Climbing Heartbreak Hill Page 3

  He shook his head. He knew exactly what it felt like to not be able to do what you wanted to do.

  She pounded her fist against the table. “I had that audition in the bag, even if I was the oldest one there.”

  “You seem to be doing well here though. Maybe it was a good change.”

  Tara tipped her head from side to side, evaluating his words. “Leslie keeps things simple for me, so I can handle it.”

  “You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He knew it sounded quaint, but something told him Tara had more to share with the world than being an adolescent boy’s fantasy. She had known more about what his tax return needed than his previous preparer, and he’d been in business for twenty years.

  “That’s sweet, but…” She shook her head. “I’m aware of my limitations. What about you? I showed you mine. Now you have to show me yours.”

  Ryan arched an eyebrow. “I didn’t exactly see your scars.”

  “Not exactly appropriate for a first date.” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Should I ask for a second one now?” Ryan’s imagination was in overdrive picturing where Tara’s scars might be. He reached for the zipper on the ankle of his running pants. He unzipped the opening and rolled his pant leg up to reach the brace that encased his knee. The metal bands and hinges that stabilized his knee were padded with an absorbent terry cloth, but it still left red indentations on his skin. “I’m supposed to be walking with a cane by now.” He prodded the strained, purple skin of his incisions.

  “What happened?”

  He pushed his pant leg down to his ankle and slipped the zipper back in place. “Marathon runners usually succumb to repetitive use injuries, but I tripped over a root on a trail run. Twisted my knee. Haven’t run a step since.”

  “I’m so sorry.” She reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. Sparks shot through his skin. When she didn’t move her hand away, he wrapped his hand around hers. “It must be devastating.”

  “I hope the surgeon can explain why my recovery is taking so long. I should be running by now.” With Tara’s hand in his, his plight didn’t seem so desperate. “I’ll be able to run again soon. My physical therapist isn’t as optimistic, but the surgeon will know what isn’t healing.”

  “I hope so. I couldn’t imagine not being able to do something I loved so much. I can still do dance routines. Not in front of thousands of screaming fans, but not being able to do it at all…” Her blue eyes lit with excitement and Ryan found himself mesmerized by the little green flecks. The roaring in his ears was as loud as an arena.

  He could see Tara with her blonde hair bouncing and those little sparkly pom-poms shaking. He shook his head to dismiss the image before the fantasy took over more than his thoughts.

  “Yeah. The other doctors told me I would never run again, but it doesn’t make sense. I could understand if it was a repetitive use injury where something wore out, but I fell. It was a split second. Broken bones heal. I’ll be back to normal soon. One little stumble can’t change the course of my life.”

  Chapter Four

  One stumble, one second, one dumb decision had affected her career. If she hadn’t fought with that guy over the rum bottle after graduation, she would still be cheerleading. She wouldn’t have melted skin across her abdomen and she probably wouldn’t have needed breast implants.

  Tara wouldn’t consider surgery to change her body now, but only because she had been through all those skin grafts. Who knew what she would have decided without those procedures?

  Their food arrived and Tara reluctantly let go of Ryan’s hand to flatten her napkin across her lap. Ryan asked for extra carrots with his sandwich. She wished she could be that disciplined. Before she could swirl her potato wedges in ranch dressing, her cell phone drummed out her favorite girl power song. She dropped the wedge and wiped her hands on her napkin. “I’m sorry, I should have put it on silent.” She reached into her purse to send the noisy interruption to voice mail. “Oh, it’s Mark. I should take this.”

  Ryan nodded and dug into his sandwich.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked after greeting Mark.

  “Hanging in there. Trying to keep Leslie calm.”

  “What’s going on? Is she in labor? Did they get the contractions stopped?” Tara was peppering Mark with questions, but they were flying out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “I’m not sure where to start.” Mark half-laughed. “Slow down. She was in labor, but they were able to stop the contractions. For now.”

