not really.” Maybe it was bad to have two
homes. She should have gotten some coaching from an expert
in custody situations. “This is where I live, but I have another
house. But this is where Jennie and I will live…together.”
“What do you use the other house for?”
“I’m not sure I’m keeping it. It’s a bigger place, and I
don’t really need that much space.”
After giving the sumptuous house a dramatic once over,
Ms. Jackson finally picked up her pen. “Where is this other
house?”
“In the South Bay. In Hillsborough. But as I said, this is
where I really live.”
“But Jennie might spend time at another house, too.
Right?”
Her penetrating look made Catherine sit up straighter and
tell the truth. “Yes, we might go there occasionally. I have a
garden that I tend, and there’s a pool that Jennie enjoys.”
“Uh huh. Do you have any other houses?”
It was impossible not to hear the sarcasm. “Well,
actually…I have an apartment in Milan, but I doubt Jennie
will ever go there.” She felt a little sick to her stomach at
having to admit to owning it, then it hit her. “I also have a
home in Pebble Beach, but I don’t go there often at all.
Actually, my ex-husband is the one who uses it.”
The woman looked like she wanted to strangle her.
“Milan…Italy?”
 “Yes, but as I said, I don’t imagine Jennie will go there.
We don’t have any plans to go to Europe.”
“And your ex-husband…I assume that’s Senator Evans?”
“Yes, but he’s not involved in this custody issue.”
The woman smirked openly and jotted something down.
There was something about her entire demeanor that had
been annoying from the first question, but that smirk pushed
Catherine over a cliff she hadn’t realized she was standing so
close to.
“I don’t know what you’ve been told, but my ex-husband
merely made a few phone calls so we could expedite this
process. Jennie is in an unsafe situation, and I want to get her
out of that group home as soon as legally possible.”
The woman looked at her for a few seconds, then said, “I
think it’s fantastic that you want to help this kid out, and I
don’t care who calls who, but I’ve got enough open files to
keep me up at night worrying about these kids. Let’s get this
over with so I can get back to handling cases that really are
emergencies.”
“Jennie’s been threatened by one of the girls in the group
home.” She knew she shouldn’t reveal that, but this was too
important to ignore.
“I’m sure she has been. This might come as a surprise to
you, but most kids don’t wind up in a group home because
they got too much love from their parents. They wind up in
group homes because of acting out. Threatening other kids
and having trouble getting along is part and parcel of the
system.”
 “But this new roommate Jennie has is a dangerous girl!”
“I understand you think where she’s living is dangerous,
but I have cases that would make your hair stand on end.
Every minute I spend on your emergency is a minute I can’t
spend on a kid who might wind up in the emergency room. So
let’s get through this.”
Catherine’s cheeks blazed with embarrassment. Ms.
Jackson might know more than she’d ever know about the
system, but Jennie was in trouble, and she had to get out of
the group home, no matter what.
#
The interrogation went on for over an hour. Jennie’s
proposed bedroom was inspected, and the bathroom she
would use was thoroughly vetted. Ms. Jackson went so far as
to test the temperature of the water in the tub to make sure she
wouldn’t be scalded. “I’d like to see some safety bars on these
windows,” Ms. Jackson said, inspecting the large panes in the
bedroom. “A child could easily fall out of this window.”
“Jennie’s not a baby,” Catherine said.
“No, she’s not, but lots of kids sit on window ledges.
Some of them also try to escape through a bedroom window.
I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“I’ll get right on it.” Catherine immediately tried to
envision what kind of bar she could have installed that
wouldn’t detract from the look of the house.
By the time things seemed to be winding up, Catherine
felt as though she’d been beaten. She couldn’t recall the last
time she’d been made to feel like she was on trial.
 Ms. Jackson descended the stairs and went towards the
front door. As she walked, she said, “I’m going to have to see
the other house.”
“Today?”
Ms. Jackson gave her a long, level look, then ignored her
question while asking another. “How long will it take to get
there?”
“It depends on traffic. I could drive you, or send a car for
you…” Catherine trailed off as Ms. Jackson gave her a sharp
stare.
“I can get there on my own. I assume I’ll have to arrange
for you to be there.”
“I suppose so, but I have someone who works for me
who’s there when I’m not.”
“I’m not interested in your employees, Mrs. Smith. I’ll
call you when I’m able to get away.”
“Call me anytime. And feel free to leave a message telling
me when to be there. I can rearrange anything to make this go
quickly.”
“I’ll call when I can.”
“Is there any way you can estimate when the evaluation
might be done?” Catherine asked. As she was finishing her
sentence, Ms. Jackson opened the door and stepped through
it, leaving Catherine speaking to her departing back.
#
Ryan sat in an upholstered chair in a nice, but not opulent
hotel close to Cairns in Australia. She and Jamie had just
experienced what she might have had to characterize as the
best day of her life. She’d heard about the Great Barrier Reef,
of course, but she had not realized how epically beautiful it
would be.
They’d started the day by renting a clear kayak that
enabled them to see the remarkable variety of ocean life just
inches from their hull. Ryan had been so excited that she’d
paddled so hard and fast that her biceps still hurt. Then they’d
rented snorkel gear and played in the water until it was nearly
dark. Both too hungry to wait for showers, they’d grabbed a
meal in what was essentially a shack. Most of the patrons
were barefoot, but the seafood was fresh and plentiful, and
Ryan was fairly sure it was the best meal, as well as the best
atmosphere, she’d experienced in months.

Now they were back at the hotel and Jamie was checking
e-mail and confirming plans for the rest of the week. Ryan
considered trying to talk her into canceling everything and
staying right where they were until the Olympics began, but
Jamie had worked hard putting together an itinerary and it
would be unfair to spoil her plans.

The television was on in the background, but Ryan didn’t

have much interest in it. Once she’d marveled at how differ-
ent the programs were from what she was used to, the novelty
quickly wore off. Now she was clean, well fed, antsy, and
horny. She chuckled, thinking Jamie might not consider that
an ideal confluence of circumstances.

Actually, it was Jamie’s fault that she was horny as well as

antsy. She was constantly amazed that her partner didn’t un-
derstand how unconsciously sexy she was. Right now she was
merely sitting at a small desk, working on her laptop, not do-
ing anything spectacular, but to Ryan she was as hot as a fire
cracker.

Tonight she wasn’t even wearing any of her delightful lin-

gerie. She’d put on Ryan’s discarded shirt, a long-sleeved
white one with wide blue stripes that was at least four sizes
too large. There was something really hot about a woman
wearing clothes that were too big for her, even though that
went against logic. Jamie had the sleeves rolled up a few
times and it was unbuttoned enough to be illegal. The shirt
mostly covered some simple, white, boy-cut panties that Ja-
mie probably also didn’t think were very hot. She was dead
wrong.

Jamie tapped a pen against the desk while she waited for
her page to load, then tucked the pen behind her ear, where it
was immediately covered by her longish hair.

Ryan knew that the vaguely unkempt hair was driving Ja-
mie nuts, but Ryan loved the fact that it was often slightly
messy. It would take another year for it to grow out to the
length Jamie wanted, and Ryan was going to vote strongly
against taking any action that would neaten it up in the mean-
time.

The Internet must have been maddeningly slow, because

Jamie swiveled around in her chair, propped one foot up on
the seat, placed an elbow on that upraised knee, and dropped
her chin onto her palm. Her breasts strained the fabric, bow-
ing one of the stripes out, and the white panties grasped and
held Ryan’s attention. Jamie said something, and Ryan tried
but failed to catch it. “What did you say?”

Smirking, Jamie said, “I said it’s slow. You look like

you’re in a daze. Are you thinking about all those fish you
saw today?”

“Sure.” There was no sense in trying to have a conversa-

tion. She wanted to peel those panties off and bury her face in
the delightful space they concealed. But Jamie was clearly
doing something that needed to be done, so Ryan bided her
time, making plans.

Maybe it was because they were on vacation and had so

few claims on their time, but in the four days they’d been
away from home Ryan had found herself insatiable for her
partner. She had no idea why she’d been in such a sex-fugue,
but it was real and it was intense. When they weren’t actively
having sex, Ryan passively thought about it, planning for the
next time they’d be able to get horizontal. Jamie seemed
pretty darned happy with the situation, and Ryan guessed that
getting away for a while had been the trigger. It was very easy
to get into a rut when they were in San Francisco, and being
away let her focus on the most important thing in her life—
Jamie.
 But the object of her desire was taking far too long doing
whatever she was doing. “Are you going to be long, honey?”
Ryan finally asked.

Distractedly, Jamie said, “Don’t think so.”

That meant “yes”.

They approached sex in very different ways. Jamie

claimed that when she was feeling randy, she liked to think
about it and idly focus on her desire all day long. To, in es-
sence, tease herself and intentionally delay satisfaction. The
whole concept was alien to Ryan. When she had an itch, es-
pecially an itch like she had at that moment, she wanted,
needed to scratch it.

Draping one leg over the arm of her chair, she did just
that. Actually, her move was more of a pinch, and she purred
in pleasure as she gathered her flesh between her fingers and
did it again. Jamie was clearly involved in whatever she was
doing, because she normally had excellent hearing and defi-
nitely would have picked up a stray purr.

Ryan continued to touch herself, thoughtfully saving

Jaime several moments of preliminaries when they did finally
get down to business. Moving her fingers past the leg of her
panties, she slid one inside herself, biting down on her lip as
it entered. Delaying gratification wasn’t working well. Her
fuse was very, very short, and she was just about to go perch
on the edge of the desk and demand attention when Jamie fi-
nally got up.
 She brushed by Ryan on her way to her bedside table,
where she picked up one of the guidebooks she’d brought
along and then headed back towards the desk. Without stop-
ping to think, Ryan grabbed the tail of Jamie’s shirt and
pulled just hard enough to knock her off her stride. Reaching
out with both arms, Ryan grabbed her and pulled her onto her
lap. Before Jamie could utter a squawk of protest, Ryan used
one hand to hold her head still and placed a hot kiss on her
lips, while her other slid into Jamie’s panties, where her slip-
pery digit found its mark.

For just a second, Jamie’s body lay across her, rigid and
unyielding, then Ryan could feel her smile and grow recep-
tive. She pulled away enough to say, “You are such a devil,”
then latched on Ryan’s mouth for a fevered kiss, the slow
Internet a thing of the past.

They made love for a very long time, with Ryan eventu-
ally having a rare second orgasm. Jamie lay in her arms af-
terward, humming contentedly.

“It was okay to sneak up on you, wasn’t it?” Ryan asked.

Turning her head just enough to make eye contact, Jamie

said, “That must be a rhetorical question.”

Chuckling, Ryan said, “Well, I just want to make sure. I

don’t want to breach your barriers.”
 “I have no barriers left.” She stretched and yawned. “I
don’t miss them, by the way. You can come at me any hour of
any day. Permission is permanently granted.”

Ryan’s grin was so wide the corners of her mouth ached.

“This is the cool part of monogamy. No one tells you how
nice it is to be able to just go for it without signing waivers
and getting blood tests.”

“You can write a book to let everyone know.” Jamie

kissed her, beginning to get frisky again. “You can get started
as soon as you coax one more orgasm out of me.”

Jamie was having the most delightful dream. She was in a

warm, humid, lush, tropical rainforest and Ryan was pressed
up against her, kissing her neck and making her shiver. It took
a second to realize that part of the dream was real. It was
warm, and a little humid, as the open window let in the scents
of the lush mountain upon which their hotel perched. And her
neck was definitely being kissed by a person she assumed
was Ryan. Stretching her neck confirmed it. The dark mass of
hair that spread across her chest had to belong to her lover. “Is
it time to get up?”

Ryan lifted her chin and met Jamie’s eyes. Her smile was
particularly buoyant. Jamie threaded her fingers in Ryan’s
hair and scratched along her scalp. “It is if you want to do
something I planned.”

“You planned something? When?”

 “This morning. I got up early and looked at the notes you
made. Given where we are now and where you want to wind
up tonight, the place I want to go is right on the way.”

Jamie sat up and saw that Ryan was showered and

dressed. A quick look outside showed that it was barely dawn.
“We need to go now, huh?” Maybe Ryan had made an error in
calculation.

The blue eyes shifted nervously, and she bit her lip and
nodded. “Kinda.”

Throwing off the sheet, Jamie got to her feet and wrapped
her arms around her partner. “When you get me up this early
on vacation, it had better be good, sport.”

They drove for a long time, but the scenery was so lovely
and verdant that Jamie was happy to have had her sleep cur-
tailed. “People have told me that Australia is a lot like Cali-
fornia,” she observed, “but there’s a huge difference.” She
pointed at the vines, plants, and bending trees that threatened
to cover the narrow road. “We ain’t lush.”

“I think we have a Mediterranean climate,” Ryan said. “I

have no idea what this is…other than green and wet.” She
shrugged. “I guess that’s why they call it a rainforest, huh?”

“It’s a little like Hawaii…another place I’m going to have

to drag you.”
 “I won’t argue. I’ve always wanted to go. It would be
sweet to surf in warm water.”

“There’s warm water all over the planet, baby; we just

have to go to it.”

“I’d like it better if it came to me. How long will it take

global warming to make the San Francisco Bay eighty de-
grees?”

“Mmm…probably quite a while. And when that happens,

the bay will be a few dozen feet higher. We might have to
move to Pacific Heights, ’cause Noe Valley will be underwa-
ter.”

“You’ll get to have a bay view,” Ryan said, taking her eyes
off the road to show a smile. “If Noe Valley is underwater, I’ll
probably agree to leave it.”

By the time they got to the spot Ryan was seeking, it was
almost nine. She pulled into a wide, muddy lot and went to a
shed where a buff man was doing paperwork. “Hi. I reserved
a Jeep. Ryan O’Flaherty.”

He looked up and smiled. “I thought Ryan would be a

man.” His gaze lingered a little longer than it should have.
“You’re no man.”

“Not this time around.” She pulled out her license and In-
ternational Driving Permit, along with a credit card. “Is there
a map I should follow?”
 “No, no map.” He filled out the forms, she signed and
they went back outside. He tossed her a set of keys and
pointed at a well-used Jeep. “There’s only one road. Follow it
up, and stop when you’re done.” Before he reached the shed,
he added, “We close at eight. If you’re not back,” he laughed,
“just leave the keys in the damn thing. Who’s gonna come out
here to steal it?”

They had been driving up the dirt track for about ten min-
utes when Jamie said, “How early did you get up? You found
a spot you wanted to visit, found a place to rent a car, and got
it all arranged while I was still snoozing.”

“Pretty early,” she admitted. “I was awake, so I decided to

get up and make some plans. I’ve left all of the work to you
so far, and that’s not fair.”

“Oh, it’s fair. I like to travel, and making plans is part of

the fun.” She propped herself up against the door to avoid be-
ing hurled from the open top of the Jeep. “I’m glad you
planned this because I never would have, but it’s fun.”

“We’ve just begun. I’ve got all sorts of things on my

agenda. Just relax and enjoy thrashing your way through the
rain forest.”

“I’m not sure I can relax while my teeth are about to shake
loose, but I can definitely enjoy myself. It’s wild out here…
like you.”
 #

Ryan’s research claimed that the spot she was searching

for was twenty kilometers from the car park. That hadn’t
seemed very far, but they were going so slowly that if the
speedometer had been working, it probably would have
shown them going fewer than ten kph. But it was tough to
complain when they were surrounded by such a gorgeous
landscape.

Near the crest of a hill, to their left was a dry valley and
higher mountain shimmering in the bright morning sun. To
the right side, their vista was dark green, wet, and thick with
vegetation. It was truly like being in two completely different
temperate zones, and Ryan had never felt further from home.
This was like nothing she’d ever encountered, and she could
easily believe she was on another planet, rather than just an-
other continent.

Finally they reached a clearing. There were no other cars,

but plenty of tire tracks showed others had parked there re-
cently. “I think this is the spot,” Ryan said.

Jamie hopped out and looked around. If they had been in

the middle of nowhere, now they were on the edge. Ryan got
out and pulled her backpack from behind the driver’s seat.
“Bug spray,” she announced, pulling the bottle out. “God
knows what lives in these parts.”
 Having read many advisories about the flora and fauna of
the rainforest, Jamie had some idea, but she thought it best to
keep her knowledge to herself. Her city girl was plenty tough,
but she had zero experience in the wilderness and was a little
afraid of it, even though she’d never admit it.

They sprayed each other thoroughly then started to hike,

with Ryan carrying what looked like a heavy backpack.
“Whatcha got in there?” Jamie asked, tugging on it.

“Provisions.” Ryan took her hand and they walked side by

side. “Aren’t you glad you brought hiking boots?”

“I am. This would be tough in flip-flops.”

The grade was fairly steep, with boulders and ruts making
them frequently clamber over and around obstacles. “This is
tough!” Jamie said after she had to pick her way carefully
over what had probably been a fairly severe rockslide.

“Yeah. Cool, isn’t it?”

Ryan was never happier than when she was testing herself
in some way. Jamie hoped they’d conquer this challenge and
one day find their Jeep again. Luckily, Ryan had an awesome
sense of direction; they’d probably need it.

They’d been climbing for almost an hour when Jamie de-

tected a strange noise. She stopped, placed a hand on Ryan to
pull her to a halt, and listened. “What’s that thrumming
noise?”
 Eyes dancing with delight, Ryan said, “You’ll just have to
wait and see, cupcake.”

After another five or ten minutes, Jamie said, “It sounds

like water, like a lot of water.”

“Falling from a great distance,” Ryan confirmed. “I don’t

know about you, but I love waterfalls more than just about
anything.”

“I’m with you, babe. I can’t wait.”

When they reached the crest of the hill, the dry valley
spread out before them as far as the eye could see. Off to their
right, a massive waterfall cascaded down into the edge of the
rainforest, where it crashed into rocks and a bounty of nothing
but green. “Oh my God,” Jamie gasped, grabbing at Ryan.
“This is spectacular.”

Looking very proud of herself, Ryan nodded. “At least.

Let’s get close.” They spent another ten minutes picking their
way down the path, stepping over thick vines and roots from
the surrounding plants. When they got as close as Ryan knew
Jamie would agree to go, she dropped the pack and removed
Jamie’s camera. “For you,” she said, bowing.

Jamie brushed off a bit of dirt and kissed Ryan’s damp

cheek. “You’re a goddess.” She spent the next half hour pho-
tographing the surrounding hills, the sun bleached boulders,
the falls, and her lovely partner, in reverse order of impor-
tance. “Fantastic planning for a beginner,” Jamie declared.

“Oh, we’re not finished. Not by a long shot.” Ryan led the
way to a different path, this one skirting the edge of the falls.
Spray from the thrumming water hit them as they passed,
cooling their heated skin. It was getting sticky now that the
sun was high in the sky, and just when Jamie started to feel
thirsty, Ryan reached into the pack and took out a bottle of
water.

“For you,” she said, grinning.

They walked until they were the equivalent of halfway

down the falls, and Ryan stopped under a glade of trees and
dropped her pack. “Now some lunch,” she declared.

Jamie nearly dove for the bag, but Ryan had a plan. She
removed a plastic tarp, placed it on the ground, and pointed at
it. “Sit.”

Following orders, Jamie sat down and stretched her legs

out. They’d done so much walking in San Francisco that
summer that she was able to tolerate just about any distance,
but this was pretty strenuous. Good strenuous…the kind of
exercise that made her feel satisfied instead of tired.

Ryan provided sandwiches and salads, along with forks

and napkins. “I think I’ve got it all under control,” she said,
surveying the repast. Then she sat down in a basic yoga posi-
tion, her big boots caked with dirt, getting her bare legs filthy.
But Jamie knew better than anyone that Ryan truly loved get-
ting dirty. She was a dirt magnet, and never passed up the op-
portunity to jump in a puddle or take off her shoes to bury her
feet in the muck at her favorite beach.

They ate while listening to the water raining down like a

deluge. Neither spoke much, too preoccupied with the trance-
creating pounding to break the peace.

When they’d finished, Ryan packed up all of their things

and hefted the pack onto her back. “We’ve got about a half
hour walk…if I read the map right. Are you good?”

“Looks steep,” Jamie observed.

“I know. And then we’ve got to come back up. But I think
it’ll be worth it.”

“I know it will. I get to be with you.” She took Ryan’s

hand and they walked together until it got too steep to be
connected. They had to scoot across some boulders on their
butts, but they managed, finally getting to the spot Jamie
knew was in the plan. The ground leveled off and a glittering
pool of water poured across massive rocks, caressing them in
an endless shower. “Fantastic,” she breathed. “Edenic.”

“I didn’t pack my dictionary. You’ve gotta give me that

one.”

Jamie took her hand and pulled her close for a kiss. “Like
Eden. Like it was made only for us.”

“It was.” Ryan led the way to the edge of the pool. “I’m
going in.” Leaning on Jamie for support, Ryan removed her
boots. Then Jamie took hers off, using Ryan in the same way.
Ryan stuck her foot in first, and her eyes widened. “It’s sur-
prisingly cold.”

Not wanting to be a wimp, Jamie tentatively dipped her

toes in. The water was cold, not bracingly so, but colder than
one would have predicted. “At least it’s not like San Fran-
cisco Bay,” she said. “Thank God.”

Ryan went back to her pack and took out two bottles of
beer, then wedged them between some rocks. “They said the
water was cold,” she said, smiling. “I figured we could use it
for a beer cooler.”

“You really do think of everything.”

“I was going to bring wine, since you prefer it, but I

thought beer would be better for hiking.”

“I think you’re right. If it doesn’t explode from the jolting

ride up or the hike itself, we’re good.”

“Ooo.” Ryan made a face. “I guess wine might’ve been

the better choice.”

“It’ll be great. Now I’m going to act like you, and strip
naked in a public place. I’m hot and dusty, and this water
looks too good to pass up.” She looked at Ryan and said,
“Now I know why you sprayed every inch of me with sun-
block.”

“I tried to think of every eventuality.”

 “I think you achieved it. No one else is dumb enough to
walk all this way, are they?”

“Maybe,” Ryan said, stripping as well. “But we can dash

over there and hide pretty effectively. It’s worth it.”

They both walked into the pool, squealing as the water

quickly rose to the tops of their thighs. Ryan made the brave
move, ducking under the water and dousing her hair, sputter-
ing when she popped back up. “Cold!”

It didn’t get much deeper, and they carefully made their

way to a big, dry rock in the middle. Ryan stood next to it, her
lips pursed in thought. “How do we get up there?”

It was about four feet high, not too high if one had a foot-
hold, but the boulder was perfectly smooth and the next clos-
est boulder was at least five feet away. “Can’t do it,” Jamie
said. “But we can just play in the water; we don’t have to sun
ourselves.”

“Sunning is part of the plan.” Ryan crossed her arms over

her chest, then nodded decisively. “I’ll give you a boost.” She
stuck out her knee and patted it, indicating that Jamie should
step on her thigh.

“I can’t pull you up, baby.”

“No need. Just play along.”

Jamie was fairly certain she’d be alone up there, but the

rock did look like a perfect place to bask in the sun. Besides,
it wasn’t right to waste all of that sunblock. She stepped on
Ryan’s thigh, giggling when Ryan cupped her butt and shoved
her up, sprawling Jamie gracelessly across the boulder. She
scooted around until she could sit up. “Now what?”

Ryan strode over to a set of rocks and jumped from one to

the next, finally landing on the one nearest to Jamie…which
was not very close.

“No, no, no!” Jamie cried, but before she could finish the
last “no”, Ryan had launched herself into the air, catching the
edge of the boulder with her foot, then scrambling onto the
flat top like a gecko.

“Sweet!” she exclaimed, making her hands into fists and

thrusting her elbows down.

“Stupid!” Jamie slapped at Ryan’s obviously empty head.

“You could have slipped and broken a leg. How in the hell
would I have gotten you out of here?”

“Uhm…” She looked seriously puzzled. “I guess you

would’ve had to leave me. I screwed up, huh?”

“Yes, in my opinion, yes.” She dropped down and sat, legs

stretched out in front of her. Patting the rock, she looked up at
Ryan who gamely sat next to her. “But you don’t think so.”
She grasped Ryan’s ear and pretended to peer inside her head.
“I know what’s in there, buddy, and you’re fearless when it
comes to things like that. I suppose it’s worked for you so far,
so I should try harder to let you be you.”
 “Oh, that’s not gonna happen,” Ryan said gravely. “You
can’t stop yourself from having a reaction when I do some-
thing you think is dumb. You’re only human.”

“This is true, but I don’t want to dampen your spirit.”

Grinning mischievously, Ryan said, “Do I seem damp?”

“A little.” Jamie flicked some of her wet hair from her

shoulders. “But it looks good on you.”

Ryan tucked her arm around Jamie’s shoulders and

hugged her close. “I bet you don’t complain when I jump
back over there so I can give you a hand getting down.”

“I can slide…or jump.”

“Slide off here on your bare butt? Jump onto those rocks
that you can’t see very well?”

Jamie looked at the rough surface of the boulder, then at

the wet, slippery rocks that surrounded them. “You know,
now that I think about it, that rock isn’t really that far away.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ryan laughed, the sound floating

around the grotto like music.

Soon they were lying flat on the rock, facing in different

directions, cheek to cheek. “You know,” Ryan said, her voice
soft and warm, and so close it tickled Jamie’s skin, “we’ve
been having a lot of great sex recently.”

“Great, great,” Jamie agreed. “Want more? I’m game.”

 “Ooo…you’ve loosened up since we met, Princess.”

“Yeah, I have. You’re a really good lubricant. Nothing can

stay too tight with you around.”

“Actually,” Ryan said, “when I woke up this morning I

decided I needed to focus a little more on making love.”

“What?” Jamie focused on her face, trying to detect the

message Ryan was trying to impart. “We haven’t been making
love?”

“No, we have, but I’ve been kinda sex obsessed. I’ve been
watching you like you’re prey. Damn, last night I had to start
touching myself while I waited for you to finish up on the
computer. I don’t mind feeling like that but…”

“But what, baby?”

Ryan sat up and rested her weight on her arms. “I want to

be very careful to never let my sex drive be greater than my
love drive. That’s a dumb way to put it, but sex can’t be more
about erogenous zones than our hearts.”

“I don’t want that either!” Jamie sat up and moved around

so she faced Ryan. “Is that happening?”

“No,” she said, smiling. “It’s not. But I was lying in bed
this morning, thinking of how I went after you last night…
and I was afraid I was getting close.”

“Close?”
 Ryan closed her eyes briefly, looking a little pained.
“Closer to having sex than making love.”

“But we each do that every once in a while, baby. Some-

times we just go at it. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

A furrow had formed on Ryan’s brow. “No, there’s not,

but I feel like I’ve been going at it for a few days in a row. I
want to slow down and make sure I’m showing you what’s in
my heart.”

Jamie smiled at her, then touched Ryan’s chest, feeling the

strong heartbeat beneath her fingers. “I think your heart’s
been into having sex, but that’s fine. Really, it is.”

“Maybe. But I was worried about it. I want to be sure I

never, ever think of you just as someone I fuck.”

“Ryan, baby,” Jamie leaned forward and hugged her ten-

derly, “you have nothing to worry about. You’re always kind
and gentle and thoughtful, even when you pull me onto your
lap and surprise the heck out of me.” She kissed her lips and
stayed right there for a moment, breathing her in. “We’re
fine.”

“I know,” Ryan admitted. She dropped her chin so that

their foreheads met. “I’m being cautious.” When she sat up
again, she gazed into Jamie’s eyes for a moment. “I wanted to
spend today enjoying you, all of you, not just your slippery
parts.”
 “That’s so sweet of you. It gets me right here,” she tapped
over her heart, “when I see how much thought you put into
making sure we’re in a good space.”

“I was lying in the dark, thinking about how to show you I

love you. All I could think of was to be out in the sun, away
from everyone, and spend a long time kissing you. No mo-
re…just kissing you.”

Jamie pointedly looked around, indicating that there

wasn’t another human in sight. “It’s just us, sweetheart, and
my lips are yours for the taking.”

Ryan smiled at her, moving closer. She tenderly placed her

lips on Jamie’s, moving as slowly and deliberately as a
woman trying to get up the nerve to steal a first kiss. “I love
you,” she whispered, her lips just a breath away.

“I love you too. Thanks for keeping an eye on us.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She leaned in and captured Jamie’s

lips, as well as her heart, all over again.

