False Start (28 page)

The woman accepted it and replied, "Have a seat."

Before Mattie had a chance to drop into a chair, a waiter appeared at her side.

"I am Aldo," he announced with a thick accent and a great deal of flourish. "Would you like a cocktail?"

She looked at Lucy. "What would you like?"

"Already ordered."

Acutely aware of the delicate nature of their imminent exchange, Mattie responded, "I'll have whatever she's having."

After holding her seat out for her and trapping her snuggly under the table, Aldo dashed off and left her alone with her guest.

This is going to be one long night.

Pressing her lips together, Mattie tried smiling and said, "Talk about a small world."

Lucy pulled her attention away from the menu in front of her and looked at her over her reading glasses.

"How's your hand?"

Mattie looked at her cast. "Oh, it's healing."

"No permanent damage?"

"No. I'll probably have some stiffness for a while, but
"

Lucy cut her off. "Glad to hear it."

Mattie narrowed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, trying to discern if the woman sitting across the table loathed her or loved her. She suspected the former.

"Here we are ladies."

Aldo swooped to the table with two ridiculously large wine glasses filled only a fraction of the way.

Mattie breathed a sigh of relief. Wine, she could handle. Hard liquor, not so much.

Lucy took one look at hers and said, "I'll take mine in a Manhattan glass."

He looked at Mattie.

"Ditto?"

Hesitating, Aldo did a quick bow and said, "Yes, of course."

Again, they were alone.

Mattie took a deep breath and made another attempt to break the ice.

"So, tell me about your recipe. Is it an old family favorite?"

Lucy closed her menu and leaned forward with her hands clenched on the table before her.

"So, tell me—are you in love with my son or not?"

Ice broken.

"Excuse me?"

Lucy cocked an eyebrow at her. "You heard me."

Mattie nodded. "Nick. I'm in love with Nick."

She felt her eyes water, but it felt good to say it out loud. It had a liberating affect, even though she had no idea what his mother's reaction would be.

She braced herself, but there was no need.

Aldo returned to their table and deposited two Manhattan glasses filled with chilled Pinot Grigio.

Lucy pulled on his arm before he could get away and, into his frightened face, demanded, "Bring us a bottle."

Addressing Mattie, she said, "So, you want to know about my recipe?"

Mattie nodded.

"Well, technically, it's not mine. It's my mother-in-law's. She gave it to me as a wedding present when Lorenzo and I got married, but the recipe itself is very old, passed down from generation to generation."

What followed was an encapsulated version of the DeRosa family history, dating all the way back to the
seventeenth century, complete with territorial land grabs and at least two other instances of sibling rivalry involving love triangles and criminal convictions.

She listened, mesmerized, hoping Lucy didn't ask her about her own broken home and tiny family whose history, as far as Mattie knew, only went as far back as the 1950s when her mother was born.

Two hours later, over espressos and a shared hunk of decadent tiramisu, Mattie was finally able to get a word in edgewise.

"I've got two questions for you."

Lucy pointed to the edge of her mouth to let Mattie know she had a smudge of whipped cream on her lip.

"Go ahead. Ask away."

After a quick swipe of her napkin, Mattie asked, "Who's older—Eddie or Nick?"

"Eddie. By two minutes. And he never missed the chance to rub it in Nick's face."

She stared off into the distance for a brief moment, and added, "When Nick was born, the doctors were sure he wouldn't make it. He was much smaller. He didn't even cry when he came out. We had Father Iuzzi come and gave him Last Rights. We were terrified we would lose him. But, the good Lord had other plans for him."

She paused and made the Sign of the Cross.

"Still, it took Nicky a long time to catch up to his brother, size wise. The whole time, he adored Eddie. He'd follow him around everywhere."

She raised her eyebrow and continued, "But Eddie always resented him. Maybe because Nicky got all the attention when they were babies."

She held up her finger. "But, still, that is no excuse for what he did. Nothing will ever excuse that. But now, thanks to you, maybe he can learn from his mistakes, huh? Mend his ways."

"Yep, he'll have plenty of time to reflect over the error of his ways," Mattie said, thinking of the lengthy sentence the judge had just handed down.

Looking wistful again, Lucy smiled and said, "But, my Nicky. He's a survivor."

Picturing Nick in his running shorts, shirtless, Mattie couldn't help but agree.

"He sure is."

Just as Mattie was about to ask her next question, Lucy looked at her over the rim of her espresso cup and asked one instead.

"So tell me, what makes you think you deserve him?"

Hanging her head, she replied, "I'm not sure I do."

Lucy took a long look at Mattie. "And why's that?"

"He's everything I'm not. He deserves someone as patient and kind and selfless as he is."

His mother shook her head and said, "I think he deserves—well, I think we all deserve someone who's going to rattle our cage and drive us crazy every once in a while. Couples need to push each other to look at life differently so they can grow, not just together, but as individuals, too. Take Lorenzo and me. We go at two completely different speeds. He's always rushing this way and that. Me? I like to take my time. Yet, we complement each other beautifully. Sometimes, he drives me absolutely nuts, and I'm sure I drive him completely bonkers, but still, we love each other with all our hearts."

Mattie wasn't sure if it was the wine or the liqueur from the most excellent tiramisu, but Mattie felt emboldened enough to ask, "Mrs. DeRosa, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Lucy smiled warmly and asked, "What was your second question, dear?"

*  *  *

Mattie spent much of the next day resting and hydrating, trying not to dwell on the fact that she would be running twenty-six point two miles the following morning. Still very much hoping to hear from Nick, she couldn't help checking her phone for messages every fifteen minutes despite having the ringer turned all the way up.

