White Satin

by Iris Johansen

  She heard the burst of applause from the audience as the East German girl’s second set of scores came up. “She’s tied up first, sugar,” Beau said as he gave her a little push onto the ice. “Now, go bring home second.”

  Her short program had been planned as spirited, vigorous, and sparkling with a virtual fireworks display of technical skill and intricate footwork. She could feel the audience with her all the way as she began to have fun with it. Not for her the stately classics. She was more the mischievous little girl showing off for the grown-ups. Her piquant face was alive with a joie de vivre as lively as the performance itself as the audience began to clap with the tempo of the music. She was still wishing it could go on forever when the final, beautifully blurred sit-spin came much too soon.

  She stood in the middle of the rink, a little breathless, her cheeks flushed and her dark eyes shining as she raised her hand in acknowledgement of the storm of applause. Now, wrapped in the sweetness of the moment, she could afford to search the ringside boxes for Anthony.

  There he was, sitting quietly, not applauding as the rest of the crowd was doing. But, oh, his face! Pride, love, and an odd sadness combined with an intensity that took her breath away and caused an aching tenderness to replace the euphoria she’d been feeling. She looked away hurriedly and skated back to where Beau and Marta were waiting.

  Beau gave her a light kiss on the end of her nose. “You were as smooth as a mint julep on a hot summer day.” His gaze was fixed on the scoreboard across the rink. “There are the technical marks: all good except for East Germany. He gave you a five point five.” His lips tightened. “He won’t dare do that on the artistic. The bias would be too obvious.”

  “Besides, the crowd would lynch him,” Marta said grimly. “And I’ll be the one yanking the rope.”

  Dany held Beau’s arm for balance as she put on her blade guards, her eyes fixed anxiously on the board. “Will it be enough, Beau?” She moistened her lips nervously. “That five point five is going to drag the composite score down so much.”

  Beau didn’t answer, his tense gaze on the board.

  Then the scores began to flicker on one by one, and the crowd roared its approval. 5.8, 5.9, 5.9, 5.9 …

  Beau picked her up and whirled her in an exuberant circle. “You did it! Nothing lower than a five point eight except East Germany, and even that bastard gave you a five point seven! That makes you a shoo-in for the number two spot when you go into the long program. We’re halfway home!”

  Dany felt ten feet tall. No, fifty feet tall, and skating on clouds instead of ice as Beau let her down and Marta launched herself at her and enfolded her in an ecstatic bear hug. She’d done it! The crowd was applauding wildly, and Beau and Marta were hugging and congratulating her with all the affection and love in the world. Everything was wonderful!

  She wasn’t sure if it was by accident or design that her gaze alighted on Anthony’s box across the arena. Lord, he looked so alone. She was surrounded by more love and adulation than ever before in her life, and he should have been sharing it. It was wrong to have him sitting half an arena away, half a world away, in that chilly isolation. She impulsively started to speak, to ask Beau to go after him and bring him into their warm circle.

  Then she saw him rise gracefully to his feet and leave the box. His back was straight and indomitable and the set of his shoulders almost arrogantly proud. In less than a minute she lost sight of him in the crowd.

  “Dany?” Beau’s eyes glowed softly with sympathy. “Are you okay?”

  Why was she feeling this crushing disappointment? Anthony wouldn’t have wanted to share their heady triumph anyway. Nothing had changed since their scene in the hotel suite the day before yesterday.

  “Of course I am,” she said with a determined smile. “And I’ll be even better three days from now when I go for the gold.” She linked her arms through Beau’s and Marta’s. “Come on, I’ve got that TV interview to get through, and then we’re going to celebrate.”

  Chapter 9

  “How did you sleep last night?” Beau asked as he dropped down in his favorite position, straddling the straight-backed chair across from the bench where she was sitting and resting his arms on the back. “Any nerves?”

  She shook her head. “A few, but nothing major.” She put her skates in the bag, zipped it up, and set it on the dressing-room bench beside her. “I slept very well from ten o’clock on.”

