She had landed as lightly as a butterfly on a flower.
Nathan’s glider had planted its pointed nose into the manicured field like a lawn dart; but both pilot and passenger had emerged, safely, grinning.
She and Nathan had trotted over to the mat just as Tom had regained his composure. “Ariana and Nathan, you have arrived at the pit stop, but because you did not take the required route, you must take a 30 minute penalty.”
“It war worth it,” she had responded breathlessly. On the way to the penalty box they stopped to most sincerely thank the glider pilots, who were then led off by Zoe to sign release forms and attempt to smooth over the unauthorized overflight with the newly arrived bemused police officers – who also found themselves given releases to sign.
“That – was – a – true – RUSH!” Nathan had crowed, and then laughed loudly enough for it to echo in the stadium.
“Better than surfin?”
“Well, nearly better than surfing.”
Tom had walked over them and exclaimed, “That, I think, was the craziest stunt ever pulled on the Fantastic Race.”
“Even if we are no Team One, it will be memorable.”
“I need to tell you that the Race is running longer than we had planned.”
“Wha? I had lost track o days. How long?”
“Two days to schedule; maybe three, given the time zones.”
“Oh, no, the group is resumin tour in onna a few days!”
“Only one more leg. Team Number One sets off at seven a.m. sharp tomorrow. There may not be much time, but you should be able to get back to Dublin and at least get a night’s sleep. We can have tickets waiting for you at the final pit stop for the first available flight. We’ll do our best. Don’t worry; you’ll need all your concentration for the last leg.”
“Mr. Kepple, we need to see you,” Zoe called, and Tom had hurried away.
She had looked at Nathan’s reassuringly calm face and before she had said anything, he had murmured, “You’ll get there in time.” It was a simple, definite statement, as calmly certain as if he had said the sun would be setting later.
“Yer bein so calm kin sometimes be reassurin and sometimes irritatin.”
His grin was contagious. “Which is it right now?”
Her answer was cut off by a shout. They both swung toward the stadium entrance to see Garrett and Jeremy appear.
“Time is up,” Tom called out.
Some might have called it a race within THE race, but the truth was that there was no contest; the distance was far shorter for them than for Garrett and Jeremy. But Garrett’s enraged screams rang in the stadium and spurred them on, and they got to the mat fifty meters ahead of the raving man and his gasping fan.
Tom had proclaimed them Team Number One for the eleventh time, and they had turned to see that Garrett had been beyond livid, and Jeremy, disgusted but still a teammate, had restrained him as he had shouted, spittle flying wildly, “You just remember, it’s only the last one that REALLY counts! We will get you! See if we don’t!”
Tom had turned to them and noted wryly, “I think that the two of you have just been issued a challenge.”
They had been hurried off the mat by Zoe, and had watched, inconspicuously from the sidelines, for the hour it had taken to calm Garrett down and record an arrival minus the profanity. Ariana had laid down on the seats to get some rest, and Nathan had sat beside her, his fingers idly toying with her hair, which she found very soothing. Nathan had cheered when the Russian ballerina and her daughter had come in third, and had stood and applauded when the retired American basketball star and his fan had stumbled into the stadium to the stadium, last but determined. Her heart had nearly broken when the boy had burst into tears; he seemed to think that the loss had been his fault.
Nathan had hopped over the low wall, jogged across the field, and shook both their hands. He said something to the basketball star, and then there had been a big exchange of hugs all round, and the entire production company had given them a standing ovation off the field. Ariana caught up with him in time to be part of the applause.
“What did ye say ta them?”
Nathan looked a little embarrassed. “I promised them that I would make a donation to their charity in recognition of their bravery. I think it helped.”
“Put me down for one also,” she had said, giving his hand a squeeze, then hurriedly letting go. “And we should get some more rest. The final leg will be here afor we ken.”
Arian realized that everyone was staring at her. Cassie intoned, like the host of a television mystery show, “Eleven o’ eleven times.” She started to say something else, but couldn’t.
Seeking a way out, Ariana suddenly said, “First round is on me at tha bar.” The room emptied swiftly.
Ariana attempted to slip away in the middle of a noisy celebration, but found Maria right behind her as the bus door whooshed open. “Ar, I need ta talk wit ya,” Marie said sharply as Ariana had started to make a beeline for her bunk cubby.
Ariana skidded to a halt and faced Marie, her body tense as if she expected a fight. “Ya ar supposed ta be me friend; stop tryin ta find oot aboot tha endin o tha race.”
Marie finally exploded, windmillling her fists in the air. “Ahhhh! Yer drivin me mad! I care no one whit whether ya come in first or last! An I am yer friend. We are yer friends. An we care aboot yer feelins more than some silly race.”
Ariana was dumbstruck, staring at Marie, who had dropped her arms to her sides and was glaring at her. “Ma… feelins?”
Marie’s body language was shouting that the last dollop of the substance known as ‘patience’ had just plopped down the drain. “Ya hae been dodgin the question fer weeks like a boxer dodges blows in tha ring. Ar ye in love wit the mon, or no?”
Ariana couldn’t speak even if she had known what to say, her heart was hammering so hard against her ribs she could barely breathe. She wanted desperately to deny it, but the lie was just too large to force out of her throat.
Marie sighed. “Yer silence is sayin more than any words, Ar.” She sighed again and continued softly, “An is he in love wit ya too?”
Ariana’s mind couldn’t banish the vivid image of the look on Nathan’s face after their kiss; she still couldn’t breathe, and dizziness was half lack of air and half her body’s memory of wanting nothing more than to kiss him again. Finally under Marie’s relentless glare she managed to nod in rough jerks. That slight movement of confession released her muscles and she heaved a deep, quivering breath in a sob; tears blurring her vision.
Marie’s look softened, “Ah, tis better when ya let it oot, is it no?” Suddenly she was hugging Ariana and they were crying in chorus. Finally Marie held her at arm’s length and shook her head, flinging tears wide. “Ariana Collins, could yer life be any more perfect a muddle?”
Snuffling between sobbing breaths Ariana managed to gasp a tiny, forlorn laugh and shook her head.
“Well, now tha’s settled, honest an fer true, ya need ta decide wha yer goin ta do aboot it.”
“Wha kin I do?” she wailed almost helplessly.
“Well ya kin pretend it dinna happen and hope he takes the hint. Ya kin tell him yer heart is broke but ya kin no settle down now, an hope he goes away. Ya kin no tell him anything other than, ‘Gae Away.’ Ya kin be honest wit him, an let the chips fall where tha will.” Her lips tweaked upward in a sad attempt at humor. “Ya kin introduce him ta Linnae an let her deal wit him.”