Heart of a Champion Page 2

  “Dad, hi!” Scott said in a low voice. He instinctively looked around the rink and saw no one out of the ordinary. Just the moms of all the little ones who were busy getting their skates adjusted, fingers covered in mittens and hair tucked into caps. “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m good,” Walter replied. “It’s so great to hear your voice, Scotty. So great. How’s your sister doing?”

  Scott gave a brief outline of his sister’s life. Work. Kids. Home. Everything was going along like clockwork. And although Walter was happy to hear there was no report of strangers skulking around their homes or odd, inquiring phone calls at all hours of the night, he couldn’t help feeling nervous.

  “I better wrap it up, Scotty. I just wanted to check in. Please tell your sister I love her and the girls and Ryan.”

  “Dad, why don’t you just give her a call sometime? She’d be so happy to hear it from you.”

  It wasn’t that Walter didn’t want to talk to his daughter. He desperately wanted to hear her voice, to talk to his granddaughters, and even hear what his son-in-law, Ryan, was doing. But they were a family. Scott was a young, healthy man. He could take care of himself. Joyce had more responsibilities, and there was no way Walter would take a chance with his only daughter’s life or family. As far as anyone in Walter’s new life knew, Walter was a widower, which was true, and had a son whom he couldn’t communicate with. It was a play on words, of course, but it caused everyone to leave all their questions at the door.

  “I just can’t take that chance, Scotty. You know that.”

  Scott nodded. He understood. As always, his eyes filled with tears as he said goodbye to his father, not knowing if or when he’d hear from him again.

  “Look, Scotty, there’s one last thing before I go. You can’t ever rely on any information you get from the government, but the guys have been telling me there might be some people out there trying to do some digging. I don’t know how or why they’d think there were still stones to be overturned, but just keep your eyes open, okay, son? Don’t say anything to your sister.”

  “Why would anyone be looking, Dad?” Scott said, not realizing his voice was even lower, and he was using his right hand to muffle his voice as he spoke.

  “I don’t know. Maybe because the economy is bad.” Walter laughed at his own joke. “I’m just letting you know. I have to go, Scotty. I love you.”

  The phone went dead. That was usually how the conversations went, minus the bad news about mobsters possibly catching a whiff of his father’s trail after all this time. Walter would just touch base once every nine or twelve months. Other than that, Scott just assumed the government, the Bureau, or someone would let him know if anything happened to his old man.

  He turned and walked back toward the rink where the kids were getting antsy.

  “Hey, how come you guys aren’t skating?” he yelled, getting all their smiling faces to look attentively at him.

  “You’re not teaching us, Mr. Scott!” one little girl yelled, and they all chimed in.

  “I’m supposed to teach you?”

  “YEAH!” they shouted, sounding like wild birds calling at the same time.

  “Oh, well, let’s get started!” He took off his coat, quickly got into his skates, and herded the children out onto the ice. He laughed and joked with them as he showed them how to maneuver backwards, but his heart was heavy. He missed his father. He couldn’t help it.

  After an hour, Scott was getting ready to wrap up his class when he noticed a man he’d never seen before sitting in the stands. It rattled him slightly since he’d just heard those menacing words from his dad. This couldn’t be part of that. This guy was just a dude; maybe someone’s grandpa or maybe a city inspector or something totally innocent. Still, Scott couldn’t help making a mental note of the guy’s features and filing them away. He had dark hair that was combed back from his forehead. His face was weathered, with deep lines, and he appeared to be from out of town since his skin was tanned. Tanning weather in Colorado wasn’t for a few more months, and even then, no one ever got as bronze as this fellow. His eyes were serious, but he didn’t seem threatening.

  After a few minutes, the stranger got up and left. He moved rather slowly, shuffling out of the stands, taking his time and carefully watching his own steps. Hardly what Scott would associate with any mafia—meathead types looking to collect on an old debt. But still, the timing made it seem just a little too coincidental.

