Chasing Hope (23 page)

W
ell, my darling, how did the interview go?” Nana had a full pancake breakfast on the table by the time Sabrina made her way downstairs.

Sabrina shrugged. “I wish I knew for sure. It seemed like it went well, but I can’t help but think that part of what prompted this second round of interviews is my illness. Whether or not they think I can handle the job, I can’t say.”

“Isn’t there some kind of antidiscrimination laws for that kind of thing?”

“Probably, but I certainly don’t want to start out my career with a legal fight. I want to be hired because I’m the best one for the job. Period. Not because my lawyer forced them to take me.”

“Yes, but it seemed like they wanted you just fine back when they thought you were healthy.”

“True enough.” Sabrina poured syrup over her pancakes. “Luckily I wasn’t limping much yesterday, which is more than I can say today. And my nose is looking better, so . . . I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“Will your heart be truly broken if you don’t get the job?”

Sabrina started to give the flip answer, but then paused to actually think about it. Finally, she shrugged. “I don’t know, Nana. I mean, no one wants to be rejected, right? Especially if the reason for the rejection is not my fault. And this job is such an amazing opportunity. To begin my career there would give me the experience I need to go anywhere and do anything.”

“Where would you want to go and what would you want to do?”

Sabrina took a bite of pancakes, more to give herself time to think than because she was actually hungry. “I don’t know, but having lots of choices available is always a good thing, right?”

“Sure enough. I’m just thinking, though, it seems to me that one choice is enough, if that’s the choice you want to make.”

“You’ve been talking to Mom, haven’t you?”

Nana smiled. “Maybe a little. And I’m afraid she might be right. But”— she reached for the butter and put a sliver on top of her pancake—“it’s your life. You’re the one who is going to have to figure all that out.”

“Mom is so convinced that I’m supposed to be doing some other kind of work, I know she is. But the thing is, by beginning my career at somewhere like Grace Rose it gives me the background I need to work somewhere else eventually.”

“I’m thinking beginning your career at the place you’re supposed to be would be even better. Don’t you?”

“I think more options are better. I really, really want this job.”

“Sabrina, if that’s the case then I hope you get the job of your dreams. You know what my biggest concern is?”

“What?”

“You have such a competitive spirit, I’m afraid that you want this job so badly because you think you might not be able to have it. It’s sort of like that silly show on TV . . . what’s it called, where all those girls try to get that guy to propose to them?”

“
The Bachelor
.”

“That’s it. Thing is, if most of those girls met that same guy at work, or church or wherever, they would all think he was nice looking most likely, but after a date or two, probably half of them wouldn’t want to keep seeing him. Yet, when they get put in this high pressure situation pitted against other girls, it becomes more about
winning
than actually finding a person they want to spend the rest of their lives with. You know what I mean?”

“I guess so. But that’s not the case with me.”

Nana nodded. “Good, I’m glad to hear it.”

The two of them finished the rest of their breakfast in silence. Sabrina picked up her plate and carried it over to the sink. She rinsed it and then loaded it in the dishwasher. “I’m going to go over to the campus to study.”

“All righty.” Nana stood up with her own plate in hand. “Oh, I almost forgot. You got some mail yesterday. I never did make it up to your room to put it on your desk. I’ve got it right here.” Nana picked up a large envelope from the far counter and brought it to Sabrina.

Sabrina looked at the return address. Rita Leyva.

Out of curiosity, she opened the envelope. Inside was a calendar for the current year, each month showing the smiling face of another orphan who was being helped through the Bridges program. One picture, a small girl with braided pigtails, seemed to look right at Sabrina. She did not want to admit to herself how much it moved her.

She finally slid the calendar back inside the envelope. “I’ve already got a calendar for this year.”

B
randy drank the last of her yogurt and fruit smoothie, hoping she could keep it down. That would be ironic, she supposed, if she hurled today simply due to nerves. At least no one would be there to see it. With one exception. “You ready to go, Grandma?”

“Good and ready. How about you? You okay?”

“I think so. A little nervous.”

Grandma waved her hand. “Nothing to be nervous about. I can practically guarantee that you’ll do better than you did at the last race.” She winked. “Don’t you think so?”

“At this point, I wish I was more sure of that. What if I don’t?”

“Oh, honey, you’re working yourself all up into a tizzy. You are a very good runner. You’ve put in the work. You will do just fine.”

“Well,” Brandy said as she reached down and picked up her purse, “let’s get moving. I want to be there on time to warm up and stretch out.”

“I wish Sabrina was going to be there to watch.”

“Personally, I’m relieved she had other things she had to do today.” Brandy tried to use her brave voice, the one she used when
she was trying to sound tougher than she felt. Because, in truth, she wished Sabrina wanted to be there today.

