Edge of the Past

by Jennifer Comeaux

  When we arrived at the rink, I set Liza up with a locker and introduced her to a couple of girls around her age. As I went through my warm-up, she hung close to my side, doing her own running and stretching. Sergei had taken a seat on the bleachers next to Elena, who was talking with animated hands. She was probably telling him about the eventful night at my house.

  Liza sat with me to put on her skates, and I watched her carefully tie the laces on her shiny white boots. Her pale pink practice dress was as nice as some competition costumes. Elena had been right when she said she’d given her daughter the best of everything.

  Liza fidgeted with her matching pink gloves as she surveyed the other skaters around us chatting and preparing for the session. I slipped on my blue leg warmers and said, “We have a really good group here. There are a few drama queens, but everyone gets along for the most part.”

  “My old rink was like that,” Liza said. “We used to have so much fun.”

  “You must miss your friends in New York a lot.”

  “Me and my best friend, Hope were gonna skate a duet at our club show, but then I had to move.” She looked down at her skates.

  “And the rink in Moscow isn’t as much fun,” I guessed.

  Liza shook her head.

  I thought for a moment as I tugged my legwarmers over the heels of my boots. “We’re having a little show here in two weeks. It’s a sendoff for those of us going to Worlds, and a bunch of the kids are also skating in it. Maybe you could be part of it.”

  “But I’m not a member here.”

  “I think it would be okay,” I said. “I’ll talk to the people in charge.”

  Liza gave me a big smile, and I motioned for her to follow me to the ice for the start of the session. Hopping on behind me, she joined the crowd of skaters warming up. I ramped up speed and glided around all of them. Beside the boards, someone flipped on the sound system, and “You Get What You Give” filled the quiet rink. The music got my legs pumping harder and itching to work.

  Even though Chris couldn’t skate, I still had a lesson scheduled with Sergei. We could work on elements that didn’t require a partner such as jumps and footwork. When I met him near the boards, his attention was over my shoulder. Turning my head, I saw Liza picking herself up from the ice.

  “She fell?” I asked, grabbing my water bottle from the boards and taking a long sip.

  “Double Salchow,” he said.

  Liza brushed off her hands and returned to doing easy crossovers. Her little legs generated more power than I’d seen in most kids her age. And her posture remained perfectly straight. I already admired the spark I saw in her movements.

  “She has your speed,” I said.

  “And Elena’s grace,” Sergei added.

  The perfect combination of the two of them. I shuddered and looked to the bleachers where Elena sat alone on the top row. I expected her to be watching her daughter, but her gaze was fixed on Sergei and me.

  “Why don’t you start with the Lutz and toe, and then I can do the throws with you,” Sergei directed.

  I deposited my bottle on the boards and weaved through skater traffic to set up for the triple Lutz. One after another, I popped off clean jumps. Moving on to the triple toe-double toe combination, I achieved the same results. I skated back to Sergei with Elena’s eyes following me again.

  Sergei gripped my hand, and we made one pass around the rink to gain speed for the throw triple Lutz. With his hands tight on my hips, we glided backward until I stabbed my right toepick into the ice and Sergei vaulted me into the air. I rotated three times and landed on my right blade, smooth and easy. Sergei nodded.

  “Throw loop,” he said, reaching for my hand.

  I peeked at the stands. Elena’s arms were now crossed and her gaze stonier. Watching Sergei and me on the ice together had obviously pricked a nerve. I didn’t want to admit the small amount of satisfaction I felt.

  Sergei and I practiced the two throws multiple times with success, and inspiration hit me upon my final clean landing. I circled around Sergei while I fixed my leotard’s twisted shoulder straps.

  “Let’s run through the whole short program together,” I said. “And we can do sections of the long if you’re not up for doing the entire thing.”

  Sergei rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d prefer we just work on the elements.”

  “But you did run-throughs with Court last year when Mark was hurt.”

  “She was still learning the choreography then, so I thought it would be helpful.”

  Why was he fighting me? We’d never skated a run-through together, but Chris had never been sidelined for an extended period of time. My request made total sense.

  “I think it would be helpful to me, too,” I said. “Just doing elements isn’t as good for my timing as going through them with the program.”

  Sergei’s mouth set in a line. Was he hesitating because he didn’t want to upset Elena? Whether she was feeling nostalgic over her failed career or jealous over Sergei and me skating together, neither was my problem. I had work to do on the ice.

  “Please?” I asked.

  He remained quiet but then unzipped his jacket. “Okay. Let me warm up a little more.”

  He dropped his jacket behind the boards and shot off across the ice. While he loosened his legs, I launched into my flying camel spin. After practicing the spin and my spiral, I skated over to the stereo and popped in our short program CD with “Victoria’s Secret.”

  Sergei rejoined me, and we leisurely glided around the rink, waiting for my friend Trevor and his partner Leigh’s music to end. Since they were also Sergei’s students, he kept an eye on them as they worked on the new program he’d just choreographed. Chris and I were Sergei’s only team going to the World Championships, so all his other pairs had new programs for next season already.