#
 CHAPTER NINE

The first event of the fall social calendar was less tiresome
than Catherine had expected. She was very fond of the public
library, and many of the board members had become friends.
It was one event she didn’t mind attending alone, since it was
less social and more serious. Luckily, they’d had a good
speaker, and if the quality of the food hadn’t been so
lackluster, she would have given it an A-plus.
Marta was in Hillsborough, picking out a wardrobe for
Catherine’s upcoming trip to Australia, so the San Francisco
house was empty when Catherine returned home.
She’d barely had a bite to eat but wasn’t in the mood to
forage in the kitchen, so she went upstairs to her new library
to have a drink. Despite Giacomo’s advice, she’d stuck to her
plan to have one drink a day. He was probably correct in
saying that alcohol was best enjoyed with a good meal, but
she was doggedly hanging on to her habit.
Marta had filled the ice bucket before she left, and
Catherine spent a moment thinking about her thoughtfulness
while she poured vodka over a few cubes. Moving over to the
window, she tilted the blinds so she could gaze out at the bay,
even though she could see nothing but blackness.
She wore an emerald green satin blouse over a floor
length black organza skirt, and when she turned to move
across the room to sit in a chair, she noticed her skirt had
settled down onto her hips. Not intending to, she’d lost a
couple of pounds while training for the breast cancer walk
and now her skirts would need to be taken in if she didn’t put
the weight back on.
Putting a CD in the changer, she curled up in one of her
new chairs and relished the way it hugged her into its depth. It
wasn’t very late, only eleven, and she considered calling
Jamie, but she hadn’t memorized the time zones and didn’t
want to bother the girls if she’d miscalculated.
The first sip of vodka went down like an icy embrace. In
seconds she could feel it hit her empty stomach and she wryly
congratulated herself on getting the most out of her single
drink. An empty stomach was clearly the key to the fullest
enjoyment of her vodka.
Sitting in her new library, looking out at her new city,
Catherine felt a burst of optimism for the future. Soon Jennie
would be living with her, and having the child full time would
add some much needed warmth to the new house.
Suddenly she felt odd sitting alone, drinking. It reminded
her too much of the bad old days after Jamie had left for
Berkeley and Jim was out chasing…whomever. But she
didn’t put the drink aside. She tossed it back, feeling it hit her
like a punch. Ahh…alcohol was the best mild tranquilizer in
the world.
She turned off the stereo and started up the stairs to her
bedroom. She was only on the second step when the toe of
her shoe caught the hem of her skirt. Her body knew it was in
trouble and automatically overcorrected for what was going
to be a face plant into the staircase. Instead, she jerked
backwards and landed on just two points—her hand and her
hip.
Pain shot up her arm so violently that she just lay there for
a moment, afraid to look. She was certain that white bone
would be sticking out of her fractured arm, and she knew she
didn’t have the fortitude to handle it. Visions of bleeding to
death from a severed vein or artery made her stomach turn,
and she eventually forced herself to move her hand from
where it was pinned under her body.
Almost vomiting from the pain, Catherine managed to free
her hand and look at it through squinted eyes. Thankfully, she
saw only skin, no blood or bone, but the skin was already
mottled and bruised. Her hip ached, but not nearly as badly as
her hand or wrist or arm. It was impossible to tell where the
pain was centered.
After kicking off her heels and gathering up her skirt in
her left, uninjured hand, it took a minute to stand. Then she
headed back to the library to assess the damage.
Catherine had never had a serious injury, and she briefly
wondered if this was how had Jamie felt when she broke her
elbow. Delicately touching various spots, she decided the
wrist had taken the brunt of the fall. It was swollen already,
and throbbed like someone was sticking an ice pick into it
with each throb of her pulse.
Pain had never been something she was adept at
managing, and she was at a loss for how to deal with this.
Recalling that ice was the best treatment, she went back to the
library, wincing when her hip protested every step.
It wasn’t easy to get cubes from the ice bucket with her
left hand, and it became clear that her non-dominant hand was
nearly as useless as the injured one. Who would have guessed
that ice tongs could be so difficult to utilize? Making a
complete mess, she finally managed to get some cubes onto a
cocktail napkin and hold them on the most painful spot. The
wrist had to be broken. It could not hurt this badly if it wasn’t.
Calling an ambulance was out of the question, but there
was no way she could drive. Her wallet was in her purse, not
the tiny clutch she’d taken to the benefit. Fetching it entailed
another trip upstairs, this one conducted more slowly and
carefully than the previous.
Her suspicion proved accurate. She’d spent all but three
dollars earlier in the day, and hadn’t had time to go to an
ATM. So, she was broke, unable to drive, and too proud to
call an ambulance.
Instinctively, she wanted to call Maeve, but she and
Martin went to bed by ten most evenings, and this just wasn’t
serious enough to rouse them. That left the O’Flaherty
household.
A couple of months earlier, she wouldn’t have had a
second thought about calling Conor. But ever since she’d
detected his undeclared interest in her, and she’d made it clear
she wasn’t romantically interested in him, there had been a
chill between them. It was slight, and she was certain it would
fade, but it was still discomfiting. Considering other viable
options, she found her phone and dialed, hoping that Kevin
was sitting at home watching a baseball game or something
equally mundane.
It was Conor who answered on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Conor, it’s Catherine.”
“Hi,” he said, sounding surprised. “What’s up?”
“Well, this is embarrassing, but I fell—”
“Where are you?” he asked so quickly his words ran
together.
“At home.”
“The city?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do you want me to call an
ambulance?”
“No, no,” she said, her volume rising. “I landed on my
hand or my wrist. I’m fine,” she emphasized, “but I can’t
drive, and I stupidly don’t have enough money for a cab.”
There was a moment’s pause, then he laughed. “I’m sorry,
but it sounds funny to think of you not having ten bucks.”
“Oh, I’m sure I could find some money if I spent enough
time looking for it, but…”
“No, no, I’ll be right over.”
“You don’t need to rush. I’m really fine—”
“No, you’re not. Have you put ice on it?”
“Yes. Haphazardly, but yes.”
“Take something for the pain and sit tight.”
“All right,” she said, feeling much relieved. “I’ll unlock
the door so you can walk right in.”
 “No! Leave the door locked. I still have a key.” He
laughed softly. “I forgot to give it back, and now I’m keeping
it. You and Jamie seem to be accident prone.”
#
Even though she’d spent more than half of her time in the
new house, Catherine hadn’t acquired all of the incidental
things that one accumulated over time. First aid supplies were
one of her omissions. She couldn’t find a thing for pain, and
even though she thought Marta was undoubtedly better
stocked, she would never have considered entering her room
without permission.
So she went back into the library and had another drink.
Fractured wrists allowed for the rules to be bent. The vodka
went down very easily, this time calming her nerves and
making her shiver less. Another ounce or two had her feeling
much better, and when Conor dashed into the house, calling
her name, her tongue felt thick and slightly numb. “Upstairs,”
she managed.
He must have taken the stairs three at a time, since he was
beside her in what seemed like a second. His big blue eyes
were wide with alarm, and when he reached for her hand he
caressed it like he would have Caitlin’s. “This looks bad,” he
said somberly. “Do you want to change before we go to the
emergency room?”
Looking down at herself, she realized she would make
quite a grand entrance in her formal attire. But the thought of
undressing was too painful to consider, and Conor wasn’t the
person to involve in that task. “No, I think not. I’d really like
someone to take a look at this as soon as possible.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, then said, “At least
take that bracelet off.” He reached over and undid the clasp.
Holding it up, he said, “Emeralds?”
“Yes. Nice ones, from my grandmother.”
“I don’t think your grandmother would like it if some
junkie took these off you.” He laughed at her stunned
expression. “I’m kidding. No junkies will come near you; I’ve
got your back.”
#
Conor wasn’t sure whether it was Catherine’s formal
attire, her obvious wealth, or just the fact that the ER was
strangely quiet, but she got into an examining room within a
half hour. Whatever the reason, he was glad for it. She was a
relatively stoic patient, but was clearly not accustomed to
spending the wee hours in the company of shooting victims,
junkies, and end-stage alcoholics.
Not long after he had watched all of the Giants replay on
the TV hanging from the ceiling in the corner, Catherine
emerged from behind a closed door. Remarkably, she looked
like she was the one dressed appropriately and everyone else
was slumming. An earnest young doctor walked alongside
her, scribbling away on a prescription pad. She handed
Catherine a slip, put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and
went back into the door marked “No Admittance”.
Conor hopped to his feet and hurried over. “I don’t see a
cast. What’s the verdict?”
 “A grade two sprain. At least that’s what she thinks. The
x-ray didn’t show a break, but it doesn’t show the ligaments.
Because the joint’s a little unstable, the doctor thinks I have a
partial tear of a ligament. I could have had an MRI, but I
don’t want to spend the entire night here.” She looked up at
him, and he could see fatigue as well as pain in her eyes. “I
might go see the orthopedist I took Jamie to. I bribed him
with so much good wine, he’d probably come over here right
now if I called him.”
Conor took the prescription from her hand. “Let’s go get
this filled.” He scanned the paper. “Four tablets? Four? Does
she think you’re going to go to the Tenderloin and sell them?”
“I had to beg for four,” she admitted. “The doctor seemed
to think an ibuprofen was plenty.”
“Plenty for a headache,” he took her splinted hand and
placed a gentle kiss on it, “not for this.”
#
There was a twenty-four hour pharmacy just down
Catherine’s street, but available parking spots on Divisadero
late at night were a mere fantasy. “I’m happy to double-park,”
Conor said. “Can you talk your way out of being towed?”
“I don’t think I’m up to it. Would it be too much trouble to
drop me off at home? I can get the prescription filled
tomorrow.”
“No dice.” He shook his head. “I’ll take you home, get
you settled, then come back.”
“There still won’t be any parking,” Catherine said.
“True. Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”
 It only took a few minutes to get back up to Pacific
Heights. Conor parked in the drive and jogged around to
Catherine’s side. When he opened the door of the truck, he
had to put his hands on her waist and catch her to stop her
from falling. “I’d be the black sheep of the family if I dropped
you on your melon,” he said as he gently lowered her to the
ground.
“Melon?”
She didn’t seem to be tracking well, and he worried that
she was more seriously injured than they’d discovered. They
walked up to the house, and he opened the door with his key.
“Where do you want to be?”
“Oh, right here is fine.” She made a bee-line for the first
chair and dropped onto it.
“Mmm, I think you’d be happier in your room.”
“No, no, this is perfectly fine. I’m just feeling awfully
tired. This took a lot out of me for some reason.”
She looked a little lost, sitting there in her big chair. “I
want to run to the pharmacy, but I’m not crazy about leaving
you.”
“I promise I’m fine. If you could just get me a splash of
something to drink…”
He started for the kitchen. “Water?”
“Actually, how about a bit of vodka? An ice cube
wouldn’t hurt either. Do you mind going to the bar in the
library?”
She must really be aching. I’ve never known her to ask for
a thing!
 He returned in a few minutes, drink in hand. “If you’re
one hundred percent sure you’re okay, I’ll go get your pain
pills.”
“One hundred percent,” she confirmed, taking a delicate
sip of her drink.
“Okay. I’m off.” He sprinted for the truck, then raced back
down Divisadero, parking the huge truck right by the corner.
He left his flashers on, even though that wouldn’t prevent him
from getting a ticket. He only hoped he’d be back before a
tow truck had time to be dispatched.
#
Catherine’s luck had been bad, but Conor’s was excellent.
He not only wasn’t towed, he didn’t even have a ticket.
Racing back up the street, he considered calling Marta and
going down to Hillsborough to pick her up, but that would
leave Catherine alone far too long. His aunt Maeve was an
easy choice, but he hated to wake her up in the middle of the
night.
By the time he got back into the house, his mind was
working on a variety of scenarios for taking care of Catherine.
But when he entered the house, she was no longer in her
chair. “Catherine!” he shouted.
“I’m right here.” Her voice floated down the stairs. “My
library is so much more comfortable.”
He bounded up the stairs, finding her still in her evening
attire, sitting on one of her new upholstered chairs, listening
to symphonic music. “You scared the bejesus out of me!”
 “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice slow and lazy. “Did
you think I’d run away?”
“Uhm…no.” Was she drunk, or loopy from pain? “But I
didn’t want you walking up stairs. That’s how you got into
this fix.”
“I’m going to have to walk up stairs. I live up here.”
Drunk. Definitely drunk.
“May I have one of those pills?” she asked. “I hate to be
so fragile, but the pain is truly annoying.”
He tore open the bag and went over to the bar. Keeping his
back to her, he opened the bottle of ibuprofen he’d bought
and hoped she wouldn’t realize he was duping her. It wasn’t a
great idea to take anything with alcohol, but she was
definitely not getting a Percocet from him, not even if he had
to wrestle her for them.
Luckily, the ibuprofen tablets he’d bought looked
imposing enough to pass for something much stronger. He
noticed the empty glass and guessed it had been filled once
again while he was gone. That’s why she was in the library. It
wasn’t because the chair was comfortable, it was the vodka
that made her feel better. He took a clean glass and went to
the adjoining bathroom to fill it. When he returned, Catherine
swallowed the pills compliantly. When Conor took the ice bag
he’d bought and filled it with the last of the ice from the
bucket, she regarded him with what looked like true fondness.
“You are such a lovely man,” she said, her eyes warm and
welcoming.
 He stopped in his tracks. Women had given him that very
look from the time he was fifteen years old. There wasn’t a
doubt what it meant. Catherine wanted him to make a move.
Ignoring the evidence, he went to her and knelt beside her
chair. He was an old hand at sprains and strains, and he
quickly removed the splint to apply the ice. She winced when
it contacted her bruised and swollen skin, but she didn’t
complain. Instead, she put her hand on his head and ran her
fingers through his hair. He nearly wet himself, but managed
to say, “You’re petting me like Duffy.”
“Am I?” Her giggle was girlish and remarkably attractive.
“I don’t mean to. But your hair looks so nice in this light. It’s
such a lovely color.”
“Just plain old black. Just like Duffy.” He laughed
nervously.
“You know,” she said, shifting so she could see his eyes,
“we’ve never talked about something important.”
“We can do that another time. Any other time.”
“No, we should get it out of the way.” She sat up a little
straighter and cleared her throat. “I know you were…
interested in me, and I don’t think I handled it very well.”
“Hey, there’s no need to talk about that.” Please, God!
“It’s over and we’re good.”
“No, you’ve been a little…distant ever since I made it
clear that I love Giacomo.” She put her delicate hand on his
chin and forced it to lift. “Haven’t you?”
He couldn’t lie to her, even now when he was sure she
wasn’t fully in control. “Yeah, I have. My feelings were hurt.”
 “Tell me why,” she said gently. “Talk to me.”
He moved the ice around on her wrist, making sure he got
the cold on every bruised part. “Uhm, well, that’s about it. I
was into you, and I didn’t see why you wanted some guy
thousands of miles away when I was right here.” He couldn’t
avoid looking into her eyes. “I knew you were into me, too, at
least a little.”
Catherine put her hand on his cheek and Conor felt his
skin burn under her gentle touch. Then she let her hand drift
down until it settled on his arm. She actually squeezed his
bicep, giggling to herself when she did. “You’re ridiculously
attractive.”
He looked into her eyes again. He could have her. Right
now. There was no doubt about it. Being honest, he had to
admit he’d had sex with women easily as drunk as Catherine
was now, and had never had a second thought about it. But he
couldn’t do that to Catherine.
Her hand moved up and down his arm, raising
goosebumps in its wake. “I’ve always been attracted to strong
men, but I’ve never been with anyone whose body is anything
like yours.” She ruffled her hand through his hair again. “I
don’t want to admit how tempted I was, Conor. You’re a
beautiful man.”
She left her hand right there. His scalp tingled at her
touch, and he knew it would take no more than thirty seconds
to whisk her out of that chair and carry her to bed. And he
was just as sure that she’d go, willingly. Just letting himself
entertain the notion was a huge charge. But then he thought of
how their conversation would go tomorrow. How could he
look Jamie’s mom in the eye after…Jamie’s mom! What in
the holy hell was he thinking? He dislodged her hand when he
jumped to his feet, the ice bag hitting the floor with a thump.
“Hey, I think it’s looking better. I’ll put the splint back on and
you’ll be set for the night.”
Grasping his limp hand, she said, “Conor? Are you still
angry with me? I’d really like for us to be friends again.”
He bent over and kissed the top of her head. “We’re good.
I promise I’m not mad any more. You were right; talking
about it was a good idea.” After re-wrapping her hand, he
helped her to her feet.
“Are you going to help me get to bed?”
“Uhm…sure.” They went up the stairs together, his knees
shaking as they went. Once they reached her bedroom, he
stood there awkwardly. “What can I do?”
“Hmm, I suppose not much. If you could just…” She
pointed at the neatly made bed and he hurriedly pulled down
the bedspread, blanket, and sheet.
“Could you help me with this closure?” Her good hand
indicated the small button at her waist.
His hands shook, but he undid the button and headed for
the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, still sounding too tipsy for his
comfort.
“I know you will, but I’m going stay close. I’ll lie down in
the next room. I’ll be able to hear you if you call me.”
 He was halfway out the door when she said, “Thank you
for being here for me. It’s so lovely to be a part of your
family.”
If he could have kicked himself in the butt, he would have.
Catherine was his sister’s mother-in-law! What in the hell was
wrong with him?
#
Catherine woke the next morning to a painful throbbing in
her wrist. She moved it, thinking she’d gotten it into a bad
position while asleep, but the pain jolted her awake. Her eyes
opened to see Maeve sitting in a chair by the window, reading
the paper.
“Good morning,” Maeve said. “I bet you need a pain pill.”
“Why are you here?” Catherine blinked, thinking the
apparition would disappear, but her friend was still sitting
there, gazing at her.
“You fell and sprained your wrist last night.” Maeve got
up and walked over to sit on the edge of the bed. Tenderly,
she lifted Catherine’s hand and inspected it. “I’ll get some ice,
and something for your pain.”
“What happened? I recall falling, but I don’t remember
much after… Conor. Was Conor here?”
“Yes. He took you to the emergency room. You were
probably in shock. I bet your visits to a hospital are few and
far between.”
“None since Jamie was born,” Catherine admitted. “But
when did you get here? Last night?”
 “No. Conor called early this morning. He stayed in your
guest room last night to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh, Maeve, I’ve caused you all so much trouble!”
“Nonsense. You’re part of our family, Catherine, and this
is part of the package. Marta’s on her way, but I can make a
lovely cup of tea if you’d like.”
“A cup of tea would be wonderful. And I certainly
wouldn’t refuse one of those pain pills.”
Maeve leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Coming right
up.”
#
As soon as he was finished for the day, Conor swung by
Catherine’s house. He was pleased to have Marta answer the
door; it made him feel that everything was back to normal
now that she was in charge. “How’s the patient?” he asked.
Marta surprised him by giving him a quick hug. “She’s
good, but I’m upset with you. When something happens, you
must call me. This is my job, Conor.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But there wasn’t much you could
have done last night. I swear I would have called if it’d been
more serious.”
She reached up and pinched his cheek between two
fingers. “You’d better. Now go up to the library and visit our
patient.”
He loped up the stairs, not surprised to find a completely
put-together Catherine Smith.
 “I’ve been told you came to my rescue last night,”
Catherine said. “Even though I don’t recall much of the
evening, I hope you know how much I appreciate your help.”
“I know that.” He took her hand to inspect it. “Marta must
be icing it for you; it looks much better.” Making eye contact,
he said, “Don’t buy me anything, give me tickets to anything,
make a contribution in my name…nothing for helping you
out. You’re part of the family, and we don’t pay each other
back.”
“How about staying for dinner? Is that allowed?”
She looked slightly wary, and it dawned on him that she
didn’t recall their conversation. “That’s definitely allowed. As
a matter of fact, I’d like to volunteer to take you to whatever
events you have for the next couple of weeks. You won’t be
able to drive, so you need a two handed date. I’ve got the
clothes; you just tell me where to be.” She looked so
delighted, he almost teared up.
“I’d love to have you,” she said.
Her grin made his heart well up at the thought of having
such a nice woman as a part of his family. His only regret was
that his father had been so completely right. That was always
a bitter pill to swallow.
 CHAPTER TEN

Having to fly to Australia alone sucked, but Mia didn’t

have many other options. She had willingly taken on the task
of entertaining Jordan’s family, and they were all arriving in
Sydney the day before the opening ceremonies. The
volleyball team wasn’t going to arrive in Australia until the
day before their first match, so Jordan would miss all the fun.
Mia had a feeling she was going to miss the fun, as well,
since she’d be trying to keep a bunch of malcontents content.
Luckily Jamie and Ryan were already on the ground, and
they had gallantly volunteered to find a vehicle large enough
to transport the entire Ericsson clan to their hotel.
After being in the air for over fourteen hours, Mia didn’t
think she would particularly feel like socializing, but she’d
taken a sleeping pill and was relatively well rested when they
landed. She emerged from the jet way, and tears filled her
eyes when she spotted her best friends waving wildly.
Mia broke through the crowd and launched herself at her
buddies. “Why do I cry when I see you?”
“It’s infectious,” Jamie said, wiping her eyes with the back
of her hand. “I’ve been crying every two minutes since we’ve
been in Australia. Having Jordan be part of this makes
everything seem so momentous. We drove by the velodrome
the other day and I burst into tears, and I don’t think Jordan’s
going to be riding a bike.”
 Mia wrapped an arm around each woman’s waist and
guided them away from the crowd. “Is there any word on
Daniella’s flight?”
“Yeah,” Ryan said. “It’s due in about an hour. We’ve got a
car, and we thought it made sense to hire a limo just for
Jordan’s family. There’s no way we’d all fit in one vehicle.”
“That sounds great. Now let’s go get a drink. I need to
steel my nerves.
Ryan ostentatiously looked at her watch. “Shouldn’t we at
least wait until eight a.m.?”
“Not when the Ericssons are involved. Mark my words.”
#
The Ericssons were content to head off to their hotel
straightaway. Remarkably, they didn’t ask who had arranged
for the limousine, nor did they offer to pay. They just all piled
in and took off. Ryan raised an eyebrow and let her gaze
traveled from Mia to Jamie and back again. “Wow.”
Mia threaded her arm through Ryan’s while they headed
for the parking lot. “Mark my words, if you have to spend
much time with them, you will be certain that Jordan couldn’t
possibly be related to a single one.”
#
She had to summon all of her charitable impulses, but
Ryan managed to offer to have dinner with Mia and the
Ericssons.
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but you don’t have to do
that,” Mia said. “That’s like voluntarily throwing yourself on
a land mine.”
 “There’s safety in numbers,” Jamie said. “We don’t have
any other plans, and we want to spend time with you.”
With a wry smirk, Mia said, “Isn’t putting me up in your
room enough of a sacrifice?”
“It’s no sacrifice at all,” Ryan said. “We’ve got this
ridiculously opulent—” She gave Jamie a toothy grin. “I
mean—barely serviceable, two-bedroom suite. Catherine’s
not going to be here until tomorrow, and when she gets here
you can use the sofa bed in the living room. It’s no big deal.”
Mia shook her head. “That’s why you’re such good
friends. You go out of your way for people, and that’s really
rare.”
#
There were six of them at dinner, and Ryan tried to fade
into the background as much as possible. She would’ve
jumped in and tried to be charming if she thought it would
have done any good, but these people were beyond
redemption. Given that she knew Mia didn’t care for them
either, she felt no need to put herself out. She physically
moved her chair back a couple of inches, allowing herself to
observe rather than participate.
She found it cute that Jamie hung in there and really tried.
Daniella seemed to connect more to Jamie than to Mia, but
Ryan guessed that was because Jamie had more money and a
famous father. Things seem to be going fine until Daniella
said, “Each of you girls has a rare quality. Ryan has that
impressive height, excellent bone structure, and striking hair.
It’s a shame she doesn’t have your sense of style, Jamie. Your
combined gifts would make you a cover girl.”
Ryan knew her partner well enough to know that her curt
nod was the equivalent of saying “fuck you.” Daniella had
managed to malign Ryan’s sense of style, while denigrating
Jamie’s height, bone structure and hair. Not bad for a couple
of sentences.
Amazingly, Jordan’s grandmother was the worst of the
bunch. Instead of making eye contact with the server, she
took her knife and clanged it against her water glass until
someone paid attention to her. She didn’t have a single
positive thing to say the entire evening, finding it perfectly
acceptable to say, “I don’t understand why we had to come all
the way around the world to watch Jordan play volleyball.
I’m sure it’s going to be on TV.”
Gunnar, Jordan’s brother, seemed to wake up from
whatever daze he’d been in to say, “Aw, come on, Grandma.
We’re going to have fun. Sydney is amazing.”
“It’s just like Los Angeles. I thought it would be really
different, but it’s not.”
Since Ryan was sure the woman had been in her hotel
room all day, she thought her verdict might be a bit
premature, but she wasn’t going to voice even a single note of
dissent. The Ericssons were like a basket full of vipers: It was
best to keep your distance.
#
Their hotels were located in different directions, so the
two groups said their good-byes in front of the restaurant. Mia
said, “I can be available tomorrow if you’d like me to find
something for all of us to do.”
Daniella had been looking around, probably seeing if there
was someone more interesting to talk with. She briefly
focused on Mia. “Oh, don’t bother. Maybe we’ll see you at
the opening ceremonies.”
The bright smile that now covered Mia’s face was the
most genuine one she’d shown all evening.
#
Their hotel was almost a mile away from the restaurant,
but it was such a nice night that the threesome decided to
walk. Mia opened the conversation.
“Who regrets buying a block of tickets for the opening
ceremonies?” She raised her own hand.
“We’re all sitting together?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah,” Mia replied. “Jordan was able to buy a block, and
it seemed like the easy way to do it.”
No one spoke for a couple of minutes, then Ryan said,
“Give me four of the tickets and I’ll spend tomorrow trading
them. Personally, I’d rather sit in the top row of the stadium
than have to sit next to those people. They are one major buzz
kill.”
“Yet another reason I love you,” Mia said. “I’d rather skip
the whole thing than sit with them, and no one has been
looking forward to this more than me.”
#
Mia was ensconced in the room Catherine would occupy,
and Jamie and Ryan were settled in their own bed. “Well, that
was a blast,” Jamie said, chuckling. “I thought some of my
relatives were pompous jerks, but they seem like a bunch of
happy preschool teachers compared to the Ericssons.”
“I feel so bad for Jordan,” Ryan said. “I just keep thinking
about what it would be like to have your closest relatives not
seem to give a good goddamn about you.”
“You did seem awfully quiet. I was surprised by that, to be
honest.”
“Why? There wasn’t anything I could think of to make the
evening any better.”
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d make it better. But I was
surprised you didn’t get up and make me switch seats.”
Ryan sat up and stared at her. “What did I miss?”
“You didn’t notice Gunnar flirting with me?”
“No.” Ryan’s eyes grew dark and a scowl settled on her
face. “I was busy looking for patterns in the wallpaper. I
couldn’t make myself enjoy being with them, so I tried to
entertain myself. Are you sure he was flirting?”
“Maybe I was wrong,” Jamie said. She patted Ryan’s
cheek and urged her to lie down. They got into one of their
favorite sleep positions, with Jamie spooned up against
Ryan’s back. “He probably didn’t mean anything when he
leaned over and asked if I’d like to meet him after everybody
else went to bed.”
Like a shot, Ryan was out of bed, hands balled into fists,
looking like she was going to put her clothes back on and go
to find Gunnar.
 “I’m so sorry,” Jamie said, twitching her fingers, guiding
Ryan back into bed. “I thought it was funny, in a really
perverse way.”
Ryan grudgingly lay back down, muttering, “We’ll see
how funny it is when his pretty face gets rearranged.”
#
Jim Evans was sitting in his office, doggedly reading a
position paper on the latest happenings in North Korea. He’d
been at it a long while, but he was determined to expand his
knowledge about an area of the world he had previously spent
very little time considering. He had an aide who specialized
in Asian affairs, but he hated to solely take her word on
upcoming matters concerning defense spending.
As a private citizen, he’d often thought that the U.S. spent
far too much money on defense in comparison to the amount
of money spent on education or infrastructure. Now that he
was in the Senate, he realized his views had been woefully
uneducated. He still wasn’t convinced that the defense budget
should be nearly as high as it was, but he was painfully aware
of how many hotspots there were around the world. Any one
of them could flare up at a moment’s notice, and the
government had to have some way to respond.
His top aide, Jason, came barreling into the office.
Normally calm and collected, his cheeks were flushed and he
dashed to the television set in the corner.
Alarmed, Jim stood up, as though he were waiting for
marching orders. His heart began to race, while his brain
began firing in a dozen different directions, trying to guess
what had Jason so agitated.
The TV was tuned to CNN and once Jason switched it on,
the screen showed preparations for the Olympic opening
ceremonies.
Almost shouting, Jim demanded, “What happened? Is
Jamie all right?”
Jason silently pointed at the crawl at the bottom of the
screen. Jim read the words as they appeared, then flopped
back onto his sofa, as though his legs had been knocked from
under him. “Bob Washington is dead? He’s a year younger
than I am!”
Striding over to the desk, Jason sat in Jim’s chair and
started typing on his computer. “I’m typing up a statement for
you. It’s hard to say something that doesn’t sound fake when
the guy who’s probably poised to take your job dies
unexpectedly.” He looked up quickly, saying, “It’s too soon to
say what your plans are, but you’re going to have to make a
decision whether to run very quickly.”
“Too soon is right! What happened?”
“Heart attack,” Jason said, pithily.
“He’s got fairly young kids. That’s a damn shame. Did
you know him very well?”
Jason continued to type. Eventually he looked up. “I
didn’t know him well, but I was trying to get on his staff. The
people who work on the campaign always have first choice of
the best jobs, but he was definitely leaning towards keeping
me on.”
 Not for the first time, Jim noted that many people in the
political arena tended to be self-involved. “Damn, the poor
guy was leading in the polls by twenty percent. He almost had
his dream job, and now he’s gone.”
“He is, but you’re not.” As he spoke, Jim’s secretary,
Margaret, spoke through the intercom. “The chair of the
Democratic National Committee is on line one, Senator.”
His hands shaking, Jim picked up the phone. “Hello,
Howard. I bet I know why you’re calling.”
#
Jim desperately needed to talk to Kayla, someone he knew
he could trust. But having a long meeting with her in his
office wasn’t a good idea, and he didn’t want to be
photographed having lunch with a beautiful young woman
just hours after he learned his putative successor had died. So
they went back to their hotel and had lunch in Jim’s suite.
They had never done it before, but this day was unique.
He had no appetite, but it was going to be a long day and
he knew he’d need some fuel, so he picked at his chef’s salad.
“Okay, you’ve given me the most obvious reason I should
run, but the mere fact that I would probably win, and win
easily, isn’t really enough for me.”
“I’m not sure why you took the job in the first place, so
it’s hard for me to offer advice.”
“I’ve thought a lot about that in the last couple of months,
and I think I have to admit that I took the job mainly because
it was offered. It certainly wasn’t something I would’ve done
on my own, but I thought it would help the firm in the long
run to have a former senator at the helm.”
Kayla obviously didn’t have an appetite either; she played
with her hair instead of her food. Whenever she was
pondering something, she often gathered a hank of her hair
and twirled it around her finger. There was something
endearing about the gesture, and Jim spent a moment
enjoying watching her.
“How certain are you that you’ll be named managing
partner at the law firm if you go back? People seem really
happy with Gordon.”
“So I’ve heard,” he said dryly. In fact, a couple of
members of the managing committee had already dropped
hints that Jim would be an excellent international ambassador
for the firm. They already had a lot of transactional business
in Europe with companies that had a big presence in the U.S.,
and they wanted to increase their business in Asia. “It doesn’t
hurt that Gordon has a squeaky clean reputation.”
“No. I’m sure that doesn’t hurt.” Contemplatively, she
gazed at him for a minute or two. “Do you feel like going to
the mat and wrestling the job away from Gordon? You
actually might have to.”
“Is that what the gossip mill tells you?”
“I’m not as wired in as I used to be, but, yes. It’s not just
your reputation with women, either. This might surprise you,
but the heads of most of the companies we do business with
aren’t Democrats. Even though Clinton’s done more for the
business community than he has for the poor or the middle
class, people still distrust Democrats. Once you’ve been a
senator, it’s hard to act like you don’t have a bias.”
He got up and walked over to the window, staring out at
the buzz of activity on the streets below. “I don’t mind
spending my time generating new business—God knows I’ve
done a lot of it—but I like doing it in San Francisco. I don’t
think I’m the kind of guy to live out of a suitcase, even in
very nice Asian hotels.”
“No, I don’t see that for you either, but I also can’t see you
being just another partner at the firm. Once you’ve been in
charge…”
He turned and smiled at her. “I’ve always been a sore
loser.”
Kayla walked over to him and slid her arm around his
waist. “That’s probably because you haven’t lost very often. I
think people get better with practice.”
His cell phone rang, and when he saw his secretary’s
name, he answered. “Hi, Margaret. What is it?”
“The president would like you to come by the White
House this evening around ten. Can you make it?”
Chuckling, he said, “Has anyone ever said ‘no’?”
#
Jim was completely wrung out when he left the White
House at two a.m. It seemed as if every Democratic leader in
the government had been at the meeting, and every one of
them had gotten their positions by being really good at talking
people into things. His phone had buzzed so often that he had
finally turned it off. Now that he was back in the solitude of
his car, he powered it up.
Scanning through the long list of messages, he found just
one that he wanted to return. Catherine had called just a half-
hour earlier, and she made it clear that she’d be up for a
while. He started to dial their home number in Hillsborough,
but changed his mind and called her cell phone. It was
impossible to tell which house she spent more time in, but he
had a feeling the San Francisco house was favored. She
answered on the first ring, and he smiled contentedly when he
heard her voice.
“I just called to see how you’re doing,” she said. “I’m not
sure why it affected me so much, but I felt sad and a little
depressed all day. Given that you knew him better than I did,
I assumed Bob’s death might be hard for you too.”
“You know,” he said, unable to keep the teasing tone from
his voice, “ex-wives are supposed to hate their husbands.
Actually, I think you’re supposed to wish I’d dropped dead
instead of Bob.” Catherine didn’t reply immediately, and Jim
almost jumped back in to apologize.
When she did speak, she said, “No matter how I feel about
you, you’ll always be Jamie’s father. I want you to live a long,
long life for her.”
“That was a very clumsy way of saying that I appreciate
your concern. And even though you’re mostly interested in
Jamie’s happiness, you care about me, too. That’s something
that truly means a lot to me.”
 She ignored his last comment, continuing on as if he
hadn’t said it. “I suppose I was thinking about Jamie when I
saw pictures of Bob’s wife and children. It’s tragic to lose
someone you love so unexpectedly. Everyone thought he was
the picture of health.”
“It’s really nice to talk to you, Cat. You’re the first person
I’ve talked to all day who seems to care that a decent man
died.”
“What else do people care about?” There was a short
pause, then she said, “Oh. Politics.”
“Right you are. The period of mourning in Washington
seems to last around fifteen seconds, then everyone begins the
mad scramble to see how they can avoid harm or increase
their advantage.”
“And how do you fit in?”
“I just spent four hours in the family residence of the
White House, having Bill Clinton tell me that the fate of
Western civilization lies in my hands.” He chuckled at the
ridiculousness of the mere implication.
“They want you to run in Bob’s place?”
“They certainly do. And they want me to make up my
mind by tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow!”
He laughed at her tone. “That’s just what I said, but after
having twenty different people run in and out of the room all
night, giving piece after piece of evidence, I can see their
point.”
 “That the fate of Western civilization does lie in your
hands?” Sarcasm wasn’t dripping from her words, but they
were damp with it.
“No. I’m not that malleable. But in California your name
has to be on the ballot sixty-eight days before the election,
and that’s tomorrow. They could leave Bob’s name on,
appoint someone like they did me, and then have a special
election. That’s assuming that the people of the great state of
California would rather have a dead man than a Republican
representing them in the Senate. But they’d rather have me
take over since I have name recognition.”
“You’re not seriously considering it, are you?”
He bit his lower lip nervously before replying, “I think I
agreed to it.”
“Oh, Jim, why would you do that? You told me that you’re
not fond of the job.”
“It has its perks. Literally. But I wouldn’t have considered
it if I hadn’t had a frank conversation with Lionel, Steve, and
Harrison. They made it pretty clear that they want to keep
Gordon as managing partner at the firm, and I don’t think I
can go back if I’m not in charge.”
“Surely there are a lot of other opportunities for you here.
You could go to another firm, or you could do what everyone
else does and lobby for some trade group or industry.”
“I know that. But my circumstances have changed since I
left. I’m not sure I want to live in the city without my family.”
He felt himself on the verge of tears, and he tried manfully to
get control of himself. Catherine had no patience for self-pity.
 She said coldly, “That’s no longer an option. Jamie’s
forming her own family…” Her innate kindness stopped her
from finishing her sentence.
“I know that. It’s just easier to delude myself when I’m in
Washington.”
“Well, I think Jamie would like to see you more often, so
she would probably prefer that you come home. But I know
she wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. Do you want my
advice?”
He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and nodded, then
realized that she couldn’t see him. “Very much.”
“Go ahead and run for the office. Even though I know
you’ve worked hard, you haven’t given it your all. It might be
different if you’re elected for the full term. You know what
it’s like to run a law firm. Take this chance to do something
different, something that could benefit more people.”
He couldn’t help teasing her. “You just want me to make
sure the National Endowment for the Arts gets extra funding.”
“You know me well. Should I send a contribution to your
election fund?”
He hadn’t known it until that moment, but he had already
made his decision. “That would be fantastic. Oh, I was so
immersed in my news that I almost forgot to ask. Have you
heard from Jamie?”
“Just once. I try to convince myself that it’s because of the
time difference, but I think it’s more likely she and Ryan are
having too much fun to spend precious minutes on the
phone.”
 He swallowed hard. Cat thought only one call was
insufficient. He’d give a lot to switch places with her. “She’ll
be back in two weeks, right?”
“That’s right. Do you have any messages for her? I can
deliver them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Why... Are you going to Sydney?”
“Yes. Didn’t you know? I thought Jamie would have
mentioned it.”
He could have filled a skyscraper with all of the things
Jamie didn’t mention, but he wasn’t going to admit that. Since
Cat had replaced him as the parent to confide in, he’d grown
jealous of every piece of information she was privy to. “I
don’t recall her mentioning it. But how can you manage?”
“They fly planes there,” she said acidly.
“You know that’s not what I meant. How can you leave
when Jennie’s on the verge of moving into your house?”
She didn’t answer for a moment, and he knew he’d
offended her. He hadn’t meant to, but she got annoyed at the
most innocuous comment these days.
“When we were married, you had the right to question my
motives and supervise my travel. That’s no longer true.”
“Question your motives? What in the hell are you talking
about? I just asked a simple question.”
“You never ask a simple question. Every pointed barb is
aimed with precision.”
“Pointed barb? That’s a ridiculous thing to say. I merely
wanted to know how you could find the time for a pleasure
trip when you’re purportedly dealing with a crisis.”
 “Listen to the words you use. Pleasure trip...purported
crisis. You’re clearly trying to point out that I shouldn’t take
this trip.”
“God damn it! I’m doing no such thing! Is this how it’s
going to be from now on? You call and act like we’re the best
of friends when you need my influence, then practically spit
on me after I’ve done your bidding?”
He was fuming with anger, his face red, hands shaking.
“Cat?” Silence.
He dropped his hand, ended the call, and let the phone fall
to his lap. How did the most pleasant conversations turn so
deadly?
#
Catherine sat on her bed, surrounded by open suitcases.
Marta had been helping her pack, but she’d scampered from
the room as soon as it became clear Jim was on the line. Had
their relationship deteriorated to the point that people
assumed there would be trouble?
Glum, she walked over to the window and gazed up her
street, the traffic and few pedestrians not even registering.
Maybe she’d been a bit harsh with Jim. Normally, she’d call
back and apologize, but not today.
She knew she shouldn’t travel, and the last person she
wanted to underscore that fact was Jim. He seemed unable to
understand that she had a number of competing interests to
manage, and that it wasn’t possible to keep every one in
perfect order.
 Jamie clearly wanted her to attend the games and,
whenever possible, Jamie’s wishes came first. And even
though Jim would never understand, her need to help the
opera was a large part of her life. Her recalcitrant donor had
previously provided enough money to stage an entire
production, and getting her back in the fold would be huge..,
just huge. Everyone agreed that the woman was incredibly
easy to offend, and Catherine wasn’t about to cancel plans
that had been very difficult to make.
Ideally, she’d stay home and start making plans for Jennie,
but one didn’t very often get the ideal circumstance. One had
to balance one’s priorities, and Catherine was confident she
was doing the best she could.
Her psychiatrist had intimated that Catherine traveled
during stressful times as a way to avoid them, but she was
sure that wasn’t the case this time. There was no guarantee
that DCFS would complete their evaluation quickly, and it
was folly to wait around in hopes that they would. Marta was
quite competent and would continue to keep an eye on Jennie
for the next two weeks. If anything momentous happened,
Brendan could get involved. And Australia was only a day
away. Catherine could be home in twenty-four hours if she
was needed.
Then, when they were all back in the city, Jennie would
move in and they’d jointly embark on this new chapter of
their lives. Everything would work out just fine.
#
 Even though they slept together every night, Kayla was
never presumptuous. When Jim got back to his hotel, she was
absent. There was a note on his bed saying, “Wake me if you
need to talk.”
He walked over to the bar and almost made himself a
drink, but the waiters at the White House had made sure his
glass was never empty. Besides, he needed more than alcohol
to relax tonight. The thought of running for office was so new
to him that he was certain it would take a long time to
acclimate to it. But his people were meeting with the
Democratic National Committee at seven a.m. to come up
with a plan for how to place his name on the ballot without
seeming like vultures. It was a touchy situation; they had to
tread lightly. Luckily, other people in the party knew Bob’s
wife, Samantha, and one of them was going to call to break
the news to her. Jim couldn’t imagine that she would care
who ran for the seat, but good manners and protocol
demanded it.
Even though he’d never considered running for office, Jim
was confident that he would win the election. His opponent
was unusually conservative for California, and was funding
his campaign with his own money. Everyone assured Jim it
would be easier to defeat a renegade than someone who had
the full support of the California Republican Party, and his
opponent seemed the very epitome of a renegade.
So, instead of thinking of the election, he stood in the
window and stared out at the understated, purposeful lights
that dotted every public building and monument. If he was
going to live in Washington, he was going to buy an
apartment and commit himself to the job and the lifestyle of a
senator. He was going to go all in.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN

