Ca.s.s was certain this was the longest race she'd ever been in.

We've been rowing for days. Dig in Ca.s.s, dig in.

The thump and bang of the oars against the oarlocks began a counterpoint rhythm to the sound of the water rushing against the hull as they moved forward. Ca.s.s gained a seat-length on the Irish hull. She began singing in her head. Rounds of that endless children's tune began to work their way through her tired cells. Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream...

One hundred meters to go.

Ca.s.s drew even with the forward rower in the Irish boat. We're there! Sarah's gotta be even with their bow ball, we're in front. She heard a shout as the stroke for the Irish boat pushed their rate higher. The Irish boat shot forward again. Ca.s.s shook her head.

No way.

No. f.u.c.king. Way.

"Ten in two, Ca.s.s! Ready? One...Two!"

Ca.s.s nodded and dug in as Sarah did. This was the call she'd been waiting for. The call for the last ten strokes in the race. As hard as they'd been pulling since the one thousand-meter mark, now they poured it on. This was where mental conditioning made all the difference, where races were won or lost. Now, when your body was tired beyond imagining and you felt as if you'd rowed for weeks. It was not the strength of the body that finished the race. It was the strength of the mind, the mental ability to dredge up that last reserve of energy.

Eyes slitted against the sweat pouring down past her cap, Ca.s.s shut it all out. The damp, fishy smell of the air; the growing cheers of the crowd; the thunk of the oars in the oarlocks; the hiss of the slides and the voices of the scullers in the nearby Irish sh.e.l.l.

Ten.

From deep inside, Ca.s.s called on those reserves.

Nine.

There it was, that euphoria. That zing. I could fly if I wanted to.

Eight.

Ca.s.s was suddenly aware of the tiniest details. She could hear Sarah's breathing behind her, louder than any other sound around her.

Seven.

One of the laces holding her right foot in the foot stop had come free and seemed to float in its own gravity as she slid forward for the next catch.

Six.

The orange lane markers flashed past in a strobe-like blur.

Five.

A flash to her right of sunlight catching the water on her oar's blade.

Four.

A glance up, back along the lane, a snapshot burned in her memory.

Three.

Sarah's grunt as her oars caught the water. A glimpse of Irish green to her left.

Two.

The whistle of the wind they were making. An odd shooshing sound she only ever heard on the water. Another flash of emerald green. A shout from the stands.

One.

Catch, pull through, lay back, release, feather aaaaand...

"Let 'er run, Ca.s.s! Let 'er run!" Sarah's call to stop rowing heralded both women's collapse backward in the sh.e.l.l, struggling for breath. The blast of the finish horn drowned out her words. It was followed almost instantaneously by another burst, as first one boat then another crossed the finish line. A third blast, as the bronze medalists crossed the line, only vaguely registered with Ca.s.s as she fought for air. The double-blast of the first two finishers told Ca.s.s that it was too close to know who'd won, they'd have to wait for the official call.

Chapter Thirty-Five.

The loud blasts of the horns signaling the end of the race startled Sheila even though she was expecting them. It was impossible to tell who'd finished first and she, like everyone in the crowd, turned to the giant screen to view the finish again as it was replayed. Everyone was speculating on the final result.

"They did it."

"d.a.m.n, looks like the Irish got 'em in the end."

"h.e.l.l of a finish, eh? Who'd have thought that..."

"Wow. Look at that!"

Sheila tuned them all out, concentrating all of her attention on the large screen. It sure as h.e.l.l looked to her as if they'd done it. G.o.d they deserved it, they'd worked so d.a.m.ned hard for it. She'd never seen a team row that fast for that long. She wondered if they'd set some sort of course record today, she was pretty sure she'd never seen a double scull race that fast in her life.

Out on the water, with nothing propelling it forward, their little blue sh.e.l.l drifted to a relative standstill in the water, along with the other two top finishers. Ca.s.s turned and reached backward for Sarah, the two women laughing and crying together.

"Oh my G.o.d, what a race!"

"That was awesome!"

"How'd we finish? Could you tell?"

Sarah shrugged. "Dunno. I think...I'm not sure, really." Turning slightly, she shouted to the women collapsed in the emerald sh.e.l.l next to them. "Alanna! Great race! Too bad about the gold!"

Untangling herself from her partner, Alanna Doyle laughed and shouted back, "In yer dreams Yank!" She tipped her head to Ca.s.s. "Well done to you."

Ca.s.s grinned back at the woman Sarah had introduced as an ex-girlfriend. "Thanks." She bent to loosen the laces on her shoes and was distracted by a roar from the crowd. Suddenly Sarah was pounding her back and shouting, "We did it! We did it!" Pulled backward into Sarah's enthusiastic embrace, Ca.s.s turned to the JumboTron to see the photo finish of the race.

