Chapter 1
Six years later…
Payson Keeler shot out of bed. A high-pitched screaming was coming from the next room in her apartment.
"Mommy! Mommy!"
She opened her daughter's door. Little Ally Keeler was bawling in her bed. Tears were streaming down her tiny face.
"Shhhh sweetie. I'm here." She said, sitting down and giving Ally a hug. She rubbed her daughter's back for a few minutes. The sobbing started to subside.
"Another bad dream?" she asked.
Ally nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Ally shook her head.
Payson smiled and wiped the tears from her daughter's cheek. "Want to sleep in my bed tonight?"
Ally nodded and leapt from her covers. Fully recovered from the horrors of her nightmare at the prospect of a fun sleepover, she raced into her mother's room and started jumping on the bed with a gigantic grin. Payson laughed and joined her, grabbing her around the waist and tickling her until she stopped bouncing around.
"You have too much energy!" she said as Ally tried to escape her grip. "What am I going to do with you, uh?'
Ally's laugh was probably her favorite sound in the world. Payson didn't remember laughing half as much when she her age. Ally was a little ball of energy, always climbing up walls and starting games of tag. Besides her regular nightmares, she rarely cried. Payson decided a long time ago that if she had anything to do with it, this little girl's life would be as happy as possible. It was the least she could do for her. It wasn't easy to grow up without a father, after all.
"Are you tired yet?" Payson asked.
Ally sighed happily and sunk into her mother's arms, curling up like a cat. Payson took that as a 'yes.' She carefully tucked Ally in and turned off the lamp.
Both mother and daughter were asleep a few minutes later.
The next day when Payson returned home with Ally in tow, the phone was ringing off the hook. With three grocery bags balanced in her hands and a little girl at her heels, she somehow managed to open the door. Ally shot past her and into her room to play. Payson set down the groceries as fast and she could and picked up the phone.
"Hello?" she answered.
"Payson Keeler?"
"This is she." She said, balancing the phone between her chin and shoulder. She started sorting food from the bags.
"My name is Vince Petersen." the man explained. "I'm from the National Gymnastics Committee."
Payson set down the can of soup she was holding and paused. "Excuse me?"
"I'm from the National Gymnastics Committee." He repeated.
Payson racked her brain, trying to find any reason that these people would be calling her after years of the cold shoulder. She had made many enemies after news broke of her pregnancy, though she and her parents had done their best to keep the matter private. The Committee, despite the glory she had brought them from the Olympics, couldn't distance themselves faster from "her mistake." Reporters still called her about it from time to time too. She always got the same predictable and offensive questions from them, including ones about Ally's father. By some miracle of secrecy and personal commitment, no one from the media had managed to get that out of Payson Keeler yet.
"Go on…" she said skeptically.
"Ms. Keeler we have a proposition for you." He started. "How would you like to be the assistant coach for the National Team we're assembling at the Rock?"
Payson Keeler started laughing. Ally peaked her head out of her room curiously.
"Mommy, what's so funny?" she asked innocently from down the hall. Payson tried to calm her inappropriate reaction. She waved her daughter back into her room and cleared her throat.
"Sorry." She said. "Is this a joke?"
"No." Mr. Petersen assured her. "I'm quite serious."
Payson raised her eyebrows. This was perhaps the last conversation she ever expected to have. "W- Why?"
"You are well qualified and a former Olympic gold medalist." He said simply. "Do I need another reason?"
"No, but…the last time I checked the National Committee didn't want to associate themselves with me."
"Things change, Ms. Keeler." He said. "The public's interest in gymnastics has gone down. What the committee needs is some change in the –"
"You need my name to cause a PR splash don't you?" she realized, half amused at the prospect.
"Ms. Keeler, I'm offering you a highly coveted position at a very young age. I know you've done one-on-one coaching a few times over these past years, but you've never held a permanent position at any gym."
"I'm a real estate agent now." She said, trying to sound satisfied with her unsuccessful, mundane career. Long ago Payson had let go of ambition and learned to fill her life with day-to-day concerns – mostly about money and her daughter's well being.