  “And the workout went smooth as glass this morning.” He frowned. “Almost too well. You know what they say about a bad dress rehearsal making a hit on opening night. I don’t want you making your mistakes tonight in the performance.” Then his face cleared and he shook his head ruefully. “Just listen to me! I’m the one who has the nerves.”

  Her dark eyes were twinkling. “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll go back on the ice and try to fall down a couple of times.”

  “Don’t you dare. With my luck you’d probably break something and I’d be accused of ruining your brilliant career.”

  Her face softened. “I’d never do that. You’ve worked like a demon to get me to this point. The only reason I have a chance at that brilliant career is because of all the support you’ve given me over the years. Marta was right when she said we make a great team.” She leaned forward to squeeze his arm. “I guess after tonight that team will just have to concentrate on new fields to conquer.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “We did make a good team.” He paused and seemed to hesitate. “I didn’t mean to go into this until after the competition, but I think you should know I won’t be around after next week.” At her startled exclamation he went on quickly. “You won’t need me. No matter how tonight goes, you’ll have all the ice shows clamoring for you. You have star quality, Dany.”

  “I’ll always need you.” First Anthony and now Beau, she thought. She was going to lose them both. “We’re a team.”

  He shrugged restlessly. “Well, the truth is, I’ve always been a loner. I’ve never pulled well in harness.” He smiled. “I consider it something of a miracle to have made it this long without kicking over the traces.” His hand tightened on hers. “I told you once I wasn’t the steady, upright paragon you thought me.”

  “But you are,” she protested. “You’ve always been—”

  “And sometimes it’s almost driven me crazy,” he interrupted. For a moment she saw once again that wild golden gleam in the depths of his eyes. “I’m not a responsible heavyweight like Anthony. I wouldn’t want to be. I like to raise hell and do what I damn well please.”

  “You’ve been exceptionally responsible for the past six years.”

  “I owed a debt,” he said simply. “The thing Anthony wanted most in the world was the gold for you. I knew I couldn’t give him anything else. It had to be the gold.”

  “So you gave him six years of your life. In a job you didn’t want to do.” She was gazing at him in wonder. “That’s unbelievable, Beau. It’s like something from the Old Testament.”

  “It wasn’t all that rough,” he said. “I found playing big brother to a fourteen-year-old easier than I thought.” He reached out to touch the tip of her nose teasingly in the gesture she knew so well. “Because I grew to like and admire that teenager very much. Before I took on this job, the only family I’d ever known was a battery of lawyers and executors. In a way you, Marta, and Anthony have been my family.”

  “But not a close-enough tie to keep you here,” Dany said sadly.

  “Well, every family has its black sheep,” he said with a lopsided grin. “You haven’t seen the last of me. Every now and then, like any prodigal, I’ll be dropping in for my dinner of fatted calf.”

  “You’ll get it,” she said huskily. “Anytime, Beau.” She cleared her throat. “What are you going to do now? Go back to the ice show?”

  He shook his head. “I was ready to hang up my skates seven years ago when I left the clinic. I’ve never cared enough about anything to stick to it for an indefi
nite period. It was fun for a while, and I was young enough to enjoy all the show-biz glamor and groupies throwing themselves into my bed.” His eyes twinkled mischievously. “I particularly enjoyed that fringe benefit.”

  “From what I hear, that benefit didn’t end when you left the show,” Dany said dryly.

  His lips twisted cynically. “Most women think a checkbook glitters just as much as a spotlight.” He inclined his head mockingly. “Not to mention my irresistible physique and charisma.”

  “By all means, let’s do mention both of those attributes,” Dany said lightly. “So what’s ahead, Beau?”

  “I thought I’d drift around the world a bit. I’m looking at a schooner for sale down in Miami. I may get a crew together and sail around the coast of South America.”

  “A sailing ship?” Dany asked blankly. “That’s certainly a change of lifestyle with a vengeance. Why South America?”

