The Favorites: A Novel(92)

Heath hadn’t run away from me. Sheila had driven him away. He’d gone to her for guidance that night, and instead she poured poison in his ear. And of course he had listened—how many times had I implored him to trust Sheila, she knows what she’s doing.

She certainly did. It disturbed me how easily I could parse Sheila’s logic: get rid of Heath, pair Bella with Zack Branwell and Garrett with me, and overnight she’d neutralized her children’s biggest competitors and secured her control over the top two teams in the country.

“You were our coach,” I said. “You were supposed to help us, to—”

Sheila slammed the bottle down on the table. “I let you live in my house, skate with my son, ingratiate yourself to my daughter. I gave you all the things I had to scrape and claw and earn for myself, and you threw them back in my face. For love.”

She said it like a curse.

“What the hell do you know about love?” I shot back.

“Everything I’ve ever done has been out of love. For my children, for—”

“Your children are convinced their father must have been a gold medalist, because otherwise you would have aborted them.”

Sheila got up and walked toward the window, tugging her satin sash tighter.

“He was,” she said. “Downhill skiing champion in both Lake Placid and Sarajevo.”

“So why not tell them that? Don’t you think they deserve to know?”

“We spent one night together, and I never saw him again. I don’t even remember his name. Though I suppose I could look it up.”

She couldn’t remember the name of the man who’d fathered her children, but she knew exactly how many Olympic golds he’d won.

To Sheila, he’d merely been a means to an end. That’s what the twins were to her, too—a means to extend her legacy, to keep winning when she could no longer compete herself. And look what it had done to them: Garrett, burying his true self to protect the family brand. Bella, willing to betray anyone to gain the upper hand, no matter the damage she left in her wake.

Heath’s words echoed in my mind. All you care about is winning.

He was right: that’s who I was. But it wasn’t who I’d always been.

It was who I’d become, after a lifetime spent striving to be just like Sheila Lin. Like her, I’d discarded my past, my home, my family. I’d convinced myself if I became the best, it didn’t matter who I hurt, because in the end, it would be worth it. Even if I hurt myself most of all.

For all the years I’d spent obsessing about Sheila—first watching her on television, then skating for her, pushing myself to extremes for crumbs of praise—I’d never truly seen her. Not until that night, drinking in the dark in a Vancouver hotel room.

And all I saw was misery.

You can always be better, she’d said to me when we first met. But what was the point if you had everything and enjoyed nothing? Sheila’s whole life had been spent grasping for more—more medals, more money, more power—and it would never be enough.

Nothing’s ever enough for you, Heath had said. He was wrong about that.

I’d finally had enough, of the striving and the pain and the heartbreak. I didn’t want to be Sheila Lin anymore. I didn’t want to be Katarina Shaw either.

I wanted to disappear.





Part V


   The Last Time





Garrett Lin: After the Olympics, there were all sorts of rumors.

Inez Acton: People said Kat suffered a nervous breakdown and had to be institutionalized. Because any woman who dares to show anger in public must be “crazy.”

Francesca Gaskell: She joined a cult, or she changed her name and started shooting adult films, or she married some rich stockbroker and moved to Connecticut.

Ellis Dean: Yeah, I heard that one about the finance bro. If you ask me, the porn star rumor was way more plausible.

Garrett Lin: As far as I know…she just went home.

Blurry photographs show Katarina Shaw picking up a grocery delivery at the entrance to her family home in The Heights, Illinois. She’s dressed down in a flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and muddy work boots. She glares in the photographer’s direction like she’s daring them to trespass on her property, then turns and disappears down the tree-lined driveway.

Nicole Bradford: When I heard she was back in the area, I sent her a note, telling her she was welcome to skate at North Shore whenever she wanted. She never responded.

Garrett Lin: I think she needed peace and quiet and time to process everything that happened. I could certainly understand.

Sustained shot of a rolling green lawn on a sunny day. The only movement is the breeze stirring the blades of grass—until a taxi pulls up, and the backseat door pops open.

Producer (Offscreen): So when was the next time you saw Katarina after Vancouver?

Ellis Dean: The same time the rest of the world did.

Katarina emerges from the car wearing a black dress. Her hair is long again, in a low ponytail.

Francesca Gaskell: Three years later—January 2013.

Flashbulbs go off, reflecting in the lenses of her sunglasses. She walks past, ignoring them.

Garrett Lin: When she showed up at my mother’s funeral.





Chapter 65