When the only phone call she got was from Tom who stopped by to re-wrap her fingers for her on his way home from work, she went to bed that night resigned to going it alone and, no matter the outcome, putting the race and all that led up to it behind her.

The next morning, she woke up well-rested and ready to go. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the high temperature was not expected to top sixty degrees. Perfect running weather.

She took her time putting on her gear—shorts and a tank top covered by a long-sleeved shirt, both emblazoned with Team Plate Spinner.

"Dress in layers," Nick's voice echoed though her mind. "That way, you can just peel 'em off as you warm up."

She clipped a belt with a small pouch on the back for carrying keys, gels, and bars around her waist. Lastly, she pinned her bib on and headed out the door.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself strangely at peace in the middle of the festive chaos welling up in her starting gate.

It was such a beautiful day, and she had no intention of rushing through the event. Unsure of what lay before her afterwards, she just wanted to finish, no matter how long it took. While she had declared her love for Nick to Lucy, she did not reciprocate on his behalf.

As it was, her heart was all sorts of empty.

An air horn blast sliced through the air, and the runners burst forward. Mattie found her stride early on and just kept with it through most of the relatively flat course. The twenty-mile training run she had completed a few weeks back wasn't anywhere near as difficult as she expected, so her hopes were high that she would be able to complete the marathon in a relatively decent time.

After passing the first few water stations, she grabbed a cup at four miles from a nice boy wearing a Knollwood Knights T-shirt, a detail that didn't register in her brain until she hit the next water station at mile eight.

Another Knollwood Knight, but this one was talking on his cell phone.

Huh. Must be some kind of service project.

By mile twelve, the soft cast on her hand started to itch. By mile fourteen, she was ready to rip it off. By mile seventeen, she did, revealing her three taped fingers. The relief was exquisite.

*  *  *

Nick paced back and forth near the finish line, trying to hear what Drew Bates, his team captain stationed at mile eighteen, was saying.

"Sorry, coach. I didn't see her."

"She should've passed by there at least twenty minutes ago," he shouted over the din of excited spectators. Then, after nodding, he added, "OK, check with Pete for me, would ya, and then call me back."

"Everything OK?" Claudia asked.

"Naw, the guys lost her after mile sixteen. Drew's gonna check with Pete at nineteen."

He ran his hands over his face. "This waiting is killing me."

Claudia gave his arm a squeeze. "Everything's gonna be fine. She'll turn up. The runners are really starting to thin out as they come up the straightaway."

"I just hope nothing bad happened. Maybe her hand got to be too much?" he shot her an anxious look.

Claudia laughed. "Relax. She's not gonna let a couple of broken fingers stop her now."

But Nick couldn't. Staring down the gaping expanse of the straightaway stretching out before them, he said, "I've got John, one of my guys from the shelter, waiting at twenty-one. I figure that's when she's gonna need a buddy to keep her going."

"Can he just jump on the course like that?"

"I registered him. He's got a number. He'll just look like he's getting back on the course from a water stop or bathroom break."

Nick checked his stopwatch for the hundredth time when his phone rang.

"Yeah?" he barked into the phone.

Sticking his finger in his other ear so he could hear, he listened for a minute then shouted, "All right. Great."

When he hung up, he shot both arms in the air. "She just started mile twenty."

He quickly dialed John's number. "Get ready, man. She's coming."

*  *  *

Jogging at a steady pace through Chicago's ethnic neighborhoods, Mattie tried to be in the moment, notice her surroundings, and enjoy the experience. She was in the zone, not thinking about her past, present or future. The fwap-fwap of hundreds of shoes hitting the pavement lulled her into a meditative state.

After grabbing more water at mile twenty from another Knollwood Knight, she had just turned east on 33
rd
street when she heard footsteps dash up next to her.

"Hey, Plate Spinner," the man panted.

Surprised, Mattie turned her head to see the guy from the shelter she had met on the path a couple of weeks back. "John. Hi."

After a few more paces, she exclaimed, "How'd you find me?"

He looked straight ahead and smiled. "Would've found you sooner if you kept your cast on."

"What?"

He didn't respond.

Still, she was happy to have a companion, even though she doubted her ability to carry on much of a conversation.

They curved south onto State Street where the crowds of spectators were beginning to thicken. She was still feeling good. But by the time they curved left and started north on Michigan Avenue, the familiar finish line panic started bubbling up inside of her.

"How much farther?" she asked John. "I gotta see the finish line."

"About two and a half miles, I think," he panted next to her. "You can do it."

"Ok, ok." She wiped her brow and focused on the road in front of her. After what seemed like an hour, they passed the
twenty-four mile marker.

Just put one foot in front of the other. You can do this. You can do this.

When she saw the twenty-five mile marker, all her happy self-talk abandoned her.

"I can't do this," she gasped, her voice strained with anxiety.

"Sure you can," John laughed, "if you tell yourself you can't, you won't."

He was channeling Nick.

They turned east onto Roosevelt Road. This slope in the road had tried to claim her before. She worked hard to remember that she had already conquered it.

Chugging along, Mattie asked, "Hey. Did you give Nick my message?"

John didn't answer until they took a left on Columbus Drive. The finish line was several yards ahead of them.

"What do you think?"

Mattie could no longer feel her feet, but her heart leapt.

Through her sunglasses, she peered ahead, scanning the mass of people lining each side the course, all yelling and cheering. But she didn't see him.