  “I’m tired of all this ice,” Beau drawled, making a face. “I’m going to let the tropical sun sink into these weary old bones.”

  “And let a multitude of tropical señoritas sink into your bunk?” Dany asked, amused.

  “That thought did occur to me.” The creases in the corners of his eyes deepened as he grinned. “After all, if I’m giving up skating, I have to substitute some sport to keep in shape.”

  She chuckled. “You’re impossible.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Beau’s face was suddenly grave. “I don’t belong to anyone or anywhere. I’m not the stuff stability is made of like you and Anthony.”

  Her smile faded. “Well, I can’t argue with you in Anthony’s case at least,” she said tightly. “There’s no one as unchangeable as Anthony.”

  He studied her taut, strained face for a long moment before he slowly shook his head. “I can’t leave things like this, you know,” he said quietly. “I don’t give a damn about most people, but I’m not about to go sailing off into the sunset while you and Anthony are hurting each other like this.”

  “Then you may be sticking around for quite a while,” she said, trying to smile.

  “The hell I will,” he said bluntly. “I’m much too selfish for that. The gloves are now officially off.”

  “You sound very grim.”

  “That’s the way I feel.” He released her hand. “I’ve been zooming around in a discreet holding pattern, waiting and watching for you and Anthony to straighten out your problems. For two intelligent people you haven’t done at all well.”

  “Some problems aren’t that easy to straighten out,” she said defensively.

  “Bull,” he said succinctly. “You’re talking to me, remember? I’ve watched you turn yourself from a talented junior into a world-class Olympic contender by sheer force of will and hard work. Don’t tell me if you bent that same determination toward resolving your differences with Anthony that you couldn’t do it.”

  “I’m not the only one involved. Anthony—”

  “Anthony isn’t willing to make concessions so that the world will be exactly the way you want it to be,” he said caustically. “I realize that’s a terrible crime.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. Beau had never spoken to her with such brutality before. “You know what happened that night at the lodge.”

  “I know that Anthony fell out of that cozy little niche you created for him. I told you building pedestals was a dangerous thing to do.” He paused. “But no more than making judgments. Who the hell gave you the right to do that? So Anthony backslid and gave you a bad time. How many bad times have you had in your life, for God’s sake? Not many, thanks to Anthony.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” she whispered, her eyes bright with tears. “It’s not like you.”

  “Another niche? I don’t fit in them any more comfortably than Anthony.” Then, as his eyes met hers, he said wearily, “For Pete’s sake, stop looking at me as if I were a murderer. I know I don’t have any right to preach. I grew up with the same silver spoon you did, but I’ve gotten to the point when I at least try to understand.”

  “Understand what?” she asked shakily.

  “Anthony,” he answered. Beau ran his hand through his hair distractedly. “Look, I’m going to break Anthony’s confidence.” He scowled. “It had better help, dammit.” His gaze was fixed absently on his folded arms on the back of the chair. “It’s not something Anthony’s likely to tell you. It was pretty painful for him letting it out to me.” His lips twisted grimly. “The only reason he did was that I was practically suicidal at the time. It was just before I entered the clinic. I was pretty sick with myself and my own weakness. You have no idea of the self-disgust alcoholism can generate. I know I told you I would have preferred to see my problem as a romantic weakness. That was bull. It’s hard to drop my guard even with you and admit how I hated the idea of being so helpless and uncontrolled.” He glanced up, his face dark with memories.

  “Anthony convinced me that I wasn’t weak, that I was a strong man with an illness. You can imagine what that did for my self-respect. I felt clean again. Do you know how he convinced me? He said he knew what weakness was and he’d recognize it if he saw it.” He paused. “And he told me about his father.”

  “His father?”