Going to the airport to pick up arriving friends and family

was more difficult in a foreign city than at home. Jamie was
perilously close to putting her foot down and letting her
mother do the logical thing and take a limo to the hotel, but it
seemed to mean a lot to Ryan to be there to collect Catherine
in person. Though it was sometimes difficult, Jamie tried to
always give in when Ryan’s need was greater than hers. Still,
taking a taxi to the airport at seven a.m. was, in her opinion,
going beyond the minimum requirements for being a good
girlfriend.
Catherine’s flight was due in at eight, so they had a half
hour to kill. Jamie was groggy and slow-witted at that time of
morning on the best of days, but more so than usual today
because she had been yakking with Mia until the wee hours.
Ryan, of course, had gone to bed by eleven, persisting in her
relentlessly good habits, even on vacation.
They sat in the unexpectedly comfortable chairs near the
gate, idly watching passengers bustling along the corridors.
Ryan seemed a little antsy; Jamie assumed she was just
excited about Catherine’s arrival. But when she started to
bounce in her chair so forcefully that the people on the other
side of her got up to move Jamie finally said, “What’s going
on in that pretty head today?”
The look Ryan gave her showed embarrassment. “Nothing
much.” She shrugged and went back to jiggling.
 Jamie watched her for a few minutes, knowing that the
gears in Ryan’s head were grinding away. Still, she gave her
the privacy she seemed to want, by not asking a follow up
question.
Watching people scurry around was strangely soothing,
and Jamie found herself nodding off. But when Ryan said, “I
don’t think I can be happy doing construction work full time,”
her attention focused sharply.
“What? Who said anything about you doing that full
time?”
“Well…” Her eyes narrowed until they were mere slits.
This was one of her many “I’m thinking” expressions that
Jamie always found endearing. “Nobody, I guess. But a whole
year of doing construction work might be more than I can
handle.”
It was time to count to ten. Or maybe more than ten. There
was no use in going over their situation time and again, but it
was so tempting. Oh, screw it. “I don’t want to harass you
about this, but the point of taking a year off wasn’t to get you
a full-time, nonpaying job.”
Ryan’s expression morphed into another familiar one, one
that Jamie saw far too often, one she had to admit she was
usually the cause of. This expression said, “I’m sorry you’re
mad at me.” She put her arm around Ryan and hugged her
tightly.
“I know you have to keep busy, and I know I can’t change
that about you; I don’t want to change that about you. But I
think you need to spend this next year figuring out how to
prioritize things in your life to get some balance, not working
full time.”
Ryan looked at her, and Jamie was struck by how pretty
she was in the morning light, how open and trusting she
seemed. Jamie stroked her smooth cheek and looked into
those guileless eyes. “You need balance. And if you can learn
how to get it now, when you don’t have any other great
demands on your time, it’ll pay off in the long run.”
“You’re right.” Ryan slumped down in her seat, staring
into the distance.
Jamie didn’t say anything else. This was something Ryan
had to figure out how to acknowledge and act upon, or not.
They sat there in the noisy space, holding hands for quite
a long while. Eventually Ryan said, “Do you know what
bothers me the most?”
Jamie laughed. “I have no idea. You constantly surprise
me.”
“Ha ha. Anyway, what surprises me is how much I miss
having time to think. I didn’t realize how much free time
being in school gave you.”
Jamie leaned back in her chair and searched Ryan’s
features, trying to find the part that was clearly teasing. It was
nowhere to be found. “Free time? I don’t think anybody in the
history of the University of California had less free time than
you did this past year.”
“I had a lot of it! Not in big hunks, but I’d have an hour
here or there where I could just sit and think. I don’t have that
now, and it bothers me.”
 “Tell me what you thought about and why you can’t do it
now.”
“Math stuff.”
This was always going to be a bone of contention. Ryan
meant something very specific when she said “math stuff”,
but Jamie would never know what she was talking about.
Sadly, there was no way to bridge the chasm between their
levels of knowledge on the topic. “And why can’t you think
about math stuff now?”
Finally, Ryan was able to express herself. Her entire
demeanor changed, and from long experience Jamie knew
that whatever Ryan was going to say was now very clear in
her head.
“I need to have a clean slate to think about…stuff. When I
was in school, I might only have an hour between doing one
thing and another, but that hour was mine. Now I could easily
take an hour and go get lunch, but I’m still in construction
mode. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do next and how
I’m going to do it. And when I get home at night, I don’t feel
creative. That’s a problem.”
“Honey, you don’t feel creative because you’re so tired.
God knows you’re used to being active, but the stuff you’re
doing has been very physically demanding.” She ran her hand
across the tops of Ryan’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze
here and there. “I will never complain about the muscles
you’re getting, but you’re getting them from very strenuous
work.”
 “I know that. But there’s so much that has to be done, and
I’m the only one without a job.”
“I know that’s how you think, but you also have to make
yourself happy. When do you feel most creative?”
“In the morning.”
“Okay, why don’t you try this? Get up and go running, or
whatever you like to do to get organized, and then spend
some time just thinking. If you don’t feel like thinking that
day, go to the OFC. But if you do, forget about it. Put it out of
your mind and spend as much time as you need thinking
about the things that make you feel connected or fulfilled
or…” She laughed, shaking her head. “I have no idea how
you feel when you think of math things, but you have the
need and the right to have that time to yourself.”
Ryan looked at her for a minute and Jamie found herself
completely unable to read her thoughts. Luckily, Ryan filled
her in.
“I’ll see if I can do that, but I’d rather not tell anybody
that’s what I’m doing.” She gave a childlike shrug and
admitted, “Nobody understands.”
Throwing both arms around Ryan, Jamie gave her a lusty
hug. “I’d give anything to understand how you feel about this,
but it’s not gonna happen. I do know that it means a
tremendous amount to you and that’s enough, I hope.”
Nodding slowly, Ryan said, “It’s plenty.” She took a quick
look at her watch. “Let’s go stand right by the gate. I want to
be in front so we’re the first ones to see your mom.”
 It was strange loving someone who was more excited to
see her mother than Jamie was, but it was also lovely.
Strangely lovely.
#
Catherine didn’t spot them immediately, but the moment
her eyes traveled across the crowd and spotted Ryan, she
perked up. Ryan could see Catherine’s eyes travel to her left
and then her right before landing on Jamie. It was so nice to
see the connection they had to each other now that it almost
brought tears to her eyes.
Reaching out to hug Jamie, Catherine put her large purse
on the floor. Ryan scanned her, as she always did the people
she cared about after not seeing them for a couple of days.
She was distressed to see her looking pale and tired, and she
yelped in alarm when she spotted a brace on Catherine’s arm.
“What happened?” she demanded, her tone sharper than she
had intended.
Catherine stepped back and held up her arm. “I was
jealous of all the attention Jamie got when she broke her
elbow, so I sprained my wrist.” When Ryan reached out to
gingerly touch the affected area, Catherine added, “It’s not
serious.”
“If you have to wear a brace, it’s serious.”
“Why do I think you wouldn’t say that if it were your own
wrist?”
That wasn’t playing fair, but Ryan had to admit she’d been
cornered. “I do things that almost inevitably lead to wearing
splints and braces; you don’t. Now tell us what happened.”
 Catherine started to pick up her purse, but Ryan snatched
it from her. Leading the way to checked baggage, Catherine
said, “It was really nothing. I’d been out for the evening, so I
was wearing a floor-length skirt that was a little bit too long
for me.”
“Because you’ve lost weight,” Ryan jumped in.
Smiling at her, Catherine continued. “My skirt was a little
long, my heels were a little high, and I caught the edge of my
skirt when I was going up the stairs. I stopped myself by
putting my hand out—”
“Everyone does,” Ryan interrupted. “It’s better if you can
roll.” She tucked her arms tightly against her body and started
to demonstrate how one would do this properly, then realized
this wasn’t the proper venue. “That’s why sprained wrists are
so common.”
“Well, I don’t recall ever having one, and I hope one is
enough.”
Ryan didn’t respond, her mind busy trying to figure out
how to get Catherine’s bone density tested.
#
All of the bags had been stored in the trunk of the cab and
they were on their way to the hotel when Catherine said,
“What was your reaction when you heard about Bob
Washington dying, Jamie?”
“What! He died?”
Catherine touched her shoulder. “Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed
you had heard, but they probably don’t cover California
politics in Sydney.”
 “What does that mean for D addy?” Jamie asked.
“I’ll let you talk to him about that. Actually, why don’t
you call him right now? I think I have the time zones figured
out; you should be able to reach him.”
#
Ryan and Catherine went for a walk while Jamie stayed in
the room to speak to her father. They talked for a very long
time, and by the time they hung up she wasn’t sure how she
felt about his decision. But she knew this was going to change
his life in a very big way, probably permanently.
#
The opening ceremonies were set to start in just a few
hours, and Mia hadn’t yet found Jordan’s father to give him
his tickets. Jordan called just as Mia was getting ready to go
to his hotel to leave the Ericssons’ tickets there.
“Hi,” Jordan said. “Anything exciting going on in Sydney
today?”
“My poor sweetheart. She’s worked her whole life to be in
the Olympics, and now she can’t even see the opening
ceremonies.”
“It’s okay. We have our first match tomorrow and our
coaches want to make sure we aren’t out partying tonight. As
though any of us are dumb enough to do that.”
“Where are you, sweetie?”
“We’re at the airport. We’ll probably be in Sydney by
eight o’clock. Maybe if we’re really, really good, they’ll let us
watch the opening ceremonies on TV.”
 “Something tells me that my girlfriend is a little sick of
being micromanaged.”
Jordan laughed. “I was sick of it a year ago. I don’t really
have a term for how I feel about it now, but it seems to get
worse every day. Now they’re supervising every bite of food
we put into our mouths.”
“I want a bite of you in my mouth. When’s that gonna
happen?”
“I wish I could say it’ll be soon, but it’ll only be soon if
we wash out of the games quickly. And as much as I love
your mouth…”
“I’ll gladly wait.” She paused a second. “That’s bullshit,
but I’ll wait grudgingly. You’re worth it.”
#
Jamie, Ryan, Mia, and Catherine sat in their seats high in
the upper reaches of the stadium. Because of heightened
security, they’d had to get there very early and the late
evening sun was beating down on them mercilessly. “I hope
I’m not being too negative,” Catherine said, smiling slyly,
“but I don’t think I’ve ever had seats this bad for anything in
my life.”
“The ones we were supposed to have were marginally
better,” Mia said, “but we all decided we’d rather skip the
whole thing than have to sit next to Jordan’s family.”
“Oh my. Is there an ongoing problem, or did you have a
disagreement about something?”
 “Ongoing. I think the problem began the day Jordan was
born, and I think it’s going to continue until I take a few of
’em out.”
Catherine put her hand on Mia’s arm and patted it gently.
“Are they unhappy about your relationship? It can take a
parent a long time to get used to adapting their plans for their
child’s life. It certainly took me long enough.”
“Yeah, right,” Mia said, chuckling. “You were a real ogre.
No, I don’t think anyone in Jordan’s family cares about her
sexual orientation. They’re just assholes.” She waited a
second, then said, “You don’t mind if I’m normal around you,
do you, Catherine? I hate to have to have two whole
vocabularies if I don’t need to.”
Catherine patted Mia’s arm. “I prefer it.”
#
Knowing that Jordan was in Sydney, but wasn’t sitting
right next to her was driving Mia mad. The ceremonies were
cool, but nothing was as cool as it should be when Jordan
wasn’t around. She was pulled from her grumpy mood by the
ringing of her cell phone. “Jordy!” she cried, causing
everyone in the group turn to look at her.
“Hey, there. How would you like to spend about ten
minutes together?”
“Name it and I’m there.”
“For some reason, our coaches have taken pity on us.
We’re going over to the gym where our match will be held
tomorrow, and we can invite anyone we want to come see the
place and hang out for a little while. It won’t be for long—”
 “I’m on my way as soon as I find a cab—”
“Wait, baby! We won’t be there for a while. Stay and see
some more of the ceremonies. Is it cool?”
“Not without you, it isn’t. Well, it’s still cool, but it’d be
so much cooler if you were marching around down there.”
“Has the U.S. made their entrance?”
“No, but pretty soon. I think they just called Turkey.”
“Cool. Wait until the U.S. comes in, then take off. Bring
Jamie and Ryan if they want to come.”
“And Catherine.”
“Of course. Just don’t let my mom know where you’re
going.”
“That won’t be a problem.” Jordan didn’t need to know
she’d switched tickets specifically to avoid having to spend
another minute with Daniella Ericsson.
#
It wasn’t easy to find a cab to get them where they
wanted to go, but the group finally got to the volleyball
venue. They had to pass through tight security to get inside,
but Jordan had left their names at the door, so all they had to
do was show identification and have their purses checked.
Once inside, it struck Mia that even though this was a very
nice gym, it was still just a gym. She’d spent a lot of time in
her life going to basketball and volleyball games that people
she cared for were participating in, but she wouldn’t have
minded never entering another one. She would never tell
Jordan that, of course. Or Ryan, for that matter. Mia spotted
Ryan wandering around, looking entranced by the sparkling
new facility, and briefly wished she had that kind of affinity
for gymnasia. But she knew she wasn’t alone in her lack of
enthusiasm when she saw Catherine standing there wearing a
polite smile. Walking up to her she said, “Exciting stuff, isn’t
it?”
“Oh, yes. I’ve become a bit of a connoisseur about
facilities like this, and I’d have to say this is an excellent
one.”
Mia’s heart started to thrum in her chest when a side door
opened and the USA volleyball team streamed in. It had only
been a week, but it felt like months since she’d been in
Jordan’s arms. She rectified that in seconds by launching
herself at her lover and feeling those skinny but muscular
arms encircle her. “Well worth the fourteen hour flight,” she
hummed in pleasure.
Jordan placed a very chaste kiss on the top of her head.
Mia was about to capture her lips when a voice behind her
said, “When do they hand out the gold medal?”
She turned and saw a tall, tanned, smoothly handsome
man accompanied by a drop-dead gorgeous woman
approaching.
Jordan slithered away from Mia’s hold and gave her father
a quick hug. “It’s great to see you, Dad. You too, Candy. It
was really nice of both of you to come.”
“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Why don’t
we take you two out for drinks?”
 Mia had to remind herself that Mr. Ericsson had gone out
of his way to come to Sydney. That gave him a pass… for the
moment… for being remarkably clueless.
“I wish I could, but I don’t think I’ll have a free minute
until we win this thing,” Jordan said, her bravado sounding
cute rather than boastful. “Damn, where are my manners?
You haven’t even met Mia.”
Mia stuck her hand out. “It’s great to meet you.”
She was immediately enveloped in a robust hug. Jorgen’s
handsome face was just inches from hers when he said,
“You’re practically one of the family now.” He extended his
other arm and Candy sidled up against him. “Mia, this is
Candy Alexander.”
Just as Mia was getting out the words, “Nice to meet you,”
Candy moved in for an LA-style air hug with matching air
kisses. Even though Mia had spent a summer in Los Angeles,
she’d never really gotten the hang of being able to hug and
kiss without physically touching bodies or cheeks. It always
looked to her as if people were fighting a very strong force
field, but she supposed air kisses came in handy when you
didn’t want to smudge your lipstick or your foundation.
Candy was definitely wearing lipstick, but she didn’t look
like she needed foundation. Her skin was as flawless as a
baby’s bottom, and her impressive breasts looked like they
were the best money that could buy. If you were going to
have a trophy girlfriend, you might as well have one that
looked like Candy. Even though Jordan didn’t speak of her
fondly, she was an improvement over Daniella…even if that
wasn’t much of a compliment.
They were allowed to spend an hour looking around the
gym and just talking. Mia only got to have Jordan alone for a
few moments. She scoped the place out thoroughly and found
a quiet corner where they could kiss. A year earlier, she
would’ve laughed if someone had told her that her day would
seem devoid of meaning if she didn’t have Jordan’s lips to
center her, but it was the absolute truth. It wasn’t possible to
put words to her feelings, but Jordan was her keystone. She
was the foundation of Mia’s happiness, and just a few soft
kisses made everything seem fine.
After the athletes got on their bus and rode away, the
group started trying to find a taxi. Once again, it wasn’t easy,
since most of the friends and families of the athletes didn’t
have cars at their disposal either. Ryan finally had the brilliant
idea of going down the main road about a quarter-mile. She
got into the first available cab that came by, then had it stop
and pick up the rest of her crew.
When they were all inside, Catherine said, “I’m not
having a good night. I almost commented on how much
Jordan’s sister looked like her, then when we left, I almost
called her Brandy. Brandy Alexander,” she muttered to
herself. “I’m clearly sleep deprived.”
#
He’d had a long day, and Conor wasn’t in a particularly
good mood. Even so, instead of heading home he guided his
truck to Pacific Heights. The driveway was empty, and he
parked, then got out and stretched his back muscles. For a
change, he wasn’t particularly dusty or dirty. He’d spent
much of the day visiting clients, one of whom was a prize
asshole. The owner of the company he worked for should
have handled most of the things Conor had been assigned that
day, but he often got stuck with the toughest cases because of
his reputation for being able to sweet talk people.
He went up to the front door and rang the bell and was
warmly greeted by Marta moments later. “What a nice
surprise!” She stood aside to allow him to enter, then led the
way to the kitchen. “Jennie, we have a visitor.”
The girl’s face lit up in a big smile when she saw Conor.
“Hi! Ms. Smith’s gone.”
He pulled a stool out from the big island, set his elbow on
the surface, and rested his head on his hand. “I came to see
you.”
As she often did, Jennie looked from Marta back to Conor,
as if she was looking for a hint about whether he was being
honest with her. “Me? Why?”
“I thought you might like to watch the opening
ceremonies with me.” He leaned a little closer and whispered,
“Catherine’s TV is a lot nicer than mine.”
Jennie’s neck almost snapped when she whipped around
to face Marta. “Can we?”
“Of course you can. But you have to let me make dinner
for you.”
“Damn!” Conor slammed his hand down on the solid
surface. “Well, if that’s the only way…” He showed the
charming smile that was hidden behind his faux pique. “We’ll
eat dinner, but only if you eat with us. Then you have to
watch the Olympics with us, too. You can root for Spain.” He
shot a look at Jennie. “We’re not backing down, right, Jen?”
“Right!” She slapped her hand on the counter as well,
making a quieter but no less enthusiastic punctuation.
#
Because the ceremonies were shown at five p.m.
California time, Conor was on his way home by nine-thirty.
He was halfway up the stairs when his father backed out of
the house. “If you’re looking for money or jewelry, you came
to the wrong place,” Conor called out.
“Well, if it isn’t the master of the house. Don’t tell me
you’re just coming home from work.”
Conor dropped into one of the chairs on the deck. “No. I
knocked off at around four. I went over to Catherine’s to
watch the opening ceremonies with Jennie. Then I had to run
her home.” He stuck his arms out and yawned heartily. “I’m
beat.”
Martin took a chair opposite him and sat there looking at
him for a second. “I don’t tell you enough how proud I am of
you.”
Conor’s head shot up and his eyes went wide. “Me? What
did I do?”
“It’s not what you do, it’s who you are. You’ve got a big
heart, son, and seeing you take an interest in that poor little
girl makes me very proud of you.”
 Embarrassed, Conor waved off the praise. “I like Jennie. I
could’ve watched TV with Kevin or whoever would’ve come
by, but it’s nice seeing the world through her eyes. She so
naïve, it’s pitiful, about some things, that is.”
“Yes,” Martin said thoughtfully. “She’s far too mature in
some areas. Nonetheless, you went out of your way for the
girl, and I know you have no ulterior motives on this one.” He
chuckled, adding, “You’ve never shown much interest in high
school girls…even when you were in high school.”
“I can honestly say that Jennie isn’t my type. Ryan’s not
so lucky. You can see how much Jennie likes her from two
blocks away.”
“I’m afraid that’s true, but I think Siobhan is aware of it
and is pretty good at maintaining a little distance.”
Conor let some of his disappointment show when he said,
“Everybody in her life keeps Jennie at a distance. The kid
doesn’t really belong to anyone.”
Martin stood up and gestured toward the front door. “How
about a sip of whiskey? We’re torturing poor Duffy by sitting
out here without him, and as long as I’m getting up…”
“Sure. I’ll have a sip.” Martin opened the door and Duffy
ran out, greeting Conor as though he hadn’t seen him in years.
While he endured Duffy’s sloppy affection, Conor mused that
he hadn’t seen his father have a drink in a non-social occasion
in a very long time.
When Martin returned to the deck, he had to endure
another hearty greeting from Duffy before he was allowed to
sit. He took a swallow of his whiskey and just sat for a
moment, Conor watching him carefully. Da clearly had
something on his mind, but he wasn’t in a hurry to get to it.
Finally, he looked at Conor and said, “When we were
debating the best custody arrangement for Jennie, did anyone
ask your opinion?”
“Me? Why would anyone ask me?”
Martin favored him with a warm smile. “Even though you
take leave of your senses occasionally, you have a good head
on your shoulders. I think you know people pretty well, and
you observe a lot. So, I was wondering… who would you
place Jennie with?”
Conor reached up to scratch the back of his head, finding
himself momentarily confused when his hand met the
resistance of his longish hair. He’d worn it short for so long
that its feel was an adjustment his sense memory didn’t want
to make.
“That’s a tough question. Ryan would be the best option,
but she’s too young. And it’s not fair for her and Jamie to start
their lives out saddled with a teenager. Brendan and Maggie
could do a good job, but they have the same issue. Plus,
they’ve haven’t said they’re getting married. So I suppose that
leaves you and Aunt Maeve. You would’ve been my first
choice, but I think you both have your hands full with
Caitlin.”
Nodding, Martin took another sip of his drink. “There’s a
glaring omission in your list, son.”
 “Yeah, there is.” Conor really didn’t want to add anything
else, and depending on the day, his father wouldn’t push him.
Obviously this wasn’t a non-pushing day.
“Why don’t you think Catherine will do a good job?”
Conor wasn’t about to give voice to his biggest fear, that
Catherine’s drinking problem might be worse than any of
them knew, so he stuck with the issue that was in some ways
more distressing. “It’s a pretty simple reason. She’s not here.”
Once again, Martin nodded sagely. “I was amazed when I
heard she was going to Australia. I would never say a word to
her, of course, but I worry about her instincts.”
“It seems like a valid thing to worry about. Jamie never
complains and Ryan doesn’t talk about it, but I’ve gotten the
impression that Catherine was gone a lot when Jamie was
little.”
“Yes, I think that’s true. It seems like Catherine thinks
having Marta around to watch Jennie is the same as her being
there. It’s not,” he said firmly. “To be honest, I’m
disappointed in your sister for leaving. I know it’s important
for her to be in Australia for Jordan, but it’s wrong for
everyone concerned to take off for another continent right
when they’re trying to change the custody arrangement.”
“That seems a little harsh, Da. Jennie doesn’t know
Catherine’s trying to get custody, and she’s got to stay at the
group home until it’s all settled. So having Ryan here
wouldn’t have made a big difference. But that’s not true of
Catherine. Jennie confides in her, and with the stuff that’s
been going on in the group home, I’d feel a lot more
comfortable if Catherine was keeping an eye on things.”
“Is there something new at the group home I’m not aware
of?”
Conor could have told him about his bribery scheme with
Jennie’s roommate, but there was no sense in worrying him.
“Just more of the same. The kid needs to get out of there, and
she needs to be in a stable situation. And Catherine needs to
learn that you give up your fun when your kid needs you.”
Giving him another fond smile, Martin said, “I’m glad you
realize that. It’s a lesson many parents don’t seem to
understand.”
“Oh, I understand,” Conor said. “That’s why I don’t want
to have kids for another ten years. I want to be sick of having
fun before I have to give it up.”
#
Seeing Mia, even for a few minutes had soothed a part of
Jordan’s soul that had been aching since they’d parted. She
was fairly sure that she and Mia were still in the first throes of
their love, and that the craving she felt for her would one day
wane. But a small part of her believed that Mia was so vitally
important to her, that she’d never be able to be away from her
without some amount of suffering.
Taking the edge off the need didn’t make going to the
team dorm any easier. Now that Toni was gone, Jordan was
sharing a room with Jill. That made life easier in many ways,
especially since Jill didn’t want to sleep with her. But Jill was
a little too much like Jordan. When she was under stress, she
clammed up and spoke only when absolutely necessary.
Normally, that was fine. Jordan had learned not to rely on her
teammates for emotional support, and that had never been
more obvious than now, when everyone had spent the past
year hoping the woman next to her would be sent home. It
was tough forging an emotionally supportive team made up of
the survivors of a long-running death match.
Jordan really needed Mia, someone who could point out
the small, funny things that happened in any situation,
someone who saw the bright side of almost everything,
someone who had dedicated herself to making sure Jordan
was doing well physically and emotionally. Having that
emotional touchstone taken away after allowing herself to
become dependent upon it shattered her.
The entire athlete’s village was a planned development in
Newington, just over a mile from Olympic Stadium. It took a
long time to get checked in and go through the elaborate
security the USOC had devised, but eventually they collected
their packets of information and went up to their room. The
dorms were going to be turned into high rise apartment
buildings once the games were over, but for the time being,
the space was decorated about as lavishly as Jordan’s shared
apartment in Colorado Springs. It wasn’t bad, but it was
primarily intended as a place to sleep, nothing more.
Something about it made her homesick, then it struck her that
she didn’t have a home anymore. Living in Santa Monica was
out of the question, she’d let her Berkeley apartment go, and
they were going to move out of their apartment in Colorado
Springs as soon as they returned to the U.S. No, there was no
place she belonged—except with Mia—and they were barely
allowed to see each other for the duration of the games.
She tossed her huge USA duffle bag on the single bed and
tried to calm herself. Their first match was in the morning,
against China, a team that they had every reason to fear.
Historically the Chinese hadn’t done well at volleyball, but
they’d focused on it for the last few years and had made huge
strides in international play. She wanted to pace, but knew
that would drive Jill crazy, so Jordan plopped down on the
bed and tried to think of something, anything, that could
soothe her. They weren’t allowed to leave the building
without permission, so going outside for a breath of fresh air
wasn’t a possibility.
It had been a long time since she’d had a panic attack, but
the first signs were slowly creeping into her awareness. Her
palms were clammy and her skin felt prickly, as if she was
wearing wool. She was about to go hide in the bathroom
when the pocket of her warm-up jacket buzzed.
It took a second, but she unzipped it and felt…a phone.
Hitting the “answer” button, she held the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
“I bet you didn’t even know I’d put that in your pocket,
did you?”
Mia’s voice was like cooling salve on a raging burn. “No,”
Jordan admitted. “You know I barely know what country I’m
in, much less what’s in my pockets.” She pulled the phone
away and looked at it carefully. “Why do I have a new
phone?”
“Because we can’t afford to call each other on our regular
ones. Jamie pointed out how much cheaper it would be to buy
disposable ones here and use a local SIM card. She’s always
on top of things.”
“You’re the one who’s on top of things. Thanks for this,”
Jordan said quietly as she slipped into the bathroom. “You
have no idea how much I need to talk to you.” She laughed at
herself. “That’s not true. I need you to talk to me; I just want
to listen.”
“With pleasure. It’s time for bed, so brush your teeth and
get ready to sleep. I’ll call you back in fifteen minutes.”
Before Jordan could reply, the line went dead.
It was as though the scales had fallen from her eyes. The
bathroom was bright and cheerful, and when she walked back
into the bedroom, she noticed all of the homey touches they’d
included. There were attractive, colorful prints on the walls,
brightly colored bedspreads, and lots of places for them to
store their clothes and personal items. It wasn’t just okay, it
was nice.
Jill went into the bathroom to get ready for bed and
Jordan’s new phone rang again. “Did you find the headset that
goes with the phone?”
“Uhm, no. Did you tell me to look for one?” Jordan
teased.
“I am now. Put it in your adorable ear and lie down. I’m
gonna relax you.”
 Jordan found the headset and wedged it into her ear. Not
bothering to properly store her things, she dumped the duffel
on the floor and slid in between the sheets. “I’m ready, but
don’t try to relax me the normal way; Jill would slug me.”
“I’m not going to use my usual technique. Tonight I’m
going to tell you a bedtime story.”
“Oh, boy! I don’t remember hearing one of those since I
was a baby.”
“Are you lying down?”
“Yep. And most of me is actually on the bed. Only three or
four inches is sticking off the end.”
“I swear we’ll have a bed long enough for you,
sweetheart, even if I have to pawn my jewels.”
Chuckling, Jordan said, “You have jewels?”
“No, but I like that it sounds dramatic. So here’s the story.
Ready?”
“Definitely.”
“Once upon a time…like right now…in a land far away…
called Oz…there was a beautiful, golden haired princess who
loved an equally lovely woman who wanted to be with her at
that very moment. But an evil prince kept them apart. His
powers were limited, though, and the curly haired princess
was going to figure out how to get around his stupid rules.”
“Mia…” Jordan warned.
“Legally, the princess assured the golden-haired beauty.
All perfectly legally. But she wouldn’t be able to work her
magic until daybreak…’cause…oh, some stupid reason,” she
added hastily. “Anyway, the princesses could only talk to
each other through…magic clam shells.”
“Magic clam shells, huh? Nice image.”
“Yep. They were magic. Just holding the magic clam shell
up to her ear let the golden-haired princess hear and feel how
much love the equally pretty princess with the corkscrew
curls had for her.”
“This is true.” Jordan began to feel the anxiety leave her
body as though it was being drained away.
“The golden-haired princess had worked for years to be
the best in the kingdom at a complex feat of strength and
agility, and she was finally going to get to show all of the
peasants how awesome she was at…slam-kill-dig.”
“Slam-kill-dig?”
“Don’t complain about the terminology. It’s hard thinking
of a cool term for volleyball. I just used words I hear you
rattling on about.”
Jordan could visualize Mia’s adorable expression when
she teased like this, and it made her shiver with pleasure. “I
have no intention of complaining. I like your story a lot.”
“Good girl. So, the big festival is about to begin, and the
golden haired princess needs to close her pretty eyes and
sleep. She needs to kick some butt tomorrow.”
“Thinking about that makes the princess’ stomach hurt,”
Jordan said quietly.
“Then the princess doesn’t have her head on straight.
Here’s what she sometimes forgets: her dream was to be the
best.”
 “Yeah, she knows that—”
“No, not if she isn’t completely satisfied, she doesn’t. The
princess has already realized her dream. Now it’s time to
relax and enjoy living it.”
“Uhm…the ceremonial robes I will wear are still in my…
royal trunk. I haven’t done squat.”
“Wrong you are, my beautiful girl. The princess wanted to
be the best; and once she was chosen to represent the whole
kingdom, she’d proven that she was. For the rest of her life,
she will be an Olympian. Always, princess. No one will ever
take that away.”
“I…guess you’re right.” The breath Jordan took in felt like
it not only filled her lungs, it helped clear her cluttered mind.
“And when the princess dies, several hundred years from
now, the people will say, ‘She represented her kingdom in the
Olympic Games’. To be honest, no one but the princess and
her fellow teammates in whatever the hell I called it will
remember who won this contest of skill. What matters is that
she competed with the best. In a kingdom of over three
hundred million, she’s one of a handful of people who
qualified to be here. And if she comes in first or last, the curly
haired princess won’t love her more or less. In the curly-
haired princess’ mind, the golden haired princess is totally
awesome, and she couldn’t possibly be prouder of her.”
“You’re making me cry,” Jordan sniffed.
“You may cry,” Mia said with an imperial tone, “but you
must cry tears of happiness, of pride, of accomplishment.
You’re already on the mountain top, princess. Look down and
revel it in.”
 CHAPTER TWELVE

