Chapter Seven.

The drive from the airport to the Olympic Village, just north of the city, pa.s.sed in a blur for Ca.s.s. It was late afternoon and the streets were just as crowded as the airport had been. Her companion was silent on the drive, muttering occasionally at the scooters and pedestrians who darted in and out of traffic.

So far, her introduction to the team, or one member of it, had not been very positive. Hopefully the other women were more...personable. After two aborted attempts at conversation, Ca.s.s gave up and pulled out her camera. The little Canon was her one indulgence in the past year, and she was going to put it to good use. As the van whipped in and out of the endless stream of traffic, Ca.s.s snapped what photos she could in the dying light of the day. When the van jerked again to a sudden halt, Ca.s.s threw her arm up defensively. "Whoa!"

"Sorry," muttered Laura. "It's nuts out here this time of day."

Wondering if she was warming up slightly, Ca.s.s ventured, "I thought they said no cars were allowed in the city for the Games?"

"Not till the actual events begin, and that's not for another six weeks."

Laura didn't take her eyes off the road, nor did she offer any more information, and Ca.s.s gave up. At one intersection she watched as a man balanced a pole across his shoulders. From each end of the pole hung suspended two large-and presumably heavy, judging from the bend in the pole-packages. Musicians and vendors competed for attention, and Ca.s.s was certain the vendors were winning. One elderly woman in gray, loose-fitting clothing resembling decorative pajamas, held a large, orange bullhorn to her lips and was shouting into it to anyone who came near. Ca.s.s a.s.sumed she was hoping someone would buy the oranges piled in the cart beside her.

There were bicycles everywhere, two-wheeled and three-wheeled. Ca.s.s craned her neck to watch as a three-wheeled version, one wheel in back, two in front, creaked past. On board, in the cargo area up front, was a lime-green refrigerator and a woman. The woman caught Ca.s.s's eye and bowed her head in dignified, if silent, greeting as Laura pulled the van past and whipped them around the corner.

It was a blur of color, sound and smell. As they pa.s.sed one street, Ca.s.s saw a large crowd gathering around what looked to be an accident site. The normal volume of the street sounds was ratcheted up here, with men and women waving their arms, punctuating their words with sharp gestures. And over all of it lay the pervasive, stifling humidity.

It was hot.

Suffocatingly hot. Even at, Ca.s.s checked her watch, eight fifteen p.m., it was almost too hot to breathe.

Slowly the noise and chaos abated as they neared what was clearly a newer area of the city. Flashes of darkness flew past her window and Ca.s.s smelled bursts of green and damp. A park. A large one. More lights and sounds, but this time with a less frenetic feel, and then the van rolled to a stop before a well-lit building resembling an apartment complex.

Ca.s.s looked over at Laura, surprised to find her staring straight ahead, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her features, or what Ca.s.s could see of them in the growing darkness and in profile, were set, her expression hard. Ca.s.s cleared her throat softly, but no response. Perplexed, she tried again to catch Laura's attention, this time giving a soft cough and reaching out to touch the other woman's arm. Laura's response was far from what she expected.

Laura whipped her head around, her auburn curls flying. She flinched at Ca.s.s's touch, then physically recoiled.

Ca.s.s opened her mouth to speak but something stopped her. Something in Laura's eyes. For a moment, a long moment, Ca.s.s realized that Laura wasn't seeing her, Ca.s.s, but...something else. Or someone. Again, as it had in the airport, came that brief ache as she looked into Laura's sea-green eyes. The pain that swam there...lurked. It tugged at Ca.s.s. Again she tried to speak, but this time it was Laura who stopped her. In a flash, that brief window into her teammate was closed. Slammed shut. Instead Ca.s.s was met with a steely gaze that very clearly said, "Back off."

Recoiling from the sudden emptiness, Ca.s.s could only stutter, "A-are you, okay?"

Laura started again, almost as if she was surprised to see Ca.s.s in the van with her. Her face cleared and the lines Ca.s.s had seen were replaced by the blank, almost indifferent look she'd worn earlier. "Yes. Fine. Let's get going. I think there's enough light left for me to get out on the water." Slamming the door behind her, Laura headed toward the building, leaving Ca.s.s inside the van, her mouth open.

"Uh, fine. Great." Muttering to herself as she grabbed her duffel, Ca.s.s continued sarcastically to the empty van, "No, don't bother, I've got it." Now completely alone she continued, "Oh, you're too kind, no really, I can manage." This last was said to Laura's retreating back; the woman clearly had no intention of helping her, or even welcoming her to the squad. It's gotta be better inside, right?

