Heart of a Champion

by Kelsey MacBride

  “Thank you, Brenda, for the same.” He held her close, but before he could say another word to her, the two of them found themselves being hugged some more.

  “Brenda! Scott! You did it! Sectionals, here we come!” Mrs. Wagner cried, her eyes red and streaming with tears of joy.

  “I made a couple mistakes,” Brenda said apologetically.

  “You obviously did well enough to beat the others. Scott, you, too. You both were wonderful.”

  Peter wasn’t crying but elbowed his sister playfully. “You did okay,” he teased and extended his hand to Scott.

  “Just okay?” Brenda asked, bumping him with her hip.

  Taking a seat on one of the empty benches, Brenda began to take off her skates. Then she realized something was missing. “Where’s Dad?”

  Mrs. Wagner sat down next to her daughter and shook her head. “Your father watched the whole routine holding his breath. He was so worried that lightning was going to strike for a third time that I thought he was going to give himself a stroke.” Mrs. Wagner rolled her eyes. “He was so happy you made it that he had to leave the auditorium for a few minutes to pull himself together. I swear I don’t know what to do with that man.”

  Scott slipped away and left Mrs. Wagner alone with her daughter. They hugged and cried, and Brenda snubbed the reporters that were hanging over the railing trying to get her attention, yelling inane questions. Brenda and her mother headed down the long hallway toward the locker rooms while Peter promised to wait for them where he was. He was smiling and introducing himself to the female skaters.

  “You really did wonderfully, Bren,” said her mother, leaning close. “So many people came up to us. They came up wishing us good luck and asking how you were feeling and oh, it was just remarkable. There are so many good people in the world. So many.”

  Mrs. Wagner continued to talk a mile a minute as she usually did when she was excited. Brenda noticed the tall, familiar form of her father up ahead of them. He was talking to the other familiar figure that Brenda knew so well. Scott stood facing him, his head slightly lowered. The two men shook hands, and Brenda assumed her father had collected himself and was congratulating Scott on a job well done.

  Brenda went up to her dad and, on tippy toes, kissed his cheek. She didn’t have to say anything, and neither did he as he smiled down at her, his eyes still a little red.

  “Well, Pamela gave us the next couple of hours off until practice tomorrow morning. What are we doing?” Brenda asked.

  “That’s totally up to you, honey. Where’s your brother?” asked Mr. Wagner, looking around.

  “He’s flirting. Don’t worry about him. Scott, what do you have planned now that we have a free evening?” Brenda asked.

  “Well, Mr. and Mrs. Wagner,” said Scott, glancing first at Cindy and then at Lawrence, “if you guys don’t mind, I was wondering if you, Brenda, would like to come to dinner at my house tonight. Say around six o’clock?”

  Blinking her eyes again as if she wasn’t quite sure what had happened, Brenda looked at her mother, who was smiling up at her father.

  “Do you guys mind if I—”

  “No, go ahead. Have a good time. We’re pooped. Probably just sit in front of the television anyways,” Mr. Wagner said flatly.

  “I’ve got a few details to add to your costumes for the next round, and I better get to them or, Scott, you may be showing more skin than you’re used to.”

  Scott pulled his arms behind his back, making his chest expand as he leaned into Brenda and cocked his head to the right. “So, how about it? Or do you have a better offer waiting for you?”

  Brenda squinted her eyes at Scott and pouted her lips. “I think I can pencil you in. You did skate with me today, after all. The least I can do is let you feed me.”

  Nodding his head, Scott straightened up, shook Mr. Wagner’s hand, and gave Mrs. Wagner a hug. “I’ll see you at six,” he said to Brenda, and then turned and headed toward the men’s locker room. There was a definite strut in his step.

  Brenda changed into her sweat pants and gym shoes for the ride home. As she talked and laughed and relived the excitement of the day with her parents and brother, she couldn’t help thinking that dinner with Scott was a perfect ending. In the back of her mind, she imagined how cute he’d been, asking her to dinner in front of her parents, and how her father looked at him with that special look reserved for fathers where their daughters were concerned. It made her laugh and feel all jittery inside. She wasn’t sure what was more nerve-wracking, the ice-skating competition or dinner alone with Scott.