To her complete amazement, Jordan woke when the sun

crept across her bed and illuminated the bright blue bedspread
with “Sydney 2000” stenciled across it. She had slept through
the night! Lying there placidly, with the sun warming her
body, she focused on the bedtime story Mia had contrived.
How cool was that? She giggled at the thought of putting her
ceremonial robes away, but her attention was diverted when
she heard a strange noise. Like a gasp…
Turning her head, Jordan opened her eyes and saw Jill
sitting up, her feet on the floor and her torso bent over so far
Jordan could only see the top of her head. She was making
the strangest sound, but it wasn’t clear what it was. “Hey, are
you all right?”
Jill’s head tilted and Jordan could see her stark white face.
Jill took a gasping breath and Jordan realized she was having
some sort of panic reaction. She jumped to her feet and sat
next to Jill, putting her hand on her back. “Slow down and try
to control your breathing,” she said, trying to keep her voice
from betraying her own rising anxiety. “Slow and steady.”
Jill’s back was wet with sweat, and her body shivered with
each labored breath. “Can’t…” she gasped.
“Yes, you can. Put your head down and focus on slowing
your heart rate. I know you can do it.” She took Jill’s hand
and rested it on her belly. “Act like you’re blowing out a
candle when you exhale. Feel the breath leave your body. Can
you feel it?”
“Yeah. Yeah. But I can’t breathe. I can’t get enough…air.”
“You’ve got plenty. You’re talking, so you’re breathing.
You just think you can’t breathe.” She pressed Jill’s hand
harder into her gut. “You can feel your breath. It’s there.”
Jill took in and let out a few more breaths, and when
Jordan could see she was shaking less violently, she said,
“Focus on your legs. Tense the muscles as tight as you can,
then let them relax slowly.”
She carefully watched the quads tighten and relax. “That’s
good. Do it again.” After a few more repetitions, she said,
“Now stand up and shake out your shoulders.” They both
stood, and Jordan showed her how to shake some of the
tension away.
After a few seconds Jill’s breathing was less labored, but
she gave Jordan a panicked look and ran for the bathroom.
Jordan followed and stood outside the bathroom for a
moment, then ran back to her bed, the furthest spot from the
bath, stuck her fingers in her ears, and sang a nonsense tune
to avoid having to fight for position at the vomitorium.
Long minutes later, Jill emerged, her skin greenish, her
hands shaking. “I’m fucking losing it,” she groaned as she fell
onto the bed. “I’ve got meds for the panic attacks, but I can’t
take ’em when we’re competing.” She slammed her hand
against the bed, making it rock. “Like a volleyball player
would want to have less energy.”
 Jordan could have pointed out that the doping policy was
intentionally broad, that people who competed in sports that
benefitted from steady hands might take the very same meds
to give themselves an advantage, but she didn’t waste her
breath. As a panic attack sufferer herself, she knew Jill
wouldn’t be swayed by logical arguments. When you were
having an attack, you thought it would kill you. When you
weren’t having an attack, you knew it was only a
psychological reaction to stress. But your brain didn’t believe
that when it was desperately telling your lungs they didn’t
have air. “How long have you had them?” she asked.
“Years. Seems like forever.”
“I have them too,” Jordan said, uncharacteristically
revealing something very personal. She thought she and Jill
might be able to bond over their shared malady, but that
would have to wait. Right now she had to sprint for the
bathroom and vomit until her stomach was raw.
#
Jordan and Jill traded off for the next hour. Throwing up,
drinking Gatorade that the one most able to ambulate brought
up from the cafeteria, then throwing up again. Being prone to
anxiety was bad, and being with a fellow sufferer made it
worse. At eight a.m. Jordan sat on the bed, drained and weak,
barely able to shiver. In her heart, she knew that everything
Mia had told her the night before was true: the honor of
making the team was the important thing. But her central
nervous system kept insisting that the goal she’d worked for
so fanatically was right in front of her, and she had better not
screw it up.
#
Once they were both feeling better, Jordan and Jill lay on
their beds, trying to rest before they had to leave the complex
for a light practice. “How do you feel when you’re playing?”
Jordan asked.
“Huh?”
It sounded stupid now that it was out, but Jordan had
never talked to anyone on the team about how she
experienced the game, and for some reason, she felt
compelled to know. “When you’re playing…are you anxious
then?”
“God, no.” Jill rolled onto her side, propped her head up
on her hand, and looked at Jordan. “I never feel better than
when I’m playing, if there’s something at stake.”
“You mean…”
“I don’t get a high from practice…unless it’s a great one.
But when we play a game that means something, really means
something, I’m as happy as I can get.” Just thinking about
competition made her skin take on its usual olive hue. “You?”
“Playing is what makes it worthwhile,” Jordan agreed.
“The rest of it sucks.” She lay there musing over the long
road to the Olympics. It had been nearly a year of practice,
weight training, running, stretching, yoga, intense dieting,
urine tests, blood tests, and grinding travel. But tonight she’d
get to play. For the biggest stakes she’d ever face. Her
stomach roiled, but she refused to give in to the anxiety.
Instead, she focused on imagining herself floating a foot off
the ground, slamming the bright yellow cover off a volleyball
as a hapless defender impotently watched it fly by.
#
Ryan was up and raring to go, while Jamie was still trying
to orient herself. “What sports do you want to see today?”
Jamie pried one eye open and tried to focus on Ryan’s
bright blue eyes. “We’re going to see Jordan.”
Ryan’s sunny expression fell. “That’s not until eight thirty
tonight! We could see a whole bunch of stuff before that.”
After brushing the hair from her eyes, Jamie forced herself
into a sitting position. She rested her elbows on her spread
knees and sat there for a few moments trying to collect
herself. “This might be a shock to you, but I don’t think I’m
as interested in watching sporting events nearly as much as
you are. So why don’t you decide what you really want to see,
and we’ll try to get tickets.”
Looking amazed, Ryan said, “I want to see everything! It’s
a gorgeous day, there’s venues everywhere, and the best
athletes in the world are here. I don’t care if I see kayaking or
rhythmic gymnastics, I just want to see stuff… a whole lot of
stuff.”
Jamie thought for a few minutes, then looked up as their
bedroom door opened and Mia stumbled in, falling face first
onto the bed. She didn’t say a word, and when Jamie reached
over and lightly scratched her back she fell asleep in
moments. Tilting her head towards Mia, Jamie said, “I can’t
leave our little one.”
 Ryan walked over to the window and stared outside,
pouting a little. “I’m not going to be happy if I don’t get to go
see sports.”
“Would you be happy if you went by yourself?”
Ryan nodded her head enthusiastically. She obviously
caught herself, because she added, “I’d much rather be with
you, of course.”
“Of course.” Jamie beckoned and Ryan dutifully walked
back to the bed. “Give me a kiss and take off.”
“Really?” If she was trying to contain her excitement, she
was doing a very poor job of it.
“Really. We’re here to see Jordan. If some other event
catches my eye, I might want to see it. But I could be very
happy wandering around town, maybe getting in a tiny bit of
shopping.” She held her hand up with her index finger and
thumb about an inch apart.
Ryan kissed her, lingering for a moment. “You are a good
girlfriend. You guys do whatever you want; I’ll be back here
by six, and if you’re not here I’ll head over to the venue. I’m
sure they have the equivalent of hot dogs for sale.”
“I’m pretty sure we won’t be eating at the venue.” Jamie
sat there for a moment, regarding her partner. “Why don’t you
just go to the venue whenever you want to. It might be out of
your way to have to come back here. And I’m positive you
wouldn’t mind missing a great meal at a top-notch
restaurant.”
Ryan headed for the door, saying, “There’s nothing I’d
like more than missing a meal in a nice restaurant.”
 #
When Jamie entered the assigned section at the Sports
Pavilion that night, she looked up and saw Jordan’s mother,
grandmother, and brother. There was an empty seat, then
Ryan. That didn’t bode well, and she hoped Ryan was politely
leaving the seat empty for someone the Ericssons had brought
along. But when she went up the aisle, followed by Mia and
Catherine, Ryan’s gaze caught hers and she could tell that the
seat was empty by design.
The pavilion seated around seven thousand people and
Jamie was surprised to see how large the crowd was. Then it
dawned on her that the U.S. was playing China, and there was
a very large Chinese population in Australia.
Jamie threaded her way down their row and started to
scoot past Ryan to sit next to Gunnar, but Ryan caught the
back of her pants and directed her to sit next to her, leaving
the seat empty. Jamie leaned over to say hello to the
Ericssons, but when she got only unenthusiastic nods, she
didn’t bother to introduce her mother.
They all sat down and she whispered, “I think we’re
taking up a seat that isn’t ours, honey.”
“I’m not sitting there, and you’re not sitting there.”
Ryan seemed so perturbed that Jamie didn’t risk asking
her what was going on. It took a lot to aggravate Ryan
enough to make her act rudely, but once she got there, it
wasn’t hard to make things worse.
They’d only been there a moment when the people on the
other side of them arrived. Catherine had been at the end of
the row and she got up and started to move to the empty seat.
Ryan reached out to stop her, but Jamie grabbed Ryan’s hand
and held it tight. “Behave,” she whispered.
Ryan scowled, but didn’t say anything, welcoming
Catherine with a kiss when she sat down. Immediately,
Gunnar leaned over to introduce himself. Jamie had to admit
there was something smarmy about his demeanor, but that
wasn’t a good enough reason for Ryan to make a scene.
Mia reached around Jamie and slapped Ryan on the knee.
“Where did you head off to today?”
That seemed to snap Ryan out of whatever pique she was
in. “Very, very cool day,” she said, her enthusiasm obvious. “I
saw some women kayaking, a pretty good field hockey game,
and an awesome sailboard race.”
Catherine had been listening, and she commented, “I
can’t imagine all of those sports were done at the same
place.”
Laughing, Ryan said, “Not by a long shot. I took a shuttle
bus out to this place by the Blue Mountains for the kayaking,
then came back to town and went over to the harbor for the
sailboard—actually the Mistral qualifying race—then I went
to the State Hockey Center, which isn’t far from here. I saw
so much, I had to hustle to get over here in time.”
Knowing her partner’s definition of being on time was
different from her own, Jamie asked, “When did you get
here?”
“About seven-thirty.”
 That seemed about right for Ryan. If she didn’t get to see
the team enter the stadium, she felt she’d missed something.
Mia elbowed Jamie and said quietly, “When you get back
to the hotel, you’d better check to make sure your mom’s
checkbook is still in her purse. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to
inventory her jewelry, either.”
Jamie turned her gaze down the row to see Gunnar
speaking to her mother as though she was the only person in
the auditorium. It was probably perfectly innocent, but
somehow it rankled her. Still, her mother had a lot of
experience in dealing with unctuous men; Giacomo was
prime evidence. If she could handle him, she could handle
Gunnar.
#
From the time the U.S. team appeared on the court, until
the match was over ninety minutes later, Ryan barely
twitched. Jamie was consistently amazed by her partner’s
ability to lose herself in something that really interested her,
and given her love of and knowledge of the game, it wasn’t
surprising that she was engrossed. Given that she cared for
Jordan so much, it was actually a little surprising that Ryan
remembered to blink.
The U.S. team got off to a very shaky start, and by the
time they’d lost the first game by six points, Jamie had
bruises blooming on her hand and arm, courtesy of Mia.
But they seemed to settle themselves, and they attacked
the second game with a burst of enthusiasm and focus that
carried them to a four point victory.
 The third game was well underway when Jordan’s father
and his girlfriend appeared. Jamie laughed when Candy
started to walk down the row. Daniela caught sight of her,
stood up and forced her mother to trade seats with her. Now it
was Jorgen, Candy, Jordan’s grandmother, her mother, and
her brother making up the dysfunctional family rooting
section.
The third match made it seem like the Chinese team had
forgotten how to play. They missed a couple of easy kills, and
couldn’t sustain a rally for more than a few seconds. Jamie
was no student of the game, but it was clear even to her that
momentum had firmly shifted in favor of the US team, and
Ryan always said that momentum was as important as skill.
Letting herself relax, Jamie sat back and enjoyed the
fourth game, idly making plans for what they could do the
next day. It seemed like only seconds had passed, but
suddenly the U.S. was down by two points, and their
momentum had clearly left the building.
Ryan didn’t say a word, but Jamie could see the tense set
of her jaw as she focused on every movement. Through
nothing but grit and determination, the U.S. fought their way
back, eventually tying the Chinese at twenty-four. The last
two points seem to take an hour, but the U.S. won both of
them, and Jamie found herself crying when she saw Jordan
leap into the air and punch the sky. She looked so ridiculously
happy that it became clear to her that whatever Jordan had
sacrificed to get there, it was worth it.
#
 Ryan headed out early in the morning once again, and
when she returned to the hotel room at eleven, she’d already
seen women’s trap shooting and a sailing competition she
could describe only as “little boats with three guys sailing
them”.
Jordan was free from noon until ten, and Mia had their
main activity planned. “I talked to Jill’s husband last night,
and we flipped a coin for alone-time in the village. He chose
afternoon, so I took evening. What can we do until six?”
“What do you want to do? Jordan would probably like to
see one of the other venues,” Ryan said. “There’s kayaking all
day.”
“Can we get in?”
“I can probably score us some tickets. I found the spot
where people swap and hawk their spares. Jamie? You in?”
“Oh, sure. I’d love to be outside. Mom?”
“Thanks, girls, but surprisingly I’m not interested in
taking an hour long bus ride to watch people kayak.” She
chuckled, then held up her hands in surrender. “I’m a wimp.”
“We can do something else,” Ryan began, but Catherine
stopped her.
“No, dear. I’m going to have a massage and relax by the
pool. If you want to have dinner together, just call. If not, I’ll
be perfectly content to order room service.”
“We’ll be here for dinner,” Ryan declared before Jamie
could even begin to offer an opinion.
#
 It was easier than anyone expected to meet up with
Jordan, thanks to Mia’s prescience in getting them local cell
phone numbers. She was standing right where she said she’d
be, wearing her USA Olympic warm-ups and looking like a
million bucks, in Mia’s biased opinion. Her hair was as long
as Mia had ever seen it, and when she wasn’t playing, she left
it loose, letting it move about in the breeze. The sun made it
shine like gold, and Mia was struck once again by how
remarkably lovely Jordan was. She would have loved her if
she was five feet tall and swarthy, but she was very glad
Jordan was so regally Nordic. If she hadn’t been wearing her
U.S. sanctioned clothing, she could have passed for a
Swedish royal who was seeing how her subjects were doing
in the competition.
“You look delicious,” Mia whispered in her ear as they
hugged.
“Thanks. I was going to dress like a normal person, but I
like to have people point at me and guess what sport I play.”
“People probably guess basketball,” Mia said. “I don’t
think most people know how tall an outside hitter has to be.”
“Yeah, I think it’s more than that. Nobody knows what an
outside hitter is, but I’m good with that.”
Ryan draped an arm across Jordan’s shoulders. “You had
three kills last night that you never would have made at Cal.
Weighing about six pounds less has made you a better
player.”
“But she bruises me!” Mia complained. She poked at
Jordan’s body, feeling nothing but bones and muscle. “I’m
gonna fatten her up as soon as she has that gold medal around
her neck.”
Jordan grabbed Mia’s hands and held them tightly. “We
can spend the next six months just eating, if that’s what you
want to do.”
Mia laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t know me very
well if you think that’s all I want to do.” She kissed Jordan’s
cheek. “Which reminds me, we’ve got your room all to
ourselves from six until ten.”
Eyes sparkling, Jordan looked at Ryan and said,
“Hillsborough girls rock.”
#
It seemed like every American they met on the shuttle bus
and at the whitewater venue spoke to, or took a picture of,
Jordan. She was practically beaming the whole day, and Ryan
couldn’t help but feel a few pangs of jealousy. She didn’t
think she could have made the team if she and Jamie were
together, and having Jamie was worth everything. There was
no question about that. But there was still a big part of her
that would have dearly loved to devote herself to a sport and
be able to compete for her country. She had a nagging thought
that she wouldn’t be as single-minded as Jordan had been,
and she was almost certain Jamie wouldn’t have been as
selfless and supportive as Mia had been. Not that Jamie was
selfish, not by any means, but they were at a point in their
relationship where Jamie made more demands on her than
Mia did of Jordan. Those two were still testing the waters of
their relationship. She and Jamie had gone past that and now
had to tend the relationship like a beautiful garden. Being on
the team would have been like having a fungus attack the
foundations of the plants, and the benefit to her personally of
being an Olympian could not have outweighed the harm it
might have done their relationship.
But being adult and realizing you’d made the right choice
didn’t ameliorate Ryan’s strong desire to strip that USA jacket
off Jordan and put it on. It would have been sweet.
#
Jordan had brought a lunch from the U.S. team’s cafeteria.
Her coaches had expressly forbade them from eating or
drinking anything that wasn’t either prepared in the cafeteria
or in a sealed package. They sat at a restaurant not far from
the Olympic Stadium, with Jordan sneaking bites from her
bag of assorted raw vegetables and hummus while her friends
ate from the menu. “I feel like a jerk eating this delicious
sandwich while you’re gnawing on carrots,” Ryan said.
“Don’t you get any protein?”
“Sure. I’ve got a bag of nuts in here. That’s dessert.” She
smiled. “Well, that’s my first dessert. I get two.” She pulled
out an orange and held it up like a prize. “This is my real
treat.”
“Every time I feel jealous of your getting to play, I have to
remember your diet,” Ryan said, chuckling. “I wouldn’t have
lasted two weeks.”
“Two days,” Jamie corrected, holding up two fingers that
Ryan grabbed and nibbled on until their server appeared and
gave Ryan a look that questioned her sanity.
 #
Late that evening, Mia knelt astride Jordan’s hips, lazily
sliding back and forth, just keeping the sensation going until
she was ready for another orgasm. “You’re really good at
this,” she said, her voice as thick as honey.
“Only because of you. You’re an excellent trainer. Maybe
that’s what you should do for a living. I think you’d like that
more than being a lawyer.”
“Very funny.” She grabbed Jordan’s nose and tugged on it.
“I didn’t teach you a thing. We just pay attention to each
other. It couldn’t be simpler.” Leaning over, she nuzzled her
face against Jordan’s neck, smelling her remarkably appealing
scent. “To be good in bed, you only have to enjoy yourself
and go out of your way to make sure your partner is enjoying
herself.”
“There’s some technique involved. When I think back to
how I was at first…” Jordan rolled her eyes dramatically.
“I’m still amazed you didn’t tell me to beat it.”
“You were just frightened, baby. As soon as you got over
your nerves, you were fantastic. And you keep getting
fantasticker. That’s a new word, just for you.”
“I don’t know about that, but I am getting tired.” She
glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “It’s only nine-
thirty, though. We’ve got another half hour together.”
“Since I get up about five hours after you do, I’m wide
awake. Turn onto your side, and I’ll cuddle you until you fall
asleep.”
“But I’ll wake up when you leave.”
 “You usually fall right back to sleep when you’re
relaxed.” She took Jordan’s hand and lifted it, then dropped it.
It sank to the bed like a heavy weight. “You’re relaxed.”
“Thanks to you.” She put her arms around Mia and held
her tenderly. “I love you. I couldn’t ever have gotten this far
without you, baby.”
“Sure you could have, but I like that you’re delusional
about my powers. Now, come on, roll over and let me hug
you.”
“I’ll agree to that for…oh, about a billion years.” She
rolled onto her side, sighing heavily when Mia spooned up
against her back. “I’m never happier than when we’re naked
and touching. Every inch of my body feels hugged.”
“Every inch of your body and your mind is huggable.
Now close those pretty eyes and relax. Just let yourself feel
how much I love you.”
Jordan closed her eyes and hummed in pleasure as Mia
ran her hand up and down her body, soothing her. It was
tempting to fall asleep, but Mia knew someone would bang
on the door soon, demanding she exit the premises. Going
through security to get into the complex had taken forever,
and the name tag she had to wear showed her name, Jordan’s
name, the floor she was allowed to be on, and what time she
had to leave. Rumor had it there was a chip of some sort
embedded in the tag that tracked everyone’s movements, but
she wasn’t sure that was true. It didn’t matter, since she had
no interest in investigating the rest of the building. If Jordan
wasn’t there, it wasn’t interesting.
 Mia kept stroking her partner, loving to watch how
Jordan’s body reacted to her touch, even when she was half-
asleep. Her body was a source of endless fascination, and Mia
was sure she’d never tire of playing with it. She was so
fixated by watching Jordan’s skin pebble when her hand
touched a sensitive part that she didn’t even hear the door
open. Not until she heard a quiet “Shit” did she look up to see
Jill staring at her.
She and Jordan were both naked, the sheet pooled on the
floor at the foot of the bed. To reach it, Mia would have to
disturb Jordan, and she had no intention of doing that. So she
sucked it up and acted like she didn’t mind being caught.
“Toss me the sheet, will you?” she whispered.
Jill didn’t seem embarrassed in the least, and she politely
picked the sheet up and handed it to Mia, who smoothed it
over Jordan’s body. With the calm of a safecracker, she slid
out of bed, now having to get back into her clothes—with an
audience. She’d learned athletes were generally unfazed by
nudity, so she got dressed as she usually would.
“My husband complained about the bed so much, we left
and went to his hotel,” Jill said. She laughed softly. “I bet
he’d give every dime in his checking account to trade places
with me right now.”
Mia merely lifted an eyebrow.
“He doesn’t think I know it, but he’s got a mad crush on
Jordan.”
“Me too,” Mia said. She tried to smile, but knew her
efforts were weak at best. Jill might have been the nicest
woman in the world, but she and Toni had been as thick as
thieves. Toni was toxic, so Jill would always be suspect, even
if she seemed perfectly lovely.
“And like most guys, he’s crazy for lesbians.”
“Mmm.” Mia finished buttoning her shirt, then grabbed
her bag and headed for the door. “Lesbian, singular,” she
corrected. “I’m not a lesbian, but my girlfriend is.”
#
The next morning, Jamie woke and scratched her nose
where Ryan’s hair was tickling it. A half-opened eye showed
not the long, black hair she was expecting, but a brown
ringlet. How had Ryan snuck out and Mia snuck in without a
sound? She tugged on the curly hair, receiving a grunt from
her new bed partner. “Been here long?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah.” Mia yawned and stretched. “A couple of hours, I
think. I’m not sure, but I think it was dark when Ryan closed
the door and woke me up.”
“You can’t say she’s not getting the most of her Olympic
experience.” Jamie took a look at the clock. “I’m in no hurry
to get up. How about you?”
“G’night,” Mia said, fluffing her pillow and hunkering
down once again.
#
Jordan’s next match was at two-thirty, and when Jamie,
Mia, and Catherine got to the arena, Ryan was once again
sitting there, raptly watching the action…of warm-ups.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” Jamie asked, getting a scowl in
return.
 “I’d be happy to never see him again,” Ryan said, not
mentioning Gunnar by name. “Was Jordan raised by a
different family?”
“I wish,” Mia said. “Uh oh, zip it. Here comes Daddy and
his little girl.” Jorgen and Candy threaded their way along the
aisle to sit next to Ryan.
“How’s everyone today?” Jorgen asked, smiling at the
group.
“We’re good,” Mia said. “Let me move so we can talk.”
She got up and moved to sit on the other side of Candy,
discreetly rolling her eyes at Jamie the first chance she got.
They all made small talk for a few minutes, then watched
the US demolish a young, inexperienced Kenyan team.
As usual, Ryan was no fun at all to sit next to. She
watched the match with her laser-like concentration, only
moving when she contorted her body as if she was going to
make a save or slam the ball over the net. It was like watching
someone with a severe nervous condition, and after the first
match, Jamie said, “Ryan, move there.” She and her mother
shifted seats so that Ryan was on the end of their group.
Seeming not to notice, she went right back to her silent
thrashing about.
Jamie was now close enough to hear Mia trying to have a
conversation with Candy. It was tough going, but only
because Candy obviously didn’t care about the match. Jamie
mused that Mia and Candy could have been buddies if they’d
met at Cal, but this new Mia wasn’t content to look for
celebrities in the auditorium or dish about what people were
wearing. She was there for Jordan, and she took her job
seriously.
After the U.S. got off to a scalding start in the second
game, Candy said, “Can we go? Please?”
Jamie shot a quick look at her and wondered how it would
feel to be a fortyish man with a girlfriend a little younger than
your younger child. Candy was attractive, that wasn’t in
question, but she acted like a child…a baby, really. She’d
perfected that baby-voiced whine that didn’t seem to irritate
men enough for them to resist the charms of the young
women who used it.
“It’s just the second game,” Jorgen said, not taking his
eyes off the court.
“I’m bored,” she moaned. “Jordan can’t see us. She won’t
know if we’re here or not.”
Jamie almost leaned over to remind Candy that she wasn’t
alone, but didn’t think that would be appropriate. If she
couldn’t figure out that four of Jordan’s closest friends might
tell her that her father ditched the match, there was little hope
for her.
“Well, all right.” He patted her, turned to Mia, and said,
“Most girls just don’t like sports.”
Jamie almost choked when Mia looked him right in the
eye and said, “Your daughter does.”
Jorgen blinked, then laughed nervously. “Sure, of course
she does. But they’ve got this one well in hand. Candy and I
at least saw the first game.” He pointedly looked at the empty
seats that should have been filled by his former wife, mother-
in-law, and son. “Candy wants to see some women’s
gymnastics, and I’ve got a lead on some prime seats.”
“Whatever makes you happy,” Mia said, sounding utterly
insincere.
Candy stood and started to move past Mia, who didn’t
stand to make their exit easier. As they moved away, Jorgen
said, “Maybe we’ll see you on Wednesday.”
“We’ll be here,” Mia said, then turned her focus back to
the match, muttering, “Asshole” while Jorgen was still within
hearing range.
#
The U.S. team easily beat the Kenyan squad, knocking
them off in three straight games. Mia had a coveted family
badge that let her go to a big room right next to the dressing
room to congratulate her partner and she raced for it as soon
as the last point hit the court. To her amazement, Daniella,
Mrs. Lundberg, and Gunnar were all gathered there, waiting
for the team to enter.
“Hi,” she said, walking up to the group.
“Oh, hello, Mia,” Daniella said. “That was an exciting
match, wasn’t it?”
“It was from where I was sitting.”
The woman was clearly lying about having been there.
You couldn’t just plop down any place you wanted. Security
was tighter than Mia had ever experienced, and she knew that
they either had been invisibly sitting in their assigned seats, or
they’d just snuck in to get credit for attending. But that was
something. Not more of an effort than Jorgen had put in, but
at least Jordan would believe they gave a fuck.
“Do you know anything about the good-looking blonde
girl on the team?” Gunnar asked.
“Blonde girl?”
“Yeah. If she’s single, I thought Jordan might introduce
me.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s Ekaterina. I don’t know if she’s single
or not, but Jordan probably does.”
“Cool.” He shook his head, causing his fashionably long
to hair dance across his forehead. There was something about
Gunnar that was like a blond version of Conor. Both men
looked good and knew it; and both of them paid more
attention to women than anything else in life. As a matter of
fact, both were equally confident about their charms. But
something about Gunnar was smarmy and off-putting, while
the same qualities in Conor were usually charming.
The door opened and the team filed in. Mia’s heart
thrummed faster just seeing Jordan’s face, and when Jordan
looked as happy as she did tonight, it was all she could do to
stop herself from running to her and leaping into her arms.
Jordan didn’t seem to notice her family standing there, going
right up to Mia and wrapping her in a long hug. “I’d
apologize for being sweaty, but I know you love it,” she
whispered, then kissed her cheek.
“I do.” She had to let go, but she didn’t want to share
Jordan with the people she viewed as interlopers. But Jordan
was trying to stand up and Mia finally let her.
 “Great game,” Gunnar said with a decent degree of
sincerity.
“Yeah?” Jordan’s eyes narrowed and she looked like she
could see right through her brother. “How much of it did you
see?”
“A lot…” he began, then backed off when she raised a
dark blonde eyebrow. “Pretty much. We were running late.”
“We’ve seen enough,” Mrs. Lundberg said, almost glaring
at her granddaughter. “I want to see some of the country. This
is supposed to be a gorgeous place, but all I’ve seen is Los
Angeles without celebrities. Where are we going?” she asked,
scowling at Daniella.
“Mom wants to do a little sightseeing,” Daniella said. “We
thought we’d go see Melbourne.”
“How are you getting there?” Jordan asked. She didn’t
look angry or even surprised. She had expected that her
family would somehow disappoint her, and she was merely
playing out the scene.
“Well, that’s something you could help out with, Jordan.
Gunnar paid for our rooms here, you know, but…”
“You want me to pay to fly you to Melbourne. And get
you another hotel room, of course.” Once again, she merely
looked resigned.
“I think I’ll stick around,” Gunnar said. “Is that good
looking blonde chick on your team single?”
“Yeah. I’ll ask her if she wants to screw you.” She took
Mia’s hand and headed for the door, saying over her shoulder,
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars. No more.”
 There was a narrow corridor between the locker room and
the reception area they’d been in, and Jordan stood there for a
second, then took in a deep breath. Mia could almost see the
determination she summoned to shrug off the incident and
attempt to smile. “After I shower, I’m free until ten. Wait for
me?”
“I’d like to see who could stop me.” Mia took her cue
from Jordan and acted like the previous few minutes hadn’t
happened. She slapped her on the butt and watched her run
down the corridor to shower and change. If the Ericssons
knew what was good for them, they were gone. If not…she
wasn’t going to guarantee she wouldn’t slap the old woman in
the kisser. The evil streak in the family tree had to start
somewhere, and the old bat was the likely locus.
#
Mia went outside, found Jamie and Ryan, and said,
“We’ve just got a few hours together. You don’t mind if we
don’t hang out with you, do you?”
“Totally cool,” Ryan said. “There’s field hockey and
soccer and cycling and—”
Jamie placed her hand over Ryan’s mouth, saying to Mia,
“We’ve got plenty to keep us occupied. When’s Jordan’s
curfew?”
“Ten,” Mia said, making a face.
“We’ll probably be back at the hotel around then. Maybe
you and I can go have a drink.”
“You don’t even act polite?” Ryan asked, clearly teasing.
“I’m standing right here, you know. I can hear you.”
 Jamie put her arm around Ryan and hugged her roughly.
“You’ve been getting up so darned early I know you’ll be
tired by ten. You could be operating on Jordan’s schedule and
be perfectly happy.”
“I’m happy because I’m with you.” Ryan started dropping
quick kisses all over Jamie’s face.
“I’ll definitely be up for a drink,” Mia said. “Jordy won’t
be free until noon tomorrow, so I can stay up late.”
“It’s a date,” Jamie said, still fending off her partner, who
was being particularly playful. Watching a good volleyball
match must have energized her…as though Ryan needed
more energy.
#
Jordan emerged not long after Mia was readmitted to the
building. “We’ve got five hours,” she said. “I’ve got to get
something to eat in the village, then we could go out or just
hang out in my room.”
“Will Jill be there?”
“No. She said she and her husband were going to go out to
eat.” She smiled when she added, “She’s not as compliant as I
am.”
Mia took her hand as they left the security area. “Not
many people are. You’re the kind of girl my mother wanted
me to hang out with.”
#
It took forever to get through security at the athlete’s
village, but they finally made it to the cafeteria. Jordan
grabbed her usual fare to take up to her room, and Mia helped
carry her grilled chicken and three steamed vegetables. Jordan
was sticking to her training diet, even though it couldn’t
possibly have hurt to add a piece of bread or a potato at this
stage. But she wasn’t the kind of person to stand up to
authority figures very often, a trait Mia knew would prove
troublesome over time.
Jordan’s meals were provided, but Mia had to avail
herself of the fast-food outlet in the building. She felt a little
guilty eating a burger and fries while Jordan methodically
shoveled in more steamed carrots, but she didn’t feel guilty
enough to skip dinner. With any luck, she’d need the energy.
It was clear that the interaction with her family was
weighing on her, but Jordan didn’t mention it, or much of
anything else, until she’d finished eating. She dropped her
fork after the last bite of cauliflower entered her mouth,
looking like a contestant in an “all you can eat” contest. The
fork hit the plate and her hands rose, showing the judges she
was finished.
“Another delicious meal,” Mia said, smiling at her. “You
need to think of what you want to eat for your first meal after
you’re released from captivity.”
A crack like that usually made Jordan smile, but she acted
as if she hadn’t heard it. “Hey,” she said quietly, playing with
the paper napkin on her tray. “Will you do me a huge favor?
Would it be a lot of trouble for you to find a flight and a hotel
for my mom and grandmother?”
 She looked up, and her eyes showed something…
embarrassment? She was hard to read tonight, but Mia didn’t
like the vibe she was giving off.
“I’m happy to help, baby. I’ve got the number of your
mom’s hotel; I’ll call her when I get back and see when she
wants to travel.”
Jordan nodded slightly, then swallowed. “Don’t…don’t
make a big deal about what I said before. It’ll probably cost
more than a thousand to get them a room they’ll be happy
with. It’s not worth arguing about.” Her voice trailed off,
making her sound so wounded, so…drained. Mia would have
given anything to repair the new wound Jordan had just
gotten, but she didn’t have many ideas about how to help.
Going with the only tool she had, Mia took Jordan by the
hand and led her to the bed. But instead of undressing her, she
sat down and tugged Jordan down with her. They sat next to
each other, and in just a few seconds Mia could feel Jordan
begin to tense up. “I want to make something perfectly clear,”
Mia began.
Jordan’s eyes grew wide, and she looked like she was
expecting a beating.
“We’re partners…in everything. When you need me to
take care of something, I’ll take care of it. I’m not doing you
a favor. We’ve got a ‘to do’ list, and each of us adds things to
it and ticks things off when we’re able.”
“We do?” she asked, hopeful.
 “Yeah, we do. It’ll be much easier for me to make the
plans than for you to try. I would have offered if you hadn’t
beaten me to it.”
Jordan lowered herself onto the bed, with her feet still flat
on the floor. The bed was so narrow, she had to lie at an
awkward angle, but she managed. “I wish they hadn’t come,”
she said, so softly that Mia had to focus to make sense of the
bits of words she heard.
“I…I know you feel like that now, but I think they really
wanted to be here for you. They’re just not…big sports
people.” Even to her that sounded pathetic, but she didn’t
know what might make Jordan feel better. Should she try to
find some clue that her family really did care, or lambaste
them for their selfishness?
“I think my mom came because it would look bad for her
to have her daughter in the Olympics and not go. My
grandmother came because my mom talked her into it. And
Gunnar came because he hasn’t fucked his way through this
continent.”
That was a surprise. It was rare for Jordan to speak badly
of anyone, much less her family. And she’d barely mentioned
Gunnar before the trip. It was time to ask a few questions.
“If you don’t want them here, why spend your money on
them, honey?”
She looked like she’d been caught destroying Olympic
property. “It won’t be that much,” she said quickly. “And I’ll
be able to get a job as soon as we get back to Berkeley. I
know it’s our money, but—”
 Mia lay down, took Jordan’s face in her hands, and placed
a gentle kiss on her lips. “If you want to spend every penny
on your family, it’s fine with me. I was only responding to
your saying you wished they hadn’t come.” She took a breath
and let out the thought she’d been holding in for months.
“You have some control over how your relationship with
them goes, baby.”
“No, I don’t.” She turned her head, now staring up at the
ceiling. “This wasn’t a good time for me to have to stop
therapy. We were just starting to work on how to be more
assertive… I ran out of time.”
Mia cuddled up next to her, somehow managing to use
every available inch of the single bed. “This isn’t the time to
make big changes. I just wanted some idea of how you think
things are…how you see…whether you want to have…” She
shook her head, her own circuitous thought process making
her dizzy.
“You want to know if I’m going to let my family treat me
like an ATM for the rest of my life,” she said flatly. “If I’m
ever going to say ‘no’ to any of my mother’s demands.”
“No, that’s not true.” Though it was precisely true; it just
sounded so cruel to put it that way. “Almost everybody has a
tough time figuring out how to relate to their family once
they’re an adult.” She tickled under Jordan’s chin. “Our kids
will be bitching about us twenty years from now.”
Jordan’s eyes focused on Mia’s intently. “I’m not having
kids.”
“Okay, then I’ll have them.”
 Somehow managing to leap to her feet, Jordan stood
above Mia, still staring at her. “I’m not talking about who will
have them; I’m saying I don’t want to have kids. Any kids.”
“We don’t have to make those kinds of decisions for years,
honey.” She patted the bed invitingly. “Come lie down with
me.”
Jordan sat next to Mia, her gaze still intent but her voice
now soft. “I’ve never wanted to have kids. I’m not going to
change my mind.”
“Okay. Why don’t you want them?”
Jordan answered so quickly that she’d obviously thought
about the issue long and hard. “I don’t want anyone to feel
about me like I feel about my mother.” She shivered so
strongly that Mia could see her tremble. “I’d rather die.”
Well. That was pretty damned clear. And who could blame
her? Mia sat up and put her arms around Jordan, rocking her
for a minute. “If we had kids, we wouldn’t treat them like
your mom treats you. They’d be smothered with love, baby.”
“No,” Jordan said firmly. “I’d made up my mind about
children by the time I knew had the capacity to have a baby.
This isn’t something that just occurred to me.”
“I can see that.” And she could. It made perfect sense that
Jordan wouldn’t understand how rewarding it would be once
they had a baby of their own. But she’d get there. It might
take years, but Mia was going to have a baby and Jordan was
going to have it with her.
#
 Mia didn’t get back to the hotel until ten-thirty. Jamie and
Catherine were in the living room. “Is Ryan out looking for
the last possible sport being played?” she asked as she walked
in.
“No, she’s out like a light,” Jamie said. ‘Mom’s about to
join her.”
“You too?” Mia asked. “Are you up at the crack of dawn
like Ryan?”
“Not really, but my sleep patterns are seriously skewed.
This is the first night I’ve been tired at a reasonable time, and
I’m going to take a pill and try to sleep through the night.”
Mia’s eyebrows popped up and down. “Whatcha got?
Anything good?”
Catherine blinked, then laughed. “My doctor gave me ten
sleeping pills. I could spare one if you need it.”
“No, I’m good. I pretty much stayed on Jordan’s schedule
when we were in Colorado. They moved our bedtime up a
little bit at a time until we were going to bed at eight
o’clock.” She rolled her head around. “Crazy! But we’re not
jet-lagged, so the coaches must know what they’re doing.”
“I need a coach. But I’ll have to make do with chemicals.”
“They’re fun if you use the right ones,” Mia said,
chuckling as Catherine waved goodnight and went into her
room. “Up for going out?” Mia asked.
“Sure. Do you want to talk or ogle?”
“Talk.”
“Then let’s just go downstairs. The lobby bar is boring,
but it’s usually quiet.”
 “Done.” Mia got up, then said, “Shit. I’ve got to call the
Dragon Lady. Do you mind?”
“I assume that’s Daniella, and I also assume she’s what
you want to talk about.”
“You’re a bright one,” Mia said, finding her phone to
make the call.
#
The hotel, like every place else in Sydney, had a drink
menu inspired by the Olympics. Mia ordered a Pentathlon,
figuring that five different spirits would help raise her own.
They were at a quiet table in the corner and she sipped the
drink, thinking that it wouldn’t take more than two to have
her dancing on the table. “Do you think your mom could
petition for custody of Jordan, along with Jennie? She could
probably get some two-for-one kinda deal.”
“What did they do? Besides skip the match today.”
“Oh, they showed up. They were in the family area after
the match. But only to hit Jordy up for money to go to
Melbourne.”
“Melbourne!”
“Right. They want to have fun, and watching their flesh
and blood do something remarkably important to her isn’t
enough to keep them entertained. Actually, Gunnar is staying,
but he wants Jordan to hook him up with a teammate.” She
made a face. “He gives me the creeps.”
Giggling softly, Jamie said, “I didn’t want to say anything,
but I’m with you on that. I still don’t know what he said or
did to Ryan, but she won’t even sit by him.”
 Mia stretched her arms out across the table, then dropped
her head onto them. “I’ve got my work cut out for me,
James.” She lifted her head and met Jamie’s eyes. “I’ve got to
help her make a break from those vultures before they drain
her savings, then I’ve got to convince her we can have a baby
who won’t grow up to hate us.”
“Wanna run that by me again? I thought you said ‘baby’.”
“I did.” She sat up and took another sip of her drink. “You
know I’m going to have kids.”
“I do,” Jamie agreed somberly. “I still remember when
you wanted two boys named Wyoming and Montana.” Her
serious mien dissolved when she started to laugh. “That was
after you went on that ski trip with your family.”
“That was right when people started naming their kids
after cities and states. I was a trendsetter.”
“And if you’d have been of child-bearing age, you’d have
two kids with names they wanted to change.”
Mia sipped at her drink, suddenly feeling a lot older than
she had when she’d made those plans. “I don’t think about
names anymore,” she said. “I just think about having a life
with Jordy, and my dreams always, always include kids. I
can’t give up my one goal in life, James. I’ve got to convince
my girl that she can be a good parent.” She leaned over,
making sure Jamie could see how serious she was. “She will
be a good parent. I’m sure of it. She’ll be like Martin.”
“Like Martin?”
“Yeah. Ryan said he had bad parents, and he turned out to
be a great dad. My Jordy will be a great dad or mom or
whatever, too.” She sat up and took a big drink, letting the
alcohol and her mental image of Jordan holding their baby go
right to her head.
 CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On Friday evening, Jordan was masterful, executing kill

