Olympic Goals Page 2

  “And so I told Pop I would be sure I got on camera to wave at him and Mama,” she heard Preston say.

  “I’m sorry, dear. Could you repeat that?”

  He gave her his most patient smile and squeezed her hand. “Daydreaming again? I hope I was in it.”

  She felt heat rise in her cheeks. “Always,” she stammered.

  “Well, as I was saying, Tom’s dad talked to the boys at CBS and promised me at least one close-up so I could say hello to the family back home.”

  “How exciting! I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to see you on television all the way from Rome.”

  “You’ll be there, too, you know. How’s about I get you a close-up, too? Wouldn’t your folks love that?”

  “Sure,” she said with what she hoped would be some measure of enthusiasm.

  The thought of enduring the Olympic Trials in order to make a spot on the team that would go to Rome made her knees weak. The Lord knew her reluctance to compete; He alone got her through each meet. Why had He allowed her charade of pretending to be a serious athlete to go

  so far?

  Preston stopped short and pulled her toward him. “Okay, Bonnie, what’s the problem?”

  “Problem?” She broadened what she knew was a weak smile and averted her gaze. If she looked at him directly right now, she would cry, for sure. “I suppose I’m just a little nervous.”

  “If you weren’t, I’d worry about you,” he said as he gathered her into his arms. “It’s going to be you and me competing together in Rome, just a couple of Olympians in love. If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.”

  She giggled despite herself as she reached for the disgusting towel and tossed it aside to kiss him square on the lips. “Preston Grant, you have absolutely no idea what romantic is, but I love you anyway.”

  ~

  Oh, how he loved her! Bonnie Lou Taggart was his blue-eyed beauty, with the long, lean frame of an athlete and the heart of a woman with whom he could happily spend the rest of his life. She loved the Lord first and him second, and both his mother and father adored her. Even his brother Henri grudgingly admitted he’d done well for himself in landing such a catch.

  And best of all, she could run like the wind.

  Watching Bonnie head around the track brought tears to his eyes. Moving with the speed of a gazelle, she made running seem effortless. Often, she emerged from a race barely out of breath. Sometimes he wondered if she might be holding back, perhaps not giving her all, especially in their morning races from her dorm to the track.

  On any given day, she could beat him in a footrace, and he knew it. It was only the kindness of her heart that slowed her pace to just a step behind his every time.

  One more reason why he loved her so.

  He watched while she disappeared behind the double doors of her dorm, then, as was their custom, he waited until she appeared at her second-story window. When the glass pane rose and her radiant face appeared, he waved.

  “See you tonight,” she called.

  “Tonight it is, sunshine,” he answered before turning to head back to the gym for another hour of training before class.

  Unlike Bonnie, running did not come naturally to him. But nothing would keep Preston from running in the Olym-pics. Nothing.

  He shrugged off the weight of that statement with a roll of his shoulders and took a shortcut through the university library. For various reasons, neither his father nor his grandfather had participated in the Olympic Games, yet the event had taken on an almost mythical status in the Grant household. When Pop heard CBS would be broadcasting the Olympiad to the United States for the first time ever, he actually went out and bought a television set. Big plans were in the works for the whole family—possibly, the whole town—to watch him compete.

  Again Preston felt the sting of inadequacy. What if he didn’t make the team? What if he didn’t go to Rome?

  “No. God wouldn’t let that happen. He promised I would go,” he said loudly, startling a nearby coed from her studies. “Sorry,” he whispered, but the girl answered with a glare.

  God wouldn’t let him fail, would He? All his prayers had led to one conclusion. He was meant to go to Rome, to compete in the Olympiad. Throughout the rest of the morning, during a practice in which he knocked over more hurdles than he cleared, and into his afternoon break back at the dorm, he contemplated the promise God had given him. The more he thought, the less sure he became over what God had pledged.

  When his roommate, Tom McCoffey, strolled in, Preston told him of his dilemma.