  “Why am I so nervous?” Scott asked himself in the mirror as he combed his hair then messed it up and combed it again. He pulled at the front of his shirt and realized he’d buttoned it wrong; it was off by one hole. “This is ridiculous. It isn’t like you’ve never had Brenda over to your apartment before. She came to visit lots of times.” He shook his head a little, remembering how, five years ago, he saw Brenda every couple of days. He didn’t realize how much he’d miss that if it went away or, rather, when it went away. “I don’t think she ever saw it this clean before. That’s saying something.” He pulled the shower curtain closed, slipped his toothbrush into the holder stuck to the tile over the sink, and put a fresh roll of toilet paper on the roller. Taking one last look in the mirror, he smiled like a maniac, pulling back his lips to see his gums. No spinach or pepper or weird foodstuffs stuck there.

  When he stepped into his front room, the smell of dinner filled his nose and made his stomach grumble. He turned on the lights of the little artificial Christmas tree he’d place in one corner.

  “I should have told her five o’clock, not six because I’m starving,” he said to himself. Scott often spoke aloud when he was alone. Stepping into the little cubby that was his kitchen, he stood over the stove, inhaling the smell coming from the big pot that was bubbling away to a rhythm all its own. Inside the pot were a whole chicken, carrots, celery, potatoes, and a delicious golden broth. It was his specialty. Actually, it was one of the few things he knew how to cook well and, if he remembered right, it was one of Brenda’s favorites.

  Finally, with the minute hand on the one and the hour hand on the six, Scott heard a knock on the door.

  Chapter 10

  Jumping to his feet, he ran from the kitchen, slowing to a casual walk as he approached the door. He stopped to take one last look in the hallway mirror, shrugged his shoulders, and reached for the doorknob.

  On the other side of the door stood a familiar form bundled up in layers of clothing.

  “Hi,” the form muttered in Brenda’s voice, raising a mittened hand in salutation.

  “Hi.” Scott chuckled, stepping aside for her to come in. “Did it get colder outside?”

  “Yeah, just a little. But I don’t think we’ll get any snow. I was able to see a million stars in the sky. No clouds.” She stepped inside and began the strenuous work of getting out of her winter gear. Looking around the apartment as Scott closed the door, Brenda smiled. “You haven’t changed the place too much. Except it looks like you’ve added to your trophy collection.”

  She waited for a response from Scott. When she got no answer, she turned around and looked at him. His eyes snapped up to hers. Brenda realized he was checking her out, and she blushed.

  Normally, Scott saw her with no makeup in yoga pants or dramatic, heavy makeup in her skating costumes. He hadn’t seen her just as herself and fresh.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Oh, uhm, well, thanks, Scott. You look real nice, too.” She peeked up at him from beneath long, black lashes and smiled. “What is that amazing smell? Is it what I think it is?”

  “A whole pot, just for you. Chicken soup and crusty bread.”

  “You must have been reading my mind. Is it almost done? I’m starving,” Brenda said, feeling warm and comfortable alone with Scott. It was like time hadn’t even passed, and they’d picked up right where they’d left off. She took a seat on the
couch.

  Scott didn’t have a dining room, and his kitchen cubby was too small for any kind of table to fit into. So dinner would be enjoyed just as she remembered, sitting on the couch using the coffee table as their dinner table. The flat-screen television was set to a jazz music station that played quietly in the background.

  “I’m glad you brought your appetite. I’ve got plenty just for you.”

  “Well, that soup was one of the things you managed to do right,” Brenda said sarcastically, laughing at her own jab.

  “Ouch!” Scott yelled from the kitchen, making Brenda laugh a little more.

  She’d been nervous the whole ride over, missing his street and feeling her palms sweating inside her mittens, even though it was only about eighteen degrees outside.

  “Dinner is served. And no, regardless of your cruel remarks, I did not spit in your soup.”

  “Gross. Although, as hungry as I am, that wouldn’t stop me. Oh my gosh. I’d rob a bank just for the smell.” Brenda turned around to see Scott with a huge tray in his hands that held two big bowls of steaming soup, a basket of bread, and two glasses of water with a lemon slice floating in each one. “Oh, Scott, this does look wonderful. All kidding aside.”

