Today you train.
Mindy knows she has to stay focused. Extreme, myopic focus is the only way she will overcome this setback. She is going to get back into shape, back in her boots, and conquer the shit out of the mountain.
Juliet holds the door for her. She too moves a little slower than before. The two of them are a pair. The sun greets her as she gets in the shiny black Jeep. Her dads gave it to her as a you beat the cancer gift, though she’s not allowed to drive it yet. As they head down the mountain, Mindy watches her aunt from under her lashes. Finally, she screws up her courage.
“Aunt J? How’s your therapy going? Are you getting better?”
Juliet’s grip on the wheel tightens. “It’s going,” she says quietly. When Mindy doesn’t reply, Juliet continues. “Honestly, the physical therapy isn’t a big deal. It’s the damn psychologist that sucks. I don’t like trying to resurrect the past.”
“I don’t, either. I hate having to talk to the woman at the hospital. She’s all over the fact that I didn’t make the Olympics this year.” She adopts a deep voice with a slight Germanic accent. “And how does that make you feel, Mindy?”
Juliet laughs at her imitation. “It’s weird trying to dissect your life for a stranger. You know you can always talk to me, Mindy. Anything you ever want to know, you can ask. I know how hard this has been on you. You’re being a total stud.”
Mindy smiles. “Yeah. I’m a total stud. Speaking of studs...when do you leave for Nashville?”
Juliet glances over at her niece, fluffs her hair. “Tomorrow.”
“Excited?”
A grin blossoms on her aunt’s face. “Maybe.”
“I think you two are really cute together. Are you going to get married?”
Juliet laughs. “It’s a little soon for marriage, kiddo. He’s a nice guy, and I like him an awful lot.”
“He likes you, too. Why else would he be moving to Colorado?”
“Uh, I don’t know, maybe because his kid lives here?”
“I don’t think that’s the only reason,” Mindy says, grinning now. “Seriously, I’m glad you found each other. Glad there’s something positive out of all this mess.”
“You’re better, kiddo. That’s the only positive we all need.” But Juliet is grinning too, a soft blush on her cheeks.
The drive is only ten minutes. Juliet parks. “I’ll be back for you at noon. Don’t get too crazy.”
Mindy nods. She is feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
The smell of the gym is so familiar, so much a part of her, she stops and breathes it in, eyes closed. When she opens them, she realizes everyone inside has stopped what they’re doing and are watching her.
She gives them a little bow, and the whole place breaks into applause.
Her smile lights up the room. The sunny girl is home.
EPILOGUE
DENVER WOMEN’S
CORRECTIONAL FACILITY
FOUR YEARS LATER
Lauren has barely slept and wakes in the middle of the night to the sound of her door being unlocked. The excitement of this occasion turns her stomach to jelly.
She is already dressed; she didn’t want to waste any time when they came for her.
She has been granted a television pass because of her good behavior. Because of all the work she’s done to help other prisoners. She’s started an art program and has found some peace in the daily routines. She is a popular prisoner, among the inmates and the guards. After the first few months, through the hearings and the sentencing, she was kept in solitary, and she enjoyed the silence. But today, she wants to shake off the last twenty-one years. She’s been hiding inside the memories for so long she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to live out loud, to be present. To have something to live for.
They walk her to the television room. No one else is there—it’s the middle of the night in Denver, but morning halfway across the world in Beijing. The downhill race starts in fifteen minutes.
She is allowed a glass of water and has the television privileges for an hour.
One race.
One time.
Winner takes all.
The papers have had a field day with Mindy’s triumphant return to Team USA. The story of her birth, her cancer, the risky transplant, her mothers and fathers, has been fodder for weeks leading up to the 2022 Olympic games. A young reporter named Bode Greer even won a Pulitzer a few years ago for his coverage of the story. Granted, he was the only reporter who seemed to get the full, inside scoop, but he wrote with great passion and style, and the world loved it.
The trumpets blare, and the coverage starts. Lauren watches and listens intently, leaning forward in her chair. This is the moment she’s waited for. That they’ve all been waiting for.
The announcers go immediately to the story everyone is excited to hear. The package runs—tiny Mindy on short skis, hands in the air, whipping past the camera; the crash; Lauren in a prison jumpsuit; the photo of square-jawed Zack Armstrong; a grainy photo of Vivian; Vail Health Hospital. Quotes on Mindy’s perseverance and courage from Dr. Oliver, from the coaches, from her teammates. No one has ever seen such determination. No one has ever seen someone who loves to ski more. Her incredible successes over the past couple of years on the World Cup circuit. It is all there. The whole story unfolded in a three-minute clip.
The third racer flies down the hill to the clanging cowbells. Her split is excellent; the course is fast. Mindy has pulled the fifth slot. Which is great. The field of thirty, the deteriorating conditions; she’s caught a huge break drawing an early lot.
Lauren is breathless by the time Mindy is called to the gate. Lauren imagines she can feel the icy snow under her own skis, can feel the hard plastic grips of the poles.
The buzzer rings three times, and Mindy is off with a thwack!
It is a good start. She poles into her tuck almost immediately, sailing over the first jump without losing her balance. Lauren is amazed at the strength in Mindy’s thighs as she makes minute adjustments to her legs and knees, allowing her to take the cleanest line.
There is no windmilling, no showboating. She is silver, she is gold. She is fast. So fast.
The microseconds tick off, and she’s suddenly done, spraying a huge rooster tail of snow into the hay at the bottom.
Lauren stares in disbelief at the screen, at the bright green banner next to her daughter’s time.
She is nearly three seconds faster than the previous skiers. It will take a miracle for someone to beat her.
The world holds its collective breath as skier after skier follows. No one even comes close.
Mindy Wright has won the gold.
The camera pans to the family. Jasper is screaming, howling to the sky with joy. Zack is jumping up and down, an arm around Juliet, who is flinging her hands up over her head in glee. Mindy, skis in hand, gives the crowd the tiniest curtsey, and then they are on her, mobbing her, the teammates and the family.
Mindy is screaming now, too. The cameras have gone up close to her teary face. She smacks her chest three times and looks to the sky, pointing two fingers in the air. And then, Mindy looks directly into the camera and mouths the words, “Thank you.”
Lauren bursts into tears. A hand to her heart, she says to the television, in the empty room, “I am so proud of you, baby, I am so proud.”
The salty lines flowing unchecked down her face, Lauren too looks heavenward.
“Oh, Vivian. She’s done it. I think we did okay, considering.”
And the television flickers off.
*
AUTHOR’S NOTE