  “Are you sure you’re supposed to compete? I mean, did God tell you that specifically?”

  Preston leaned up on one elbow and eyed his roommate from the upper bunk. “He said I would go to Rome for the Olympics. That’s all I know.”

  Tom settled into the squeaky desk chair and steepled his fingers. “So you know you’re supposed to go, but you’re not sure if you’re supposed to compete.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe you’re supposed to take my dad up on his offer to work for the network.” He wadded up a piece of notebook paper and tossed it toward the bunk bed. It landed square on Preston’s chest, then rolled onto the mattress. “Hanging out with Dad and the CBS guys is good enough for me, and hey, it’ll look pretty good on my résumé that I helped with the first ever U.S. Olympic broadcast. You could do the same, you know.”

  “I guess.”

  “You have to act fast, though,” Tom said. “Slots on the crew are going fast.”

  “Thanks, but I’m going to have to pass.” Preston fell back against the sheets and cradled his head in his hands. “I had a lousy day on the track, and now my ankle’s killing me. My timing’s off, and if I don’t get some more practice in, I’ll never get to where I want to be. I’ve made a promise to God to be the best. With the trials coming up quick, I have to wonder if He wants me running hurdles or not.”

  “Have you ever considered that maybe God’s just trying to tell you to depend on Him and not on yourself? That maybe it will be the Lord who gets you to Rome instead of any effort on your part to ‘be the best’?”

  Preston reached for the wad of notebook paper and lobbed it toward Tom, who caught it and tossed it into the wastebasket beneath his desk.

  “Point taken, Tom,” he said. “But what about the call on our lives to do our best? Doesn’t He expect us to do our utmost for His highest?”

  “Not when our best is good enough for Him but not good enough for us.” Tom rose. “You’re your own worst critic, Preston, and that’s my final say on the matter. Now, are you coming with me to the cafeteria? It’s mystery meat night.”

  “As great as that sounds, I can’t. I’m meeting Bonnie in an hour.”

  “Hot date?” Tom grinned.

  “Strategy session, actually.” Preston sat up and ducked his head to keep it from hitting the ceiling as he swung a leg over and climbed down from the top bunk. “Bonnie’s been a little slow coming out of the blocks lately, and I’m convinced we can shave a few seconds off her time if I can get her to work on that.”

  Tom shook his head and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, I’m completely serious. Why?”

  “All I can say is that if I had a sweet little number like Bonnie Taggart in love with me, I surely wouldn’t be wasting evenings trying to ‘shave a few seconds off her time.’ ” He clapped a hand on Preston’s shoulder. “A girl like her needs affection, Preston. Flowers, candy, a nice evening out that does not involve the university track. Practice a little romance, my friend, or someday you’ll lose her to someone who will.”

  Lose Bonnie? Never.

  She’d been his from the moment he’d first told her hello almost a year ago. He’d known it and so had she. God had showed him in a thousand ways that He had put His blessing on the relationship, as well, so how could the silly things Tom mentioned really matter? Sure, he knew most other girls liked that sort of sentimenta
l stuff, but Bonnie wasn’t like most other girls. She was different, special.

  And she was his, flowers and candy or not. Still, she was a woman, and women did have a natural affinity for the silliness of romance and sentiment. If she could run faster for him, maybe he could be romantic for her—just this once.

  A plan began to dawn, and he smiled. He loved her, and after the Olympic Games, she would know just how much.

  “So, Tom, you think this romantic stuff is really necessary?”

  “Yeah, if you love her, I do.” He gave Preston a quizzical look. “Why?”

  “Because I’ve got an idea, but I’m going to need some help. The jewelry store where you work—how late is it open?”

  Tom glanced down at his watch, then back at Preston. “Until six. Why?”

  “You know how you owe me a favor for vouching for you with that cute little redhead in our psych class? Well, I need to collect on that favor, and I’m going to need your friend the jeweler to help me—and quick.”

