The flat farmland opened up into a wide valley, mountains and rock arcing above them, and the team crossed the final checkpoint with ten seconds to spare.
Angela put Eva down, and her sister-in-law grabbed her up in an embrace. How could tomorrow possibly feel better than this?
A woman with a green shirt and poncho ran toward them, a clipboard in hand. “The Jamison and Cinelli team, I presume?” Behind her, the campsite looked the same as always—except it was nearly deserted. Where was everyone?
Angela nodded.
“Good, we’ve been waiting. We need all competitors to get to their assigned tents immediately.”
Angela helped Eva stand. “My sister-in-law needs a medic to examine her ankle.”
The older woman’s face looked like stretched canvas over bones. “That’s fine, but the two of you”—she pointed to Marc and Angela—“will need to head to your tents.”
“Is everything all right?” They’d never been confined to their tents before.
“Just a precaution for now. We simply need everyone accounted for.” The woman waved at two men under the medic’s tent and they came jogging over. “Please examine Ms. Jamison’s ankle and then escort her to her tent.”
Eva turned to Angela, her brow furrowed. “Ang . . .”
“I’ll figure out what’s going on. You take care of that ankle.”
When the men tried to help Eva, she leaned toward Marc, who helped her hop to the medic tent.
While the authoritative woman cast a wary eye at her, Angela grabbed her bag and took off for tent 101, then stopped and looked back. The woman had left. Angela tiptoed toward the media tent, where she spied Simon chatting quietly with a short blonde reporter.
He spotted her and came over. “Hey. I was worried about you.”
“Yeah, Eva’s ankle gave out, so we were a bit delayed.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“We almost didn’t make it. But we did.” Instead of joining in with her enthusiasm, though, Simon’s eyebrows knit together. “Wait, what’s wrong?”
Simon glanced around. “They don’t want anyone panicking, but there’s a bad storm about to blow through here. It’s freakish, actually. Unusual at this time of year.”
Angela smoothed her wet hair away from her forehead. “Really? Because we just came through one. Several, in fact.” Studying the now nearly cloudless sky—when had it stopped raining?—she had a hard time believing the ominous weather report to be true.
“There’s about to be round two, and it might be bad enough to flood the area for tomorrow’s race.”
“So what does that mean?”
“That they might have to evacuate you all.”
His words took a moment to sink in. “Evacuate? What about the last stage?”
“The race would be over. Normally they’d just reroute you, but since there’re only six miles left, there aren’t many options that wouldn’t be affected by the storm. So they’d just take you all back to Wanaka by bus and determine winners based on results as of today.”
They wouldn’t get to finish. “No. This can’t be happening.” Not when she’d finally decided to pursue something again, had put her whole heart into it. Had made peace with Wes. With God. Thanked him for giving her a new dream.
Thought that there might be some hope for a future with Simon . . . once she finished this race.
“Angela? I know this is disappointing, but you look really pale.” Simon ran the tips of his fingers down her upper arms. “Are you all right?”
“I . . .” She shook her head. “I’d say this is unbelievable, but why not believe it? Things don’t change, Simon. Not for me.”
It sounded like a pity party, but it wasn’t. It was just the cold, hard truth.
For Angela Jamison, dreaming was just an exercise in the futile.
38
“You asleep?”
Eva shifted in her sleeping bag and propped herself up on an elbow as Marc stuck his head inside her tent. “No. Get in here before you’re soaked.” Despite a brief break in the weather, it had now been raining for an hour at least. Night had fallen, but her electric lantern splashed the tent with a soft glow.
Marc ducked in and zipped her tent flap shut. “I wanted to bring you some dinner.” He held up an MRE pouch. “Unfortunately, I had to use cold water, so I’m sure it’s not the tastiest sweet and sour chicken I’ve ever made. Still, I figured it’d be more filling than beef jerky.”
“Thank you.” Given the condition of her ankle and the tight quarters, Eva struggled to maneuver to a sitting position without kicking Marc. Once she had