  Brenda helped herself to a bowl, letting her hands enjoy the warmth through the ceramic. She ate her first steaming bowlful, feeling the hot liquid warm her body from the inside out.

  “So good, Scott. Really. And I hope you have enough for seconds because I’m not holding back. I’ll work out extra hard tomorrow.”

  Scott tore into a piece of bread and nodded. In between bites, he asked her how she was feeling.

  “To be honest, I must have been a little strung out because as soon as we got home, I collapsed into bed and took a good, long nap.” She left out the part about waking up and trying on at least four different outfits before settling on the one she was currently wearing.

  “I can believe that. But how are you feeling?” he tapped the side of his head. “Noticing any weirdness? Anything out of the ordinary?” He scooped another heaping spoonful of the soup into his mouth while looking at her.

  “No. I feel ... just like myself. Just like I’m supposed to.”

  He smiled at her and stirred the soup in his bowl thoughtfully.

  “What’s on your mind?” Brenda asked, watching him but actually more concerned about getting another bowlful of soup.

  “I have a confession to make. I knew our routine was stellar. I knew we both had the pepper, as they say in baseball. But do you know how rare it is for a new pair of skaters to qualify for Sectionals? I mean, it takes a long time for some pairs to really click, and here we are, just a stone’s throw away from qualifying for the Olympics. I’m ... I’m humbled, that’s all.”

  Brenda blushed. They weren’t total strangers thrown together by a coach. They’d known each other for years and knew how the other ticked.

  “So.” Scott cleared his throat. “What do you think you’ll do if we do make it to the Olympics?”

  “Ha! Win! What else is there to do?” Brenda laughed out loud, rolling her eyes playfully at Scott as if he’d asked the silliest question she’d ever heard.

  “So, tell me, Miss Wagner. You’ve just won the Olympic gold medal. What are you going to do now?” Scott reached out his arm toward Brenda, holding his spoon in front of her face as if it were a microphone.

  Brenda laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t really given it too much thought. I’d like to win something. I’d like to grab at least one medal. But so much has happened, I think I’ll just let go and let God. Maybe there will be school or a job or marriage and babies in my future. Maybe—” She cut herself off, feeling she’d said too much, shaking her head, her hair swaying beautifully in front of her face. She tucked one side of it gently behind her ear and reached for a piece of bread.

  “I think God has amazing things in store for you, Brenda. And if making it to the Olympics is God’s will, well, I have no doubt we’ll be there.”

  They finished their meal, discussing their plans for practice, addressing a few concerns, and complimenting each other. The evening ended with Brenda feeling completely comfortable in Scott’s presence.

  “Well, I wish I didn’t have to, but I better get back home. It’s getting late, and you know Pamela is going to totally make up for these few hours off tomorrow,” Brenda said, rising and grabbing her coat.

  Scott quickly took it from her hands, shook it out, and held it for her to slip her arms into. He pulled the front closed for her, tugging the coat tight and adjusting it for a few seconds longer than necessary. Brenda looked at Scott’s face, so dangerously close. His lips were mere inches away and, as much as she wanted to kiss them, she settled for a hug, deeply inhaling the scent of his skin again. As she went to pull away, Scott held her, his hands around her waist, and Brenda didn’t seem in a very big hurry to pull hers from his massive chest. She looked up at him. He didn’t say a word and, for a brief flash, she thought he might bend down to kiss her. He made a slight move in that direction but jerked back, let her go, and laughed. “Well, I’m glad you liked the soup.”

  “Oh, delicious isn’t even the word for it,” Brenda said, rubbing her tummy.

  “Maybe we could do this again sometime.”

  “I’d like that. I’d invite you to my house for dinner, but it’s always like Grand Central Station. Just throw a couple of pigeons into the kitchen, and you’d hardly notice the difference.”

  “I wouldn’t mind. As long as you were there.” Scott blinked and looked down at his shoes.

  Brenda smiled, pulled on her hat and gloves and wrapped her extra-long scarf around and around her face. “Well, now I’m sweating, so I better go. Thank you, Scott. I really had a lovely time.”