  Once home, Brenda tried to relax. For the next week, she didn’t speak about skating, and her parents never brought up the subject. But it had certainly grown into a healthy, all-consuming elephant in the room.

  Mrs. Wagner had shut the door to her sewing room, which was plastered with costume ideas, scraps of fabric, and all the costumes arranged by size hanging on a long curtain rod suspended over two bookcases. They went from itsy-bitsy, little-girl costumes to elegant designs for Brenda’s last few competitions.

  The small act of keeping the door closed made Brenda feel all the more alone. Had everyone made this decision for her and not told her? Had they decided what she was going to do now that they figured skating was no longer an option?

  Brenda realized her parents had no idea what Pamela had told her. She assumed they thought she was afraid of trying to skate again. Now that her therapy was concluded, it seemed nothing was stopping her except that the idea of skating was scary. Maybe too scary to face right away. So they were waiting for her to say something. Their conversations with her revolved around the weather, how the holiday was going to pan out, and other meaningless filler—anything but what she assumed was on their minds. But until she opened up, she knew they’d allow her all the time she needed to sort things out on her own.

  Brenda was trying to do that as she sat in her room. “Maybe she’s right,” Brenda said to herself as she looked at her reflection in the mirror over her dresser. Almost every inch of her room was covered with ice-skating images. Her trophies and medals hung from every shelf on her bookcase. There were newspaper clippings of her receiving her titles that her mother had put into frames. Every figurine wore ice skates, and just about every poster and picture had something to do with ice, skates, or the Olympics except for one black-and-white picture of a guy screaming in horror, which Peter had given her as a joke. It was a funny picture from some old movie from the sixties that no one ever heard of. But it made both of them laugh, so she kept it.

  Peter didn’t live at home anymore. He’d moved out while Brenda was in rehab, and she missed him. But the truth was, she wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone. There was so much on her mind that she drew a blank every time she opened her mouth.

  Flopping down on her bed, she picked up a little white snowman stuffed animal that wore a green hat and scarf, which she’d had since she was six months old. Actually, the little guy wasn’t really white anymore but a dingy gray from years of hugs and being dropped in the yard, being used to wipe runny noses and dirty fingers, and generally being loved the only way a child knows how.

  The little cutie looked up at Brenda with his black-dot eyes and red yarn smile. Still, after all these years, he was adorable to Brenda. She smiled back and then looked up at the cross that was hanging next to her door. That was another thing that had been in her room since she was a baby. And, like the little snowman’s smile, the cross brought Brenda a special kind of comfort. As she gazed at it, tears filled her eyes.

  “Maybe Pamela is right, and I don’t belong on the ice anymore.” The words hurt like jagged and rusty metal in her mouth. But she said them. Night after night, Brenda had laid down to sleep, but her mind just kept tearing this dilemma apart and putting it back together to be studied in a different way. No avenue she pursued was able to skirt her around Pamela’s decision.

  The only option that would do it was getting another coach. But even that produced a unique set of problems. First, what would her mother and father say? If Pamela convinced them that skating was too dangerous, they wo
uldn’t go for it. Second, if her parents did see this as a viable option, there was the whole issue of building up a relationship with a new coach. It took years to find a groove with a coach, and Pamela had been with Brenda almost as long as the little snowman she was holding. Then there was her injury. What coach was going to want to accept a new student who had her laundry list of possible ailments?

  “This is depressing,” she said aloud, and again looked at her cross. After she said it, the words made her feel a little silly. What was she griping about? She was given an option that really wasn’t so bad. When she thought of the cross, she knew some people weren’t given an option but instead made the decision to take the hardest road to make things easier for others.

  What’s wrong with me? she thought, suddenly feeling lightness in her heart. I could help people out. I could do what Pamela said. Sure, it isn’t the spotlight, but I’m there. I’m at the rink. I can skate on my own. I just ... can’t ever ... be in the Olympics. Her lip trembled as tears fell down her cheeks. The snowman was warm against her chest as she squeezed him, just as she’d done when she was a little girl. She used his soft body to wipe away her tears and looked to her cross.

