Page 4 of Fast Track to Forever
I’m not surprised she recognized me. I’m surprised she thinks I need luck. Most would say a world champion doesn’t need luck getting what he wants. But I know she’s right. I need more than luck. I need a Christmas miracle.
The gate to Kat's house is the same after all these years. Two faded plaster lions guarding the doorway, a fake topiary.
I take a deep breath and knock. As the familiar sound of my knocking echoes through the quiet neighborhood, my heart pounds in anticipation. What will Kat say after all this time?
Chapter 2
Will
“Will?Oh my word, you're so tall!” Mrs. Featherstone stands in the doorway, pint sized, frizzy graying hair sprouting in all directions, yet dwarfed by my shadow.
I shuffle uncomfortably. “Hi, Mrs. Featherstone. How are you?”
“I’m well, but where are my manners? Come in, come in. Stan, come quickly, you won't believe who's come to visit!”
I wave the flower bouquet. “Is Kat around, Mrs. Featherstone? As much as I'd love to chat, I've come to see her.”
She stops mid-sentence, her mouth forming a perfecto. “She's not back yet. She went to visit a friend in Auckland for a couple of days. She's landing in an hour.”
I exhale. A delay in my plans. I’m disappointed I can’t see Kat straight away. A new and exciting idea forms in my mind. “I can pick her up then.”
Stan appears at the door. “Will, so good to see you again down these parts. Congrats, champ, you're making New Zealand proud.” He pats me on the shoulder.
“Stan, he wants to see Kat.” Mrs Featherstone whispers to her husband.
“Sure, you go pick her up. I will message her to let her know someone else will fetch her. A surprise! I'm sure she'll love it!”
“Thank you. I'll see you later!” I wave with the bouquet.
I make the journey back to the B&B in long strides, nearly running. I need to pick up my car, drive to the airport. I need to see Kat again. It’s like peeking through a curtain into the past, a rush running through my veins.
Kat
Dad'scryptic message opens up Pandora's box.Whoexactly is picking me up from the airport?
Sweetheart, someone else will pick you up from the airport. Exciting!!! Dad
Not one, not two, butthreeexclamation marks! Dad doesn’t use any in his always monotonous messages, so this must be quite an event. Maybe that Doha prince Gem was hinting at has materialised. Or the Pope. Or Taylor Swift.
I slip my phone back into my bag and scan the car park for any familiar faces. To the right hand side I think I spot… no, couldn't be. I take a better look. It is! He's leaning against an expensive looking car, his red hair barely contained by the branded cap. He towers over everyone yet takes up so little space. He hasn't seen me yet, so I shout “WILL!” and sprint towards him with my bag bouncing by my side.
He turns his head towards me, a spark of recognition lighting his eyes. He springs into action and strides towards me, long limbs making short work of the distance.
“Hey, champ, I'm so proud of you.” I wrap my arms around him. He doesn't reciprocate but picks up my bag like it was a feather pillow. “I'm so glad to see you. It's been what, four years?”
His face is tense. “Get in the car. We're being watched.”
My face falls, and I do as he says. He climbs into the driver's seat and drives off. Once we're past the airport, he mutters, “I'm sorry.”
“What happened there?”
“People taking photos and filming with their phones.”
“I'm sorry you have to go through this.” I put a hand on his arm, and he shivers.
“You must be cold. Forgotten the fresh air of Queenstown? Were you in Abu Dhabi last?”
He glances towards me. “Bahrain. Yep, staying here ‘till after New Years. Now tell me about you. I haven't seen you in ages.”