  “No. The pleasure was all mine. Thank you, Brenda. I’ll see you bright and early.”

  Brenda waved her mittened hand as Scott opened the door for her. She stepped out and headed down the hallway as Scott watched her disappear down the stairs.

  There was a moment before her head disappeared below the landing that Scott wanted to yell out to her. To tell her how he was feeling and that he’d wait forever for her if she needed him to. He’d spill his guts and tell her everything about himself, his family, where everyone was and what they were doing and why he had no choice that day. That day that changed the course of both their lives. But he didn’t budge. He was frozen, just watching her.

  “But she did come over. And it was a very nice evening. And there’s still time. Maybe not much, but there’s still time,” he said to himself, smiling as he shut the door.

  Brenda slammed her car door once she was inside. Sitting in the cold darkness, watching her hot breath billow out in front of her from her nose and mouth, she wished she’d kissed Scott. The thought that she wanted so badly to kiss him made her mad at herself. Had she forgiven him for standing her up? Was that chicken soup so good that it melted the anger that had been inside her for so long?

  She’d been a nervous wreck on the way over to Scott’s apartment. She remembered visiting him so many times before. They’d play Scrabble, talk, watch television, and sometimes sneak in a kiss here and there. Her cheeks flushed with heat as those memories surfaced.

  It wasn’t like she hadn’t been on a date or two in the past five years. She’d gone out once with a fellow she met during one of her runs through the park. He was a nice enough guy. He was fit and read the Bible. But there was just no spark. And then there was the guy she met when she’d gone to the store for her mother to pick up the eggs she forgot to buy. He was nice too and made Brenda laugh when he told her he didn’t know how to shop in a grocery store because he could never find anything. They’d stepped out for a cup of coffee and that was when he mentioned he didn’t want to get married and children were definitely out of the question. Brenda saw that as a dead end. And that was it for her dating history since Scott.

  She didn’t want to fall for him again, did
she? He didn’t seem to be totally opposed to her being around him, even when they were off the ice. What did it mean? What did it mean that she thought about him all the time? What did it mean that she wanted to talk to him and felt playful around him and barely remembered that it was the accident that brought them together again? She sighed.

  “That’s some freaking good soup,” she muttered to herself. But she didn’t say another word. Instead, she put on the radio and listened to any love song that came on, feeling warm and happy and content. She didn’t wait for an Olympic medal, but instead decided right at that moment to let go and let God.

  Chapter 11

  Alena Azarov was the image of perfection. She was a perfect five-foot-nine with jet black hair that hung in a flawless bob around her face. High cheekbones, naturally arched eyebrows, and a porcelain complexion that didn’t seem to have a single blemish or spot made her look like one of the elegant figurines Brenda had in her bedroom at home. Vladimir Garin, Alena’s skating partner, was as perfect as she was except he was about three inches taller with broader shoulders and his eyes were set a little wide apart and deep into his skull, making him look like something an artist might chisel out of marble.

  Their reputation arrived a week before they did. Stoic and always serious, “The Russians” were going to be the team to beat at this qualifying event. Rumors floated around that they not only trained twenty hours out of every twenty-four and slept at the ice-skating rink where they trained, but they were on a strict diet of wheat germ, buttermilk, and their daily vitamin supplements. It was also going around that they were secret spies, members of the disbanded KGB, related to the President of Russia, and secretly married.

  Neither Brenda nor Scott believed they were anything more than amazing skaters. But the rumors made them wonder what was being told to The Russians about them. When they arrived in two stretch limos, one for Vladimir and the other for Alena and their coach, everyone just sort of stood back.

  They entered the building like royalty, hurried into the locker rooms, and immediately began warming up. They spoke only Russian unless advised by their coach, who was an amazingly short man compared to them. He had a perfectly round head with very little hair. Unlike Vladimir, their coach’s eyes were set close together, and his mouth stretched out in a thin line across his face in a permanent smirk. His eyes darted everywhere as if he were taking everything in, calculating every possible influence that might affect his skaters. Brenda found it fascinating to watch. Plus, she couldn’t help but notice their beautiful costumes.