  Okay, I think I see. I don’t really like it, but I think I see it now. Standing up and making sure her eyes weren’t puffy and would give her mother any reason for alarm, Brenda went into the kitchen and asked her mom to take her to the ice skating rink.

  Chapter 2

  On Tuesday afternoons, the beginning skaters had the rink to themselves. Pudgy little boys and girls in layers of sweaters, hats with pom-poms, and mittens on their hands were learning how to balance, take a step, stop, and fall—learning when they weren’t chit-chatting and giggling about anything and everything.

  Brenda always enjoyed watching them as they got used to the ice. They were so fearless. It was all about fun, and the thought of competitions or injuries never entered their little minds. Their happiness was contagious, forcing Brenda to smile even though she was nervous.

  Pamela’s office was at the near end of the hallway, next to the skaters’ corral and farthest from the locker room. It was quiet except for the little ones’ echoing voices from the rink. Peeking into the office, Brenda saw Pamela typing up schedules or class updates or some piece of information everyone associated with the rink would need to know.

  “Ahem.” Brenda cleared her throat, feeling tightness in her chest. Pamela looked up from her work. “Can I bother you for just a minute?” Brenda said, hoping Pamela wouldn’t roll her eyes or pinch her lips together. She’d have the right to cop an attitude, but Brenda hoped she wouldn’t.

  In usual Pamela style, the coach tilted her head to the right and smiled. “I was hoping you’d come back. Of course, come in. Sit. I didn’t like how things ended last time.”

  Brenda waved her hands in front of her. “No, Pamela. I didn’t even think of the position you were in. I’m sorry. I’m to blame. It’s been all about me in my head for so long, and I’m ashamed that I’m not more thoughtful of the people who’ve been helping me all along.” She took a deep breath and thought, Get it all out on the table and see what can come of it.

  “Wait,” Pamela said holding up her hands. “I’m sorry too. I should have talked to you about this instead of going ahead and blurting out what I wanted you to do. This isn’t about me, and it isn’t about you. It’s about us, as a team.”

  “I agree, Pamela, and, with that said, maybe you’re right. Stepping up to help some of the girls remember the basics might be just what’s needed. I can still skate on my own time, and, who knows, maybe after a little while you’ll see that ...”

  “No.”

  Brenda stopped speaking and blinked.

  “I think you should be back on the ice, but not like before. Things will have to be different. We’ll have to take some precautions and see your skating in a whole new way.”

  Was she really saying what Brenda thought she was saying?

  “I think I know exactly how we can do that but ...” Pamela propped her elbows in front of her, folded her hands together, and leaned her chin on her knuckles. “You can’t question my motives.”

  “Hey, Pamela, you know I’ve always done what you say. You’ve never steered me wrong. I’ll be even more dedicated, I promise.”

  Brenda’s face had the same look it had every time she entered a competition. It was excited and severe like every gear in her brain was operating at maximum speed.

  “You’ll have to work harder. Remember, you have a handicap now. That means you have to be twice as committed as the other girls. And you’ll have to pay even more attention to my instructions. No creative license, okay? If you have ideas or want to make changes, you’ve got to run them past me first.”

  Brenda nodded enthusiastically.

  “And no matter what you might think to the contrary, what I say goes. No deviating from the script. This is non-negotiable, Brenda. I mean it. You’ve got one chance with me and, if you listen, I think we can get you back in the running. If that’s what you want.”

  Brenda wanted to scream she was so happy. Instead, she stood up and extended her hand to Pamela.

  “It’s a deal.” They shook on it. Brenda started to leave but stopped in the doorway. She turned, rushed around Pamela’s desk, and wrapped her arms tightly around her coach’s shoulders, giving her a quick, tight squeeze. Pamela patted Brenda’s arm.