after kill as the volleyball team cruised to an easy defeat of
Australia, the home team and heavy crowd favorite. This
time, Candy and Jorgen showed up about an hour into the
match, just catching a large portion of the final game. Jorgen
must have had enough awareness to know that Mia didn’t
care for his curtailed attendance, as he and Candy left an
empty seat next to Ryan. They were friendly, but after the
initial greeting, no one tried to make cross-party conversation.
As Jamie watched Ryan twitch and jerk around in her seat,
she realized that Jorgen might have left the seat empty just to
save himself from being bruised. If Ryan behaved like that
during easy wins, how would she be when the team took on a
more challenging competitor? Jamie was afraid to even
wonder.
Ryan slowly emerged from her trance, saying, “That
second game was the best I’ve ever seen Jordan play. I
thought she was great the other night when they demolished
Croatia, but she was way above that tonight. The U.S. might
have been ranked seventh coming into this, but if she
continues to play like that, they’re going to medal.”
“She surprises me with her awesomeness every day,” Mia
said, giggling with happiness. “And I have until ten o’clock
tonight to show her how cool I think she is.” She reached into
her purse and extracted two badges. “I confiscated these from
the evil Swedes. Let’s go down and praise our Olympian.”
#
Security wasn’t as tight as Mia had expected, given that
Jamie and Ryan easily entered with picture IDs showing a
forty-something and a seventy-something woman, but she
was happy they were all together. Volleyball and Ryan had
brought Jordan into her life, and it didn’t seem right to
celebrate without their buddies.
Jorgen and Candy had taken off for points unknown, and
Mia was glad they were gone. It was a lot more fun with only
one Ericsson in attendance. But the best of the Ericsson clan
didn’t emerge with the rest of the team. The threesome waited
around for almost fifteen minutes, with Mia growing more
anxious as the minutes ticked by. “What could be taking her
so long? She must be sick.” She grabbed Ryan’s collar and
pulled her close, demanding, “Did you see anything wrong
with her?”
“No, of course not. There’s nothing wrong with her
physically. She was leaping all around the gym from the first
point to the last, and you can’t do that if you’re hurt.”
“Then where is she?”
Jamie observed, “The head coach isn’t here either. Was he
here the other night?”
“He was. Dammit, he was.”
Finally, Jordan and the coach entered the room, and it was
blatantly obvious that something was seriously amiss. Even
though she’d just been exercising vigorously, there was no
blood making it to Jordan’s face. And even from a few yards
away, you could see her trembling. Mia grabbed her, and
hugged her close. “What’s wrong?”
“Let’s go outside. I need some air.”
Jordan led the way, not saying another word until they had
traipsed all the way across the main plaza. To everyone’s
amazement, she entered the first bar they passed, walked up
to the bartender and ordered a beer. When she turned to ask
what everyone else wanted, three open mouths gaped at her.
It was only five o’clock, and the bar was mostly empty, so
they were able to find a quiet table in the back of the big
room. Mia couldn’t contain herself for another moment. “You
haven’t had a beer in…I don’t know how long. Is it even…
legal? I mean, are you allowed to drink?”
The blonde head nodded. Jordan took a long pull from her
beer, then set it on the table. “Alcohol isn’t a banned
substance. I don’t usually drink because it’s empty calories,
but since I can’t take drugs, I had to find something to calm
me down. Even though I just had to give blood, and I won’t
be tested again today, I don’t think I can risk popping a
handful of Valium.”
Mia dropped her head on the table, hitting the wood hard
with her skull. “I’m going to pass out if you don’t tell me
what the fuck is going on.”
Rubbing her back, Jordan murmured, “I’m sorry, baby.
I’m just trying to settle myself.” She took in a deep breath and
then slowly exhaled. “Here’s what I know. An archer from
Poland failed a random drug test.”
 “Poland! What the fuck?”
“Let me finish, baby. They notified this woman that she
failed the test, and she implicated my brother. I don’t know
any more details than that. I guess my coach wanted to make
it clear that I was clean, so they had somebody from the
doping agency come take my blood.”
Mia sat there, her brain working in overdrive trying to
figure out what to say or do or think. But nothing came to her.
She just sat there, staring at Jordan.
“That’s how I feel too,” Jordan said. “I don’t know what
happened, but I have to find out.”
#
They’d finished their drinks and were just about to leave
the bar when Jordan’s cell phone rang. She pulled it from her
pocket, stared at it for a moment, then answered. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Gunnar said. “I need some help.”
“Yeah, I know. Good luck with that. What the fuck did
you do?” she demanded, her voice loud enough to make the
few other patrons look in her direction.
“I didn’t do shit. But a bunch of cops came to my room
and searched the whole place this morning. I think I need a
lawyer.”
“Sounds like it.” At this point she wouldn’t have spat on
him if he’d been on fire.
“Come on, Jor, help me out. You’ve got money.”
“Not for you, I don’t. You can ask Mom for some of the
child support she’s been stealing from me for the last four
years. Or have Grandma sell some of the gold she hoards,
waiting for the next depression. Maybe Dad will bail you out.
You know how crazy he is about you.”
“Don’t be a cunt. You know Mom doesn’t have any
money and only the Grim Reaper will pry that gold out of
Grandma’s hands. You don’t have to remind me that you’re
Dad’s favorite, by the way. Everyone knows it.”
“I’m the favorite because I’m not a screw-up,” she hissed.
She looked up as Mia led Jamie and Ryan away from the
table. That was probably for the best. “You’re an adult,
Gunnar. It’s time to get a real job and stop doing whatever it
is you do to support yourself. If you’re dealing, which is what
I’ve always believed, you deserve to go to prison. I’ll help
pay the prosecutor’s salary, but I won’t pay for a lawyer for
you.”
“Mom’s gonna make you anyway, so you might as well
get it over with.”
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In my room. They told me not to leave.”
“I’m coming over.” She hung up and stared at the phone
for a moment, fighting the urge to throw it against the wall.
#
Mia, Jamie, and Ryan waited in the lobby while Jordan
went up to Gunnar’s room. It took a good deal of persuasion
to convince Mia to stay behind, but once Jordan assured her
she wouldn’t hurt her hands or leave an evidence trail, she
consented.
But now that she was in the elevator, Jordan wasn’t sure
she’d be able to keep her promise. She’d like nothing better
than to beat Gunnar to a pulp, but he was definitely stronger,
and had probably learned to defend himself against wronged
boyfriends, husbands, and possibly fathers, during his career
as a lout.
Gunnar answered the door, looking a little less self-
assured than normal. That was something positive. She sat
down in a chair, surveying the room, which had been turned
topsy-turvy. “Do you expect the maid to clean this up?
There’s probably an extra charge.”
“Fuck off.” He stretched out on the bed, carefully
reattaching his normal studied casual vibe.
“Are you under arrest?”
“I don’t think so. They just told me to stay here in case
they needed to talk to me again. But I need a lawyer to make
sure they’re not just jacking me up.”
“Look, I’m not going to act like I want to help you,
because I don’t. But I might give you a hand, only to avoid
having my name dragged through the mud. I’m sure there’s
some tabloid that would love to do a story about the
Olympian-slash-model whose brother got arrested for dealing
drugs. I’ve seen up close how those vultures massage a story
to make it sell. They’d have one of mom’s covers, then the
sexiest ad I was ever in, and they’d work Dad in and tie it all
into Hollywood kids gone wrong or some bullshit.”
“Yeah, they’d definitely do that,” he said, obviously
seeing an angle he could exploit.
“But you’ve got to tell me the truth. Did you give that girl
drugs?”
 “No! She tested positive for coke. An archer would never
take anything to make her hands shake. Those idiot cops
don’t know the first thing about sports.”
“And you do,” she sneered. “So, if she didn’t do your
coke, why would she say you gave it to her?”
“How the hell do I know? Maybe she’s got a boyfriend,
and she made the story up to make it sound like some evil
American got her in trouble.”
“No, that won’t wash. I need a better lie.” She gave him a
sickly sweet smile. “I know you can do better.” She held up
her cell phone. “I have the private number for your U.S.
senator in here. Want me to call it? I’m sure he could have the
embassy help you out.”
“Oh, fuck!” He dashed over to her, straining to see the
display that she held just out of his sight. “Can you really do
that?”
“Yeah, I can. But I won’t if I don’t know the truth. I’m not
going to vouch for you and have it boomerang back and hit
me in the face.”
He straightened up and walked over to the window,
looking down at the beautiful harbor. Jordan could almost see
his mind working out the percentages. He’d always twisted
the truth, but now he lied about everything he could get away
with. The only way she’d believe him was if he implicated
himself. Anything less was a lie.
“Have you ever fucked a guy?”
 That was out of nowhere. Like she’d ever tell him
anything private. “Why? Are you going to try to tell me
cocaine is part of the mating process?”
“No, but it can be.” He turned and stared at her for a
second, then rolled his eyes when she didn’t reply. “A guy can
use it to…make it more fun.”
“Okay. I’ve never taken drugs, but they must make things
more fun or people wouldn’t do them. What’s that got to do
with the archer?”
“I used a little…and it must’ve gotten into her
bloodstream. I had no idea that could happen, but that’s all I
can think of.”
Jordan stood and held her hands up. “What kind of sex do
you have that your blood winds up in her system? Was she a
vampire?”
“No, no.” He plopped down on the bed and regarded her
suspiciously. “I bet you haven’t had real sex.”
“I’ve had plenty of sex, and it’s real. But I’ve never used
coke to get off, so I don’t have any idea what you’re talking
about.”
“You don’t use it to get off,” he said wearily. “You use it
to…not get off…at least not for a long time.”
Not get off. What the hell? Slowly, she began to get a clue.
“So you take coke so you can last for a long time. Is that it?”
“Damn it, Jordan! You’re such a child! You rub it on your
dick and it numbs it so you can last forever. Grow up!”
“The day I have to rub coke on myself to have good sex is
the day I stop having it. That’s too fucked up for words.”
 “Everybody does it,” he declared defensively. “It’s
different for guys. You have no idea.”
“You’re right there, and I don’t want to have any idea. So
let me get this straight. You picked up some athlete,
convinced her to have sex, used coke to make it better, and
she absorbed enough of it to test positive.” She sat there for a
second, thinking. “There’s no way you used ‘a little’. No
way.”
“A little a couple of times. Maybe it added up. I don’t
know. I’m not a doctor!”
Jordan stood up and walked over to the bed. This was the
Gunnar she’d grown to despise. He was always a victim; the
deck was always stacked against him, and the only person
who understood him was his mommy. The sight of him turned
her stomach. “I’ll do what I have to do to keep my reputation
clean, but I won’t help you. You disgraced that girl, and I’m
sure you don’t feel one bit of shame or remorse about it.” He
started to answer, but she cut him off. “Did she know you
were using coke?”
“She should have. I was fumbling around down there
every five minutes. No normal man could have banged her for
as long as she needed to get off.”
“I can see why straight people are so turned off by gay
sex. It’s really sordid compared to the things you normal
people are into.” She turned and strode from the room, hoping
cocaine eventually made the sturdiest of dicks fall off.
 CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Catherine answered the phone in her bedroom when it