  “For now? What does that mean? Is she going to have the baby soon?” Tara’s mental calendar popped up. The baby wasn’t due for eight more weeks. While she didn’t know a lot about pregnancy, she knew babies weren’t supposed to come that early. Could the baby even survive? She pressed the phone closer to her ear so she could hear over the din in the restaurant.

  “The doctor said as soon as she starts moving around again, the contractions will pick back up. They recommend Leslie stay off her feet and rest for at least a week.”

  “A week?” Tara managed to squeak out. Her stomach swam. A week? She’d expected the weekend, but five business days? Their busiest days, too. Oh dear. She couldn’t hold the office together for a week without Leslie.

  Ryan’s gaze jerked from the window, and he arched his eyebrow in question. Tara mouthed, “Not good.”

  Mark said in her ear, “She’s been trying to get things ready for you between the tests and such. Trying to make lists, things to remind you, but every time she thought of something her heart rate would jump and the doctor freaked. He grabbed her smart phone away from her. I thought he was going to toss it in the garbage.”

  “If he had, Leslie probably would have had the baby right then.” Tara tried for a laugh, but it did little to mask her terror at the enormity of the situation. A premature baby for her friends, and their livelihood resting on her slumping shoulders. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. Their concerns were much greater than hers. “Will she and the baby be all right?”

  She heard Mark’s deep breath through the phone. He was struggling to be strong, too. “The doctors are monitoring everyone closely. If anything changes in a way they don’t like, they will intercede. I promised to keep her phone away from her, so if you have questions, call me. But, for the most part, you’re going to be on your own.”

  The french fries squirmed in her stomach. Her sandwich would have been a horrid knot. As it was, she wouldn’t have been surprised if the fries had metamorphosed into wriggling tadpoles. On her own? “Mark. I can’t do this alone. Leslie handled all the complicated stuff. Who are we going to get to do that?” Hysteria edged her voice and she tried to push it away. Her best friends were dealing with life and death, and she was whining about taxes. She had to pull herself together, but the strings were snapping faster than she could grab them. She didn’t dare meet Ryan’s eyes. He probably thought she was a whiny wimp. “Is there anyone to help?”

  “There was someone scheduled to come after the baby was born. What was her name?”

  “She couldn’t come until after tax season. We will need someone right away.”

  “I’ll call you later with a name, but right now I need you to reassure Leslie you can do this. She believes you can, but it would do her a lot of good to hear you say it.”

  Tara wanted to throw a two-year-old temper tantrum. She couldn’t do this. But she’d try her hardest for Leslie. Leslie had done so much for her. It was the weekend. They were only open to customers for half a day on Saturday so they could catch up on the work. She’d have some quiet time to muddle through what she could. Monday was forty-eight hours away. She’d worry about it later.

  Leslie’s voice came over the phone. “If I remember correctly — I was looking at the schedule before Mark took my phone.” Tara was glad she was across town from the daggers Leslie had to be shooting in Mark’s direction. “Tomorrow and Monday are repeat customers. If you have any trouble, you can look at th
e returns from last year.”

  Hoping the tone of her voice was believable, Tara replied, “Maybe Minnie can help with the phones. Everything will be just fine. You relax and keep that baby baking for as long as possible.”

  Tara hoped God would forgive her little white lie. She could survive two days. Just because she was learning this by the sink or swim method, she couldn’t ruin the business in less than a week. Could she?

  "You’re a better woman than I am, if you can put up with Minnie for that long. You know how she gossips. Don’t forget your college applications are due on the sixteenth.”

  Tara bit her tongue. She had forgotten. How was she going to finish those essays while working around the clock? She’d never get into the accounting program. Why set herself up for failure? She knew she wasn’t college material.

  Leslie said goodbye and Mark returned to the phone. “Thanks, Tara. It will help her to relax to know you’ve got things covered. I better go. The doctor is here. Oh, she says if you need help to call Charlie on Monday.” Mark disconnected.