She had come up with some lame excuse about a paper due and that she couldn’t take the time to drive all the way to Nashville and back. And knowing Sabrina, she would actually use most of that time to work on her paper. But that wasn’t the reason, and Brandy wasn’t so stupid that she believed that it was.

They made the drive mostly in silence. As they neared the race area, Brandy turned on some hip-hop music, trying to get pumped up. To Grandma’s credit, she didn’t say a word about it, just let Brandy do her thing.

Brandy went to the staging area and signed in, then did some warm-ups and stretched. Erin Methvin was out of town this weekend, and Brandy had to admit that she missed having her there. A couple of kids that she knew from the track team were gathered together, but she’d never really talked to any of them, so she stayed in her own little space.

Across the way, the Samson Academy kids were all gathered in a group doing their routines. Their faces were focused, yet not stressed. This was the group that knew they were going to do well, that they would likely win the race, and then they would move on to win the next. What must it be like to have that kind of confidence?

Brandy crossed her right leg over her left, then bent forward to touch the ground. She was more than stretched out by now, but had to do anything to keep busy. And to keep her mind off the red shirts and black shorts just across the way.

“Runners, approach the starting line, please.” The announcement moved the herd together toward the starting area.

Brandy’s stomach roiled just a little, but it was becoming more the buzz of adrenaline than the nausea of fear. She positioned herself directly behind one of the Samson Academy boys.
You
can do this. Pace yourself. Remember your form. Pace yourself, remember your form. Pace yourself, remember your form.

“Runners, take your mark.”

Brandy took a deep breath, a complete determination welling up inside her. She was going to beat these girls, she had to.

“Get set.”

“Go.”

With a blast of the air horn, the line surged forward and Brandy kept herself in the front of the group so as not to get blocked. The Samson boys took off at a blistering pace, and she controlled the temptation to try and keep up with them. Today, she was going to run her race. The very best race that she could run.

People lined the sides of the race course, shouting encouragement as the runners passed. For the shortest period of time, the absence of Sabrina burned its way across her chest, but she forced herself to ignore it.

The only thing she could do now was to win this race and show them all that she was worthy of being there. And maybe someday she’d get in the face of that Kayla Ratcliff and tell her just how mixed up she was about some things.

The first mile was always the hardest for her, so she concentrated on keeping a nice steady pace and keeping good form. Two of the Samson Academy girls were a fair distance ahead of her, but hadn’t pulled completely away. Still, she would not use up all her energy now trying to catch up to them. She would run her own race.

The second mile meant pushing through the heaviness that wanted to settle in her legs. She’d burned her adrenaline and now her muscles knew it was their turn. But the weather was perfect and her breathing was steady and she was more determined than ever to run her own race.

Up and down the biggest of the hills, there was less than a mile to go now. Brandy had already caught one of the Samson
Academy girls and they were running mostly shoulder to shoulder. The other remained a good distance ahead. Her brain told her to be logical at this point. A second place finish was plenty respectable, admirable even. The thing to do now was to keep running at her own pace and beat her closest opponent. To push too hard would risk burning up all her energy and placing behind both of them. Better to beat one than none.

But then there was another voice. It started out small, but grew louder and louder.
Beat her. Beat her. Give it all you’ve got and beat her.

Her body seemed to make the decision before her brain fully agreed, but Brandy pushed harder and began closing in on the short black curls in front of her. Just to gain an inch cost more pain and energy than she had bargained for, but she kept pushing for the next step and the next, until her legs and lungs were both consumed by fire.

With a quarter mile to go, Brandy realized that she had made a mistake. She could not continue at this pace, and now the runners behind her would get the chance to catch her. Why couldn’t she ever listen to the voice of calm and reason in her brain during a race, instead of doing something stupid like this?

“Go Brandy, push. You can do it.
Dig deep!
” The voice came from somewhere to her right. Brandy’s eyes flicked over just in time to catch a glimpse of Sabrina and Koen standing on the sidelines. Sabrina was jumping up and down, and frantically waving her arms toward the finish line.

The smallest bit of leftover adrenaline coursed through her body. Not enough, not nearly enough. Brandy knew there was no way she was going to make it, but she decided to push herself so hard that she at least passed out and lost the thing in a spectacular fashion.

Come on, Brandy. Let’s see what you’ve got left.

S
abrina hadn’t meant to be there. Had done everything in her power to make certain that she would not, in fact, come. But here she stood, the finish line in sight, watching Brandy struggle to keep herself upright and moving.

This morning Sabrina had begun the day early and according to her plans—until she paused to eat some breakfast and Nana said, “I feel like there’s something I’m supposed to be doing today. I just can’t remember what it was.”