woke her from a deep sleep. “Hello?”
“Uh oh. I think I woke you up. It’s Brendan.”
“Oh, no, I’m just slow moving in the morning.” She
blinked to clear her eyes, noting it was just nine a.m.
“I don’t believe you, but I appreciate your tact. Even
though I called too early, I’ve got good news. Your petition
was granted this morning. You’re officially Jennie’s
guardian.”
“Oh!” Catherine sat up, a tingling feeling running down
her arms. “I didn’t expect it to come through so soon. Does
Jennie know?”
“Uhm…no. We agreed not to tell her. Right?”
“Right. Right. I’m sorry, Brendan. I really am foggy this
morning. Let me call you after I’ve had time to get my brain
working.”
“You can, but you don’t need to. I just wanted to let you
know. When you get back, you’ll just have to sign all the
papers and you’re set.”
“Thanks so much for calling. You can wake me up at any
time you wish, so long as it’s good news.”
Catherine hung up, dashed into her bathroom, and
hurriedly got ready for the day. She walked into the living
room, amazed to find Ryan sitting on Mia’s sofa bed,
watching some sporting event. “You’re the last person I
expected to find here. Were all of the sports you like
cancelled?”
“Nope.” Ryan got up and walked over to the dining table,
took a cup and saucer and filled the cup from a carafe. She
presented it to Catherine with a flourish. “My fiancé wants to
be with me today, so I’m patiently waiting for her and Mia to
get ready. I thought a jolt of coffee might make them move
faster, but I was wrong.”
“I think I’ll tag along, if you don’t mind.” She took a sip
of her coffee. “I just got some great news, and I want to spend
the day jabbering away. Do you mind?”
“I love to hear you jabber. Wanna start?”
“Oh yes! Brendan called to say the judge signed the order
giving me custody. Jennie will be ensconced at my house as
soon as I get home!”
Ryan drew close enough to give her a hug. “That’s
fantastic,” she said. “Really fantastic.”
“What’s fantastic?” Jamie walked into the living room,
followed by Mia.
“Jennie can move in with me!” Catherine was smiling so
brightly her cheeks hurt. “I want to talk about all of my plans
for her, and Ryan says I have permission to follow you around
and bore you to tears. I’m so excited!”
Jamie gave her mother a long hug, whispering, “I’m proud
of you for doing this. It will make Jen’s life so much better.”
“Mine too,” Catherine said, completely confident of the
truth of the sentiment.
#
 The only sport they could get tickets to was the dressage
event at the Equestrian Center. Everyone but Ryan had taken
horseback riding lessons at some point, with Jamie having the
most experience of the bunch. Ryan thoroughly enjoyed
having her partner talk about something that was foreign to
her, and Jamie didn’t disappoint, noting all sorts of small
details that someone who hadn’t ridden would never have
noticed.
“I’d love to watch you ride someday,” Ryan remarked.
“Watch me?” Jamie leaned back and stared at her for a
moment. “You want to watch me do something rather than
doing it with me? Are you quite well?”
Laughing, Ryan nodded. “Yeah. Dunno why, but I have no
interest in riding a horse.” She gazed out at the massive
animals performing their tasks with skittish precision. “But
I’d love to watch you do it. Let’s go when we get home. Do
you have the duds?”
“The duds? What a quaint expression. Yes, I have a riding
habit, my sweet. But I’m sure the only thing that would still
fit is my helmet.”
“That’d be cool. You’d look good in just a helmet.”
“James was really good,” Mia said. “She got ribbons and
things.”
“Only small events,” Jamie amended. “The people at my
riding club weren’t very good.”
Mia playfully slugged her arm. “I was at your riding
club!”
 “Like I said,” Jamie added, leaning against Ryan for
protection.
“I wonder if Jennie would like to take lessons,” Catherine
said. “We’d have to go to Hillsborough, but she might enjoy
it. Would it be too soon to ask her today?”
“Are you going to tell her on the phone?” Ryan hadn’t
considered that Catherine would do that.
“I thought I would. She’ll be home from school in a
couple of hours. I thought…” She shifted her gaze from Jamie
to Ryan. “No?”
“Why not do it in person?” Ryan asked. “You’re going
home right away, right?”
Catherine’s smile disappeared. “Why…no. I haven’t had
my meeting yet.” She looked almost puzzled, like she hadn’t
thought the situation out at all. “It seems like such a waste of
time to come all this way and not meet my reluctant donor.
I’d be letting the opera guild down.”
Ryan didn’t say a word. It was hard to hold her tongue,
but she managed. She was waiting for Jamie to make the case
for Catherine’s immediate departure, but no help was
forthcoming.
“When’s the meeting, Mom?” Jamie asked.
“Five days from now. It was difficult to arrange because
my donor’s been traveling. She’ll return from China the day
before we meet. She didn’t expressly say so, but I got the
impression she changed her plans to return early so we could
talk.”
 “Mmm. It wouldn’t look very good to cancel at this
point.”
Ryan had to sit on her hands to stop herself from pointing
a finger in Catherine’s face and lecturing her. She’d been in
such a massive hurry to get the ball rolling, and now that she
had guardianship, she didn’t seem to think there was any rush
at all. Even though she knew she should keep her mouth shut,
she couldn’t stop herself.
“Uhm…” She scratched her head, trying to think of a
diplomatic way to frame the question. “You were really
worried about Jen being in the group home. Is there…has
something changed?” Oh, that was inelegant.
“No. I’m definitely concerned, but a few more days
shouldn’t make much difference, should it?”
Catherine looked like she wanted to be reassured, but
Ryan couldn’t do it. All she could offer was a shrug of her
shoulders, then she shifted to look at the horses, determined
to stay out of Catherine’s business, no matter how
disappointed in her she was.
#
Catherine decided to wait to tell Jennie until she returned
home. Ryan knew that was the right choice, and she was glad
Catherine had come to it without too much inveigling. They
returned to a favored meet-up spot to wait for Jordan, who
was once again being released at noon.
They’d only been waiting for a few seconds when
Catherine said, “I’ve got to call home. I won’t tell Jennie, but
I want to check and see how she is. She’ll probably be at my
house now, so I’ll go back to the hotel and call.”
“Want us to meet up with you later?” Jamie asked. “We’re
going to try to get tickets to watch canoeing. Ryan swears it’s
a good spectator sport.”
“Sounds like fun, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve found that
volleyball fulfills all of my sporting needs.” She grinned
happily, kissed everyone goodbye, and was off in a matter of
moments.
Ryan watched her leave, thinking, I wish I had someone to
talk to about this, but Jamie is definitely not the one. I guess
I’ll have to sulk in silence.
#
As she’d hoped, Jennie was, in fact still at her house in the
city when Catherine called. “How are things going?” she
asked, when Marta handed the phone to the girl.
“Okay. It’s pretty boring around here with everybody
gone, but after we have dinner, Marta and I watch the
Olympics. She knows a lot about soccer.”
“Oh, she’s a big fan,” Catherine agreed. “Real Madrid is
her favorite team.”
“Are they playing?”
“No, honey, they’re a professional team. The Olympics
are for amateurs.”
“Then why’s Jason Kidd and the other guys from the
NBA there?”
 “Oh. You make a good point. I suppose they’ve changed
the rules in the last few years. We’ll have to ask Ryan. So…
everything else is good?”
“Sure.”
That wasn’t much to go on. “Things at the group home
are…stable?”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not there much. Sandy’s been letting
me stay out until ten because of the Olympics. Marta talked to
her.”
“Oh, that’s excellent. Let me talk to Marta again, will you,
honey?”
“Sure. You can call us anytime. We’re always hanging
around, not doing much.”
“I will. I’ll speak with you later.”
Marta picked up the receiver, and Catherine said, “Could
you find a quiet place and call me back? I want to talk about
Jennie, and I’d rather speak privately.”
“Of course. Thanks for calling. We’ll talk to you soon.”
A couple of minutes later, Catherine’s phone rang. “I’m in
your room now, and Jennie’s still in the kitchen. We can talk.”
“Thanks so much for calling back, Marta. I wanted to let
you know—”
Marta interrupted. “I know you were given custody. The
social worker called this morning.”
“Really? Brendan didn’t mention that. What did she say?”
“She wouldn’t say what she wanted, but I will have to say
that she didn’t seem pleased that you were out of the
country.”
 “Oh, goodness, what business is it of hers?” Catherine was
sick of strangers probing her suitability as a guardian,
especially since they didn’t seem overly concerned about
letting Jennie live with a girl who physically threatened her.
“She asked where you were, and I felt like I had to tell her.
She’s a government official, is she not?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, Marta. It’s perfectly fine to
be honest with her. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“She asked many questions about your travel, but I only
said the truth, which is that you’re home most of the time.”
“That’s exactly right. I’m never gone for more than six or
eight weeks a year. I’m home the vast majority of the time.”
“She wanted more information, and it made me
uncomfortable. It’s not my place to talk to strangers about
you. Can I tell her that if she calls again?”
“Yes, you can. If talking about this makes you
uncomfortable, you have every right to make that clear. If
anything else comes up and you can’t reach me, call Brendan.
I left his number in the folder I left for you with my travel
arrangements.”
“Yes, I have it. I would feel better to ask her to call him if
she wants more information.”
“That’s fine. And thank you again for being there for
Jennie. I can tell how much she appreciates being with you.”
“I’m not sure she likes being with me as much as she
doesn’t want to be at home. She seems very sad when it’s
time to leave.”
 “That won’t be for long. Soon we’ll have a teenager in the
house full time.”
“I will make an extra prayer to have the energy I will need
to keep up with her.”
“Add one for me, Marta. I think I’ll need it.”
#
The U.S. was set to play Brazil in a critical match at eight
o’clock that night. The competition was set up into two pools,
and the rankings within each pool determined the strength of
one’s opponent in the medal round. The U.S. had won each of
their four matches, as had Brazil. So whoever won tonight
would be the first seed in the medal round.
But even ignoring the standings, the U.S. was on a roll.
Reporters from around the world were attending the matches,
increasing the stakes. And they were going to move into a
much bigger arena, which held more than twice as many
spectators as their previous venue.
All in all, tensions were rising, along with Jordan’s blood
pressure. The bullshit with Gunnar had taken a lot out of her,
diluting her focus and making her feel just enough off to be
less than her best.
They had an early run through, and she’d made more
mistakes than she’d made thus far in the entire Olympics.
Afterwards the coach called her aside and gave her the only
pep talk he’d ever given her, and that made her more tense
than his usual yelling would have. If he was treating her with
kid gloves, she must really have screwed up.
 There was a light at the end of the tunnel, though; she
knew Mia would be waiting for her when she left the
building. It was only noon, and they’d be able to be together
until five. That made the demoralizing pep talk easier to take.
When Jordan stepped from the building, the bright sun made
her blink a few times to focus. Regrettably, her eyes landed
not on Mia, but on her mother, glaring at her.
“Gunnar says you won’t help him,” Daniella snapped.
Jordan twitched her head and spotted Mia. She stuck her arm
out and Mia immediately stood next to her. That felt so
damned good it wasn’t funny. Having Mia there made her feel
like they could stand up to Daniella; they were a team.
“No, I won’t,” Jordan said. “And I don’t want to talk
about it standing out here. You have my number. Call me.”
She started to walk away, but Daniella raised her voice.
“Come back here, young lady!”
“You don’t have to,” Mia said quietly, adding a supportive
hug.
But Jordan did. She was like a beaten dog who continued
to return to its master, knowing another thrashing was
coming. That wasn’t who she wanted to be, and Mia had
made her feel like she could break away, but not today. Today
she had to keep a lid on things. Turning back to her mother,
Jordan stood waiting for the demands to begin.
“Gunnar’s in a lot of trouble. He has to get a lawyer, and
they want a ridiculously high retainer. I’m sure they think we
have money because we’re Americans, but we don’t have any
other option so we’ll have to let them bully us into their
extortionate demands.”
Jordan didn’t think it would help to explain to her mother
than Australia wasn’t some third world country that survived
by jacking up tourists, so she addressed the main issue. “I
can’t help him. He’s guilty of drugging that girl, and she
didn’t even know he was doing it. How can you defend him?”
“He’s my son,” she said dramatically.
“And I’m your daughter. This could make me look really
bad, Mom. It would look like I’m on his side—and I’m not.”
“The least you can do is get Jamie’s father involved. I’m
sure he could help.”
“He probably could, but I’m not going to. Ask Dad. It
wouldn’t make a dent in his account.”
“Don’t you think I already have? You know he doesn’t
care about Gunnar. He never did.”
“That’s bullshit! When we were a family, they got along
great. It was only after you turned Gunnar against Dad that
things got bad. You caused this!”
“You’re talking nonsense. Now either pay for the retainer
for an attorney or call Senator Evans. One or the other.”
Jordan stood there for a moment, her life flashing before
her eyes. This was the last place she wanted to be, and having
a fight right before a huge game was beyond stupid. But there
was only so much she could take, and she’d reached her limit.
“No. Neither.”
Mia’s arm tightened around her, and she let the support
envelop her, strengthening her resolve.
 “Listen to me.” Daniella moved closer and whispered
hotly, “I’ll call the tabloids myself if you don’t help. They’ll
be chasing you around here like they did your friends.”
A cold wave of fear mixed with nausea hit Jordan, almost
buckling her knees. It had never been laid out so precisely in
front of her. Her mother was drawing a clear line in the sand:
Let us suck you dry or we’ll eat you alive. She thought she
might pass out. The only thing that kept her on her feet was
Mia’s iron grip. She focused on that support and let herself
see how Mia would view her if she gave in. It wasn’t pretty.
She’d think Jordan was a patsy, a weak willed wimp with
absolutely no self respect. In that moment, she made the
biggest decision of her life. Mia’s respect meant more than
anything in the world.
“Go ahead,” she said. Her voice was weak, almost a
whisper, and anyone could see she’d struggled just to get two
words out. But they were out now, and she wouldn’t take
them back even if she could have.
Daniella moved even closer, her blue eyes flashing danger.
Jordan had never seen her so angry, had never felt the rage
that lay just under the surface of her mother’s usually calm-
looking demeanor.
“You…will…be…sorry if he goes to jail.” Then she
turned and strode away, her beautifully coiffed hair and
impeccable carriage not betraying the simmering cauldron of
anger she carried wherever she went.
“I’m gonna be sick,” Jordan murmured, leaning heavily
on Mia.
 “I know, baby. I know how upsetting that was.”
“No, I mean it,” she gasped, running for a beautiful stand
of ceanothus, where she lost her breakfast.
#
Jamie wished she could have spent the entire evening
listening to Mia vent her spleen about Daniela, Gunnar, the
remarkably mean-spirited grandmother, and anyone else in
Jordan’s family who deserved her righteous anger. She and
Ryan had only gotten to hear a few of the details of Jordan’s
apocalyptic fight with her mother. They’d just gotten to the
heart of the matter when Jorgen and Candy showed up,
ruining their tête-à-tête.
So instead of talking, they avidly watched the match with
Brazil. The team came out flat, and their affect showed up
immediately in their play. Jamie knew things were bad when
Ryan continued to mutter curse words to herself. Every time
there was an opportunity for a kill, Brazil took that
opportunity and scored a point. The U.S. looked as though
they’d had a four match losing streak, rather than the kick ass
play they had shown so far in the games.
The first game ended in a lopsided score of 17 to 25, and
when Ryan stood up to stretch during the interval, she made
eye contact with Jamie, stuck out her lower lip, and shook her
head. That was the full extent of her commentary, and even
though it was pithy, it was all that needed to be said.
Somehow, momentum changed in the second game and
the U.S. managed a relatively easy win of 25 to 20. But for
some reason Ryan, didn’t look impressed. She stayed in her
seat, her focused gaze remaining on the court, even though it
was devoid of players.
Jamie wasn’t sure what missing element Ryan had
detected, but she was unfortunately prescient in her lack of
enthusiasm. The final two games were over quickly, with
identical scores of 15 to 25.
Finally standing up, Ryan muttered almost to herself,
“That was an old-fashioned ass whipping.” Nothing the
commentators on television said could have been more
accurate. Now they had to go downstairs and try to act like
the loss wasn’t as big a deal as it truly was.
#
As part of her vengeance, Mia had burned the passes that
had been assigned it to Daniela and Jordan’s grandmother, so
Jamie and Ryan had to wait for Jordan outside of the
auditorium. As Mia stood down in the family area with Jorgen
and Candy, she envied her friends. Jorgen didn’t give off the
evil vibes that Daniella did, but Mia saw a lot of his father in
Gunnar. She was sure she wouldn’t have been able to express
exactly why she had that feeling, but she hadn’t been able to
shake it.
The team finally came out of the locker room, everyone
looking either depressed or sheepish when they spied their
loved ones. It hurt Mia to see that Jordan was among the
latter. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to convince Jordan
that she was nothing but supportive. If Jordan played great or
terribly, it didn’t matter at all. Mia just wanted her to do
something that gave her pleasure. But athletes didn’t seem to
be able to understand that. It seemed as though they put their
own remarkably high expectations on their friends and family
and felt they’d let large groups of people down when they
weren’t successful.
Trying to put the best possible gloss on the situation, Mia
said, “Who would have predicted that you guys would go into
the medal round with a four and one record? Is that awesome,
or what?”
A tentative smile worked at the corners of Jordan’s mouth,
and she eventually let it bloom into grudging
acknowledgment of Mia’s comment. “Yeah, you have a point
there.”
“That’s absolutely true,” Jorgen said. “You’ve drawn
Korea in the next match, and you’re going to do great against
them.”
“Do you really think so?” Jordan asked.
She looked so hopeful that Mia fervently hoped that
Jorgen knew what the hell he was talking about.
“I do. You were just starting to come together in the
second game, and if they hadn’t killed that rally you had
going on the fourth point in the third game, you might have
been able to build some momentum. I think that third game
was closer than it looked, and you have to take a lesson from
that. It’s all about momentum, and you girls just got back on
your heels little bit. You can turn that around against Korea.”
What’s this? He actually sounds like he was not only
paying attention, but knows what he’s talking about. Jordan
certainly looked like she was taking his words to heart, and if
they made her feel better, Jorgen was Mia’s new hero.
“You might be right. The worst thing we can do is let this
get us down.”
“Absolutely true. A team is like a family. You have to pull
each other along sometimes. The stronger ones have to
support the weaker ones.”
Danger! Danger! Mia could see where this was going, and
this car was definitely headed for a cliff. Just as she feared,
Jorgen headed straight for the family fiasco. “I hope Gunnar’s
situation didn’t weigh on you too heavily today.”
“Did Mom talk to you?”
“Yeah, she called me to ask for money. I’m sorry I
couldn’t help, but Gunnar can’t rely on me to get him out of
any more fixes. I hope they didn’t put you in a bad situation.”
Jordan definitely looked skittish, but she told him the
truth, “I told Mom I wouldn’t help, and we had a huge fight
this morning. It was awful.”
Even now, hours later, Mia was so angry she felt like she
could rip Daniella’s head off with her bare hands. It had been
so difficult to try to stay calm and let Jordan exhibit the
emotion, but she had done her very best. This was Jordan’s
fight, and as difficult as it was, Mia had to let her fight it on
her own terms.
Jorgen put his arm around his daughter and gave her a hug
which she seemed to soak up like a dry sponge. “I’m sorry,
honey. But I think you did the right thing. Both Gunnar and
your mother are human money pits. They’ll run through every
dime you give them.”
“I’ve learned that the hard way. For better or worse, I
think we might have had a permanent parting of the ways.”
Jorgen stared at her. “You what?”
“She basically said that I had to bail Gunnar out or she’d
be done with me. I couldn’t take it anymore, Dad, so I
challenged her.”
”Wow.” He stood there for a few moments, looking
puzzled. “You know, I, more than anyone, can understand
how your mother can push you to the brink.” He laughed
nervously and Mia started to look around the room for sharp
objects upon which to impale him. “But cutting off contact
isn’t good for you. She’s still your mom, honey. Don’t be too
harsh.”
Jordan looked him in the eye. Mia wasn’t sure what was
going through her head, but she looked just about like she’d
looked that morning before she told Daniella off. But she
didn’t follow up with a word, she just looked away and
shrugged.
“I mean it,” Jorgen said, hugging her again. “Do what you
think is best, but remember that she’s had a tough time of it.
She’s never learned how to moderate her spending, and her
friends all have a lot more money than she does. LA is a rich
person’s town, and your mom has had a hard time keeping up.
That makes her angry. It’s not wise to take the things she says
too much to heart.”
 “Yeah, I’m sure that’s true,” Jordan said, all affect gone
from her voice. She sounded like the woman who gave
directions on the GPS in Ryan’s car.
“You’ll do the right thing,” Jorgen said, chucking her
under the chin. “You always do. You’re my star.”
#
Mia stayed behind while Jordan went to shower. She was
alone in the room when her lover returned, her demeanor
somber. “It’s nice to know where I fit in the scheme of
things,” she said without preamble.
“What?”
“With my dad.” Jordan tilted her chin toward the door, as
though her father were standing there. “I’m the buffer. If I’m
not talking to my mother, he might have to.”
“Oh, honey, maybe he sincerely thinks you’ll be happier if
you stay in contact.” That was a baldfaced lie, but maybe it
was one Jordan would take in to help herself feel better.
“I wish. They’re both self-absorbed jerks, and neither one
of them gives a damn about me…or anyone else.”
Mia started to respond, but Jordan looked at her and shook
her head. “Let’s go find J and R. I need to take my mind off
my stupid parents and put it back on my sucky performance
tonight.” With that cheery thought, they went out to find their
friends.
#
Jamie and Mia sat up late that night, talking about the
entire crappy day. “The worst thing is that she gets into a
mood and I can’t get her to talk,” Mia said. “After her father
left, that wall came up. It might stay up for days or months,
James. It’s so frustrating.”
“Ryan can be a little bit like that,” Jamie said. “It’s
torture.”
“Jordan has a limit for how much emotion she can
process. When she reaches it, she short circuits. And once
those circuits are gone, she’s done. No amount of prodding
can get her to talk again.”
“Ugh. Who says the strong silent types are cool?”
“We do,” Mia reminded her, finally laughing for the first
time in hours.
#
The next morning Catherine came out of her bedroom and
sat down on the edge of Mia’s sofa bed. Mia had just barely
woken, and she started when she looked up and saw
Catherine’s sleepy face. For once Catherine had come into the
living room in pajamas and robe, hair mussed, with no
makeup. Oddly, she looked younger than usual, and Mia
thought that Catherine might be one of the odd women who
looked better without ornament.
“I hope I didn’t overstep my bounds,” Catherine said.
“Huh?” Mia sat up and stared at her. “I don’t know
what…”
“Jordan’s mother called me last night and begged me to
get Jim involved with Gunnar. I should have checked with
Jordan first, but she sounded so desperate that I…did as she
asked.”
 “Oh, that’s fine, Catherine. Actually, that was really nice
of you. Did you talk to Jim?”
“Yes, I did. He just called me, and I thought I’d better clue
you in. He talked to someone in the embassy, and they talked
to the police and the immigration officials. They’ve agreed to
let Gunnar leave the country, but once he leaves, he’ll have to
go through a hearing of some sort if he ever wants to return.”
“That was really thoughtful, of both of you. Did you tell
Daniella?”
“No. I thought I’d let the authorities handle that. To be
honest,” she said, chuckling, “she frightens me.”
“That makes two of you. Jordan’s scared to death of her.”
“You’re not?”
“If I could get her alone for two minutes, she’d never
bother my girl again.”
Just thinking about the vengeance she’d rain down on
Daniella helped to settle Mia’s turbulent stomach. Now she
could dream of one day moving to Australia, secure in the
knowledge that Gunnar and his mommy wouldn’t be able to
follow Jordan, begging for dough.
#
Jorgen Ericsson might have been a huge jerk, but he knew
something about volleyball. Two days after their brutal loss to
the Brazilians, the U.S. team came back to fight for their lives
against Korea. The teams were more evenly matched than
anyone had predicted, and the U.S. had their hands full from
the start, but they held on and beat them in five games, 3-2.
 Afterward, Mia watched, delighted, as the coaches, Jordan
and three of her teammates sat at a long table and took
questions from the press. There were only a couple of
questions directed at Jordan, but she spoke so calmly and
confidently that Mia was beside herself with pride. Jordan
had just gone through a hellish few days, with Gunnar’s
antics and her blowout with her mom, but she’d blocked all of
that out to deliver a superb performance.
Now they were poised to win an Olympic medal. No one
had given them any respect before the games. Every “expert”
ranked them anywhere from sixth to eighth in the field of
twelve. And every one of them was dead wrong. There were
four teams left—Cuba, the perennial favorite; Russia, a close
second in talent and experience’ Brazil, always a contender;
and the upstart U.S. team. Everything Jordan had worked for
—all of the pain and sweat and discomfort she’d felt for an
entire year—was within her grasp.
Mia stood there, looking only at Jordan, not even hearing
the other people on the panel speak. It was clear that anyone
would look at Jordan and assume that Mia was attracted to
her because of her looks. And she had to admit it, didn’t hurt
to have a lover as gorgeous as Jordan was. But that was all
about attraction, not love. Mia loved Jordan because of her
tenacity, her drive, her ambition, her ability to focus and
prove herself. Those were the traits that made you love a
woman, not her lovely face and sleek body. But Mia was only
human, and every part of her wanted to be plastered up
against every part of Jordan at just that moment. But the
entity that was U.S .Volleyball was still in charge, and Jordan
would have to go back to the athlete’s village—alone. Being
an elite athlete was, in Mia’s view, mostly about your ability
to suffer deprivations and disappointments. You had so little
control of your life that you were more like animals being
bred than humans. But this was the life Jordan had chosen,
and she’d gladly chosen Jordan. This was just part of the
package.
 CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Marta answered the door on Wednesday afternoon,

