"Adam stepped onto his bike. He smiled and nodded to her, "D'accord. Feeling better?"Lynn had to chuckle and shake her head. Somehow, Adam had suddenl... become a student of understatement. She squinted at him. "Yeah. How do you Frenchmen say it? A petite peu? Just a little bit better."Adam shrugged. "Maybe I should work a little harder then, oui? Next time?" Lynn paused. "Next time," she thought. She walked slowly up to him as he stood on his bike. She looked long and hard into his deep blue. I didn't feel like I was bailing out on the pitches, or flinching. But something was different, and, whatever it was, Sandy seemed to be the only antidote. When she was nearby, when I could think about her, back there behind me in the stands, the fear -- if that's what it was -- didn't take hold of me.Superstition? Was that all it was? Maybe. But I had never been superstitious. I'd never cared about mystical stuff; it had always seemed like bullshit to me. I certainly didn't worry about black. More

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