Ca.s.s checked in with the security at the front desk and endured the paperwork and identification-check process to get her official credentials. She did stop and stare in wonder at the official plastic-encased identification tag the guard handed her. There it was, in neat black lettering on a white background. "Ca.s.sandra Flynn, United States." Just below her name were the five Olympic rings and despite her exhaustion she couldn't resist running her fingers slowly over first her name and then the rings.

The guard cleared his throat and Ca.s.s sheepishly ducked her head and shrugged. She glanced up to find him smiling back at her, his eyes sparkling with kindness. Ca.s.s thanked him again and reached down for her bag. She hung the badge from her neck and looked around in confusion. Laura was nowhere to be seen. Now dead-on-her-feet tired, she numbly followed the guard's directions to the elevators and prayed she could stay awake long enough to be coherent when she met the remainder of the team.

Chapter Eight.

Ca.s.s slept for nearly eight hours. She gradually came awake to the sound of m.u.f.fled conversation and soft laughter just outside her door. She was stiff, the kind of stiff that came from sleeping in one position for a long time. She rolled onto her back and began to stretch, slowly bringing circulation back to limbs that still felt leaden with fatigue. As she woke she took note of her room, taking in details she'd missed the night before. The ceiling looked closer than she expected and it took her a moment to remember that she was on the top bunk. With a loud sigh she extended her arms and arched her back, a soft groan escaping as she indulged in the stretch. The door to her room opened and a blond head peeked around the corner.

"Hey roomie, you're awake?"

"Um...yeah. Hey, Amy."

Amy Lindquist, c.o.xswain of the eight-member crew, stepped all the way into the room and closed the door. Ca.s.s vaguely remembered being reintroduced to her the night-or was it day?-before. Ca.s.s's memories of her arrival in the village were hazy, but she had managed to exchange a few words with her roommate before she'd climbed up and into bed. Amy grinned up at her and plopped into a small plastic chair.

"I'm surprised you remember, you were pretty out of it when you got here. Long flight, eh?"

Ca.s.s nodded as she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bunk. With a light grunt she pushed and dropped down onto the floor to continue her stretching. It felt good to be up and moving. Now that she was awake, however, her body was making it known that it had been neglected too long.

"Yeah. Excuse me a sec." Ca.s.s ducked into the small bathroom, Amy's voice following her.

"I totally get it. We, the team I mean, we trained in j.a.pan for six weeks before coming here. When we landed there I was really wiped out. But that made the transition to here a lot easier. But man...that flight."

Ca.s.s came out, wiping her face and swallowing the last taste of the toothpaste she'd just used. She felt almost human again. Next up on her agenda were food and meeting the team, hopefully in that order.

"So, what's on the schedule for the day? How much have I missed?" She glanced around then asked, "What time is it?"

"It's just after two thirty in the morning."

"Oh." Ca.s.s sat on the lower bunk and stared at her roommate. "Wow."

Amy fished in her gym bag and pulled out a Power Bar. She tossed it to Ca.s.s, who tore into it eagerly. "Here, this should hold you till morning. You were out. Coach came by after practice but you were already asleep. She told us to let you sleep it out and we'd get you hooked up with the team in the morning."

"Thanks." Ca.s.s waved the now empty wrapper at Amy. "How come you're up? I mean, it is two thirty in the morning."

Amy grinned again at her, her wide smile prompting Ca.s.s to smile in return. "I ah, was out a bit later than I'd planned tonight. My guy's on the men's team and we had a late dinner." Amy grabbed two bottles of water and tossed one to Ca.s.s who drank gratefully.

"Thanks, I hate long flights. I always get so thirsty."

"Me too. Coach says to make sure we stay hydrated here."

Ca.s.s nodded and stretched again, enjoying the flexibility of well-rested muscles. She extended her left leg and then bent it, aware as always of the increased tension along the scarred skin.

"Mind if I ask?" Amy gestured with her bottle of water to Ca.s.s's leg.

"No, I don't mind." Ca.s.s took another long swallow of water. "Me versus a pizza guy. I lost." She flexed her leg again, pleased that despite the long flight she had no pain or stiffness.

"Ouch."

"Yup."

Amy studied her for a moment. "That's why you were off the circuit last year."