Mr. Petersen didn't seem to believe her contentment. "I'm offering you an opportunity to reenter the gymnastics world, Ms. Keeler. Let's put the past behind us, shall we? Will you accept our offer?"
Payson sighed. For a split second she thought about hanging up the phone and letting it all go for good. She'd dreamed about moments like this before, but she didn't know what to do now that it had come. In her silence she heard Ally playing in her room. She thought about her daughter and their future. Payson's eyes surveyed their apartment - they traveled from the chipped paint on the walls to Ally's faded second hand backpack on the stained floor.
"How much does it pay?"
A few weeks later Payson Keeler was driving though Boulder again, breathing in the fresh mountain air. She couldn't believe it.
She pulled up to the Rock in her old clunker of a car. Ally was seated in the back playing with her stuffed animals. The building was pristine, just as she remembered. She saw the reserved spots in front of the gym – familiar but now bearing new names on them.
"What is this place, Mommy?" Ally asked, pressing her nose against the glass.
"This is mommy's new work." She explained, parking the car in the back of the lot. She got out and unbuckled Ally. Her daughter got out and stretched, surveying her new surroundings.
"Is this where you are going to sell houses?" she asked, looking up with her big blue eyes.
Payson sighed and took her hand. "Not exactly…"
The two Keeler girls walked in to the Rock – Ally perhaps more confidently than her mother. As soon as they entered Payson was hit with the familiar gym sounds – feet hitting mat, young teenagers gossiping, and bodies tumbling across hard wooden beams. Payson didn't notice, but Ally's eyes widened like coins.
"Ms. Keeler?"
Payson turned around and saw a short, bald man that she could only assume was Vince Petersen. She noticed that several of the gymnasts turned to stare after he said her name.
"Yes," she extended her arm to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Have you settled in?"
"Not actually." She admitted. "We just arrived, but we should be moved in soon. I promised my mother we would stay with her while we looked for a permanent place."
Ally started to tug on her mother's hand. She was like a dog trying to escape its leash. Payson looked down and saw her eyeing the jump ropes excitedly.
"Is it OK if she entertains herself?" Payson asked Mr. Petersen, motioning toward her daughter.
Mr. Petersen nodded. "Sure. Why not?"
"Ok," Payson said. "Ally you can jump rope, but you're not allowed to touch anything else – got it?"
"Promise." Her daughter said solemnly before shooting off toward her destination.
Payson chuckled. "Sorry about her…I wanted to meet you by three, but I didn't have time to drop her off at my parents' place…"
Mr. Petersen raised his hand. "No really, it's not a problem at all. We're just happy you're here."
"Great." She said. "Has the committee chosen an official head coach for the women's team yet?"
"Uh…" Mr. Petersen chuckled nervously. "We have, actually…"
Payson eyed him suspiciously. "When do I get to meet this coach?"
"Right now."
Payson Keeler froze. The answer to her question had not come from Vince Petersen. Instead it had come from behind her. The male voice was all too familiar – cocky, smooth, and British.
She didn't turn around. As far as Payson was concerned, the longer she didn't turn around, the longer her brain could formulate comforting, but unlikely alternatives to the reality she was experiencing. Perhaps there was a new coach that sounded just like him. Perhaps she had a mental illness that caused her to hear voices that didn't exist. Either of these would have been preferable to the man she knew was behind her.
"Payson? Aren't you going to turn around say hello?" he asked.
Glaring at the guilty looking Petersen, Payson slowly pivoted. There he was, Sasha Belov - the abandoning, lying poor-excuse-for-a-man that she hadn't seen in about six years. He looked exactly the same as she remembered. He must've been in his mid thirties at this point. Sasha wore the same smug smile from years ago – like he was once again trying to dare her to throw more challenging tricks on beam. The twinkle in his eye and light stubble on his chin were unchanged. She sucked in her breath.
"You've got to be kidding me…"
Sasha smiled, apparently flattered by her emotionally charged reaction.
"It's been a while Payson." He said, nodding civilly.