  Off the top of her head, Tara couldn’t remember a Charlie, but she was sure the necessary information was in Leslie’s computer. She’d look it up tomorrow.

  “What’s going on?” Ryan asked as Tara dropped the phone back into her purse.

  Tara pushed her uneaten burger away. Her stomach was churning too much to contemplate adding the grilled beef to the mix. She explained everything Mark had said, ending with, “I’m terrified about this. The baby’s too early and there’s too much at the office only Leslie handles.”

  Ryan reached for her hand again. “You’ll call Charlie and do what you can until he arrives. You can make it.”

  The strength in his hand flowed into hers. Tara attempted a smile she didn’t feel. She doubted it would be easy.

  Chapter Five

  Moving in with his mother hadn’t been as awful as Ryan had expected. He’d been home almost six days and hadn’t felt the urge to flee yet.

  However, when the doorbell rang five minutes earlier, Ryan’s fight or flight instinct kicked into overdrive. His mom’s friends crowded the doorway. The Ladies Night Out they called themselves. As soon as he opened the door, they exclaimed about how handsome he was, how thin he’d grown, and how long he’d been on crutches. A cacophony of clucking hens. And his ears were ringing.

  “Ryan, you are just skin and bones.” Someone pinched his cheek. He tried to inch away, but another woman slipped her arm through his. A feat considering his crutches, but it also eliminated his escape. He recognized her as the one who was friends with Tara. What was her name? Minnie?

  “Do you have a girlfriend?” she asked. He couldn’t shake her off without losing his balance.

  Another one bustled in. “How long are you home for?”

  There was nowhere to go. They had him cornered in the entryway and attacked from every side. He felt like the squirrel he’d seen on his last run. A pair of birds had dive-bombed it and herded it away when it scurried too close to their nest. Although instead of an intruder being chased away, he was pretty sure he was the prey.

  “Why are you on crutches?” He tried to back away, but put weight on his bad knee and his leg crumpled. The pain shot up to his hip and exploded fireworks behind his eyes. He swayed and slammed into the wall, knocking the air out of his lungs. If the women had been hovering before, they swarmed now. He couldn’t regain his feet or his breath as they all grabbed for his arms and crutches. The crutches disappeared from view as the hands clutched, twisted, and grabbed. He slid down the wall until he sat on the floor, wondering if survival was possible. No way he could stand up until the mob dispersed. In all the hysteria, someone else pinched his behind. Certainly not by accident.

  That was it. He was getting out of here. He resisted the urge to swat at their fluttering hands, but he couldn’t flee unless they backed away. There was no way he could stand without knocking someone else down. Despite the condition of his knee, he feared for the elderly hips and arthritic bones.

  Luckily, his mother swooped in before he curled into a fetal position and let them bat him around like grizzly bears with their lunch. The Ladies hovered as his mom helped him to his feet and retrieved his crutches. He propped them under his arms and allowed the panic to recede. Then she dispersed The Ladies into the dining room where the table was laden with trays of carrots, celery, broccoli florets, sports drinks, and bottled water.

  “Carrot sticks!” the lady in pink exclaimed.

  “What do you think we are, rabbits?” from the one in red.

  “If we are serious about this project, it isn’t a choice,” Minnie said. “We’ve all got a lot of work to do.”

  The looks of disgust lessened, but didn’t disappear. From what he remembered, the Ladies Night Out usually feasted on spiked punch and other decadent treats. The Ladies picked up the luncheon trays and filled them with vegetables.

  “Can I fill you a tray?” one of the Ladies asked. She wore a blue sweat suit with something embroidered across the behind. He wasn’t brave enough to read what it said.

  “No thanks. I already ate.” He patted his stomach to emphasize how full he was.

  She arched an eyebrow. “Suit yourself. An extra meal wouldn’t hurt.” She studied his marathon runner frame for a moment, then tilted her head toward a woman in a matching sweat suit. “He might be just the thing.”