  Chapter 3

  Bonnie had just finished tying the laces of her sneakers when Preston’s familiar voice called her name. “Be right there, sweetheart,” she said as she raced to the window. “I just need to grab my—Preston?”

  What she saw took her breath away. The love of her life stood beneath her window in the dark blue suit and striped tie she hadn’t seen him wear since her grandmother’s funeral.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of changing our plans for the evening.” He held up his watch. “Training’s postponed until tomorrow night. Tonight we’ve got reservations at seven.”

  “Reservations?”

  He nodded and gestured in her direction. “And as lovely as you look in that outfit, I doubt it would be appropriate for the Garden Room.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath. “We’re going to the Garden Room?”

  A meal at the finest—and most romantic—restaurant in town would set Preston back a week’s wages. She’d always hoped to dine there with Preston, but she’d imagined it would be to celebrate their engagement.

  Her heart jumped. Could this be the evening she’d been waiting for, the night that Preston would ask her to be his wife?

  “Give me five minutes,” she called.

  Five minutes stretched to ten as Bonnie donned and discarded several dresses before she found just the right one—the pink organza frock she’d worn the first time she met Preston. Sliding her feet into matching pink high heels, she ran a brush through her hair and curled it into a French twist, then snapped a pair of pearl earrings onto her ears. Finally, she dabbed a bit of her favorite lavender cologne on each wrist and behind each ear.

  A moment later, she flew down the stairs and emerged into the twilight to find Preston waiting patiently. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but—”

  Preston stopped her apology with a kiss. “You look beautiful,” he whispered against her ear as he linked arms with her and set off in the direction of the Garden Room. “Definitely worth the wait.”

  The evening’s stars began to emerge as the pair strolled across the commons toward Main Street. They talked of silly, inconsequential things having to do with school and work, yet the conversation drew Bonnie in and held her. Spending time with Preston would never be anything but special, no matter how mundane the topics of conversation.

  The Garden Room shone especially bright that night as Bonnie and Preston dined by candlelight with a beautiful centerpiece of white roses decorating the crisp white table linens. The Marv Davis Trio provided a lovely background of classical tunes as the menus were produced—hers, thankfully, without prices. When she couldn’t place a thought, much less an order, Preston took over.

  What seemed like mere moments later, the food arrived, presented grandly beneath silver servers. Preston raved over the taste of an overlarge steak, while Bonnie’s excitement made her unable to enjoy the most delicious grilled flounder she’d ever been served. When Preston ordered two slices of the Garden Room’s signature coconut pound cake, he ended up having to eat both servings.

  Finally, the meal ended and the waiter brought the check. Bonnie waited in breathless anticipation as Preston reached for her hand. Her pulse raced, and her mouth went dry. How she would respond to the question he was about to pop, she had no idea.

  When Preston cleared his throat, Bonnie reached for her water glass. A gulp of cold water later, she turned her attention back to Preston and waited for him to ask so she could say yes.

  His fingers curled around her hand as his gaze locked with hers. The moment she’d dreamed of for ages was finally here.

  A winter wedding would be nice. Something at Christ-mas or possibly New Year’s Eve. Yes, New Year’s would be just the thing. She would invite all their dear friends and family. Red poinsettias would decorate the church, and the bridesmaids would wear—

  “Shall we, Bonnie?”

  Bonnie mentally cleared away the wedding plans and focused her attention on Preston. “Shall we what?”

  Preston offered his most endearing smile. “Go.” He rose and offered her his hand, then looked perplexed and sank back onto his chair. “Unless you’d rather stay a bit longer.”

  “Oh, no, um. . .” She fumbled with her napkin and ended up dropping it atop the roses. So Preston’s plan was to propose after dinner. Bonnie forced a smile and stood. Of course. Why propose in a crowded restaurant when one could find a nice private place to declare one’s eternal love? How wonderfully romantic.

