Authors: Jim Cangany
Tags: #Bicycle, #Cancer, #Contemporary Romance, #cycling, #Love Stories, #Weddings
Wish Upon a Star (31 page)
She took the camera, and with style and grace undiminished
by the years, slipped out of the BMW with a little bounce in her step.
After I pointed out a few landmarks, we began our way toward the
stadium. College kids threw Frisbees while parents grilled burgers
and dogs. Caught up in the carnival-like atmosphere, Annie stopped
and snapped a picture every ten or fifteen feet. She even intercepted
a Frisbee and tossed it back with a "Yeah, baby!"
A stone's throw from the stadium entrance, she came to a
halt, her eyebrows furrowed. "Audrey did make the final selection,
yes?"
I showed her the roster of the young ladies competing in the
race and pointed to our daughter's name. "Yes. She let me know
yesterday. You need to keep in mind that since she's just a freshman,
she'll probably be on the track less than any of her teammates. Don't
be disappointed if she doesn't get a ton of laps in, okay?"
Annie took me by the arm, and we resumed our walk.
"Nothing could disappoint me today. Between the weather and the
kids, we're the luckiest people on Earth."
Once inside the stadium, we weaved our way to our seats,
blissfully anonymous. Just a couple of fifty-something-year-old
parents. Not a world famous musician, even if she was semi-retired,
and her bike shop owner husband. As the time drew near for the
race to start, Annie couldn't stop adjusting the camera settings and I
couldn't keep seated.
The announcer's voice boomed over the P.A. system,
welcoming the twenty thousand fans to the Women's Little 500 Bike
Race.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen, please rise for our National
Anthem, being performed by national recording artist, and our very
own Indiana University School of Music graduate, Frederick
McCarty."
I directed Annie to the spot in the infield where our son,
whom everyone said was a carbon copy of me, down to the unruly
hair, began to sing. His voice was naturally lower-pitched than
Annie's, and a little bit more refined, a result of his years studying
and performing jazz. The a cappella performance brought tears to
our eyes. We hugged each other, oblivious of everyone and
everything else around us. When Freddie finished, he bowed, waved
at the crowd and blew a kiss in our direction. Annie returned the
gesture.
"Oh, E.J., he's so handsome." Annie wiped away a tear.
"And an amazing singer, just like you."
She elbowed me. "You old charmer. So where's
Audrey?"
I pointed out the pit box to which Audrey's team had been
assigned. She was one of four riders in matching bright orange
jerseys who would take turns racing a total of two hundred laps
around the quarter-mile track. Audrey and two other riders were in
the pit with a mechanic.
The fourth rider had mounted the team's single speed racing
bike and was pedaling around the track with thirty-two other riders
on the parade lap. Just like the Indianapolis 500, the riders were
organized into eleven rows of three. The pace picked up as the riders
crossed the start/finish line and the pace lap began.
As the thirty-three riders, clad in jerseys covering every
color of the rainbow, pedaled around the fourth turn, the crowd rose
in a wave of sound and color that sent shivers down my spine. The
green flag dropped and the racers accelerated to full speed. Before
we knew it, they were already into the second turn of the cinder
track. The roar from the cheering crowd was as deafening as the sky
was blue.
The laps took less than a minute to complete and the riders
who had started the race began to come in to the pits, where they
were relieved by fresh riders. I put my arm around Annie when
Audrey stood, took a couple of steps toward the track and raised her
hand. Her teammate slipped out of the pack and came around wide.
She hit the brakes, dismounted, and handed the bike over to Audrey.
Our daughter grabbed the handlebars, took a few steps and hopped
on the bike without breaking stride. She was pedaling like an angry
bear was chasing her in a matter of seconds.
"Flawless," I said, bursting with pride at the exchange I'd
taught her team.
Annie leaned forward, taking picture after picture of our
daughter as she worked to catch up to the other riders.
"Here she comes, here she comes." Annie bounced on her
toes as Audrey flashed by us and melded into the peloton.
"Go Audrey, go!" she shouted.
With a joy-filled laugh, I turned to Annie. She rewarded me
with the smile that had, still did, and always would, melt my heart.
Our eyes locked for a heartbeat before she winked at me and turned
her attention back to the race and our daughter, shouting more
words of encouragement.
In that moment I knew, with all my heart and all my soul,
that yes, through it all—the hopes and the fears, the laughter and the
tears, the cheers and the jeers—together, we'd completed our
journey to the undiscovered country and arrived at our happily ever
after.
And our dreams had come true.
THE END
A lifelong resident of the State of Indiana, Jim Cangany is
proud to call himself a Hoosier. The youngest of eight children, he
grew up in a household full of books and people. Thanks to the
influence of his older siblings, Jim gravitated toward fantasy and
sci-fi when looking for something to read. He wrote his first story at age
fourteen. A school project,
The Magic Coin
was a fantasy that
involved a king, some bad guys, and, not surprisingly, a magical
token.
These days, Jim writes romance on the sweet end. If you ask
him what is a guy like him is doing writing romance, he'll reply,
"Those are the stories in my head." A believer that the world has
enough doom and gloom, he likes stories with a happy ending,
regardless of genre. He lives in Indianapolis with his wonderful wife
Nancy and his two sons, Seamus and Aidan.
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