  Minnie pursed her lips. “Maybe. But you know what Yvonne said. He’s not staying.”

  “Right.” The woman in blue bit into a celery stick. “It’s too bad.”

  Ryan wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but he had a good idea. He wasn’t going to commit to Carterville, let alone any woman in it. He didn’t dare ask any questions, in case that implied acquiescence to whatever they were scheming. No matter what their plot was, he didn’t want any part of it.

  He was at his mom’s to heal, get back to running and racing again, no matter what the doctor said. They had been wrong before. He would miss the Boston Marathon this year, but he would be ready to conquer it next year.

  “I thought you guys met on Fridays.” He tucked the crutches under his arms and hobbled into the kitchen after his mother and as far from her friends as he could get. If he’d known they would be descending on his mom’s living room at noon, he would have made himself scarce for the whole day. Checking in on Tara was sounding better and better, but he didn’t want to interrupt her at work. He knew she would be having a stressful morning, and he didn’t want to disturb her concentration.

  “Usually.” Mom emptied a tray of ice into a bowl. “We’re working on a special project and we need to do aerobics. Hey, maybe you could show us some stretches?”

  Aerobics? If the crowd of women that had overrun him hadn’t been wearing more spandex than age-appropriate, he would have been shocked. His mother considered walking to the refrigerator during the commercials of her soap operas ‘quite enough exercise, thank you very much.’ A quick glance into the dining room confirmed her friends shared that philosophy.

  Maybe that was the simple reason for the aerobics. They had decided to get in better shape. Adopt a healthier lifestyle. Good for them.

  “Heck, no.” His heart was still pumping as if he’d just finished a sprint workout on the track. “I’m not spending another minute with those raptors.”

  He packed his crutches and his laptop and headed for the library to figure out the bugs in the mobile recording app he’d written.

  Chapter Six

  Tara locked the front door behind Minnie and closed her eyes. As much as she loved Minnie, she didn’t know if working with her was the best option for getting through the days without Leslie. When Minnie wasn’t answering phones, she was dishing out the latest gossip. While all of it couldn’t be true — in fact, Tara was pretty sure Minnie stitched it up out of whole cloth— it was entertaining, and unfortunately, distracting. During one of Minnie’s longer phone calls, Tara had managed to dash off an email to the only Charles i
n Leslie’s address book. No Charlie appeared, so this contact must have been who Leslie was referring to.

  After e-filing all the day’s returns she could complete, Tara locked the office and headed home shortly after five to change. Not bad for a Saturday. She had to admit she liked the professional image of her business suit, but it always felt good to slip into sweats at the end of the day. Tara hung her suit in her closet and pulled on a pair of mint green sweatpants with a matching hoodie. She pulled the pins out of her French twist and wound her hair into a messy bun. After sliding her feet into her tennis shoes, she grabbed her notebook and prepared to camp out at the library with her admissions essays until it closed.

  The deadlines for turning in her applications were rapidly approaching. She would have to decide soon if she should get her accounting degree. Leslie had been encouraging her and had even offered to help pay for classes, but Tara wasn’t sure she was cut out for all the complicated regulations. No one else had trusted her with that kind of responsibility.

  When she arrived at the library, she headed up to the librarian’s desk. Lisa, her favorite reference librarian, saw her approaching and pulled a manila file from her drawer. “I didn’t expect you in today. How’s Leslie?”

  “I haven’t gotten an update from Mark yet today, but she’s on bed rest for a week.”

  Lisa put her hand over her chest. “Oh no. Only a week? That’s surprising. Once you’re on bed rest, you are usually stuck there until the baby is born.”

  “I can’t contemplate Leslie being gone for this week, let alone any more than the next two.” Tara sighed. “I am going to need a hazelnut coffee.”

  “Essay time, huh?” She handed Tara the folder. “Here are some samples and the admissions information for the other programs Leslie recommended.”