"Yeah. Long recovery." Ca.s.s finished her bottle and looked for the trash, wondering how she could gracefully change the subject. She didn't want to focus on her leg anymore. She'd wasted enough time, lost enough time to a stupid accident. Now she just wanted to move forward. "So, I guess tomorrow-"

The door to their room opened and a new face peeked in. She glanced from Amy to Ca.s.s and back again then turned and spoke to someone outside.

"Hey, yeah, they're up," she called. She poked her face back inside. "Mind if we come in?" She addressed her comment to Amy and Ca.s.s as she stepped inside, followed by three other women wearing USA team shorts and T's.

"No, come on in. Ca.s.s, this is Sarah Sullivan, your doubles partner. These three are Kim, Ellie and Jan. They're numbers four, five and seven on the eight-boat." Amy pointed to each woman in turn as she identified their positions on the long eight-woman boat.

As opposed to Ca.s.s and her new team partner, Sarah, the rowers on the eight-boat each used a single oar. The odd-numbered rowers rowed the starboard, or right-hand, side and the evens rowed the port side. Ca.s.s studied the newcomers appraisingly, just as they did her. Kim and Ellie epitomized the physique of rowers placed in the center of the boat; solid, well-muscled, broad-shouldered and probably very strong. Jan, too, matched Ca.s.s's ideal of a Seven. She was tall, lithe and obviously fit, and she radiated a calm that made Ca.s.s feel completely at ease.

Ca.s.s rose to shake the newcomers' hands. She finished with Sarah, saying, "I remember you. Nationals, two years ago?" At Sarah's nod Ca.s.s continued, "Your boat beat mine by a hair."

Sarah laughed. "Yep, I remember. It was pretty close." She angled her head, reminding Ca.s.s of a curious terrier. "You didn't stay for the after-party. I remember our coach wanting to talk to you."

"I couldn't, I was due back in Wisconsin to start my clinical rotation the next morning. My schedule was pretty tight. I almost didn't make that last heat."

"Too bad, we had a lot of fun."

The four newcomers settled on the floor in various poses. Sarah grabbed a pillow from Amy's bunk and bunched it up under her head as she stretched out on the floor.

"Hey. I have to sleep on that, you know," protested Amy.

"Oh, lighten up, Ames. The floor's clean." She grinned up at Ca.s.s. "When's your family getting here?"

Struggling to keep her voice light, Ca.s.s shook her head. "They're ah...no. Not coming."

"n.o.body?" Ellie sat forward, exchanging glances with Jan.

"N-no." Ca.s.s forced a fake yawn, hoping to deflect anymore questions. There wasn't a chance in h.e.l.l her "family" would make any effort at all to be here.

Jan, perhaps sensing Ca.s.s's discomfort, filled the suddenly awkward silence. "So Ca.s.s, you're going to bring us some new mojo, right?"

"Sorry?"

"Mojo. New. We need it."

"Oh. Yeah. I was sorry to hear of Pam's injury, will she be all right?" Ca.s.s knew from gossip around the docks back in San Diego that Sarah's regular doubles partner, Pam Collins, had broken her arm four days after the team transitioned from j.a.pan. Ca.s.s owed her sudden position on the team to a series of injuries, first to Pam and then to the reserve rower, Gail Kennedy.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, she should be okay. I wanted her to fly back to the States to get it checked out right away, but she didn't want to miss the Games."

Ca.s.s was surprised. "She's still here?"

"Yeah."

"I look forward to meeting her." Ca.s.s smiled shyly at the women sitting around her, glad they'd gotten off the topic of her family. "And I know what you mean about not wanting to miss this."

"Oh, yeah. And you haven't even seen the whole village yet," Ellie chimed in. She tapped Ca.s.s's leg in a friendly manner. "You're not just here because Gail was stupid."

"C'mon, El, that's not fair," Jan protested, but the others waved her objection away.

"You know it's true." Sarah's voice was curt, she was obviously still angry about the reserve rower's injury.

"I don't understand. What happened?" Ca.s.s looked from one woman to the other, then finally to Amy for an explanation. The little c.o.xswain shrugged.

"Gail Kennedy. You know, the reserve? We had a day off last week, and she decided to go exploring some of the rock formations north of the city. She freaking fell and tore a muscle in her shoulder. s.h.i.t, Sheila was furious. Still is, I think."

Amy's explanation cleared up some confusion for Ca.s.s. She'd wondered why the team wasn't using the reserve doubles rower and now she knew.