  “I gathered his mother either died or deserted them before Anthony could remember her. There was only his father.” His voice became bitter. “With a father like his, that was more than enough. He was into booze, pills, and self-pity—in that order. He leaned on anyone or anything and, as Anthony was the closest, it was mostly him. He doesn’t remember his father ever having a job. Anthony grew up on welfare. Do you realize how that kind of public dependence would grate on a kid like Anthony?”

  “Yes,” Dany said. To a proud, independent spirit like Anthony’s it would have been barely tolerable. “I realize that.”

  “He had a job after school at the neighborhood ice rink from the time he was seven, first running errands and then as a monitor. He didn’t say, but I doubt if he was able to keep any of the money he earned. He did mention his father would often go on crying jags and tell Anthony over and over how grateful he was for all Anthony’s help and how much he needed him.”

  “Oh, God, no.” How could a child stand that kind of pressure? He must never have been allowed even a vestige of childhood.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Beau said ironically. “And do you know what Anthony said was the worst part of the situation? He couldn’t stop loving his father. If he hadn’t loved him, he might have been able to refuse to let his father use him and might have made him pull himself together. He had to stand by and watch his father disintegrate as a human being because of a moral fiber as brittle as chalk. All Anthony could give him was the support that only made him lean harder.” He drew a deep breath. “He died when Anthony was twelve, right after Dynathe appeared on the scene. It’s just as well, since from what I hear of Samuel Dynathe, he wouldn’t have thought twice about slipping an arsenic mickey to anyone who got in his way.”

  Anthony had gone from crushing dependence to equally crushing ruthlessness, Dany thought. He’d never had a chance. It’s a wonder he hadn’t become a callous monster. Instead, through his own efforts, he’d developed into a man to respect and admire.

  “Do you understand why he can’t stand the thought of dependence in himself or anyone else?” Beau asked soberly. “He must see ghosts whenever the word is mentioned. Why do you think he fostered and guarded that strength and independence in you so fiercely? Perhaps he was a little overzealous, but you can’t really blame him.” He paused. “Did you know he’s not planning on being at the competition tonight?”

  “He’s not?” Dany’s eyes widened. “But it’s everything we’ve been working for. He’s got to be there!”

  “If you remember, he wasn’t at the Worlds or the United States Championships. He’s only present at the minor competitions. Does that form any pattern for you?”

  “It’s beginning to,” she said slowly. “Bu
t why don’t you spell it out?”

  “Anyone would have to be crazy to believe he wouldn’t want to be with you at important times like those. I think it may have meant almost as much to him as to you. The only explanation possible was that he thought he might weaken you by having you develop a reliance on him.” His eyes steadily met hers. “And you’ll have to admit, there was a point when you would have formed an emotional dependence if he’d allowed it. He didn’t want to cheat you of the knowledge that any victory was totally yours. Even if it meant he couldn’t share it with you.”

  She had a sudden painful memory of Anthony sitting alone and isolated in the box across the arena. How many other times had he shut himself away from warmth and togetherness for her sake?

  “That idiot,” she said huskily, blinking rapidly to keep back the tears. “God, he’s an idiot. Maybe there was a time when I was in danger of losing a little of my independence, but there wasn’t any need for him to do that.”

  “He thought there was,” Beau said quietly. “He wanted what he thought was best for you. What his own experience dictated was best for you. He may have been mistaken, but you can’t accuse him of not caring. Like I told you, Anthony’s problem is that he cares too much.”

  “I can see that.” She felt an aching tenderness that was so powerful, it seemed to encompass her whole world. She loved him. Why hadn’t she realized that that was the only clear, shining truth that mattered? Beau was right; she’d been so concerned with her own pain, she’d been blind to everything else. She felt a sudden rush of panic. What if she’d lost Anthony through her own stupidity? “I’m the one who’s been the idiot. Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Beau?”

  “I thought you’d reach that conclusion yourself,” he drawled. “You probably would have if I hadn’t gotten impatient and decided to accelerate the process.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She stood up and reached for her polo coat on the bench beside her. “I’d hate to think that I’d have remained that pigheaded indefinitely.”