last year, Callie called me. We met in Seattle for lunch.”
“What did she say? How did she look? Could you tell it was her?” Shelby was hinged so far forward her chin was almost on the table.
I stroked a hand over her back, feeling unusually calm. I assumed a complete and total breakdown was in my near future and decided to embrace the calm while it lasted.
“She’d heard your father passed away. With both your parents gone, she felt her debt to them, to make sure they knew she was safe, had been fulfilled. That’s why the postcards stopped.”
“So we tell the sheriff,” I pressed.
“Tomorrow. After the wedding,” Gibson decided.
“Okay,” I said.
We were all silent for another minute before Gibson spoke again. “She’s really alive?”
The hope in his voice made me hurt for him.
Mom nodded. “She’s alive, and your father saved her life.”
“Why would she have stayed away this whole time?” Gibson wondered aloud, his face broody.
“Only Callie could answer that,” Mom said.
Billy Ray tore into the dining room, dragging one of my running shoes by the laces. It got wrapped around the table leg, and the puppy stubbornly tried to tug it free.
We watched him, all a little dazed.
“You know, I thought it would feel good to finally have some answers,” Shelby said. “Now, I just have more questions.”
“Join the fucking club,” Gibson said, pushing away his untouched whiskey.
48
Shelby
The toe I dipped into Cheat Lake was considering frostbite. I’d done the majority of my training in Bootleg’s lovely, heated waters. So normal lake temperatures were cold enough to take my breath away, even in the swelter of the first Saturday in August.
I was standing in the back of the pack of bathing-suited athletes with race numbers written on their arms and legs feeling like there were few places on Earth that I belonged less than right here. Everyone else looked leanly muscled, icily calm like they did this every Saturday on this sliver of beach surrounded by thick trees that sang with cicadas.
According to my fitness watch, my heart was attempting to explode its way out of my chest.
I felt alone. Lonely.
It wasn’t true, of course. I’d been chauffeured here in Estelle’s minivan with the Breakfast Club, my bike on the roof, my gear behind Gert and Jefferson in the back bench seat.
The odds of me being attacked fifty miles from Bootleg Springs in a crowd of triathletes and spectators were low enough that Jonah had settled for me having a geriatric team of babysitters. They were waiting for me at the transition point between the swim and the bike. “To make sure you didn’t drown,” Myrt had offered helpfully.
Once I returned to start the run, they would drive to the finish line to meet me there.
I wished Jonah could have been here. But I’d been the first person to tell him he absolutely had to focus on the wedding today. Bowie was the first brother to tie the knot. This was big. Huge. Much bigger than my personal quest to compete, to complete.
Still, I missed him fiercely.
But I’d started this process by myself to prove to myself that I could do it myself. And I would. Last night I’d reached another milestone. I’d finished my dissertation. Of course there was a need for another pass at polishing, for perfecting. But the hard work, the bleeding was over.
Just like now. I’d trained, I’d sweated, I’d bled.
I’d ached.
And all that was between me and that finish line was a 750-meter swim and 15.6 miles divided between bike and my own feet.
The hard part was over. This was the fun part.
I hoped.
Best of all, there was no crazy potential murderer here watching me. It was just me and the culmination of my hard work. And I was going to enjoy it.
“First tri?” A man in a very small bathing suit with a rather large belly asked, wiping his nose on the back of his hand.
I nodded. “Yeah. Does it show?”
He leaned in conspiratorially. “You look as nervous as I feel. Hey, Tameka!” He waved over a woman in a sleek blue one-piece. She had silver curls peeking out of her swim cap. “Found us another virgin.”
Her face transformed into a smile. “Welcome to the club, honey.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You’re both first-timers, too?”
“Yep,” the man said. “I’m Gus. I lost fifty pounds this year. Figured I’d put all this energy to good use. Grandkids are waiting for me at the finish, so I gotta finish. This here is Tameka.”