Holly let it go, the wind whistling past her woolen cap, and she made the turn back to the post office. The muscles in her legs and her lungs had that nice burning sensation, so she knew she’d pushed to the limit. And a little beyond.
Her car was there, right where she’d left it. The lot had been pretty empty when she parked, only a couple of cars. There were more now, now that it was-she looked at her black digital watch-a little after noon. A guy stood by the railing, a folded newspaper sticking out of his back pocket. She watched him toss bread crumbs or whatever into the water, swooping seagulls snapping them up.
Holly kept running, slowing down, following along her iPod selections in cool-down mode. She’d programmed them specially for her run, starting off slowly, then getting faster and faster, then perfect running music, the Cars, Gaga, Katy Perry, Flo Rida; then the cool down. She was almost through her favorite Sting, so one song still to go before her timed run-list finished. And she had to be back at the car, perfectly, when the downloads ended.
She’d make it. She always did, even if she had to hurry up or slow down a little to make it precisely right.
She leaned both palms against the hood of her car, her hands feeling the chill of the metal through her knitted gloves, and let out a long cleansing breath exactly as the cool-down music ended. The stretching music started. Alanis. She carefully lifted one leg behind her, then the other. She looked up. The guy was watching her.
She squinted in the October sunshine. Ignored the music’s orders to continue stretching. Was the glare on the water playing tricks with her vision? Did she want it so much that it seemed to appear? She stopped, midstretch, staring. Blinked, twice, but the same man was still there. And she knew who it was. She knew.
No. Not possible.
The man was walking toward her. Could it be?
She pinched her own arm, hard. “Ow!” she cried. Like one of the seagulls skirling across the sky. But she felt it. She didn’t wake up. It wasn’t a dream. It was real.
The man came closer. Closer. Closer.
She heard him say, “Hollister?”
42
“Wake up, Hollister.” Matt draped Holly onto the passenger seat of his car. She hadn’t exactly fainted, but he’d arrived right in time to catch her as her knees gave way. He pulled off her stretchy cap and tossed it into the backseat. She still looked terrific, that was for sure. Though he figured seeing him would be a shocker, he never expected she’d totally lose it like this. Well, it could work for him. “Holly? You with me here?”
“Is it really you? Matt?” She turned to him as he got behind the wheel, one palm under her cheek like a groggy little girl. “How did you know-?”
“Let’s not talk about that now,” Matt said. “You look kinda woozy. Do you need some water?”
Holly shook her head slowly, staring at him. She reached out with one hand, didn’t quite touch him. “No, no, don’t leave. No water. I’m fine. It’s only-Matt?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“You called me Hollister. I knew you would, I knew it. Knew if I…” Her voice trailed off. She closed her eyes.
Geez. A complete wack. Matt felt her car keys in her pocket and clicked her car locked through his open window. Meters not in effect Sundays, that was a big plus. Even if she didn’t move her car tonight, she wouldn’t get a ticket until the next day. Holly’s earbuds had fallen out, and he’d looped them around her neck. He could hear the buzz of some music coming from them.
“The world works in mysterious ways.” From somewhere he pulled out a line Holly used to throw at him. He rolled his eyes, knowing she’d never notice. “I guess I was meant to find you.”
“Mmmmm,” she said. Keeping her eyes closed. “Tell me the story, though. The whole thing.”
“Tell you the…?”
Holly sat up, tucked one ankle under her, wide-eyed as a kid asking for another fairy tale. “The whole story. How you found me.”
Nip this puppy in the bud, Matt thought. Hell, he needed to stall for time, but he’d tell her the truth, kind of, then move on. “Well, I saw your picture in the paper. The Boston paper. I read it for the Red Sox, you know?”
He tapped the newspaper on the console next to him. “I don’t get the print version back home, so I check out the Register online. And there you were, in a story about-”
“My picture’s in today’s paper?” Holly’s eyes sparkled. She sat up straighter, grabbing for the Sunday Register he’d purchased outside the post office. “Let’s see!”
Matt had to laugh, watching her scan the front page. “Not today’s paper,” Matt said. “It was… a couple days ago. So I flew in to see if I could find you.”
He expected-he didn’t know what he expected. But not this. Holly had the newspaper in front of her face. Like she’d completely forgotten about him.
“Holly? Hollister?” What the hell?
“Jane Ryland works for the Register?” Holly’s voice was hollow, and her finger pointed at something on the front page. “She’s a reporter for the Register? I thought she was television. A television reporter. Doesn’t she work at Channel Eleven?”
She turned to him, her face crumbling. Was she about to cry? The woman was certifiable. Holly looked back at the paper, running her finger down a column.
“Jane what?” Matt said. “Who’s she?”
Holly folded his newspaper so the article she was reading was the only thing showing.
“I have to go,” she said.
Are you friggin’ kidding me? “Ah, Holly, Hollister, no, not now, not now that we finally found each other again.” Matt scrambled to get back the advantage. Whatever just happened, he had no idea. “Whatever it is about this Jane, whoever that is, I know I can help you. I’m here to help you. But, Holly, it’s a beautiful Sunday, and we’re together, and there’s nothing you can do right now about whatever is…”
Matt put himself in full-speed-ahead sales mode, trying to gauge Holly’s reaction.
“Let’s go for a walk, the way we used to. Or sit in a café, and you can tell me everything.” He was not going to let her escape, not until he found out what she was up to. Maybe this Jane thing was something he should know about.
Reality hit. Shit. Jane. Reporter.
“Hollister,” he said. Was she planning to tell what she knew? Was she stalking some newspaper or television person? That could be a disaster. He put his hand on her shoulder. Last ditch. “Come to my hotel room. Be with me.”
He watched as she lowered the paper. She turned to him, smiling.
And we have a sale, ladies and gentlemen. Time to close the deal. “I’ll bring you back to your car later,” Matt said. “Unless you have other plans?”
“My Matt,” she said.
Jake’s car? In front of her house? As soon as she turned onto Corey Road, Jane recognized that undercover Jeep he sometimes used, dark blue, tinted windows. The bright morning had softened into gray afternoon. Sparse trees and empty sidewalks, fading piles of fallen leaves, even the rows of brownstones made her street a rainbow of neutral. End-of-October neutral. She caught a glimpse of Jake in the front seat. Why was he here?
Jake was out and beside her before she turned off the ignition.
“I need to talk to you, not on the phone,” he said as she got out. He moved close to her, his hand grasping her arm. Pushed her car door closed with his hip. “How are you?”
She could smell peppermint on his breath, and coffee. “Hey, Jakey,” she said. She left his hand there, didn’t move away from him. No one was watching them. And if they were-well. They weren’t. “I’m good. Except for being exhausted. Drove back from Springfield after all that, then had to go to the paper. And I need to take a nap before I die of sleep deprivation.”