Sabrina took another bite of Cheerios. “I hate that kind of feeling.”

“Me too.” Nana looked at Sabrina, head tilted to the side, as if she expected to find her answer.

Sabrina took another bite and then another, still feeling her grandmother’s gaze locked onto her face. Finally, Nana shook her head slowly and stood up. “Guess not.” She wandered out of the room, leaving nothing but a gnawing, guilty feeling behind.

By the time Sabrina took her bowl to the sink, her focus had
been replaced by a growing sense of guilt. Today was Brandy’s race. But why should she feel guilty about not being there? It wasn’t like she could do anything to help Brandy during the race. And she knew Kayla and company would be there. Why subject herself to more of that? She was doing what was required of her. She was coaching Brandy three days a week, just like the courts had asked her to. They never said anything about driving up to Nashville to stand on a sideline during a race.

She turned toward her room. She needed to get started on her paper—that was her job for today. Somehow she would just have to focus hard enough to get past any inner voice that said otherwise.

Half an hour later, she was pacing her room in frustration.

When her phone vibrated, she picked it up, welcoming the distraction. It was a text message from Koen.

You ready to go?

Go where?

The race of course.

I’m not going. I told you that, remember?

You told me that, but I know you better. Shall I pick you up in 5?

Sabrina stared at the words across the screen, then walked over to look out the window. She looked down at the very sidewalk where Brandy had been putting in mile after mile, and at the retaining wall where she had sat and coached. Those were the things that were required of her. Nothing more.

She walked back over to her phone, picked it up, and typed her answer.

Sounds great.

Why had she replied that way, when she’d just spent so much time convincing herself she didn’t need to? Whatever the reason, after she sent the text her guilt vanished and for a second she felt happy. Only a second. What would she find when she got to the race? Would they drive all the way up there just to watch another debacle? It was possible. Almost likely. But in the moment, Sabrina knew that her mother was right. Brandy was part of her new calling, and that meant being there at the darkest of times.

They had arrived at the race just at the start. Just in time to see Brandy pass. She looked focused and healthy. And she was pacing herself. Maybe, just maybe, today might be a good day.

They’d moved to a stretch of course near the finish and waited, the silence and calm somehow worse for not knowing what was happening. But soon enough the runners appeared, blasting toward the finish line, and Sabrina could hardly believe her eyes. One of the Samson Academy girls was the first woman to appear, but only five yards back, there was Brandy. Sprinting. But her face was bright red and her arms were not pumping quite as hard as they should be.

Sabrina knew what had happened. The girl had pushed herself. She’d decided to give chase, but now, with a quarter mile left, she’d run out of everything. The expression on Brandy’s face said that she knew it, too. Catching the leader seemed unlikely. And worse, the third-place runner, another Samson girl, was closing in. If Brandy totally crashed, she’d be caught.

Then, somewhere in the back of her mind, Sabrina heard her mother’s voice.
“Brandy needs you. Encourage her.”
Sabrina cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed as loud as she could. “Go Brandy, push. You can do it.
Dig deep!
”

Brandy’s face flicked in her direction for just a moment, but the instant their eyes locked, Sabrina saw the girl’s expression change. It went from the “beat down, about to give up” look
to a clenched-teeth determination. She straightened and leaned forward, and her arms began to pump a little harder, her legs continuing to keep the pace. Five yards to the leader became four. “Go, Brandy, go.
You can do it!
”

“Go, Shelby, go. Push! Push!” Kayla Ratcliff’s voice came from just a few feet before the finish line. She was leaning forward, clapping and motioning toward her runner.

“Go, Brandy. You can do it!” Sabrina just kept shouting the words over and over and over. “You can do it, you can do it!” She couldn’t seem to stop herself.

Koen was shouting at the top of his lungs, too. “Push! Keep pushing!”

Brandy seemed to stumble but regained her footing yet a little bit further behind her competitor. And then she did something that Sabrina had never seen her do before. Something she’d never seen anyone do, other than the footage she’d seen of Eric Liddell. She threw her head back, face to the sky, and surged forward with one last burst of speed. She leaned forward at the finish line, falling forward on the asphalt in the split second after she crossed.

The first woman.

The world around Brandy blurred in clear waves and a sort of milky haze. She was unable to move, unable to think. There were only three words that her mind could fathom at that moment.
I. Did. It. I did it.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain, there was enough conscious thought left to remind her that she needed to get out of the way before she got trampled, but there was no way she could stand up. She just couldn’t move. That’s when she felt strong arms lifting her and she found herself floating off the race course.

