Chasing Rainbows A Novel - By Long, Kathleen Page 0,54

I might not have taken a single one of those steps on my own, I had taken them.

Me.

Not anyone else.

Steps were steps.

Steps were good.

Steps were the only things that were going to save me. They were the things that were going to carry me forward, out of my old life and into my new one.

I felt so empowered by my writing I pulled Dad’s book out of my purse. I’d started keeping the cryptograms with me, eager to reveal each remaining word, every message Dad had chosen for me.

I’d started this particular puzzle earlier that day, and it took only moments now to reveal the solution.

The guy who manned the counter tapped me on the shoulder. “Ma’am, store’s closing.”

Ma’am.

Wasn’t that always the way? Just when you were filled with a heady sense of empowerment brought on by sassy hair, sexy boots, and a cryptogram message, someone called you ma’am and brought your ego crashing back to earth.

I gathered up my notebook and tossed my empty cup in the trash. I headed across the parking lot toward my car, boot heels slamming confidently against the asphalt, determined to type up my letter and email it the moment I got home.

Ma’am or no ma’am, I was taking steps.

Forward steps.

I had no intention of turning back.

o0o

“Many people have a good aim in life, but for some reason they never pull the trigger.”

-Unknown

SIXTEEN

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Much as I would never admit this to David, I looked forward to my afternoons at the skating rink.

There was something about the hustle and bustle of the daily practices and skating lessons that made me smile. Not to mention the fact I’d convinced myself shivering in the freezing cold environment burned extra calories.

On this particular day, I’d been assigned the task of running the snack bar, a job I actually enjoyed because it gave me a chance to interact with everyone at the rink.

Also, I’d discovered I could skim a jumbo chocolate chip cookie or two off the top each day, unbeknownst to David. I’d convinced myself my actions fell more into the quality assurance camp than into outright thievery.

Quite honestly, I couldn’t help myself.

Willpower had never been one of my strengths. The summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, I’d managed a Candy Kitchen in Bethany Beach, Delaware.

The store had featured a make-your-own sundae bar, homemade chocolates...and fudge.

I’d packed on fifteen extra pounds before the end of June.

When I drove home for my birthday, the first words out of my mother’s mouth fell short of anything warm and fuzzy.

She’d thrown open the front door, watched me scramble out of my glow-in-the-dark-yellow Chevette, and frowned. “You’ve got thighs.”

Sadly, those same thighs had been with me ever since.

Back at the rink, the team mothers tended to congregate inside the shelter of the snack bar seating area, clutching their coffees or teas or sugar-free hot chocolates.

An oh-so-trendy hockey mom sporting flawless makeup and chunky blond highlights ordered a decaf mocha latte. Was she kidding?

I blinked my focus out of the past and into the present, poured a cup of coffee, dumped in some hot chocolate and handed the mocha latte back to the woman. She studied the cup suspiciously, but didn’t say a word.

During a lull in the snacking activity, I stood at the counter, resting my chin on my fists, staring at a team of teenaged boys running through ice hockey drills.

I squinted when I spotted Ashley standing at the railing, deep in conversation with a boy who stood a half-foot taller than she did.

I’d cracked a smile and had begun formulating my plan to tease her, when Ashley gave the kid a shove. Hard.

Then she spun dramatically on one heel and stomped in my direction.

Obviously not the young love encounter I’d imagined.

“He’s a Neanderthal,” Ashley said with a dramatic roll of her eyebrow-less eyes as she breezed behind the counter and poured a tall cup of hot chocolate.

I blinked. “Big word, Ash.”

She scowled at me. “He is a Neanderthal, Aunt Bernie. Their mascot.” Her tone dripped with impatience. “They’re called the Ice Men.”

I bit down on my lip to keep from snickering. Somehow I was fairly certain laughter in any form would not be appreciated.

“Interesting.” I nodded, doing my best to shake the sudden mental picture of a team of fur-draped cavemen taking to the ice.

“...and then he said, ‘Nice eyebrows.’”

Ashley gestured grandly and I did my best to focus on her words, hoping I hadn’t