Kim slid down the wall and pushed her feet into Jan's leg. "We don't have to get into this again, folks. It's late." She gave Ca.s.s a gentle smile. "We just wanted to say 'hey' and welcome you to the team." She glanced at the others before adding, "Laura looked to be on a tear when she got back last night. She went straight to the gym."

The others chuckled, apparently the capriciousness of the stroke of the eight crew was well known to them. Ca.s.s thought again of the abrupt welcome she'd gotten yesterday and wondered what had prompted it. She also remembered the brief flash of pain she'd seen on Laura's face in the van just as they'd arrived in the village. "I thought she was mad at me for some reason."

Sarah shook her head as she stood and tossed Amy's pillow back onto the bed. "No worries, it wasn't you. Laura can be a bit...intense."

Ellie snorted as she hauled Kim and Jan up with her and headed toward the door. "Intense. Yeah, that's a good word for it."

"C'mon, guys," Jan spoke up. "Give her a break." She looked to where Ca.s.s was sitting and shrugged. "You know how it is. Girl's gotta have a bit of an att.i.tude to be a really good stroke. Laura's"

"Really good at what she does," Ellie finished with a laugh.

"Say what you will, the woman's a h.e.l.l of a stroke and you know it." Amy yawned and waved the other women out. "G'wan, I'm beat. The welcoming committee's done its job."

Sarah turned back and smiled again at Ca.s.s. "Welcome to the team, Ca.s.s. I'm looking forward to our practices."

She closed the door behind her, leaving Ca.s.s and Amy alone once again. Ca.s.s rose and waited for Amy to return from the bathroom. Then she flipped off the light and climbed back up to her bunk. Her first meeting with her new teammates had gone pretty well, she thought. She stretched again and, after a whispered good night to Amy, slipped in to sleep again.

Amy listened as Ca.s.s resettled herself above her, considering what she'd learned about the team's newest member, and what she'd seen last evening when Laura had returned with Ca.s.s from the airport.

She'd known Laura for more than four years, since the two had rowed at Cal as freshmen. It had been Laura who'd gotten Amy involved with the sport, Laura who'd convinced her that she'd make a good c.o.x for the team. The two progressed together from JV to varsity, and together had led Cal to some spectacular victories. Amy knew Laura inside and out, and it was easy to see that something had upset her friend, something beyond being pushed out of the gym for one afternoon.

The bed above her creaked as Ca.s.s shifted, and Amy reviewed what she knew of Ca.s.s. The e-mail she had gotten last night from a friend back at the training center in San Diego had not been much help. Jackie had described Ca.s.s as a bit of a loner, someone who did not socialize much with the rest of the group. Of course, Amy mused, Jackie's mad as h.e.l.l she wasn't selected to fill Gail's slot. What Jackie had not said was as interesting as what she had. Amy did not remember a single thing in her e-mail that mentioned Ca.s.s's course times or her abilities. Amy shrugged at the lack, still irritated with both her teammate's lack of judgment and the injury that forced Coach to pull Gail from the regatta.

Amy sighed and rolled onto her side, punching her pillow into submission. Her eyes drifted closed as she thought again of Coach's decisions. Pam's broken arm had been first, and Amy knew Coach had had no choice but to replace her. But Gail's injury was less severe, and Amy was fairly certain she'd have been good enough to get their double's boat through to a decent finish, although probably not a medal. Coach's reaction, however, had been a surprise. Sheila had been furious with Gail for deciding to go rock climbing on a team rest day.

Whatever else she might have thought about Laura, the team's injuries, or the coach's decision were lost as Amy surrendered to sleep, content to at least have a full squad once again.

Chapter Nine.

"Look, this isn't working."

The disgust in Sarah's voice grated on Ca.s.s's last nerve, and she bit her tongue to keep from snapping back. The trouble was that Ca.s.s, too, knew something was off; something had been off since they'd put in to the water earlier today. It seemed the harder Ca.s.s worked to fit her style with Sarah's, the worse their performance got. She groaned and collapsed backward, letting her momentum slide the seat until her head rested against the splash guard. She kicked her feet free of the shoes bolted into the stretcher, toed off her socks and let her feet dangle over each side of the slim craft into the water below. The coolness was a shock to her overheated system and she could see steam rising off her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. Years of training kept her hands on the oars, and she absently pushed her arms against the soft current, gently holding the sh.e.l.l in position. Before her, equally tired and apparently just as frustrated, Sarah Sullivan sat bent over her own oars, her back rising and falling with each deep breath.