The door to Karen’s room opened at Beth’s gentle knock — the bright-eyed girl within rocketed through the doorway and threw herself into her mother’s arms.
“Mom!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t sleep, I’m so excited. Is this shirt too much? Will I embarrass Jakey?”
She was wearing a t-shirt in team colors that showed Jacob riding his bike in profile. It read “Hunter” across the back. The thick material of the t-shirt made a tent on her skinny frame in a way that wasn’t strictly flattering, but the animated expression on her wan face made all the difference. She looked beautiful.
“Where did you get that?” marveled Beth Hunter.
“The Internet,” said Karen simply.
“Of course.” Beth smiled. “I don’t think Jake will be embarrassed. I already signed you out with Bettina. Are you ready to go?”
“Ready!” chirped Karen. Then more seriously, “I’m so grateful to you for arranging this. For talking to Bettina and getting permission for me to miss groups. I’ve never gotten to see Jakey race in person before! Well, maybe I did once. Some race when we were kids. But it was really boring and I don’t think I actually saw anything.”
“Well, you know we won’t be seeing this whole race either,” Beth said. “Just the end.”
“That’s all that matters, right?” Karen giggled. “The part where Jake blows everyone else away?”
Beth answered Karen’s bright smile with one of her own.
Karen’s eyes shifted to Ariel, who was hanging shyly behind Beth. Beth followed her daughter’s gaze, and leaned close to Karen’s ear. “Yep, that’s her,” she told her, “that’s Ariel. She is, as my mother would say, the genuine article.”
Karen grinned and with no warning launched herself at Ariel, who hesitated only a moment before returning her tight hug.
“I’m so glad to meet you,” both women said simultaneously, then looked at each other and broke into laughter. Chattering comfortably — like they’d known each other forever — they left the hospital together and climbed into Beth’s Subaru. The car was a present from Jacob.
“I wanted to get you something small and zippy,” he’d said. “Like a Porsche. But the guy at the dealership told me these handle better in the snow.” The Hunters now always referred to the Subaru as “The Porsche.” Ariel found the habit endearing.
“Hold onto your hats, girls,” said Beth as she squealed out of her parking spot. “The engine’s in the back.”
Richard was waiting for them on the square of sidewalk they’d staked out for themselves directly in front of the finish line.
“Don’t worry, you didn’t miss anything,” he said. “I haven’t seen a thing.” Ariel stiffened, expecting to see bitterness on Richard Hunter’s handsome, lined face, but she relaxed when she saw that he was smiling with genuine good humor.
Beth gave a surprised laugh. Linking her husband’s arm with her own, she rested her head affectionately against his shoulder.
“Honey,” she said, as though scandalized. “That sounded suspiciously like a joke.” Then she gave Ariel a conspiratorial grin, a grin that somehow seemed to say thank you. Ariel smiled, even though she didn’t feel that she deserved the gratitude she saw in Beth’s eyes. She couldn’t take the credit for Richard Hunter’s new attitude. He was fighting his own demons, and she couldn’t begin to imagine the courage it took to walk out in these pushing, shoving crowds, the courage it took to rely on his wife, and on her, a young woman he barely knew, for help. But she was happy that the whole family had taken her so immediately into the warm circle of support and love they created between them.
“We’re all here,” Beth said. “It’ll mean so much to Jacob … whether he wins or loses.”
Ariel, looking at them dreamily — father, mother, and daughter — felt jolted. She realized for the first time that she’d never really thought about what would happen if Jacob lost. As soon as the idea occurred to her, however, she dismissed it. It wasn’t that she didn’t think it was possible. Jacob had given her a crash course in bike racing in the last few days — “crash” being the operative word. Ariel shuddered when she thought of Jacob being involved in the kinds of collisions he’d shown her in videos of famous races. With all her heart, she wanted him to get through the race in one piece.