  The popular Bach piece ended with a bang, and Sergei led me to center ice for our starting pose. I placed my hand on his chest and he covered it with his. The beat of his pulse throbbed against my palm, sending mine on a sprint.

  We locked eyes, and a tiny shiver rolled down my spine. Skating a full program together was much different from just practicing throws and lifts.

  You’d better focus and perform the elements perfectly or he’s never going to do this again.

  The music started, and I mentally recited my key words for the opening element, the triple twist. Quick and tight, quick and tight. Sergei tossed me up, and I spun three times before falling into his waiting hands. His catch wasn’t as seamless as Chris’s, startling me and causing me to stumble. He held onto me to keep me steady and mumbled, “Sorry” as we continued forward.

  I zoomed through the triple Lutz while Sergei skipped it, not having done the jump in years. We met up with side-by-side crossovers and skated into the throw Lutz. With a solid landing, I gave Sergei a smile, and his face relaxed. He drew me into his strong arms on the entrance into the pairs spin, and tingles covered my skin. Pretend he’s Chris!

  But that was impossible to do with our noses practically bumping as we curved into the spin. I counted the revolutions in my head, focusing on the numbers instead of Sergei’s breath mixing with mine and the pressure of his hands on my lower back.

  Moving between the remaining elements, we became even more in sync with each other and with the music. Every look, every touch carried an emotion and played out the love story of Sergei’s choreography. The additional adrenaline that coursed through me threatened to erase my well-trained muscle memory.

  Sergei pressed me up into the star lift, and I noticed some of the other skaters idling and watching us, Liza included. We sped past them, and Sergei set me down, preparing for the closing seconds of the program.

  In time with the final piano notes, I edged away from Sergei, and he rushed toward me, trapping me in his arms for the ending pose. I gasped at the passion with which he grabbed me. His eyes held my gaze then slowly drifted down to my mouth, and my body hummed from the fiery energy between
us. I leaned into Sergei and squeezed my fingers harder around his biceps.

  A few of my training mates erupted with applause and whistles, and Sergei jerked backward. He didn’t say anything as he took off to cool down, leaving me alone in the middle of the ice with more than my muscles burning.

  “Get a room, Em.” Trevor laughed as he skated past me.

  A fast-moving blur of fur behind the boards caught my eye, and I turned to see Elena hurrying to the exit. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths.

  This is too much drama.

  I pushed off and followed Sergei around the rink. The breeze cooled my flushed face and dried the sweat trickling down my breastbone. When Sergei slowed and stopped at the boards, I pulled up next to him and took a big gulp from my water bottle.

  Sergei lifted his T-shirt to wipe his face, and I got a prime view of his toned stomach. I frowned to myself. I probably wouldn’t get my hands on those abs much while my houseguests were in town.

  “We shouldn’t do any more of those,” Sergei said.

  “Any more of what?”

  “Run-throughs.”

  “Why?” I hardened my voice. “Because Elena can’t handle it?”

  “It has nothing to do with Elena.”

  “Really? Then what’s the reason?”

  “Chris is your partner. I’m just going to throw you off, skating with you.”

  I shook my head. “It’s more than that. I’m sure you saw Elena storm out of here.”

  “Forget about her.”

  “I wish I could, but she’s in my face twenty-four seven,” I spat out.

  “Then why did you offer her a place to stay?”

  “I had to do something before you offered to move her into your apartment.”

  Sergei looked at me as if I was crazy. “I wasn’t going to…” Glancing at the crowd on the ice, he said, “We can’t talk about this here.”

  I slapped the cap onto my bottle and slammed it down. “So, what do you want me to do next? More Lutzes? Footwork? Maybe I can run through the long with my invisible partner.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Sergei said. “I’ll queue up the music. And I want you to go full-out. Put all the required feeling into it.”

  “It’s a little hard to emotionally connect to someone who’s not there.”

  He angled toward me, his blue eyes shining deep with purpose. “I have faith in you.”

  He skated toward the sound system, and I tightened my ponytail with a fierce tug. Why couldn’t Sergei admit Elena had gotten into his head? Chris waved to me from behind the boards, so I raced over to him.

  “I ran into Elena on my way in,” he said. “She looked like she was about to cry.”

  I groaned. “I can’t handle all this.”

  “What happened?”

  “Em!” Sergei called from across the rink.

  “Excuse me, I have to go skate with imaginary you.”

  Chris smirked. “He’s not nearly as funny as me. Or as good-looking.”

  I let out a little laugh. “Or as humble.”

  I got into position, and when “Clair de Lune” began, I heeded Sergei’s orders and emoted as if Chris was beside me, holding my hand. Sergei and I only discussed technical matters during the rest of our lesson, and at the end of the hour, I grabbed my water and hopped off the ice for a short break.

  Plopping down on the bleachers, I sipped my drink and stared at the Zamboni circling the ice. Sergei stood nearby, introducing Liza to one of the freestyle coaches, but the loud hum from the ice drowned out their conversation. Elena still hadn’t returned. Maybe she’d hitched a ride to the airport. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  Liza headed for the locker room, and Sergei came over to me. “Have you seen Elena?”

  “I’m not her keeper,” I said brusquely.

  He stood with his hands on hips, staring in the direction of the door. “I need to talk to her about Liza.”