While Sasha had remained the same over the course of six years, Payson Keeler had definitely changed and he could tell. This was not the girl he remembered. Now at twenty-four her hair was shorter – only coming up to her shoulders now. After the Olympics and her pregnancy, her hormones had kicked in making her taller and curvy. The normalcy of her was almost unusual to Sasha. The everyday clothes – jeans and baggy cardigan – made her a foreign image to him. She was definitely Payson, though. Her serious, stony expression and crossed arms gave him that cue at least.
"What are you staring at?" she asked sharply.
Sasha snapped back to attention. "Nothing. Shall we get to work, Coach Keeler?"
"No."
Her voice rang out stubbornly. A few of the Rock gymnasts turned their heads and the sound. Sasha looked back and glared at them with a familiar authority
"Can I speak to you privately, Mr. Petersen?" she asked the committee member through gritted teeth.
Mr. Petersen looked terrified at this conflict. The committee had planned this for some time now, counting on the fact that these two could reconcile and work together. They were qualified and attracted public interest, which was the most important thing at present. The last thing he wanted was to go shopping for another assistant coach just days before the first National Team practice. He led Payson off to the side and spoke with her in hushed tones. He was willing to give her the moon if she asked for it.
Sasha Belov watched them whisper off to the side and crossed his arms. This was exactly the warmth he had expected from Payson Keeler after all these years. Frankly, he didn't blame her.
He gazed around the gym while he waited for them to finish discussing her qualms. Out of the corner of his eye he caught something strange. A little girl was scaling a stack of chairs.
Out of desire to avoid any injuries in his gym, Sasha bolted forward and placed her back on the ground.
"Hey!" she cried, kicking him in the shin.
"Ouch!" Sasha looked incredulously at the little girl below him. She had big blue eyes and her straight brown hair was braided in pigtails. Her nose, now crinkled in frustration, was dusted lightly with freckles. She was wearing shorts and a tee shirt so she clearly wasn't there to train. She couldn't be more than four or five. "What were you doing?"
She pointed up above the chairs. Tacked high on the walls was framed photograph. In it, three girls were wearing medals around their necks. The inscription said "Olympics 2012 – Emily Kmetko, Payson Keeler, and Kaylie Cruz."
"Were you trying to see that?" he asked.
She nodded.
Sasha sighed and picked her up again, this time lifting her so she was at eye level with the picture. Her eyes widened. "Those are Olympic athletes." He explained to her kindly. "They trained here."
"They did that stuff?" the girl asked, motioning to the tumbling girls around the gym.
"That and more." Sasha said, putting her down.
The girl giggled. "That's just silly!"
Sasha put his hands on his hips. "What makes you say that?" He asked, feeling oddly defensive.
"Because my mom can't do stuff like that."
"Your….mom?"
"Ally!" Payson Keeler called across the gym, walking back toward Sasha and her wandering daughter. Mr. Petersen was close on her heels. "I thought you were by the jump ropes, sweetie."
Sasha's mouth gapped open stupidly. He looked at the little girl again and then at Payson's old picture. Then, he looked up at his former gymnast. Payson was now holding her young daughter. They didn't look remarkably alike, but they did have the same eyes. Sasha knew Payson had a child, of course. Everyone did. Still, seeing her with a little girl in her arms, acting like a full-fledged adult was an image Sasha wasn't entirely prepared to process.
He should've known. He should've known the second the girl kicked him in the shin with defiance…
"Mommy," Ally said, pointing to the picture. "Is that you? That man said you were a gymnast."
Yes, Ally. I used to train here."
"Are you going to train here again?" she asked hopefully.
Payson chuckled. "No, honey. I'm going to coach other girls now."
"You are?" Sasha interrupted. Looking at Mr. Petersen now. The man nodded. Obviously he had calmed Payson down enough to convince her to stay. "I'm glad."
Payson smirked. "Don't be glad yet, Belov."
She said goodbye to Mr. Petersen and carried Ally outside to the car without another word to her new co-worker. Sasha shoved his hands in his pockets with satisfaction.
This would be the beginning of a very interesting professional relationship.