  Bonnie followed Preston out of the Garden Room with a genuine smile. Thank You, Lord, for such an extraordinary man. Help me to be the wife he needs.

  She breathed a deep sigh of contentment and leaned into Preston as they strolled toward Main Street. Straight ahead, the darkened windows of Setzer’s glinted with the light of the streetlamp.

  “Happy?” Preston asked as he squeezed her hand.

  “Never happier.”

  “Me, too.” He stopped abruptly and gathered her into his arms. “Do you realize we’re standing in a special place, Miss Taggart?”

  Bonnie’s heart thudded against her chest. “Actually, I only have eyes for you, Mr. Grant, so I hadn’t noticed.”

  Preston touched the tip of her nose, then pressed a finger to her lips. “This is where we met.”

  She stole a quick kiss, then smiled. “Yes, it is, isn’t it?”

  He settled her onto the steps leading to the front door of the old pharmacy and knelt in front of her. Again Bonnie’s heart lurched.

  “Bonnie?” he said as he reached inside his jacket.

  “Yes?” Her head began to spin, and it took all her concentration just to keep her mind on what was happening. This would be the only proposal she would ever receive, and she fully intended to appreciate every moment of it.

  As if moving in slow motion, Preston opened his hand to reveal a small black velvet box.

  “Bonnie, you know I love you.”

  “Yes,” she breathed in a whisper.

  “And you know we’ve talked about how we both feel God is leading us to a relationship that will last forever.”

  All she could manage was a nod.

  “Well,” he said as he placed the box in her hand, “you were right when you said I’m not a romantic guy, but I try. A guy like me—I don’t have a lot to offer a girl like you, at least not yet.” He paused for what seemed like an eternity. “What I’m trying to ask is, would you wait for me until I can make something of myself?”

  What? That wasn’t quite what I expected him to ask.

  “Of course, I’ll wait, Preston,” she said slowly. “I just don’t understand what you mean about making something of yourself. To me you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met. What more could you do to improve on that?”

  His look of relief sent her reeling. So did his kiss. Finally, he pulled away.

  “Open it, sunshine,” he said, gesturing toward the box.

  Bonnie gave him another quick kiss, then slowly lifted the top
to reveal a slender pink ribbon coiled atop the black velvet. As she lifted the ribbon, a shiny penny caught her attention.

  “What’s this?” She met Preston’s gaze with a smile.

  “Remember the first time we met?”

  Heat flooded Bonnie’s cheeks. “How could I forget? I was terribly rude. I ran right over you.”

  “And in those pink high heels, no less.” Preston took the ribbon and placed it on her neck. “What you don’t know is if I hadn’t stopped to pick up this very penny, you and I might never have met. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but first I have to. . .”

  His words trailed off, and he looked away. At that moment, with the stars as a backdrop and Setzer’s Drug-store and Soda Shoppe as the stage, Preston Grant had never looked more appealing, and Bonnie had never been more in love.

  “Oh, Preston, I love you,” she said as she fell into his embrace. “And I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

  He held her at arm’s length and shook his head. “Not forever. I promise.”

  Chapter 4

  July 4, 1960

  The morning of her Olympic Trials dawned bright with neither the chance of rain nor any other natural occurrence that might bring the competition to a halt before Bonnie’s event took place. She stifled the urge to seek solace in the ladies’ room and strode out onto the track with a confidence she did not possess. Instead, she held tight to the ribbon around her neck and prayed.

  It might be Independence Day, but Bonnie felt anything but independent. In fact, she had never felt so dependent on the Lord in her life.

  The July heat had not yet claimed the day, so she inhaled a deep breath of fresh California air and gave thanks that her event would be among the first. The rest of her team had gathered near the starting blocks, so she headed their way. Martha Rogers, her roommate during the trials, shouted a greeting.

  “Coming,” she answered. “Give me a minute to stretch, okay?”