  “When you find her, you can let her know we won’t torture her anymore by skating together,” I said, rising from my seat.

  The corners of Sergei’s mouth twitched downward. “Let’s not make this more complicated than it already is.”

  “It would be less complicated if you were honest with me. You can’t tell me you don’t feel anything for Elena, seeing her after all this time.”

  He inched closer to me and spoke softer, “Em, I’ve told you before – my feelings for her are long gone.”

  “You say that, but your actions show otherwise. The way you left so quickly last night, and then today on the ice…”

  “You’re reading way too much into that.”

  “I’m not saying I think you’re still in love with her, but there’s something there.” The Zamboni exited the ice, so I went toward the boards but then stopped and turned around. “And you need to figure it out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  After a long morning of practicing solo followed by an intense workout on the elliptical machine, I retreated to the locker room, seeking an escape from Elena’s constant glare. Aubrey and Marley were sitting on one of the long wooden benches, paging through fashion magazines.

  “Looking for costume ideas?” I asked.

  Marley lifted her head. “Zach and I are changing our free dance. I’m trying to find some color inspiration for my dress.”

  “What are you changing it to?” I asked.

  “The soundtrack from Movin’ Out.”

  “That’ll be a fun program,” I said, pulling on the door to my rusty blue locker. It wouldn’t budge. I yanked harder, growling deep in my throat. “Stupid door,” I said through gritted teeth as I frantically tugged on the handle. The loud banging echoed off the cement walls.

  Aubrey jumped up. “Let me get it.”

  She slowly jiggled the handle up and down and pulled on it, opening the locker easily.

  “Thanks.” I threw my empty water bottle inside, and it hit the back wall with a thud.

  “I saw you and Sergei talking earlier,” Aubrey said. “You didn’t look too happy.”

  “He insists he has zero feelings for Elena, but the way he’s been acting…”

  “Let’s all get out of here and go to lunch. You can tell us everything that’s going on.”

  “I was just gonna eat an energy bar. You know, since according to Elena, I pigged out last night.”

  Aubrey reached into my locker and handed me my purse. “We’re going to lunch.”

  The three of us slipped our warm-up jackets over our leotards and piled into Aubrey’s Jeep. With only one stop light between the rink and our favorite deli, we were seated in a booth with our salads within minutes. I shoved a forkful of romaine lettuce into my mouth and chomped on it, letting my jaws work out more of my frustration.

  “What happened this morning?” Marley asked, her warm brown eyes full of concern. “Chris said Elena stormed out while you were practicing.”

  “Sergei and I did a run-through of the short, and I guess Elena didn’t enjoy watching us skate together,” I said. “You’d think ten years would be enough to get over whatever possessive feelings she had.”

  Marley toyed with the straw in her paper cup. “I guess it could be kinda hard seeing him skate with someone else when they were partners for so long. Didn’t they team up when they were ten years old?”

  “Eleven,” I said. “Even so, she needs to move on. I think she made Sergei feel guilty when he shouldn’t be. All he did was help me practice, and he was really into it until he realized Elena was watching.”

  “She’s going to be at the rink every day, isn’t she?” Aubrey said.

  “Yes. Always in my face, always a reminder.” I set down my fork and pushed away the salad. “I can’t look at her without thinking about her and Sergei in that tiny bed in his parents’ apartment.”

  “You’re going to drive yourself crazy if you keep thinking about that,” Aubrey said.

  “I know, it’s just that she was Sergei’s first kiss, his first love, his
first…” I swallowed hard. “Everything. And now she’s here, all grown up and gorgeous, and Sergei knows what it feels like to be with her. Something he doesn’t have with me,” I added quietly.

  “Are you regretting your decision to wait until you’re married?” Marley asked.

  “No, I just… I hate that Elena has that connection with him.”

  “Just because you haven’t slept with Sergei doesn’t mean you don’t have as deep a connection,” Marley said. “Considering how young he and Elena were when they were together, I’d say what you and Sergei have is even stronger.”

  “They have a kid together, though,” I said. “It doesn’t get much deeper than that.”

  The faint ring of my phone came from my purse, and I checked the number. The area code was Boston’s.

  “Hello, is this Emily Butler?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Barrett White with Sovereign Bank. I’m calling regarding a property on Martha’s Vineyard you’re renting for a week this summer.”

  “Yes?” I asked warily.

  “The house has been foreclosed by the bank and will no longer be available for rental. I’m contacting you to discuss return of your deposit.”

  My hand flew to my forehead, my palm flattening against it. “How can this happen? We have a contract.”

  “I’m very sorry, but unfortunately the contract is void upon foreclosure. I realize it’s a terrible inconvenience.”

  “We rented it for our honeymoon.” My voice rose. “How are we going to find something this close to summer? Most places will be booked already.”

  “Again, I’m incredibly sorry. I’m going to put the paperwork and your deposit in the mail to you as soon as possible. I hope you’ll be able to find a new property.”

  After he confirmed my contact information, I clicked off the phone and sat with it in my hand, staring at it. “I don’t believe this.”

  “Something happened to the house you rented?” Marley asked.