The movement made her nauseous and she thought for a moment she might vomit. She looked toward the source of her forward progression and saw a cute guy smiling down at her, a really huge smile. It didn’t make sense. Then slowly she realized who was carrying her. Koen.

As her brain cleared, she noticed the bouncing head at his shoulder and began to hear and understand the words that had been only unintelligible noise until now. “You did it. You did it. I knew you could. I knew you could.” Sabrina had tears flowing down her face.

As soon as Koen set Brandy on a bench, Sabrina was sitting beside her with her arms around her. She was sobbing. And then Brandy started crying, too, although she couldn’t remember why.

“Oh my sweet darling, you won. You won!” Grandma’s voice came from somewhere nearby. Brandy reached out her arms and hugged her grandmother around the waist, since she still didn’t trust herself to stand. She was taking huge gulping breaths, but her body couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Then little by little, her mind began to function and her breathing began to slow. She looked over at Sabrina, who by now had calmed down, but still had tears running down her cheeks.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.”

Sabrina shook her head. “I was wrong. And I’m so glad I changed my mind so I could see this. You are amazing.”

“You told me to plan my race so that when I crossed the finish line I didn’t have even one ounce of energy left. Nailed that one to perfection today.”

Sabrina laughed. “Maybe a little too perfect.”

Brandy took a sip of water and looked around her. She could see the Samson Academy contingent gathering nearby. She nodded her head toward them. “How’d they do?”

“Second and third in the girls, first and fourth in the boys,” Koen said.

“I think I’ll go over there and congratulate them.” Brandy stood up and tested her legs. She made her way over to find the girl that she’d barely beat out at the finish and extended her hand. “Good race.”

“Thanks.” The girl shook her hand, but scowled as she did so.

Brandy shook the hand of the other three girls in the group, as well. Then she came to Kayla Ratcliff. “I heard you speak at our school.”

Kayla smiled. “I hope I was an inspiration to you.”

“Maybe you might have been.” She paused long enough to see the surprise register on Kayla’s face. “Before you tell people your story for inspiration, you might want to check your facts. I can’t be inspired by someone who tells people she lost her scholarship to a slacker, when I happen to know that you lost your scholarship to a person with a lifelong, crippling disease. Thing is, she’s the one with the lifetime problem, but you’re the one so bitter you can’t even see the truth about what happened. Maybe you should think about that before your next talk.”

Brandy turned and walked back to her group, which had expanded. A man and woman were talking to Sabrina. They didn’t look familiar, but Sabrina seemed happy enough to see them. They were smiling and talking and gesturing. When Brandy approached, Sabrina said, “Here she is. Allow me to introduce Brandy Philip. Brandy, this is Coach Watkins and Coach Sheridan, from the University of Tennessee track team. They came to see the young talent at the race and wanted to meet you.”

“Young lady, that was an amazing race you ran out there today.”

“Thank you.”

“We were just telling Sabrina we’d love to have her come back and visit sometime. It would be great if you came with her. We
could show you around the facilities and talk about what your college aspirations might be.”

College aspirations? Until this very moment, Brandy had never had any. “Really? Uh . . .” Brandy looked at the pride on her grandmother’s face and the peace on Sabrina’s. “That sounds good. I’d like that.”

“Good.” Coach Watkins reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card. “You feel free to call or email with any questions, and we’ll be in touch soon.”

“Sounds good.” And it did. Who would have guessed that one?

Sabrina rummaged through the back of her closet until she found what she was looking for. The brown box had been stuck back in the corner, undisturbed, for the past three years. She wasn’t sure why she’d even brought it here, because she had never planned to open it. Just as she’d never planned to remove her journals, she supposed. She pulled it out, opened the lid, and removed the contents.

“I know you must be proud of Brandy’s finish today.” Nana came into the room, all smiles.

“I am. I can’t believe that she pulled it out the way she did.”

“What are you getting into over there?” She moved closer. When she saw the contents of the box, she smiled. “Reminiscing?”

“More like remembering.” She unfurled her favorite poster of Eric Liddell. It was black and white, and showed him head thrown back and arms outstretched, the number 451 across his chest. Just the sight of it again after these past few years brought tears to her eyes. But they weren’t tears of sadness, not completely anyway. They were so much more than that.

“Would you mind if I hung a couple of posters on the wall in here? I’ll use some of that tape that doesn’t damage walls.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to do that for the last three years.”

Sabrina smiled at her. “I hate to admit it, but maybe you and Mom have been right about a few things.”

“Ha. At least a couple, I’d say.”

Sabrina rummaged through the box and found the DVD at the bottom. “Hey, Nana, would you mind if I invited Brandy over to watch
Chariots of Fire
after dinner tonight?”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

“She’ll probably hate the movie, but she needs to see it. At least once.”