Sarah was right.

They had done it.

By a ball.

Ca.s.s squinted to make the suddenly shimmering screen come into clearer focus. She could hear the tinny voice of the announcer carrying over the water, making the results official.

"...the results, in order of finish, are: United States, gold; Republic of Ireland, silver; and the Netherlands, bronze."

The announcer's voice was drowned out by the shouts from the stands and the other boats on the water. Ca.s.s turned back to the loading area below the stands, scanning for her teammates. Sarah pulled her around a bit more and pointed. "There they are, over there." Her arm extended behind her, Sarah pointed to the crowd of laughing, shouting women excitedly waving them in.

Ca.s.s laughed, spotting Amy jumping up and down wildly as she hugged everyone in her vicinity. Next to Amy stood Coach Sheila and Laura, both women grinning and laughing at Amy's antics. As Ca.s.s watched, Laura turned toward the water and lifted a hand. Ca.s.s waved and turned back in her seat, fishing for her oar handles, ready to head in to collect some well-deserved hugs.

Chapter Thirty-Six.

Sheila dropped her hand back to the railing, grinning as her team celebrated the unexpected and hard-won victory. Around her people were shouting and laughing, letting the adrenaline of the exciting finish run its course. A shout went up and the announcer confirmed her private musings.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we also have a new Olympic and course record of..."

Whatever else he had to say was lost in a sea of jubilant shouts as the U.S. squad increased their cheers. If possible, Amy began leaping higher than she had during the race, running through their team and those nearby, demanding high-fives. Sheila crossed her arms and grinned, delighted with her team's performance and thrilled with the victory. Laura nudged her shoulder and tilted her head out toward the water.

"Whaddya say, Coach?"

Sheila just shook her head, her smile getting wider. "What do I think? I think this is one h.e.l.l of a regatta, don't you?"

Laura laughed and nodded, as she slapped the coach on the back. "You know what? I think you're right!" She looked across the water again and spotted the two women in the blue scull looking her way. Raising a hand to wave again, she gasped and grabbed Sheila's arm. "s.h.i.t, crab, CRAB!" Laura's frantic voice cut through the jubilation of the team.

Both Sheila and Laura watched as the Dutch boat, beginning to make its way to the loading area, caught a freak wake from a chase boat as they'd begun to row. The jar of the sternman's blade being jerked down unexpectedly by the wake wave caused the tiny, light scull to jerk nearly ninety-degrees sideways, drilling directly into the side of the U.S. hull.

Someone screamed as the blue sh.e.l.l was sliced neatly in two and Sheila heard a sharp cry of pain before the back end of the scull quickly disappeared below the surface, taking Sarah with it.

The team watched, standing stiffly silent as Ca.s.s struggled to free herself from her shoes. Above the roar of the crowd they could hear the piercing voice of the Irish sculler shouting for Sarah.

"Yank! G.o.d d.a.m.n ya, YANK!!" Ca.s.s looked over to see Alanna tearing at her shoes, trying to free herself. The Irish rower caught her eye and pointed into the water.

"She's down there! I think the sh.e.l.l got her leg." Alanna yanked again at her shoes. "G.o.d d.a.m.n these b.l.o.o.d.y things!"

Ca.s.s spun and stepped onto the bow of the still-moving Dutch boat as her side of the sh.e.l.l filled with water. The Dutch rower nearest her grabbed her hand, shouting something incomprehensible. Ca.s.s yanked her hand free and dove down, following a rapidly fading trail of bubbles. The cool salt water stung as she squinted her eyes open. Above her, she could hear the m.u.f.fled clanking and rumbling of the motorized launches as they moved to a.s.sist in the crash.

Blindly Ca.s.s reached ahead, pushing deeper into the blue-black waters. Sarah! Air, we need... Oh G.o.d, where the h.e.l.l are...wait. WAIT! Something solid brushed her hand and she turned toward the feeling. Both hands. .h.i.t something solid...the sh.e.l.l! Ca.s.s felt her way along quickly, feeling the broken sh.e.l.l sway as Sarah struggled to free herself.

Desperate hands grabbed at her as Sarah realized someone was down with her. Ca.s.s slid her hands down Sarah's leg, grimacing as her fingers found torn flesh. Gritting her teeth at the impulse to scream, the need to open her mouth and gasp for air, she found Sarah's foot, still tied into the mounted shoe and pinned by something solid. What the h.e.l.l...pull, no, from the other side, now...PULL. Putting aside any thought of how this might further injure Sarah, Ca.s.s pressed her feet down as hard as she could against the swaying bulk of the sh.e.l.l and pulled forward with her remaining strength.

A m.u.f.fled pop and a choked cry from Sarah told her they were free. Ca.s.s reached forward and grabbed the first soft thing she could find as she felt Sarah go limp beneath her. As tightly as she could, Ca.s.s gripped Sarah's racing tunic and kicked for the surface, her vision beginning to go gray around the edges.