smiling when she saw Jennie’s friend Heather standing there.
“Hello,” she said, urging the shy young woman into the
house. “It seems like months since I’ve seen you.”
As she almost always did when she was addressed
directly, Heather blushed. She was honestly the shyest girl
Marta had ever met.
“At the end of spring term, I was really busy with softball
and everything. Then I went home for a couple of months this
summer. Jennie called me the other day to say she needed
some help with her homework. I wanted to come over sooner,
but now it’s volleyball season, and this was the first day I
could get over here.”
“I think it’s very nice of you to go out of your way to help
her.” Given that Jennie lived in Oakland and Heather lived in
Berkeley, it would have been easier for them to meet in the
East Bay. But Marta had the distinct impression that Jennie’s
group home wouldn’t be a good place to meet with a tutor.
“She’s upstairs in the guest room. Do you want me to go get
her?”
“No, I can go.” Looking as relieved as if she’d just
survived an interrogation, Heather bounded up the stairs, her
long legs gulping up real estate.
Marta had been making a fairly complex Spanish rice dish
that Jennie had come to like, and she didn’t look up from her
work until the girls had been together almost an hour. As she
usually did, she made them a snack and took it upstairs on a
tray. It was a beautiful, warm September day, and Jennie
must have had her window open. The breeze off the bay often
pushed the heavy doors almost closed. Marta used an elbow
to swing the door open, and the sight before her made her
shriek and drop the tray.
Heather was sitting on the edge of the bed; Jennie stood in
front of her with her hands on Heather’s shoulders. It looked
like she was applying a little pressure to Heather’s body as
she leaned over her and placed her lips upon Heather’s. There
was something deeply disturbing about the image, but Marta
didn’t have time to focus on the details. She was shocked to
the core. Jennie was a child, and even though Heather seemed
young, she was in college. She might’ve even been Jamie’s
age.
Everything seemed to happen at once. It seemed like a
tenth of a second had elapsed since Marta had lost control of
her hands and her voice, yet in another tick of the clock,
Heather was on her feet, brushing past Marta so quickly that
the fabric of her skirt ruffled as Heather flew by.
Deeply embarrassed at overreacting so badly, Marta
started to pick up the dishes and tray she had dropped. Afraid
to even look at Jennie, she busied herself, trying to collect her
thoughts. When she finally picked the tray up and stood, she
saw that Jennie was lying sprawled across the bed, crying.
 Marta put the tray down and went to her, gathering Jennie
up in her arms and holding on to her tightly. “It will be all
right. Don’t worry.”
Even though she said the words in as reassuring tone as
she could manage, Marta was out of her element. Jennie was
a darling young girl, but raising her was going to require
many more skills than she had, and perhaps more than
Catherine could acquire.
#
Marta wanted to make sure that Jennie knew she wasn’t in
trouble. She wished she could have had more control of the
situation, had a better idea of what to do. But she was truly
lost, so she gently suggested that it was best for Jennie to go
back to the group home. She hated doing it, especially since
they’d been planning on having dinner together, but she
needed time to figure out what to do next. The town car came
to get Jennie a half-hour later, and Marta forced herself to
smile when she waved goodbye. But the second she was
alone, she was overcome by anxiety and indecision.
She would not call Australia. There was nothing Catherine
could do to from a continent away, and telling her what had
happened would worry her needlessly. Legally, she assumed
she should talk to the woman at Jennie’s group home, but this
would look very bad for Catherine and might harm her
chances at getting custody of Jennie. Ryan’s father was
another option, but she had an instinct that he would
overreact. She wasn’t sure why she had that feeling, but there
was something about him that made him seem inflexible or
overly strict. Whatever it was, he didn’t seem like the right
choice.
Going back to the kitchen, Marta let her mind work while
she finished cooking. She almost ignored the quiet knock,
assuming it was just the sound of street traffic. When it
persisted, she went to the side door and opened it. Heather
stood there, her eyes red from crying, her face blotchy with
emotion.
Exasperated, Marta stood aside and let her come in.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded. “Jennie is a little
girl.”
“I know. I’m so sorry this happened, but I didn’t know
what to do.”
It clicked in her brain that the reason the scene had been
so strange was because of the look on Heather’s face. That
look was still etched in Marta’s brain. Heather had looked…
frightened. Marta grabbed a chair and sat down. She nodded
her head towards another chair and said, “Please sit down and
explain everything to me.”
Heather sat stiffly, looking like she was going to be
interrogated by a military tribunal. “I shouldn’t have been in
her room. I knew she liked me, but I wasn’t sure she liked
me…that way. Or that she’d do anything…” Her cheeks were
so pink they looked as if they had been slapped. “I should
have known better. I’m so sorry.”
In a gentle tone, Marta said, “You haven’t told me what
happened.”
 Heather shrugged her broad shoulders, her expression
showing her confusion. “I was sitting on the bed, and she was
sitting on the chair. We were talking about something…I
don’t even remember what. She said she wanted to tell me
something, and she walked over to me.” Heather slapped her
thighs in frustration. “I should have left right then. I could tell
something weird was happening.”
“You’re saying she kissed you?”
Heather leapt to her feet, eyes round as saucers. “Yes! I
never…I wouldn’t…not with Jennie!”
“How long had this been—”
“You came in at exactly the moment she kissed me. I
didn’t know what to do, Marta. I’ve never had anybody…”
She looked so embarrassed that Marta’s heart went out to her.
“I’m not sure what to do,” Marta said quietly. “I think
perhaps I need to talk to someone.”
“Whatever you think is best.”
Marta stood, having made up her mind. “I’d like for you
to stay while I make a phone call. I need someone to talk to.”
She left the room, her stomach tied in knots. This was going
to be a difficult afternoon.
#
Marta had barely begun before Conor was trying to head
her off. “I don’t know a thing about girls,” he insisted. “Do
you want to talk to my Aunt Maeve? She’s really good with
kids.”
“No, this isn’t something I want to talk about with
someone I don’t know well.”
 Chuckling, Conor said, “I can see that. All you’ve told me
is that Jennie has a personal problem you don’t know how to
address.”
“It’s private,” Marta said. “But I need some advice. I wish
I could talk to your sister.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure about this, but Ryan’s got a very
good friend who’s really reliable. Do you know Sara
Andrews?”
#
Marta returned a half hour later, finding Heather sitting
right where she’d left her. She walked over to her and put her
hand on her shoulder. “I made some calls and finally got hold
of Jennie. I’m sorry I didn’t ask her what happened before I
sent her home. But she told me exactly what you said
happened. I’m sorry, Heather.”
The look of relief that flushed her face was marked.
“Thank God,” she said quietly. “Is Jennie okay?”
“Yes. She’s upset and she’s embarrassed, but she’s all
right.” Marta patted Heather’s shoulder a few more times. “I
hope you don’t mind, but I called one of Jamie and Ryan’s
friends to come talk to you about this. Let me make you
something to eat while we wait.”
“No offense,” Heather said weakly, “but my stomach’s too
upset for me to think about food.”
#
Sara Andrews got out of the cab and just stood on
Divisadero for a moment, looking up at Catherine’s
magnificent house. Every time she let herself believe that
Ryan’s life was relatively similar to her own, something like
this came up and reminded her that they now inhabited
different worlds. There was wealthy and there was…this. She
had no idea where Jamie’s family money came from, but
whatever they did, they must have done a lot of it.
Her hand barely left the doorbell before Marta opened the
door, smiling tensely. “Hello,” she said, nodding her head. “I
think we met once.”
“At Ryan’s house, after her graduation.”
“Yes, that was it. Come in, please.” Marta stood aside and
Sara walked past her, immediately spying Heather standing in
the living room.
“Hi, Heather,” she said, walking across the room to shake
her hand.
“Hi. I’m sorry you had to get involved in this. You’re
probably busy and stuff…”
“I’m never too busy to help out a friend. And any friend of
Ryan’s is a friend of mine and…” She made a circle in the air
with her finger. “You know how it goes.”
Still in the hallway, Marta cleared her throat discreetly.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
Sara was going to suggest she stay, but Marta was gone
before she could get a word out. Poor Heather looked like she
was about to have a stroke, so Sara sat down to get down to
business. When Heather didn’t follow suit, Sara gestured to
another chair. “Sit down,” she said.
 Automatically, Heather did as directed, but she perched so
awkwardly on the edge of the chair that she couldn’t have
been comfortable.
Working at the law firm had taught Sara that getting to the
point usually made things go faster and easier, so she dove
right in. “Marta told me that she walked in on Jennie kissing
you. It sounds like it was all Jennie’s idea. True?”
It was hard to imagine a human looking more nervous.
Tension was radiating from Heather; her hands were
trembling. “Yeah. That’s…pretty true.” Her normally high-
pitched voice cracked under the strain.
“That’s not very definite. Where does the ‘pretty’ part
come in?”
Obviously unable to contain herself, Heather jumped to
her feet and started to pace across the floor. “I’m not
interested in Jen. I swear that!” The last sentence was loud,
uncharacteristically loud for the very soft-spoken girl.
“Okay. I believe you. But there’s something—”
“Yeah, yeah, there is.” Heather stopped and pursed her
lips before saying, “I think I’m interested in girls…generally.
Maybe Jen figured that out… I don’t know.” She dropped
back into the chair, this time using up every bit of the
cushion. Her head fell heavily onto her hand, and she looked
like a tortured poet.
“That can happen. It took me ten years to come out, and I
had a lot of women approach me while I was trying to figure
things out.”
 With a half smile, Heather managed, “That’s not a
surprise.”
“Oh!” Sara shook her head. “I wasn’t boasting! I just
meant that I was giving off signals that I wasn’t aware of. I
was actively trying to hide my sexuality, but whatever I was
doing wasn’t working. Now that I’m out, it hardly ever
happens.” She sat there for a minute, thinking. “I wonder if
that’s part of it.”
“Part of what?”
“Maybe you give off more vibes when you’re trying to
hide it than you do when you’re comfortable with who you
are.”
“I’m not really trying to hide,” Heather said. “I’m…just
not sure.”
“Have you talked to anyone about it?”
“No, not really. I’m gonna have to, though. It’s been on
my mind a lot lately.”
“Go talk to someone in student health. They have some
really good Ph.D. students who meet with clients. It helped
me a little bit.”
“You went to Cal?”
“Yeah. I played soccer.”
“Cool. I’m softball and volleyball.” Just talking about her
normal life seemed to relax the girl, and her posture became
less stiff.
“I know. I saw a few of your games last year, and I
watched every inning of your World Series games. You guys
were awesome!”
 “Thanks,” she said, shyly ducking her head.
“I promise you it’s easier to come out than it is to play two
sports, Heather. Spend some time this fall talking to a
counselor or going to a group at Gen Eq. Do you know about
Gen Eq?”
“No. I don’t get involved in much, besides sports.”
“That’s the Gender Equality student group on campus.
They’re very active in gay and lesbian issues. I know it’s easy
to concentrate on your sports and let everything else slide, but
you’ve got to carve out some time for something as important
as your feelings.”
“Yeah, I know,” Heather said, still looking at the floor.
‘You know, you still look like there’s something you’re
not telling me. What else is going on?”
“I think maybe I should turn myself in to the police,” she
said, her voice shaking.
Sara nearly leapt from her chair. She squatted down in
front of Heather so she could look into her eyes. “Where did
that come from?”
Even when she was trapped, Heather couldn’t make eye
contact. “I should have ducked out of the way or stopped
her,” she said quietly. “My reflexes are really good. I saw her
coming.”
Oh, the poor kid. “Look, you didn’t do anything wrong.
You didn’t invite Jennie to kiss you, and I believe you when
you say that you’re not interested in her.”
“No, but I’ve never…no one has ever…”
“Kissed you?” Sara asked gently.
 Heather nodded. “I’m not interested in Jen, but it was
really, really tempting.” She finally looked up, and Sara saw
the longing in her eyes. “I should have pulled away, but I
couldn’t.”
“Hey.” Sara put her hand on Heather’s trembling shoulder.
“Everyone wants intimacy. God, when I was your age, I went
out with every guy who asked—just to have someone touch
me. And I was a hundred percent lesbian, Heather. I was no
more interested in guys than I was in fish. I just wanted
human contact, and I was too afraid to be with a woman.”
Sara cupped Heather’s chin and lifted it so she could make
sure she heard her. “Don’t just let things happen; figure out
what you want and go get it.”
Heather blinked away the tears that filled her eyes. “I’ll
try.”
“It’s a process. Whether you decide you’re gay or straight
or bi-sexual, it takes some time and some patience, but
you’ve got to work at it.”
“Okay.” As soon as Sara released her chin, Heather’s head
dropped again, but at least now she merely looked shy and
embarrassed to be talking about sex. The anxiety that’d been
rolling off her seemed to be gone.
“One more thing,” Sara added.
“Yeah?”
“Gut it up and talk to Jennie. If you can, keep tutoring her.
It would suck if she feels she screwed up your friendship by
showing you what she wants.”
 Heather’s eyes grew round again. “I’m not sure I can do
that.”
“Think about it. From what I’ve heard, a lot of people
have given up on Jen. Don’t be one of them.”
“I’ll try.” She took a breath. “But not until Ms. Smith
comes home.”
Sara looked at the lanky young woman. Even though she
had to be at least three years older, she seemed much younger
than Jennie. Sara didn’t know Jennie well, but there was
something about her that made her seem vaguely aggressive;
while Heather looked like she’d let you slug her and then
worry that you’d hurt your hand.
#
Sara arrived at the group home in Oakland at around
seven o’clock that night. She was still dressed for work, and
she stood in the living room with four sets of curious eyes
watching her every move. Ryan had told her a little about the
young women in the group home, but she hadn’t mentioned
that a couple of them seemed more like thirty-year-olds
hanging out at a seedy bar than teenagers.
Jennie walked down the stairs, her head low, shoulders
drooped. She knew Sara from various O’Flaherty parties, but
they’d never spent any time alone. Jennie wore the affect of a
beaten dog, and Sara’s heart clenched in sympathy for her.
“Hey, I was in the neighborhood, and I thought you might
want to go out for ice cream.”
The look Jennie gave her was suspicious, but she nodded
and went to ask for permission. When she came back, she
headed for the door. After they walked out together, she said,
“Did Marta call you?”
“Yeah. She thought you might need to talk to somebody.”
“You weren’t really in the neighborhood, were you?”
Sara laughed as they got into her small car. “No. I don’t
usually come to Oakland for ice cream, but I thought you
were worth going a little out of my way for.”
#
They went to a place Sara hadn’t been since she’d been at
Berkeley. After taking a table near the back, they sat there for
a few minutes while Jennie dug into her hot fudge sundae.
Sara took tiny bites of her lemon sorbet, feeling a little
jealous about Jennie’s teenage metabolism.
“So, here’s why I wanted to talk to you.” Jennie looked up
at her, meeting her eyes. It took Sara’s breath away to see the
innocence laced with a hardness that experience had forged.
“I’m going to be twenty-seven this year, and I’ve only been
honest and open about my lesbianism for a year.” She held up
a finger. “One little year.”
“You’re so old! What took you so long?”
That stung a little, but it was a valid question. “It took me
that long because my first experience with a girl wasn’t a very
good one.” She shook her head, wanting to make sure she got
this right. “That’s not exactly true. I don’t think I was ready to
have sex. Actually, I know I wasn’t ready. I was terrified, but
I wanted it really badly. So I went along and did it, but then I
freaked out about it. I told my mom, and she convinced me
that I’d made a big mistake and that I shouldn’t do it again.
So I stopped seeing the girl that I loved, and I spent a very
long time trying not to be gay.”
“I know I’m gay,” Jennie said without a touch of bravado.
“Everybody knows I’m gay.”
“Right. But being gay and having sex are two very
different things.” She put her hand on Jennie’s arm and kept it
there until the girl looked her in the eyes again. “There’s
nothing wrong with kissing other girls and doing all the stuff
that straight kids your age do, but you’ve got to limit it to kids
your age.”
“I think Heather’s gay,” Jennie said earnestly. “She’s
never said so, but I really think she is. I think she’s just
scared, like you were.”
“That might be, Jen, but even if she is, and even if she’s
attracted to you, she’s too old. You need to be with girls your
age or a year older at the most.”
“That means I’m stuck with the girls in my house, and
they all suck.”
Sara laughed at the vitriol that tinged Jen’s words. “Then
you have to wait until you meet some other girls. Heather’s
young for being in college, but she’s eighteen now, and that’s
considered an adult. It’s against the law for an adult to be with
a child, and even though you don’t feel like one, in the legal
system you’re still a child. If you care about Heather, you
won’t want to get her in trouble, right?”
Still looking a little suspicious, Jennie shook her head.
“No, I don’t want her to get in trouble.”
 “Well, she could get in a lot of trouble. So you’ve got to
look elsewhere. Do you want some advice?”
Jennie took another big bite of her sundae. She looked like
she wanted to say, “Not at all”, but she dutifully said, “Yeah.
Sure.”
“You have to figure out if a girl is into you before you
show her that you’re into her.”
Suspicious but interested, Jennie said, “How do you know
that?”
“It takes a little work. You have to not just think about
what you want, you have to be sure the other girl wants it too.
She’ll give you a signal, I promise you she will. When she
looks in your eyes, she’ll hold the glance for a little longer
than your other friends do, or she’ll think of excuses to touch
you.”
“Like that idiot Pebbles,” Jennie said, her face darkening.
Not sure where the conversation was heading, Sara said,
“Pebbles?”
“That asshat who was sitting on the couch staring at you
when you were at my house. She was probably drooling.”
Sara was not about to admit that the looks from one of the
girls had given her the willies. Instead, she said, “Did
something go on between you?”
“Yeah. She’s always acting like she trips and accidentally
falls on me, or she tells me there’s something on my shirt and
then paws me all over while she tries to take it off.”
Sara offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she had been
spared the attention of kids like Pebbles, and a double prayer
that she herself hadn’t been that clumsy in her quest to find
lovers. “I bet that makes you feel awful.”
“I want to kill her,” Jennie said, her expression so angry it
looked as though she could do it. “She was gone all summer,
but she’s back now and just as big an idiot.”
“I know it’s not the same, but Pebbles does that to you
because she can’t understand that you don’t want that from
her.”
“She’s just a massive asshole,” Jennie muttered.
“That may be. But we’re talking about you now. You’ve
got to learn how to read other people’s signals, and until you
can read them, you’re not ready to act on your feelings.”
Fire sparked in Jennie’s eyes when she said, “I’m not like
Pebbles.”
Sara sat there for a second, collecting her thoughts. This
was delicate. “I didn’t say you were—I don’t think that at all
—but kissing people who aren’t interested is a little like what
Pebbles does to you. It’s not exactly the same, but it’s only a
matter of degree; you’re maybe a one, and Pebbles is a ten.
But you have to consider how receptive the person is that
you’re interested in. That’s vital, Jennie.”
Jennie nodded, but she looked far from convinced. Sara
changed the subject, trying to get the girl to talk about less
loaded topics, like almost anything else.
#
An hour later, Sara delivered Jennie back to the group
home. The evening hadn’t been a total success, she could tell
that, but she hoped she’d planted a seed in Jen’s head that
would allow her to see that unwanted advances were bad, no
matter how much you wanted them to work.
Before Jen got out of the car, Sara said, “I just want you to
know I’m not going to talk to anyone about what we talked
about tonight.”
“Not even Marta?”
“No. I told her I’d come by, but I won’t tell her what we
talked about. You can, if you want to, but I won’t.”
“How about Ryan?”
Jennie’s eyebrow went up, and Sara wondered how much
she knew about her and Ryan’s history.
“Not a word. This was between you and me.”
“Okay.” Jennie got out and walked around to the driver’s
door. “Thanks for taking me out. It’s nice to talk to somebody
who…” she glared at the door to her house, “…isn’t one of
them.”
That was faint praise, but Sara hadn’t expected to get any
points for equating Jen’s behavior with that of a girl who was
apparently her arch enemy.
#
Sara kept her promise, almost. She wouldn’t tell anyone
about the majority of her conversation with Jennie, but there
was one element she couldn’t ignore. Her cell phone was
close by, so she picked it up and found Catherine’s number in
the “recent calls” list. Marta picked up quickly.
“Smith residence,” she announced in her lightly accented
speech.
 “Hi, Marta, it’s Sara Andrews. I just dropped Jennie off
after our talk.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been so worried about her. She takes
things very seriously sometimes, and I was afraid she’d
overreact.”
“I think she’s fine, at least about this incident. But
something did worry me, and I wanted to see if she’s said
anything about it. Has she ever mentioned a girl named
Pebbles?”
“No, she has not, not to me, but Catherine knows about
her. She arranged to send her to live with relatives in another
country. Isn’t that right?”
“I think that’s what happened. But she’s back. I don’t
know Jen well, so I’m not sure how seriously to take her, but
she seems very angry with the girl. It sounds like Pebbles is
acting inappropriately with her.”
“Oh my.” Marta didn’t follow up for a few seconds, then
said, “Jennie is too young to protect herself from this girl.
Someone has to talk to the supervisor.”
“Do you want me to do it? I’m still in Oakland.”
“No. I think Catherine has to do this. I’ll call her now.”
“Let her know she can call me if she needs to,” Sara said.
“Oh. I told Jen I wouldn’t talk to anyone about our
conversation, so…”
“I understand. This was important.”
“I’m sorry to have brought this up, Marta, but I got a bad
feeling about the situation.”
 “I’m glad you did. Well, no, that’s not so, but it won’t help
to ignore these problems. Thank you.”
Sara hung up, thinking about how difficult it would have
been to face up to her identity while fighting off aggressive
kids. Just thinking about it made her shiver, and she called
Ally, hoping to get a little comfort.
#
It was eleven o’clock in San Francisco, but Marta had
written down the time difference and knew it was late
afternoon in Sydney, albeit the next day. She dialed the hotel,
waited for a few moments, and was put through. As the phone
rang, she felt her anxiety increase. It crested when Catherine
picked up.
“Hello?”
“Hello. It’s Marta.”
“Marta? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong.” She took a breath. “But I heard
something I think you should know.”
“What is it?”
Catherine’s voice was tight with fear and Marta spoke
quickly, hoping to settle her. “The girl from Jennie’s group
home is back. This Pebbles.”
“Pebbles is back in the U.S.? But I thought she was
staying with her grandmother for the whole year.”
“I do not know the details, just that Pebbles is back and
Jennie seems very upset by her being there.”
“Oh no. What did Jennie say about her?”
 This was hard to finesse, but Marta didn’t want to tell
Catherine about the incident with Heather. She didn’t want to
worry her unnecessarily, and the incident didn’t put anyone in
danger so she thought it best to leave that information for her
return. This was different. “Nothing specific,” she said, a little
anxious about skirting the truth. “I just know she’s back, and
that Jennie seems agitated by her.”
“I’ll call Jennie tomorrow and see what’s going on.”
“If you do that, please don’t say I told you about the girl.
She talked about her in confidence.” That was true. The
confidence just wasn’t with Marta.
“Okay… I’m not sure how to do that, but I’ll figure
something out.”
“I’m sorry to trouble you…”
“It’s no trouble at all, Marta. I deeply appreciate your
being there for Jennie. I’ll be home in a few days. We can
have Jennie move in then, and things will be much
improved.”
“I hope so,” Marta said, worrying that things might not go
as smoothly as Catherine hoped.
#
Catherine paced around her room, going over the pluses
and minuses of Jennie’s situation. Having Pebbles back in
town was definitely worrying, but she was fairly certain the
girl didn’t pose an immediate threat. Sandy knew that she and
Jennie had some bad blood between them, and she’d been
very good at keeping the cauldron of troubles the group home
produced at a slow simmer.
 The question was whether or not to talk to Ryan and Jamie
about the situation. She knew what Ryan would think.
Whether or not she expressed it in words, she would want
Catherine to go to the airport and get on the next available
flight. But there might be a way to keep Jennie safe while
giving her a special treat. Only Brendan could help with that,
and there was no need to worry Ryan or Jamie prematurely.
 CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The big meeting with her reluctant opera donor was at

noon; Catherine started getting ready at nine. The usual
pressure she felt when trying to cajole money from a patron
had intensified greatly. She’d made such a point of having to
stay in Sydney for the meeting, that the pressure to come
through was grinding. Somehow it didn’t seem as selfish to
have stayed if she could go home with a huge check.
She showered, then went out into the living room to see if
anyone had ordered coffee. It was a nice surprise to find Ryan
sitting in the room, watching some sport on TV, as usual. “I
bet you haven’t watched this much TV in years,” Catherine
teased. Ryan started to get up to pour coffee, but Catherine
waved her off and got her own.
“We don’t have a set in our room in the city, so we only
catch an occasional game with the boys. And we only plugged
in the one in Berkeley to watch…” She coughed and
continued, “We hardly ever watch it. Mia’s the TV fan. She
could be a professional critic.”
“I take it she’s taken your place in bed?”
“Yeah. Good thing I’m not jealous, huh?”
“I can’t see you being the jealous type. My poor Jamie’s
another matter.”
Ryan didn’t respond to that. She wasn’t the type to ever
say a bad word about Jamie, a sterling quality, in Catherine’s
opinion.
 “Your meeting is today, isn’t it?”
“That it is. It’s at noon, and I have to allow for an hour for
travel. My donor lives far out of the city.”
“Want me to order breakfast for you?”
She considered that for a moment. “No, I don’t care for
cold toast. Coffee’s fine.” She started to walk back into her
room, then said, “If you want company, feel free to watch TV
in my room.”
“I will.”
Catherine went in and sat at the desk by the window. The
light was good there, and she could style her hair and put on
her makeup without having to stand at the sink.
Ryan walked in, carrying a bowl of some sort of cold
cereal. “I made this for you. I don’t like cold toast, either, so I
bought a bunch of different types of cereal and mixed them
together.”
“Was there milk in the mini bar?”
“No. I bought some. They usually don’t mind if you put
your own stuff in the mini bar refrigerator.”
Catherine accepted the bowl and took a tentative bite.
“Mmm. This is strangely good. It’s odd seeing all of these
different shapes, but it’s tasty.”
“Jamie calls this ‘Ryan’s Jumble’. It’s hard for me to pick
just one kind of cereal, so I always mix ’em.” She flipped the
television on and moved a chair so she could see it better.
“Track and field,” she said. “I think this is my favorite sport
in the Olympics.”
 Chuckling, Catherine said, “I think you treat the Olympics
like you do cereal—you love it all and can’t make up your
mind which is truly your favorite.”
“Eh…you may be onto something.” She pulled her legs up
and wrapped her arms around them, sitting like she was a
small child. It looked more than a little odd to see the very
long woman wrap herself into a small package, but Ryan did
that sort of thing often. It was just one of her many quirks.
Catherine focused on using a curling iron and various
sprays to get her hair just right. Gian Carlo had convinced her
to wear it styled more casually than she used to, and she had
to admit it was an improvement. It was also easier to keep
looking good. She was just about to start putting on her eye
makeup when she spied Ryan turned around in her chair,
watching her. “Yes?” she prompted.
“Oh! I didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You just looked like you wanted to say
something.”
Ryan’s dark head shook firmly. “No, I wasn’t going to say
anything. I was just thinking…and remembering.”
The way she said that made Catherine turn and face her.
“What were you remembering?”
“My mom.”
It looked like her eyes were filling with tears, and
Catherine’s heart skipped a beat. There was something so
hauntingly tender about Ryan that she could almost put
herself in Jamie’s place and feel the love she had for this
darling woman.
 “I had a flash of a memory of watching her fix her hair
and put on makeup.” She laughed, then turned away, clearly
embarrassed. “I probably imagined it. My parents never went
anywhere, and I’m pretty sure my mom didn’t put on makeup
to chase the four of us around the house.”
“I’m sure it was real,” Catherine said. She was tempted to
go over and hug her, but she wasn’t sure Ryan would
appreciate that. Even though she was very tender-hearted, she
was also proud, and might not like to show how moved she’d
been. “I wish you had more memories. I had my mother until
I was nineteen, and it wasn’t nearly long enough.”
“No, it’s not enough,” Ryan said, keeping her eyes locked
on a pole vaulter. “Not by a mile.” She turned in her chair and
gave Catherine a charming smile. “We’re going to keep you
around until you’re at least a hundred, so be prepared.”
Now Catherine’s eyes teared up. “I can’t think of two
more able protectors. If anyone can keep me upright for
another sixty years, it’s you two.”
Jamie came shuffling into the room, still half asleep. She
plopped down on Ryan’s lap, curling up against her like Ryan
was a big stuffed animal. “Why are we in here?”
“We’re keeping your mom company while she gets ready
for her meeting.”
“And I’m having breakfast,” Catherine said, taking
another bite of “Ryan’s Jumble”.
“I think I’ll have some too. Then we’ve got to go get
Jordan and walk her around so she doesn’t have a heart
attack. She called Mia at six a.m.”
 “Six? Damn, she must have been extremely anxious to
wake Mia up at that time of the morning.”
“Yeah, she was, but she was also bored. The coaches don’t
want them to leave without permission, and no one was up.
Jordan called from the tub in her room.”
“Who’s happy she didn’t try out for Olympic team?” Ryan
asked, holding up her hand.
#
As he walked into his apartment, Brendan could hear the
television playing. “Maggie?” he called.
“I’m glued to the TV. Come on back.”
He dropped his briefcase and walked down the hall,
loosening his tie as he went. They’d made some
improvements to the apartment since Maggie had moved in.
Years earlier, when he’d first rented the place, he’d had a
roommate, and when his friend got married, Brendan had
stayed on. Even though he didn’t really need a two-bedroom
space, there was something nice about having a spare room to
set up as an office. He’d never actually done the work of
setting the place up, though, so when Maggie moved in, she
took over.
Now the spare room was far from spare. She’d put in two
armoires for her clothing; they flanked a comfy sofa. A big
screen TV faced the sofa, and, even though his dreams of an
office had died, he had to admit it was nice to have a
comfortable place to watch TV without having the whole
living room dominated by the big screen Maggie liked. He
smiled when he looked at her, stretched out on the sofa, still
dressed in a stylish business suit.
“You couldn’t take the time to change?” he asked, bending
to kiss her.
“Olympics,” she said, gesturing at the set. In fact, she was
a bigger sports fan than he was. And her tastes were more
catholic when it came to her viewing choices. He’d found her
watching table tennis when he was getting ready for work the
previous day, a sport he was fairly certain she had no real
interest in. But she was addicted to the Olympics, even more
so since she knew someone participating. “Volleyball’s on in
ten minutes. If we win, we’re in the gold medal game.” She
slapped at the sofa with the flat of her hand. “We could win
this thing, Bren!”
He thought it was cute when she said “we”, but he knew
better than to tease her about her ownership of the games. “I
know. Jordan’s probably got butterflies as big as volleyballs.”
After untucking his shirt, he sat down and pulled her legs
onto his lap. Absently stroking her leg, he said, “Order in?”
“Sure.” Using a relatively complex athletic move, she
grasped the phone, which sat on a table next to the couch.
“Pizza? Mexican? Peruvian? Chinese?”
“We’re playing Russia, so let’s not have borscht; anything
else is fine. You decide.”
She dialed a number and placed their order. After she hung
up, she poked him in the ribs with her toes. “Grumpy?”
Giving her a half smile, he nodded. “A little bit.”
 “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She checked her watch.
“You’ve got eight minutes.”
He knew she was teasing, but not by a lot. “Catherine
called me early this morning. She wanted me to try to get the
judge to allow Jennie to go to Sydney for the weekend.”
“Awesome!” Maggie threw her feet onto the floor and
stood. “Call her and tell her I’ll fly with Jen to make sure
she’s safe. I bet Catherine could get us tickets to anything…
anything!”
He snatched hold of her skirt, barely stopping her from
going to pack. “No, babe. Jen’s not going.”
“But why?”
She looked so sad, he almost laughed. But it wasn’t funny.
Not in his view.
“I could give you about fifty reasons, but the biggest one
is that Catherine hasn’t signed the order, so she doesn’t
legally have custody. Plus, Jennie doesn’t know about the
whole guardianship, so I’d have to go explain it all to the
kid.”
“I’ll do it!”
“No, honey. Really.” He tugged on her, and she reluctantly
sat down next to him. “Jen doesn’t have a passport, so we’d
need to jump through some ridiculous hoops to get her an
emergency document.” He held up his hands. “I made a few
calls, but—”
“A few calls? That’s all?” She jumped up again. “Let me
at it; I can make things happen.”
 “Baby, please, sit down and listen to me.” She sat, but she
looked like she wanted to get on the phone and get some
wheels turning. “It’s an abuse of the system to try to play it
like this. If she wanted to have Jennie attend the games, she
could have started to make arrangements weeks ago. God
knows she’s got enough contacts to send the kid to the moon
if she really wanted to.”
“So why did she just bring this up now?”
“She found out that a girl who’s harassing Jen is back in
the group home, and she wants to use the trip as a way to
keep Jen safe.”
“That’s a good thing, Bren, not an abuse of the system!”
“No, that’s a bad thing. If she got her butt on a plane, she
could sign the papers and have Jen in her home tomorrow
night. It’s been five days since we got the order, five days that
Jennie could have been in her new home, far away from this
psycho kid.” He let his disgust show. “Jennie needs a mom,
not a fucking trip.”
He hardly ever cursed, and Maggie sat up straight, giving
him her full attention, even though the Olympic theme was
playing and the beautiful shots of Australia from the air were
zooming across the screen. This was the highlight of
Maggie’s day, and he loved to see goosebumps run down her
body when she heard the theme.
“I know you weren’t in favor of her getting Jennie, but
you seem really down about the whole thing.”
 “I am. I’m really down. Catherine’s not the right person to
have custody of Jennie. I care about Catherine, and I know
she’ll try, but she’s got bad instincts.”
Maggie took his hand and addressed him calmly. “Okay,
then… We’re young and healthy and fairly mature. You know
I don’t want to have a baby. Let’s take Jennie.”
“What?” Now he jumped to his feet. “No way!”
“Why not? We might adopt one day, and taking Jennie
would be much easier than getting a baby. We’d never even
have to change a diaper.”
She was giving him a sly smile, and he finally realized she
was playing with him. He dropped down onto the sofa and
put his arm around her. “I’m not ready to parent a teenager.
And Jennie would be alone until six or seven every night,
given our schedules. From what I know about her, she could
get into a ton of trouble being unsupervised that much.”
Maggie laid her head on his shoulder. Sneaking a look
from the corner of his eye, he could see her avidly focused on
the TV once again.
“Right,” she said. “Everyone wants the kid in theory, but
only Catherine wants her in reality.”
“My father would take her.”
“You make her sound like a stray cat! I’m sure your father
and aunt would be very good for her, but they’re in the
grandparent stage of their lives. It’s not fair to have them
chasing around after Jennie. No, Catherine is going to be a
huge improvement over the group home, and that’s got to be
enough. It’s not ideal, I realize that as much as you do, but it’s
better than letting her stay in Oakland.”
“Are you sure about that? The housemother has a lot more
experience than Catherine does.”
“Listen to yourself.” Maggie poked him in the side.
“Catherine won’t be a perfect mom. She admits she wasn’t as
involved with Jamie as she should have been, and she’s out of
practice. But she’ll be a hell of a lot better than Jen’s birth
mother, and, yes, better than the housemother—if only
because she’ll have more time to devote to the kid. So, unless
you’re willing to step up to the plate and fight Catherine for
custody, put a sock in it and watch this game with me. We’re
playing for a medal!”
 CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Jamie, Ryan, and Mia got to the auditorium an hour before