Assuming that he did, though, she couldn’t care less whether he won or lost. When she’d first met him, she’d thought he was an egomaniac, an immature, self-absorbed star who cared only about winning, and who would probably have a tantrum if he didn’t.
Now that she knew him better, Ariel understood that Jacob was made of stronger stuff. His apprenticeship in the rough-and-tumble world of European cycling had schooled him in the dangers of over-confidence. He’d suffered his share of defeats, and he always bounced back, ready for more. He was both humble and relentless. He understood that sometimes a win was impossible, but that this was never a reason to give less than his all.
Standing at the finish line, Ariel craned her neck to see if the cyclists were coming into view. She knew it was too soon. Knew that the crowd stretching down both sides of the road would alert her to their approach. But she couldn’t help it. Her heart was pounding with vicarious excitement, the amped-up feeling of the waiting crowd.
As she waited, she realized that she was obsessively fingering the charms on her bracelet. She looked down and smiled. She was holding the tiny gold bicycle Jacob had given her as though it were a good luck charm. She had no idea where he’d found it. When he’d given her the small jeweler’s box over dinner the night before, she hadn’t known what to expect. She already knew she wanted to marry him. But she hadn’t expected it to happen so fast. She stared down at the box. As if reading her mind, Jacob lifted her chin, and shot her one of his trademark heart-stopping grins.
“We both know I’m fast,” he laughed. “But it’s not magic. I worked for it. And I’m going to work to win you for my wife. And I know that will take a little more time.”
Half disappointed and half relieved, Ariel opened the box … and crowed with delight.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “Perfect!” How could she explain to him that the charm meant more to her than a ring would have? It meant he knew her more deeply than she could ever have hoped for. Understood, at a gut level, what mattered to her the most.
She wished Jacob could have known her father. She wished her father could have known her Jacob.
They would have talked about Shakespeare, she thought. They would have gone fishing in the Hudson. My father would have come out here and seen Colorado. He would have loved it. The mountains. The rivers. We would have walked through fields of columbines and I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from dancing.
The ache would never go away. But somehow loving Jacob made it easier. She had learned about love from her father and mother, and every minute with Jacob reminded her. Sweetly.
Not knowing what words could possibly suffice to express her gratitude, Ariel had risen from her chair, rounded the table, and plopped herself down in his lap, her arms around his neck. She’d kissed him deeply, right in the middle of the restaurant. Within thirty seconds, he was asking for the check.
Behind her, Karen and her father were having a tentative but heartfelt reunion. Beth was standing back, giving them space to talk with one another. Ariel was also trying to give them their privacy, but it was hard, on a cramped sidewalk with people pressing in from all sides, and occasional snatches of their conversation drifted up to her.
“ … describe everything,” Karen was saying, “so you won’t miss a single detail. You’d never believe my t-shirt. It’s Jakey on his bike with a maroon background and … ”
Then later, Richard’s huskier voice: “Karen, I want to apologize … inexcusable not to visit … love you so much.”
When Ariel looked back, they were embracing one another, and there were tears in Karen’s eyes and in Richard Hunter’s blind ones as well.
A gasp traveled through the crowd. From farther down the road, Ariel heard cheering, progressing toward her in a roaring crescendo. The leading group was not yet in sight. But she could hear the spectators further down shouting the names of their favorite riders … Ariel thought she could pick out the sound of fans chanting “Hunter! Hunter! Hunter!” She was so excited, she wanted to jump up and down.
When the leaders came into sight, she couldn’t hold herself back. She jumped, pumped her fists in the air and screamed Jacob’s name — even before she realized that he was leading the breakaway, Randall and Steven close behind him. They were riding in a tight pack, several lengths ahead of any of the other riders. Gearing up for the sprint, they stood up on their pedals and leaned forward, beginning to pump their legs faster and faster, muscles bulging from their thighs and their forearms. Their clenched jaws and furrowed brows communicated the superhuman effort they were putting forth.
