“Follow closely behind one of their team, because they’ll do the right thing automatically.”
“Where are you hoping to end up this early in the season?”
“I’d be satisfied with being a counter.”
“I don’t understand, doesn’t everybody count?”
“No, although there are eight runners on each team, only six count when the final score is calculated. If I come in twelfth or higher, I would be a counter.”
“So how is the counting done?”
“First across the line counts as one, second two, and so on. When the race is over, the first six in each team are added together, and the team with the lowest overall score is the winner. That way, seven and eight can only contribute if they stay ahead of any of the first six runners on the other team. Is that clear?”
“Yes, I think so,” said Tom, looking at his watch. “I’d better get back, because I promised Aunt Abigail I’d have lunch with her. Are you coming?”
“No, I’m joining the rest of the team for a banana, a lettuce leaf and a glass of water. Could you pick up Su Ling and make sure that she’s back in time to watch the race.”
“She won’t need to be reminded,” said Tom.
When Tom strolled to the house, he found his aunt and Su Ling deep in conversation over bowls of clam chowder. Tom sensed that his aunt had changed the subject the moment he’d entered the room. “You’d better grab something to eat,” she said, “if you’re hoping to be back in time to see the start.”
After a second bowl of clam chowder, Tom accompanied Su Ling across to the course. He explained to her that Nat had selected a spot about halfway around, where they could see all the runners for at least a mile and then if they took a shortcut, they would be back in time to watch the winner crossing the finishing line.
“Do you understand what a counter is?” Tom asked.
“Yes, Nat explained it to me—an ingenious system, which makes the abacus look positively modern. Would you like me to explain it to you?” she asked.
“Yes, I think I would,” said Tom.
By the time they reached the vantage point that Nat had selected, they didn’t have long to wait before the first runner came into view over the brow of the hill. They watched Boston’s captain shoot past them, and ten other runners had come and gone before Nat appeared. He gave a wave as he sped off down the hill.
“He’s the last counter,” said Su Ling as they set off to take the short cut back to the finishing line.
“My bet is that he’ll move up two or three places now he knows you’re here to watch him,” said Tom.
“How flattering,” said Su Ling.
“Will you be taking up the Harvard offer?” asked Tom quietly.
“Did Nat ask you to find out?” she inquired.
“No,” said Tom, “though he talks of little else.”
“I have said yes, but only on one condition.” Tom remained silent. Su Ling didn’t tell Tom what the condition was, so he didn’t ask.
They almost had to jog the last couple of hundred yards to make sure they were back in time to see the Boston captain raise his arms in triumph as he crossed the finishing line. Tom turned out to be right, because Nat ended up in ninth position, and fourth counter for his team. Both of them rushed over to congratulate him as if he were the winner. Nat lay on the ground exhausted, disappointed that he hadn’t done better when he learned that Boston had won by 31 to 24.
After supper with Aunt Abigail, they started out on the long drive back to Storrs. Nat rested his head in Su Ling’s lap and quickly fell asleep.
“I can’t imagine what my mother would say about our first night together,” she whispered to Tom as he drove on through the night.
“Why don’t you go the whole hog and tell her that it was a ménage à trois?”
“Mother thought you were wonderful,” said Su Ling as they walked slowly back toward south campus after tea the following afternoon.
“What a woman,” said Nat. “She can cook, run a home and is also a successful businesswoman.”
“And don’t forget,” said Su Ling, “that she was shunned in her own land for bearing a foreigner’s child and wasn’t even welcomed in this country when she first arrived, which is the reason I’ve been brought up so strictly. Like so many children of immigrants, I’m no cleverer than my mother, but by sacrificing everything to give me a first-class education, she has allowed me a better chance than she ever had. Perhaps you can now understand why I always try to respect her wishes.”