the big match. Ryan had wanted to go even earlier, but she
was outvoted, two to one. Catherine hadn’t returned from her
meeting, so six empty seats surrounded them in the sold out
facility.
“Don’t tell me Jordan’s dad’s not coming to this match,”
Ryan said, glaring at the empty seats.
“He called earlier to say he’d scored better tickets. Don’t
know how, don’t care,” Mia said. “He’s dead to me. Not as
dead as the mother, brother, and grandmother. They’re like
desiccated; he’s just zombie-like dead. He could rise up at any
minute and cause trouble. And Candy doesn’t count. She
won’t be around long enough for us to worry about her.”
“You think she’ll age out?” Ryan asked, smirking.
“Yeah. Jordy says they don’t last very long. Of course,
she’s only twenty-two, so he can’t go too much younger and
still avoid jail. Hey, maybe he and his son could get a double
room!”
“I take it you don’t say things like that to Jordan,” Ryan
observed.
“Never. She’s very touchy about the whole bunch of them.
It remains to be seen if she’ll keep the father in her life, but,
so far, the mother is still in Siberia. I hope she freezes to
death.”
Ryan patted her leg. “Glad you’re not bitter.”
 #
Ryan tried not to put herself in Jordan’s place. It wasn’t
possible to really get into another human’s head, and over
identifying wasn’t worth the trouble. But she’d played the
game just the year before, and even though the college game
wasn’t nearly as competitive as the sport at the Olympic level,
Ryan had a good sense of what it took to be successful. She
also had the ability to see who the better team was, and that
team was, without question, Russia.
The Russian team had been playing at the highest level for
years; several of their players were competing in their second
or even third Olympics. No matter how good the individual
U.S. players were, volleyball was, in essence, the epitome of
a team game. Playing with the same women, day in and day
out, honed a team in ways that weren’t possible to replicate in
less than a year.
The U.S. was just not as good as Cuba or Russia, or even
Brazil. It was remarkable that they’d gotten as far as they had.
There was no logic in their being in a position to play for a
medal, and Ryan was one hundred percent certain that
Jordan’s play had made an outsized contribution to their
success. She was as proud of Jordan as if she’d been her own
child, and she hoped that the Russians were off their game
tonight. If they were on their game, it would be painful to
watch.
#
The first game was painful. The U.S. squad was playing
about as well as they could play, but they couldn’t crack
Russia’s fearsome defense. Ryan looked over at Mia and saw
that she looked ill. It was tough to love an athlete, a fact she’d
never really understood until she herself had to sit in the
stands and watch Jordan play her heart out, only to fail.
Ryan was heartened when the U.S. team got into a huddle
at the end of the game and exhorted each other fiercely. They
didn’t look like a group of women who knew they were going
to lose. Their scrappy play the next game showed they still
had a lot of heart. Russia made a single mistake during the
match, but the U.S. was so sharp, they exploited it and won
the second game 25 to 23. The fact that Jordan made the
final point wasn’t lost on Mia, who leapt to her feet, fist
pumped the air, and screamed, “That’s my girl!”
With seventeen thousand people in the auditorium, there
was no way Jordan could have heard her, so it was probably
just happenstance that made her turn her head and scan the
crowd, lighting on Mia a second after her scream.
Mia slapped Jamie on the head, exclaiming, “We’re like
totally in sync. Freaky, huh?”
Brushing her hair back into place, Jamie said, “I’m going
to unleash my freak on you if you hit me again.”
“Collateral damage, babe. Suck it up and move on.”
The team had clearly spent too much of its good karma on
the second game. They were completely flat during the third,
and went down with barely a whimper.
Ryan scanned the faces of every member of the team, and
was happy to see that none of them looked like they knew
they were going to fail. That was hugely important when you
were facing someone who was truly better than you. The only
way to win was to not let yourself believe the ending was
preordained.
The fourth game was a keeper. Even as it was happening,
there was something about it that indicated it was going to be
epic. In the single moment that Ryan let her thoughts wander
from play, she mentally slapped herself for not telling
someone at home to make sure to record the match. She
might have to ask Jim to call someone at the network to get a
copy, but she had to get one. This was the game that Jordan
needed to watch. Repeatedly.
Thirty years from now, when they and their kids were all
sitting around watching the 2030 Olympics, Ryan would get
out the tape—or whatever viewing device she’d had to
upgrade to—and they’d watch Jordan at her peak. Just
thinking about that scenario made Ryan tear up, but it was
going to be sweet. Mia and Jordan’s kids would be amazed
that their mom had been such a superb athlete, and they’d
secretly be enormously proud of her. They might not say so—
kids were notoriously shy about things like that—but they’d
be impressed. Seriously impressed.
Every time one team made a remarkable play, the other
answered in kind. Back and forth it went, with the lead never
more than one point. The entire crowd was spellbound, unlike
any game Ryan had ever attended. Every player was putting
everything she had out there, and it was thrilling to watch.
Stomach churning, but thrilling.
 For a change, Jamie was jumping up and down, screaming
out her pleasure at a great point and moaning in
disappointment when the ball fell to the floor on the U.S. side
of the net, mocking them by its very inertness. She and Mia
pummeled each other—slapping hands in the air, grasping at
each other during long rallies, yanking on the other woman’s
shirt when a point was lost.
Ryan wasn’t sure why Jamie was venting her anxiety on
Mia, but she was glad for it. It was hard enough to watch on
her own, without having Jamie’s anxiety thrust upon her.
The first team to reach twenty-five points would win, but
they had to be leading by two. The U.S. reached the vaunted
number first, but they held only a one point lead so the game
continued. Russia came back and tied them, then they each
got to twenty-six. The twenty-seventh point looked like it
might break the U.S., but they someone pulled it out and
broke Russia on the next point. Now it was twenty-seven to
twenty-six. The U.S. needed that last point desperately.
The point seemed as if it would never end. The longest
rally of the night saw the ball thrust back and forth over the
net, flying high in the air, then slammed down with the force
of a woman’s entire body behind it. After a powerful slam by
the Russian middle blocker, the libero dug the ball, and Ryan
saw their chances flying into the stands. The crowd seemed to
stop breathing as Jordan propelled her body into the crowd to
keep the ball in play. Somehow, she got to it, contorting
herself into a graceful arc and sending the ball back—
perfectly on target.
 The Russians had their focus deflected just enough, just
barely enough, to send the ball back weakly, and the middle
blocker for the U.S. slammed it down their throats. The fourth
game was history, and the match was tied.
Ryan had been so focused on the ball that she hadn’t
noticed Jordan was still in the stands. Her quick reactions
caught Mia’s waistband as she tried to dash down the aisle to
get to her lover. Holding on to her with both arms, Ryan said,
“She’s okay. She went in hard, but she’s getting up.”
“I have to be with her!”
“No, you can’t. They’ll hit you with a stun gun if you try
to run onto the court. You have to stay here and just…watch.”
It was easier said than done. Ryan was amazed that she
hadn’t run down to the court as well. Jordan had gone in
headfirst, ignoring her body to keep the ball in play. It had
been like she was trying to stop a live grenade, and Ryan
knew just how that felt. A person who had never played a
competitive sport wouldn’t get it, but when you put your heart
and soul into a game, you lost track of its importance in the
greater scheme of life. If you were walking down the street
and asked if you’d take a concussion or a broken arm rather
than lose a point in a game, any sane person would say “no”.
But in the heat of the moment, athletes weren’t sane.
“Did she land on her head?” Mia asked, her voice shaking
as they watched the entire coaching and training staff
surround her lover.
“No, definitely not,” Ryan said. “She probably knocked
the wind out of herself.”
 That actually didn’t seem likely. The replay flashed on the
big screen, and the camera caught a view the spectators
hadn’t had. Jordan had been headfirst, but she contorted
herself to turn in midair, landing between the metal benches
and the people who dove for safety. It looked as if she’d
landed on her back, not her face, and the way they were
helping her up made it pretty clear she’d hurt her shoulder.
She got to her feet to the thunderous applause of the
crowd. Only three women didn’t join in. They were frozen,
staring helplessly at the scene.
“She’s not bleeding,” Jamie finally said, offering small
comfort.
“And she didn’t hurt her head,” Ryan said firmly. “They’d
never let her get up if she’d hurt her head or neck. She might
be fine.”
“She’d better be,” Mia growled, still held securely in
Ryan’s grip.
Jordan ambled back to the bench, accepting high-fives
from every person. But she didn’t use her right arm. Ryan
didn’t say a word, not wanting to frighten Mia further, but she
knew when an athlete was hiding something, and Jordan was
hurt, probably badly.
But the match wasn’t over. The decisive fifth game started
almost immediately; the U.S. had used the allocated timeout
to pull Jordan from the bleachers. From the start, Ryan knew
the U.S. run had come to an end. They couldn’t beat the
Russians with only one outside hitter, and Jordan was toast.
She tried to compensate by shifting her position to be able to
block better with her left arm, but that was folly. Neither Mia
nor Jamie seemed to notice, because it was a subtle
difference, but Ryan knew, and the coaches and trainers had
to know. It was a huge compliment to Jordan that they left her
in, obviously deciding that half of Jordan was worth more
than all of a substitute.
But half of Jordan couldn’t get it done, and the U.S. was
kicked to the curb, going down 15 to 25, never mounting a
threat. Both Jamie and Mia were in tears, crying like they’d
lost something dear. And they had. They’d lost their wish for
Jordan to reach the pinnacle of her dream. There would be no
gold and no silver adorning her neck. Now the best they could
hope for was bronze, and that was going to be a battle, a
battle that Jordan would probably have to wage one-handed.
#
For the first time, the coaching staff lifted the team’s
curfew. They were allowed to go out, stay out, hang out—
whatever they wanted. Jamie and Ryan walked behind Jordan
and Mia, and Jamie quietly said, “Does it make sense to let
the players go out and drink when they have a game
tomorrow?”
Ryan shrugged. “They’ve made some weird decisions all
the way along, but they’re playing for a medal; they must
know something we don’t know.”
Pinching her, Jamie said, “So…what do you think?”
“If I were in charge, the team would be in bed. I’d go from
room to room telling them a bedtime story about how they
were going to kick ass tomorrow. But that’s just my way.”
 “Yeah. I think I’m with you.” She lowered her voice even
further. “Do you believe Jordan’s all right?”
“She says she is.” Ryan shrugged, signaling she had
nothing more to say. She always did have more to say, but she
wasn’t prone to saying it until she was good and ready.
#
It was fairly early, just ten-thirty when the team and their
guests strode into a bustling bar not far from the Olympic
Village. As always when athletes mingled with civilians, it
was hard to pay for a drink. Strangers kept stopping by to buy
a round, ask for photos and autographs, and just chat, even
though Jamie was fairly sure a traveler from Japan wouldn’t
know who an American volleyball player was if she bit him.
Most of the older women on the team seemed resigned, as
though they’d known they were such long shots that they
hadn’t gotten their hopes up too high. But the rookies seemed
devastated.
Jamie surreptitiously watched Jordan drinking a beer,
noting how down she seemed. But it was noisy and crowded
and too boisterous a crowd to get a private word with her.
She’d have to wait to share with her how proud she was of the
way she’d played. For now, she’d just stay on her toes and try
to avoid getting clocked by the coasters the players were
zipping past each other. Jocks had to make everything into a
contest. It must be in their DNA.
By midnight, half of the team was hammered. Jamie
thought it seemed like they’d written off the game they had
facing them the next day. They’d obviously pinned their
hopes on gold, and now they were trying to cope with the
brutal disappointment. She kept sneaking looks at Jordan,
who had managed to wedge her stool into a corner. Jamie
thought she’d only had one beer, and she was still holding the
bottle. But she wasn’t holding it like one typically would hold
an empty bottle; she held it like she was going to club
someone with it. Looking at her more closely, she could see
that Jordan was fuming. At what, she wasn’t sure, but the
glower on her face was completely uncharacteristic.
Mia was being social enough for both of them, talking to
the strangers who approached and speaking to each of the
other players. She’d definitely had more than one, but she
seemed only moderately drunk. For Mia.
Ryan had been a bit of a social butterfly as well, walking
around the tall tables, talking to the other players, being
outgoing with visitors. Jamie thought Ryan vaguely knew
many of the players from her playing days at either USF or
Cal, and she was pleased to see her enjoying herself.
That left only Jamie to keep an eye on Jordan. She was
getting up to go stand by her and check in, when Jordan stood
up and shouted, “What the fuck?”
Everyone turned to stare at her, while Mia darted for her
like a shot. Before she could get there, Jordan climbed up
onto a cocktail table and stood there holding her empty bottle
like a torch. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Again everyone stared, some open-mouthed. The music
throbbed in the background, tourists jammed the bar angling
for refills, but eight players and a couple of dozen guests
devoted their attention solely to Jordan.
“You idiots act like it’s over!” she shouted, her face red,
eyes ablaze. “It’s not fucking over!” As she spoke the last
word, she thrust her bottle into the air, then winced and
grabbed her arm and cradled it to her body. She switched
hands, holding the bottle in her left, and she used it to point at
each teammate in turn.
“We’re playing for a medal tomorrow.” She searched the
room, finding a clock. “Today! Not tomorrow, today! It’s after
midnight, and we’re standing around laughing and patting
ourselves on the back for doing our best.” She spat; she
actually spat on the floor, as though she had to get the taste of
those words from her mouth. “Fuck that!”
Jamie looked across the room and saw Ryan gazing up at
her friend. For reasons that she’d never be able to understand,
Ryan was crying. Flat out bawling. She hadn’t shed a single
tear during the loss, but now that Jordan was acting like
Braveheart, Ryan was overcome. How was she ever going to
understand a person who behaved that way?
Jordan continued, “Fuck doing your best; we’re here to
win! At least I am. And if you idiots don’t feel the same way,
then stay here and drink. Stay out all night! What fucking
difference does it make? We’re only playing for a god
damned Olympic medal!” She snapped those last words off
like chipping away ice. Then she jumped onto the stool, then
down to the floor, and stormed out of the bar.
 Silence reigned for a few seconds, then the players quietly
gathered their backpacks, left their drinks on the tables, and
followed her out.
Jamie mused that it was the most impassioned “it’s time
for bed” speech in the history of bedtimes, and she decided
Jordan could always find work as a drill sergeant if she
changed her mind about pursuing a career in architecture.
#
Catherine was waiting for them in the hotel room when
they returned. “I’m so sorry,” she began as soon as they
walked in.
“Did you see the match?” Mia asked.
“Yes. We were still having dinner when it came on, and I
told my donor I had to watch. I think she thought I’d lost my
mind, but we finished our dessert and went into her
sumptuous media room. I think that might have been the first
sporting event she’d ever seen, and I might have ruined my
chances of getting her to give again, but I couldn’t…I simply
couldn’t miss the game.”
Mia walked over and put her arm around Catherine,
giving her a long hug. “Thanks. It was gut-wrenching, but
they did their best.” She chuckled. “Even though Jordy might
slap me for saying so.”
“Slap you?” Catherine asked, clearly puzzled.
“Long story,” Jamie said. “Have you seen Braveheart?”
 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The bronze medal game was played at five o’clock in the

afternoon, making it clear that the schedulers didn’t consider
it to be a premiere attraction for fans or television viewers.
Unfortunately, they made the right call, at least from the
U.S. perspective. The team got off to a shaky start, losing the
first game 18 to 25. Jordan gave it everything she had, but she
couldn’t use her right arm for power. Even blocking with two
hands seemed more than she could manage, and Ryan caught
her cheating more and more, turning her back so she could go
hard with her left and use the right only as a last resort. That
was no way to play, and they took her out just after the third
point of the second game.
“She’s hurt,” Mia said, sounding like she was on the verge
of tears. “My girl’s really hurt.”
“Right shoulder,” Ryan said.
“The one with tendonitis,” Mia grumbled. “It’s bothered
her for years.”
“Since high school, I think,” Ryan said. “At least it’s not a
knee.”
During the break after the second game, Jordan stayed
seated while everyone else gathered around the active players
and rooted them on. She took a towel and draped it over her
head, which had dropped like a balloon losing its helium.
It looked like she wasn’t even watching the match, and
Ryan couldn’t blame her. Yes, Brazil was a better team, but
the U.S. had lost before they took the court. They’d blown
their wad on the gold medal game, and when that dream
eluded them, they had no reserves to count on.
They lost in straight games, and when the last game
mercifully ended, Jordan got up and got into the line with her
teammates, filing along on either side of the net as they
slapped hands with the victorious Brazilians.
A half hour later, Jamie, Ryan, and Catherine waited
outside the auditorium. Jordan finally emerged, followed by
Mia, Jorgen, and Candy.
“Well, they put up a good fight,” Jorgen said.
No one responded, possibly worried that Jordan would
start her spiel again.
“Why don’t you let me take you out to dinner?” Jorgen
offered. Candy didn’t look enthused, but he seemed to
genuinely want to go.
Jordan immediately answered for the group. “No, thanks,
Dad. I’m not in the mood to be social.”
“Okay, okay.” He hugged her, showing a paternal
tenderness when he leaned close and said, “I’m very proud of
you. Get some ice on that shoulder, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure.” She pulled away and stood up straight. “I
guess we’ll see you back home.”
“Absolutely. You’ll have to come visit. We’d love to have
you for a few days.”
“Sure. We’ll do that.” She hugged him again, then gave
Candy a quick air hug as well. “Have a good trip.” As Jorgen
and Candy walked away, Jordan said quietly, “We’ll have a
big family gathering. Mom will cook, Grandma will sit by the
fire and knit. Then Gunnar can play the guitar while we sing
folk tunes.”
She started walking, her quiet group silently following
wherever she led.
#
They wound up back at the Evans-O’Flaherty hotel room.
Jordan had no appetite and merely picked at a salad. Ryan
finally cornered her after Jordan had gotten up to use the
bathroom in Ryan’s bedroom. Jordan exited and stopped
when she saw Ryan blocking the closed door to the living
room. “Rotator cuff?”
“Dunno. Probably something like that.”
“How bad?”
“Bad.”
“Surgery bad?”
“At least. Maybe amputation.”
Then let’s go to the hospital.”
Now Jordan stuck her chin out, and said, “No, thanks. It’s
not gonna kill me tonight. I’ll have the team doctor look at it
tomorrow.”
Giving her a stern glare, Ryan said, “Don’t be bullheaded.
They can give you something for the pain and the
inflammation. You won’t be able to sleep.”
A soft, wry laugh came out. “Like I could sleep after that
embarrassment? We would’ve lost to…Vatican City tonight.
It was a joke.”
 Ryan went to her and put an arm around her waist,
carefully avoiding her shoulder. “I know. They needed their
number one outside hitter. But she only had one good arm.
I’m sorry, buddy. Really, really sorry.”
That broke Jordan’s shell, and she turned and let Ryan
envelop her in a hug. “So close,” she whimpered.
They stood, entwined, for a long time, with Jordan crying
helplessly, and Ryan trying and failing to keep a stiff upper
lip.
#
Shocking Mia, Jordan insisted on going back to the
Olympic Village to sleep. Despite Mia’s cajoling and
wheedling, Jordan was resolved. “I didn’t sign out,” she
explained. “I’ll go sleep there tonight and come back
tomorrow.”
“I’m leaving in the morning, so you two can have my
room,” Catherine said.
“See?” Jordan said, nodding at Catherine. “It’ll be nice.
We’ll have our own room.”
“I want you here now,” Mia complained, but Jordan
merely kissed her and headed for the door.
“I’ll call you in the morning and tell you when we can
meet up. We’ll do something fun.”
Then she was gone, still under the control of USA
Volleyball, an organization that was quickly becoming
anathema to Mia.
#
 A short time later, Jamie and Ryan lay in bed, both too
keyed up to sleep. “Did Jordan go back because of her
shoulder?” Jamie asked.
“I assume so. She didn’t say, but it makes sense to be
there. She can have the team doctor and one of the physical
therapists look at it. They can also give her something for the
pain.”
“I assume you tried to talk her into going to the
emergency room?”
“You assume correctly. I don’t know what it is about
jocks,” Ryan teased. “They’re very hard headed.”
#
Catherine wasn’t sure which of her many arguments had
carried the day, but the next morning she found herself in a
cab, alone, headed for the airport. It actually felt a little
strange to go on a trip without an O’Flaherty practically
walking her to the gate, but she was glad that Jamie and Ryan
hadn’t spent their whole morning merely riding to the airport
and back.
Now that she was headed homeward, Catherine allowed
herself to turn away from the Olympic hoopla and earnestly
consider her plans for Jennie. She hadn’t talked to Jamie and
Ryan about it, but she had decided to wait until they got home
to tell Jennie about the custody arrangement. Ryan was such
a trusted figure in the girl’s life that she wanted her to be there
when they had the talk. That way, if Jennie was concerned
and not yet comfortable enough to talk to Catherine, she’d
have Ryan there.
 In the meantime, she could let her mind wander and idly
plan the things they could do together. The first thing she
would do was get a paid professional to teach Jennie how to
play the clarinet. Ryan had a surplus of good intentions, but it
had been a year and Jennie still couldn’t produce a consistent
sound from her instrument. Catherine was going to try and
not overschedule her, as she had done with Jamie, but she
hoped that Jennie could come to love music, especially
symphonic music, and she let herself daydream about taking
her young charge to the symphony and introducing her to the
finer arts.
#
It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and by rights Mia
should have been doing something fun with her partner.
Instead, she was wandering around the crowded streets near
the Olympic village. She couldn’t get in, but Jordan was not
answering her cell phone and Mia couldn’t enjoy herself
without knowing where she was.
Jamie and Ryan were at the stadium, watching shotput or
discus or something equally thrilling, but Mia couldn’t muster
the enthusiasm to accompany them. Her mind was so fixated
on Jordan that she nearly barreled into Jill and her husband.
“Oh, shit; I’m sorry,” Mia said. “I’m in another world.”
“That’s okay,” Jill said. “You’re probably worried about
Jordan.”
“Do you know anything?”
“Not really. She was in bed when I got home, but gone
when I woke up. I assumed she was with you.”
 “What time was that?”
“About six.” Jill looked at her watch and made a face.
“Damn, it’s eleven o’clock.”
“Oh, I know what time it is. I’ve watched every minute
tick by, and if I don’t hear from her soon, I’m going to scale
one of those fences and try to outrun the dogs they probably
have patrolling the perimeter.”
#
Mia only had to wait another half hour. She answered her
cell phone on the first ring. “Where are you and how do I get
to you?”
Jordan emitted a quiet laugh. “I’m just leaving the village.
Where are you?”
“I’m about two hundred yards away from you. You can’t
miss me; I’m the worried looking one.”
Jordan ended the call and walked over to where Mia was
standing, bending to hug her with just her left arm. “I’m sorry
I was out of commission, but most of the time I was at the
hospital, and they have a rule that you can’t use cell phones.”
Mia’s hands carefully touched up and down Jordan’s
shoulders and arms. “Hospital? Why didn’t you call me
before you went?”
“I would have, baby, but things just kept escalating in
small increments. Where are Jamie and Ryan?”
Mia twitched her head in the direction of the Olympic
Stadium. “In there. Some sort of feat of strength or agility.”
“Ooo. Track and field. Can we try to get tickets and go?”
 “Only if you promise to tell me what the fuck has been
going on!”
“Can I tell you once we meet up with them? I’d like to just
do it once.”
Mia scanned her cell phone and found Jamie’s number.
She hit the button, muttering, “Damned woman of few
words.”
#
It took a little organizing, but they finally were all in the
same stadium, in the same section, so Jordan began her tale.
“So, I woke one of the trainers from a sound sleep early
this morning. I felt bad doing it, but I couldn’t wait any
longer.” She shrugged, managing to use only one shoulder.
“All he could offer was ice and some anti-inflammatories, so
I took what he could give. So I was in the training room, just
waiting, until about nine. He finally thought that was late
enough to be able call the team doctor, who took his sweet
time getting there, then decided I needed to have an MRI. It
took a while to get that done, then he and the radiologist
looked at the results.”
“Could you tell this story any slower?” Mia demanded
grumpily.
“Sorry, babe. The bottom line is that I need to have
surgery.”
“Surgery?” Mia nearly screamed. “They want to make a
scar on this perfect flesh?”
 That made Jordan smile, and she nuzzled her face against
Mia’s neck. “I told them I had to ask my owner for
permission.”
Mia looked at her carefully. “You seem strangely…happy.
What did they give you?”
With a lopsided smile, Jordan said, “Am I usually glum?”
“Come on, what did they give you? And did they give you
enough to share?”
“Percocet.” Jordan pulled a tiny envelope from her pocket.
“And something really strong for the inflammation. I am
feeling exactly zero pain.”
Mia took the pills from her and put them in her own
pocket. “I’ll be in charge. I don’t want you to overdose. Trust
me, I’m the voice of experience.”
#
Ryan had been snacking since they’d gotten there, but
Jamie had politely waited for Mia and Jordan. Once Jordan
had finished her story, Jamie stood up and said, “I’m going
for food. Who wants some?”
Mia got up as well. “I’ll go with you. I want one of
everything, and you can’t carry that much.” She leaned over
and kissed the top of Jordan’s head. “What do you want,
sweetheart?”
“Nothing, thanks. The trainer brought me breakfast, and I
don’t have much appetite.”
That earned her a scowl, but Mia let it pass. As soon as
she and Jamie left, Jordan said, “What do you think, Boom?
Do I let them cut me?”
 Ryan did a double take. “You said you had to have
surgery. Is it optional?”
“I’m not sure. I’m also not sure I totally trust the team
doctor.”
“Good call.” Ryan sat for a second, thinking. “There’s no
way I’d let them at me without an outside opinion. Shoulder
operations are pretty delicate, and you need to see the best.
That might be the team doc, but it might not be.”
“Yeah. I think Mia will get a vote in this too.”
“You sound like they gave you some wiggle room. What
exactly did they say?”
“He said my only chance to play again was to have
surgery and extensive rehab. If everything went well, I could
be playing again in a year. That would have me back with the
team in time for the next NORCECA.”
“Got it. So you might be able to just have physical
therapy.”
“I think that’s what he was saying…without saying it. But
since he’s the team doctor, his job is to make sure I can play.”
“And Mia’s job is to make sure you don’t have any
blemishes on your perfect goddess-like body,” Ryan said,
chuckling.
Jordan laughed a little. “Something like that.”
Ryan sat there for a minute, focusing on the bearish men
competing in the hammer toss. She tried to sound
nonjudgmental when she said, “Do you really think you’ll be
able to beat Cuba, Russia, and Brazil in four years? Assuming
the surgery goes well, the rehab goes well, and you can keep
the best players you’ve got now and add a couple more? Oh,
and did I mention China? Everyone says they’ll be world
class by Athens.”
Laughing at the way, Ryan had phrased the question,
Jordan said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had an
opinion.”
“I’ve always got an opinion; I just usually don’t like to
force it on people.” She patted Jordan’s knee. “I might make
an exception for you.”
Jordan held her hands up in acquiescence. “Go right
ahead. I welcome your learned view.”
“If it were me, I’d relish the Olympic experience, thank
my lucky stars that I had the chance to compete, and then get
on with my life. Mia is clearly crazy about you, and if you
keep this unnatural hold over her, she’d probably be right by
your side for another four years. But is that fair to her?” Ryan
shrugged. “Jamie would never stand for it, but Mia might let
you try again. Still, I’d only take that chance if I was pretty
damned confident I’d come home from Athens with
hardware.”
“You never know,” Jordan said softly. “Anything could
happen in four years. But a whole hell of a lot of things would
have to happen for us to win gold in Athens. And to even
attempt it, I’d have a nasty scar.” She acted like she was
brushing some dust off her shirt. “I don’t mean to brag, but it
would be a sin to mar perfection.”
Laughing, Ryan said, “How high are you?”
 Jordan stuck her good arm straight up in the air and made
an imaginary mark. “How high have you got?”
#
They stayed at the stadium until four o’clock, when
Jordan stretched and said, “It’s about time for another pill. I
would love to wash it down with a hot fudge sundae.”
Mia stared at her. “That’s the first time you’ve mentioned
an item of food with anything close to pleasure since
December.”
“Are you with me?”
“We all are,” Jamie said, answering for the group.
#
An hour later, they sat outside in the hot, late afternoon
sun, debating whether or not Jordan should take another pill.
“You had that last one in your system for about twenty
minutes before you vomited,” Ryan said. “Maybe you should
wait for a while and see how bad the pain is.”
“Maybe I should also ease back into this ‘eating’
business,” she said, making a face. “Going from no sugar or
fat to a pound of each probably wasn’t a good idea.”
“Did you think of that before or after you threw up in the
trash can?” Ryan asked, snickering. “I told you to start with
an ice cream cone and work your way back into the
professional ranks, but no…you had to have the whole thing,
whipped cream and all.”
Jordan held up a hand. “Can we cut the allusions to all
forms of food? I could easily upchuck again, and I think I’ve
shown the fine people of Sydney the contents of my stomach
often enough.”
#
The next afternoon, Jordan got them all into the athletes’
village, and they spent a couple of hours just wandering
around. Almost everyone was finished with their competition,
but they had only begun to party. Every other person was
either drunk or hung over, and they were so happy and
relieved that it was over, that there was a certain frenetic
quality to their celebrations.
As they often did when the four of them walked together,
Jamie and Mia led the way, with Jordan and Ryan bringing up
the rear.
“I can’t imagine how much fun I would have had if I’d
made the soccer team in ’96,” Ryan said. “It would have
been epic.” She stuck her hand out, as though she were
casting a spell over the entire village. “I could have indulged
my drive to sleep with women of every race, creed, and color,
all within easy walking distance.”
Jordan slapped at her, catching her in the arm. “You talk a
big game, but I only know you as Jamie’s lapdog.”
“Well, if I’d stuck with soccer I probably would have still
been with Sara, so I would have been her lapdog.” She
laughed. “You know how I am. I’m all in or all out. But if I
could have been here without a girlfriend… Wow.” She
turned her head, her eyes following an exotic looking woman
wearing just a sports bra and compression shorts. “I would’ve
started with…” She waved at Jamie who had turned around to
catch her eye. “Hi, honey.”
“Don’t let her ogle girls, Jordan. The one who just walked
by was exactly her type.”
“I think her type just needs to not have a penis,” Jordan
said, laughing at Ryan’s foxy expression.
“You make a good point,” Ryan agreed. “The Olympic
Village would be a fantastic place for a single person. But it’d
be torture for me to have to stay here for two weeks, not
looking at other girls, while Jamie was in a hotel. I guess
that’s part of growing up. You have to close the door to some
experiences to let other ones come in fully.”
“I think you’ve done pretty well for yourself, Boomer.”
“I don’t have a complaint in the world. I got the best
looking girl in the world, and she’s absolutely crazy about
me.”
Jamie turned around again. “Get over yourself.” She
stuck her tongue out, then her hand stretched out behind her
and Ryan jogged the few steps to enable her to take it. “I’m
only mildly crazy about you.”
“That might be true, but we haven’t been together that
long. In time, I guarantee you will be absolutely crazy about
me.”
Jamie grasped her ear and pulled her down for a kiss. “I’m
certain I’ll be absolutely crazy, I just hope it’s about you.”
#
Late in the afternoon they finally got to the front of the
line at the tattoo parlor that many of the athletes had
recommended. Both Jordan and Mia knew what they wanted,
but they continued to argue about placement. The artist, a
heavily tattooed young man with dreadlocks, a strange
assemblage of facial hair, and a friendly manner welcomed
them into his cubicle. “What’s going where?” he asked.
“Olympic rings for her,” Mia said, “and a volleyball with
‘Jordy’ written across it for me.”
“Sweet,” he said. “Girlfriends?”
“Absolutely,” Jordan said, smiling serenely at Mia.
“Where do you want ’em?”
“I was thinking about my foot,” Mia said, “but Jordan
says she doesn’t want to see half her name when I wear
sandals.”
“And I wanted my shoulder, but Mia doesn’t want the
tattoo to show when I wear a nice dress.”
“I’ve got the solution,” he said, pointing at the spots he
deemed most fitting.
#
A few hours later, Mia, Ryan, and Jamie sat high up in the
Olympic Stadium, watching team USA enter the arena. It was
impossible to make out anyone in particular except for a few
basketball players who were prominently shown on the
massive screens, but they knew Jordan was part of the scrum.
“Was it all worth it?” Ryan asked Mia.
“Definitely.” She wiped her eyes for the twentieth time.
“I’d do it again in a minute.” She folded her hands in prayer
and looked to the sky. “Please, God, don’t make me do it
again.”
 “What was your favorite moment?” Jamie asked. “I know
what mine was.”
“Hmm…” Mia thought for a long while. “I have about
two thousand of them, but my favorite might have been the
first time my sweet girl walked onto the court in that cool
USA uniform. She looked so happy…and confident…and…
just…I don’t have words for how cool she is.” She giggled
girlishly. “She makes me sound like an idiot. What’s yours,
James?”
“That was a good one, but I’ll always remember how
happy you were after they won their first match. You were
absolutely glowing.” She wiped at her own eyes, just
recalling Mia’s happiness.
“Saps,” Ryan declared. “The best moment was when
Jordan flew into the stands and made that dig. That was world
class; I’ll never forget how good she was that night.”
“I just wish Jordy could be up here with us, but then it
wouldn’t be as cool not to know somebody down there. It’s a
bitch,” Mia decided.
“It’s very cool knowing someone down there,” Ryan
agreed. “Very cool indeed.”
#
They spent their last night in Sydney huddled in a bar with
what seemed like a thousand other people. At least a quarter
of the occupants were athletes who still wore their national
uniforms, and Jordan looked very spiffy in her navy blue
blazer, white slacks, and red T-shirt. She had traded the USA
pin for dozens of others, and now the lapels of her jacket were
festooned with a plethora of colors and shapes. She looked as
relaxed and happy as she had before she’d embarked on her
journey, and Jamie was very grateful that Jordan had been
able to chase her dream. Equal gratitude went up for her and
Ryan to be able to share it with their friends.
Jamie sipped at her drink, feeling a pleasant afterglow
from the closing ceremonies. Ryan cuddled up next to her and
snuck an arm around her waist. “What will it take for me to
convince you to come home with me, good lookin’?”
Jamie eyed her carefully, starting at the top and working
her way down. “I could be convinced. You’re not exactly
homely, and you have nice teeth.”
Ryan opened her mouth, showing all of her pearly whites.
“I know I’m fishing out of my class, but you’re the best
looking girl in the place.”
“Thanks. Like I said, you’re not too bad yourself, but I
need to wait for my friends. Tell me something about yourself
while we wait.”
“Mmm.” Ryan acted like she was thinking hard. “I live in
San Francisco, and I’m currently unemployed. I’d like to take
some classes that start soon, but I’m kept on a tight leash. I
have a tendency to overcommit.”
“That sounds serious. Maybe your leashholder needs to
know you can learn to moderate yourself.”
“Yeah, she does, but I haven’t shown her much evidence
that I can be trusted.”
 “Mmm, too bad for you.” Jamie leaned over and placed a
long, sexy kiss on Ryan’s lips. “I can’t go home with someone
I can’t trust.”
“There has to be a way to show you I’m trustworthy.” She
pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Would it be
trustworthy if I only took two or three tiny little classes?” She
held up two fingers and made the third twitch back and forth
between extended and retracted. “I think classes are a ton of
fun, and they relax me. I know that’s weird, but they really
do.”
“That could be considered trustworthy,” Jamie said
thoughtfully. “Just show your leashholder that you can be
flexible. Like if she wanted to…say…go on a trip. If you’d go
along and not whine and cry, she might not mind if you take a
few classes.”
“I’m on a trip now. A really, really, really long one. And I
haven’t cried once.”
“But have you enjoyed yourself?”
“I’ve had a blast.” She wrapped her arms around Jamie
and kissed her so ferociously she barely flinched when Mia
flicked water at them to cool them off. “This was the trip of a
lifetime.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jamie said. “This was a trip
of a lifetime. You’ll have a great time each time you go, if
you’ll open up and let yourself embrace travel.”
“I have to embrace it? Just going isn’t enough?”
 “Not enough. Think of a trip like you would a woman. I
bet you love to experience different women, don’t you?” she
purred seductively.
“No, not any more. I’m a one woman dog.” She barked a
couple of times, making the people at the next table stare at
her quizzically.
“That’s a nice thing to hear. Very trustworthy.” Leaning
close, she kissed Ryan, finishing off by licking all around her
lips with the tip of her tongue. “You’re sweet.”
“And spicy,” Ryan purred. “Come home with me and I’ll
show you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.” She started to stand, then said, “What did I
promise?”
“That you’d try to keep your perspective, not work too
hard, and travel when I need to.”
“I promised all of that?” She made a funny face, her eyes
comically wide.
“You did. If you want to be mine, you need to loosen up.”
“You might be the only person in the world who’s ever
told me to loosen up,” Ryan teased.
“I love you more than anyone else ever has…or could.”
Suddenly overcome with feeling, Jamie grabbed Ryan by the
shoulders and pulled her close. Nuzzling her face against
Ryan’s chest, she said, “I’m sad this is over, but I’m excited
to be going home with you.”
“Me too. Let’s get out of here and start our next chapter.”
 Ryan held her hand out and Jamie took it, pausing to
whisper into Mia’s ear. Then they went out into the warm,
Australian night, and stood on the street, breathing in the
scents of plants both familiar and exotic.
“I feel like we’re starting over, somehow,” Ryan said.
“Jordan and Mia will be at our house, Jordan and I will be
taking classes, Mia will find a job, and you’ll… What in the
hell will you be doing?”
“Search me. Maybe I’ll just read books and go shopping,
but I’ll kick ass at both.”
“I love a woman with goals.”
“And I love a woman whose goal is to live happily ever
after. With me.”
“We’re set, baby,” Ryan said, grinning happily. “It’s time
to start that next chapter!”

The End