Funny, I thought it was supposed to get lighter as we got to the surface.

Back on the dock the U.S. team was frantic, but clearly no one more so than Laura. "Ca.s.s!" she shouted as Ca.s.s disappeared into the water. She was halfway over the rail, her focus on the women beneath surface of the roiling water, when Sheila grabbed her arm.

"Laura. Laura!" Sheila yanked the tall rower back to her side of the rail. "They'll have them out of the water by the time you get out there!"

Her face pale with fear, Laura stood gripping the silver railing. "Where the h.e.l.l are the rescue boats? What the f.u.c.k kind of operation is this?" She sucked in a loud breath and they all watched as finally, finally the rescue boats roared up.

"Those idiots will kill them with those propellers!" Pam Collins, Sarah's regular rowing partner and girlfriend, fell against Laura as they watched the rescue divers slip into the water. Instinctively, Laura put her arm around Pam's shoulders. She held her tightly, mindful of the slighter rower's cast and sling. Around her, the other members of the squad were holding each other and their breath as they waited.

"Shush Pammie. Ca.s.s will find her." Sheila stood behind the women, a hand on both of their backs.

"Ca.s.s will find her."

Laura repeated her a.s.surance, for herself or for Pam, Sheila was not sure. She kept her eyes on the water. It's been too long, why haven't they...

"There they are!" The shout came from the announcer's booth.

The water turned to foam around her as hands and feet appeared in the water, everyone pulling in every direction. Ca.s.s felt Sarah slip from her fingers and she panicked.

"Shh, lovey, it's all right. She's here. Th' medics have got her."

Alanna, the soaking wet Irish rower, pushed her way next to Ca.s.s as the emergency team pulled her aboard. "Ca.s.s, d'ya hear me? She's out. She's out." Finally, Alanna's words penetrated and Ca.s.s stopped fighting. The medic next to Alanna nodded her thanks before shoving her aside and placing an oxygen mask on Ca.s.s's face.

"Right, then. Yer welcome," Alanna muttered as she watched the medic care for Ca.s.s. In the next boat, she could see three or four medical personnel scrambling around the still form of her ex-lover. She was sick at the watery lines of blood she could see dripping off the gunnel over which they'd dragged Sarah's limp body.

"Hang on there and put this on. For shock." She took the thin silvery blanket offered by the other medic and allowed herself to be seated on the small cushions ringing the edge of the deck. The deck tipped sharply as the captain powered his boat toward the emergency docks at the end of the raceway, following the craft carrying Sarah and the other rescuers. Alanna looked back at her own sh.e.l.l, waving once to her still-shocked teammate to let her know she was fine. Then she tipped her head back and began praying that Sarah would be too.

Sheila watched as hands pulled and lifted first Sarah and then Ca.s.s out of the water. Pam's gasp as she saw the blood running off Sarah distracted Sheila and she did not see where Ca.s.s ended up. She did, however, know she was not going to wait here. Neither, it seemed, was Laura. Grabbing Pam's good hand, Laura began shoving her way back through the crowd.

"Laura, wait!" Sheila's voice stopped her.

Laura snarled as she spun around. "No! Do not get in my way!"

Sheila recognized Laura's angry tone for what it was, and let it go. She simply waved her credentials and moved ahead of the two women. "You'll need this and me. Now let's move."

She was aware that the rest of the team followed them around the end of the raceway to the emergency docking point, but her attention was divided. Laura's face when she had stopped her...Sheila had never seen Laura so...so...so what? So fierce and protective. Hmm, that's new. Letting that thought go as she worried for her friends, she promised herself she'd visit it again later.

Seven long minutes, three arguments and four threats later, Sheila found herself tucked into a small corner of an outer exam room, waiting with Laura, Pam and Amy for news from inside. She'd kept the rest of the team out, fearing that if there were too many of them in here the medical staff would evict them all. From behind the double doors, they could hear sharp voices calling orders, occasionally sounds of running feet and the sharp sound of metal implements. .h.i.tting the ground. Once in a while, over the top of the other sounds, one clear voice demanded to be heard. Sheila glanced at Laura and raised an eyebrow, smiling at Laura's nod of confirmation.

"She sounds pretty p.i.s.sed, doesn't she?"

"Yup. I'd say that's a good thing." Laura moved to Sheila's side. "Whaddya think? Can you get in there?"

"Not now. s.h.i.t." Sheila ran her fingers through her hair. She was distracted, her attention split between the sounds of the emergency workers in the next room and her own memories of an accident nearly a decade before. Another regatta, another crabbed boat and injured rower. That time the rower had been her friend, Tory and the accident had nearly taken her life, not to mention her leg.