  “Okay. I’ll call you and let you know when practice starts.”

  Three days later, Pamela left a message with Mrs. Wagner for Brenda to call her.

  “Okay, dust off your skates, girl,” said Pamela over the phone. “I’ll expect to see you here at 5:30 Monday morning.”

  “Wow. Okay. Why so early? Did the rink change the hours for hockey or something?”

  “Nope. That’s the only time your partner could make it, at least until his schedule changes.”

  Brenda nearly choked on the water she was sipping.

  “Partner?”

  “Yes, partner.”

  Silence.

  “That’s the catch,” said Brenda, her voice low to disguise her disappointment. “I knew there had to be a catch, but I never suspected it would be a partner.”

  “Brenda, I don’t know how many different ways I can explain to you that you were injured, severely,” said Pamela. “This is the only option you’ve got. Sure, there might be other coaches out there who don’t know you, don’t have as much faith in you as I do, who’ll tell you, ‘Sure, you can skate. Whatever.’ But I know differently. Your parents, they also know differently. A partner is exactly what you need to assist you.”

  “Assist me? You make it sound like I can’t bathe myself or change my own clothes.”

  “Stop it. You know that isn’t the case. But the sooner you come to grips with the fact that you’ll never be able to skate the same as before, the sooner we can move on and see what you can do. These are my terms, Brenda. I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to help.”

  Brenda shook her head. “Okay, Pamela. I’ll see you on Monday. Bright and early.”

  “Good girl. I’ll see you then.”

  “Oh, wait. One last thing. Who—?”

  Pamela had already hung up when Brenda thought to ask who her partner was going to be. Taking a big, deep breath, she let the air stretch her lungs and then let out a big sigh. Things were so different. It was a little scary like being on a roller coaster. She was sure she was strapped in and all the necessary precautions had been taken. She met the height requirement, but still she was terrified as she took her seat and heard the loud clank as she was locked into place. There was no turning back now.

  Monday couldn’t come fast enough. When it finally did, Brenda was excited, nervous, giddy, and depressed all at once. It was going to be amazing getting back on the ice. She found herself gliding her feet along the floor in the hallway as she made her way from her bedroom to the bathroom to get ready. She stretched her muscles like she’d done a million times
before when going to the rink was a ritual practiced at least five times a week. Slipping into her tights and yoga pants—the only clothes that would allow her body to move freely while still keeping her warm—she noticed she’d gained a little weight around the middle. Not a lot, just a little. Enough to make her stomach bulge out a bit.

  “Will have to work that off,” she mumbled to herself while pulling her hair back into a sloppy ponytail. She was going to be rusty and probably pretty clumsy the first time she skated. It was a good thing that practice was so early. There wouldn’t be anyone there to see her work the sand out of her gears.

  No one except your new partner, she thought. Partner. What a joke. She knew Pamela was looking out for her best interests. It made perfect sense and was probably the right idea, but it made Brenda mad nonetheless.

  She scrubbed the sleep off her face, brushed her teeth, grabbed the duffle bag that she’d packed and repacked two nights before in anticipation for her first day back on the ice, and headed out to her car.

  The sun hadn’t even started to appear over the horizon. Brenda could see her breath in thick, white puffs as she hurried to her car parked in the driveway. The engine grumbled as if it, too, had been happily sleeping and was reluctant to wake up. But it turned over and idled, blowing chilly air onto the windshield to eat away at the frost that had collected there.

  The streets were empty except for a slow-moving truck that tossed out newspapers every so often and which landed with a thwap in someone’s driveway.

  The radio played a happy country song about exes in Texas that Brenda reluctantly sang along with. Her mother had borrowed her car to run and get milk the night before, and it was obvious she’d changed the pre-set from Brenda’s pop music to her own drawling crooners. Her mother had never been to a single southern state, but she loved those country-western tunes.