Once they had gotten off the mat, nature’s demands seemed quite urgent, and Zoe had pointed out the rest rooms. Just outside the door to the woman’s room, she had said, “Ya know tha sooner or later our luck will run oot.”
A quirky, puzzled smile twitched the corners of his mouth as he said, “Luck?”
“Me singing songs an sippin tea, an you surfin and kayakin. Sooner or later we are gonna run inta somethin neither o us do well.”
“Do you normally spelunk in lava caves?”
“No.”
“Launch 1960s vintage, nuclear-tipped interceptor missiles?”
“No.”
“Plant rice in a paddy?”
“No.”
“Dance in a human videogame?”
“We hae no don tha!”
The quirky smile morphed into a cheeky grin. “No, but if that is the next task, we’ll do the best we can, no matter what. If we are eliminated doing our best, there is no shame in that.”
“Alright.” She attempted to glower at him, but couldn’t quite manage it. “Ya know yer unfailin optimism can be quite annoyin.” She had not quite shut the door when Nathan’s voice stopped her. She looked up.
“Oh, by the way; if it is luck, we should make the most of it as long as it lasts.” He grinned roguishly, “See you in a few minutes.”
[Chinese gymnast and her brother were the last team to arrive and were eliminated]
CHAPTER 11 [Ninth Leg (Kazakhstan to Jerusalem) — Five teams remaining]
The impromptu television room below the stage had a 72-inch LCD television at one end, a massive buffet along one wall, fifty-one chairs in the center and one stool in the back. Daniel, the Director, fearing too much rowdiness, had made sure that the refreshments were light on alcohol. As Ian had escorted her to her preferred perch at the back of the room, he said, “Ya know, Jimmy is giving ten to one odds in favor o ye actually winning the race. Would ya care ta place any bets wit him?”
She had looked at his grinning face sourly and shot back primly, “Ian, ya noo I never place bets on anything; be off wit ye noo.”
“Canna blame a mon fer tryin.”
All of the remaining teams were on the same flight. And the flight from Kazakhstan to Israel was going to be long, and, in utter exhaustion, she was asleep within minutes of takeoff. Somewhere over the middle Asia she had roused into a drowsing state, vaguely luxuriating in the warm, safe, contented feeling. How long she had hovered there it was impossible to say, but when she realized her head was resting on Nathan’s shoulder, and his cheek was pressed into her hair, her eyes had flown open. His hands were folded on his lap, he wasn’t obviously reading or watching the screen on the back of the seat in front of them, and his slow, measured breaths assured her that he was deeply asleep. She wondered for several minutes if she could move without waking him. This debate evolved quickly into thinking about him.
For almost three years, Nathan had been a nearly faceless cyber-acquaintance who had always been enthusiastic, cheerful, and supportive, and always had sensible, intelligent, and constructive suggestions or advice whenever she had asked anything. While he had never been a confidant, and she had never shared or discussed anything very personal with him, he had always, always respected her privacy, asked her permission for passing anything along to the fan forum, and never put out anything she asked him not to.
Thinking about it, over the years she had trusted him with her personal e-mail address, her personal cell phone number, and even the address of what she tended to think of as her high security apartment hideout in Dublin – and he had never abused her confidence or questioned why he couldn’t put her name on the labels of the packages he had forwarded to her.
She had just never thought of him as an actual physical shoulder to nap on.
Moving her eyes, she hadn’t seen any of the videography teams documenting the trip; they were probably all asleep too. She glanced at her watch, confirming there were still hours left on the flight. Deciding she was still tired, and quite comfortable, she leaned a fraction closer, put her hand on his arm, and fell quickly back to sleep, lulled by the soporific drone of the engines.
By the time they had gotten to Jerusalem, it was the wee hours of the morning. They were going to spend the day helping pilgrims at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Al-Aqsa Mosque, and the Wailing Wall. At each one, successful completion of their task would get them part of the clue for the four tasks ahead. They all arrived at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher four hours before it opened. The teams spread out — not too far from the gate, but enough for privacy — and rested fitfully. Ariana noticed that the videography teams also dropped off to sleep; the rest on the airplane being none to restful for anybody.
Feeling less under a microscope, and not being too tired, she had looked at Nathan and said, “I actually don’t know tha much aboot ye.”
“Ah, don ya now?” he responded, teasing her with a halfway decent imitation of an Irish accent. “Mine tis no a long nor interestin story.”
“Try me.”
He sighed theatrically. “If the Lady insists.” He made a show of giving his response carefully considered thought, as well as discreetly inspecting the slumbering racers not too far away. He pitched his voice low and replied. “Well, I was born in Hawaii to non-native parents, so I always felt a little isolated. My father was an environmental construction engineer who did a lot of contracting to the military, and my mother was a linguist at an Asian trading company. I learned how to manage a complex project on the fly from my dad, and mom managed to teach me four of the nine languages she knew. I was an electronics and computer geek from the time I saw my first television show.” He heaved another deep sigh. “But I had an awfully hard time sitting still. Nowadays I would probably have been labeled ADHD and prescribed drugs. Back then my parents enrolled me in martial arts classes, which taught me physical fitness, concentration and discipline. Seventeen years, kindergarten to grad school. I have black belts in Tae Kwon Do, Judo, and Krav Maga.” He grinned broadly. “Of course, living in Hawaii I also hit the beach often and swam, surfed, did kayaking, oh, any number of sports. I met Carolyn, my wife, in college, fell hard and fast in love, and got her to marry me before she could have second thoughts. Nellie came along shortly thereafter, followed a couple of years later by Lance. So we were married grad students with small children in a tiny apartment in just-off-campus housing. Fortunately with two sets of doting grandparents very nearby. Carolyn got her masters in economics and went into real estate. I stayed for my doctorate in computer science.”
For some reason, that hadn’t surprised her. “So I should be a callin ya ‘Doctor Nathan’ then?”
He winced comically. “Please don’t. It’s awkward being a non-medical doctor. If anyone hears ‘doctor’ they automatically change the conversation to their bunions, or kidney stones, or overactive bladder.” She had laughed softly. “Anyway, Carolyn spent a lot of time running around on her various real estate projects and was always coming home with aching feet. A took a couple of classes to learn how to do professional grade foot rubs; so I’ve had a lot practice.”