The line separated as the riders put everything they had into the last hundred yards of road leading up to the finish line. Jacob drew ahead of his teammates, pedaling furiously, a look of pure, intense focus on his chiseled features. Ariel was screaming his name at the top of her lungs, jumping again and again into the air, urging him on with her voice, her body, all of her will.
Jacob swept over the finish line, several seconds ahead of the next rider. As he crossed the line, he sat up in his seat and raised his arms — V for victory — with a look of the purest, simplest happiness on his gorgeous face. Ariel couldn’t help it. She burst into tears.
Behind her, she heard Beth, Karen, and Richard yelling Jacob’s name. As the rest of the riders, followed by the support vehicles, came over the line, the crowd broke apart, milling into the street toward the stage and the podium.
Ariel couldn’t see Jacob anymore. Leaving his family, she pushed through the crowd to find him. He was standing beside his bike, near the stage, sluicing himself down with water from a squirt bottle. He was still breathing hard, covered in sweat. He’d unzipped his skinsuit and pulled the top down to his waist, revealing the contours of his gleaming, golden torso, his broad shoulders and taut abdomen. Ariel gasped as a wave of desire, incredibly strong, swept through her.
She was running to him. He raised his eyes and saw her, and his smile grew even wider. Disregarding his disheveled state, Ariel threw herself into his arms. Jacob lifted her from the ground, supporting her whole body against him. She kissed his forehead, his cheek, his chin. His skin was hot. He tasted salty. She wanted more of it, more of him. She found his lips, kissed him hungrily. Jacob’s chest was heaving with the incredible exertion of the race and she knew she should let go of him, let him catch his breath, but when she tried to pull back, he held her. He deepened the kiss, sweeping Ariel’s mouth with his tongue. She moaned into his mouth, nipping playfully at his lower lip. The sound of clapping arose around them. Bemused, Jacob lowered Ariel to the ground and they looked around to see Jacob’s teammates, grinning and applauding.
That might have been the happiest moment of Ariel’s life. Or it might have been when she stood with his family below the stage, watching Jacob on the top step of the podium, receiving his medal. He dedicated his win to Karen. Ariel didn’t mind at all. She wanted, more than anything, for Karen to know how much her brother loved her.
Ariel already knew. She was completely, unshakably, irrevocably certain that Jacob Hunter loved her.
Just the way she loved him.
“What about this Fratello?” Theo had asked during their last conversation. “Is he on drugs? Or Henderson? Anyone on the team? Someone has to be on drugs.”
“Nope.” Ariel had laughed. “How about I write you an article about the power of avocadoes?”
“Genetically modified avocadoes?” Theo sounded perkier. “I’ve been wanting to run some kind of Frankenfood piece … maybe we can get in on the soy controversy? I’ll have to think about this one. We’ll talk when you’re back in New York.”
“We’ll probably talk before I’m back in New York,” Ariel had laughed.
“Exactly,” said Theo, and once she heard him begin to order his coffee, she hung up. She still had a job. That was good. Theo had actually screamed “Hallelujah!” when she’d told him about her and Jacob. “I couldn’t think of any other reason you wouldn’t write the story,” he’d crowed. “I knew it had to be love. Or Rocky Mountain spotted fever. To be honest, I thought there was a fifty-fifty chance.” Then the background noises had faded out. Theo had stopped multitasking. His voice had come through the phone crystal clear as he said, with unmistakable sincerity, “You made the right choice. Ariel, you deserve this.”
Maybe someday she’d even be able to write the real story behind her abandoned article on Jacob Hunter. It turned out to be a little light on the drugs. But there was sex. A lot of sex. She grinned. Sometimes sex isn’t just sex … it’s trust. It’s true love. What would all the cynical New Yorkers think about that scoop?
They’d think it was incredible. Sensational. They wouldn’t know whether or not to believe it. Even her friend Jenna, champion of romantic serendipity, had barely believed it when she’d called to give her the good news.
Believe it. That was the moral, thought Ariel. Every now and then, something seems too good to be true. And it is.
It’s better.