by Diana Palmer
She remembered another break, in her leg, the same leg, three years ago. It had been a nightmare. She couldn’t get the pictures of her parents out of her mind, except for small spaces of time. They haunted her nightmares. Two kind, sweet, loving people. To die like that!
She forced herself not to think about it. She had a job. The job involved helping a young girl do well on the ice, as she’d done long before she was Janey’s age. The girl’s enthusiasm had fired something inside her, made her hungry to put on skates again, to feel the blades slicing through the ice again.
She pulled them up and looked at them. They needed cleaning. They had a little wear. But they were comfortable, and well broken in. They wouldn’t be rough on her ankles and feet. If she could conquer her fear, she might be able to skate again. It was frightening. But she wanted it so badly.
Her parents had cheered her on. You lost this time, they told her and Paul, but you have plenty of time to prepare for the Olympics. Practice, win those competitions that get you to the next Olympics, make us proud!
She’d done that. Paul and Gerda had taken her in and given her a home while she dealt with the aftermath of the loss of her parents. The farm was sold, but so much was owed on it, that not a great deal was left over. There was enough for a small apartment in Jackson, and enough over for groceries and skating necessities. Paul and his wife had been more than supportive after the tragedy. With the help of the Envelope, and contributions from a private sponsor, she and Paul had managed the expenses and gone on to win almost every competition they faced, ending in a World Championship.
Then, after three years of competition, this had happened, this fall. It wasn’t Paul’s fault, but he’d blamed himself. Karina and Gerda, Paul’s wife, had finally convinced him that it was simply an accident, that he hadn’t caused it. Gerda and their twin sons had helped lift him out of his depression. He was still reluctant to go with another partner, but Karina didn’t want him to miss the chance of that Olympic gold, even if she couldn’t compete. She’d known at the outset that it would take her months to recover, and even more time to accomplish the simplest jumps again. She wasn’t sure she had the nerve to try it again.
Skating had been her life since she was a toddler. She’d done solo competitions only as a child. Paul, who lived nearby, was equally fascinated with skating, and they’d first tried skating together when they were only ten. It was a magical combination. Paul was like the brother she’d never had. She adored him, although she could never feel romantic about him. They were wonderful on the ice. Even Karina’s mother, super critical about the sport to which she’d devoted her life, applauded for them.
Dreams. Dreams gone to ashes. Paul was gone, guilt ridden but driven, trying to work up to competing with a prospective new partner and a new coach. And here was Karina, babysitting. She’d given up on her career because a doctor had said she shouldn’t go back on the ice.
She’d taken his word for it because fear ruled her. She didn’t want to risk another, even more serious, injury. She’d seen skaters who’d taken falls that led to concussion, to scars from skates that sliced through flesh. She’d seen nightmarish falls, even in practice, as hers had happened.
But sooner or later she’d have to try. Just as well to get her skates and step out onto the ice, to see if she could balance, if she could even skate at all.
She drew out her skating bag, with all her accessories, and tucked her skates into it. She had three other pair of skates, one of which had several signatures in black magic marker. She’d worn those skates at Sochi, in Olympic competition. Those signatures were the highlight of her Olympic appearance with Paul. The skaters were a who’s who of the best competitors in the world. Several gold medalists from years ago had been at Sochi, and her mother knew most of them. It had been an honor just to meet them. Having her skates signed by them had been an experience she would never forget.
She read the names and smiled as she put them back in the closet. Janey likely wouldn’t recognize most of those names in black marker, but Lindy might. It wasn’t worth taking the chance. Besides, the skates she was taking back to Catelow were just as good.
She locked the apartment and drove back to the ranch.
* * *
“YOU’VE GOT A skating bag just like mine,” Janey said excitedly, when she saw Karina putting it up in her room.
Karina smiled. “We all have to have bags for our stuff,” she teased.
“Except yours is prettier than mine,” she sighed. “I would have liked soft pink with sparkles. It’s got bling,” she added, laughing.
Karina sighed. “It does, at that.”
“What sort of skates do you have?”
They sat down on the carpeted floor and Karina pulled them out to show them to Janey.
“Wow,” she said softly. “They’re really good ones, aren’t they?”
“They are. But best of all, they’re broken in,” she laughed. “No blisters.”
“I wish I could say the same,” Janey said plaintively.
Karina almost blurted out that her dad was going to take Janey down to Jackson Hole for new skates, but she kept that to herself. Maybe Mr. Torrance meant it to be a surprise.
“You won’t be doing any jumps right away,” Karina told her softly. “So it’s not urgent. We’ll run you through the basics first, and they’re mostly learning how to go forward and backward and how to stop.”
“The how to stop part would be nice,” Janey sighed. “I run into the barrier all the time.”
“I’ll teach you,” she said. “You’ll do fine.”
“Well, we can hope so, can’t we?” she laughed.
“I’m sorry you had to miss practice today,” Karina said after she’d put her skating bag away. “But it’s a long drive down to Jackson, and I needed my skates.”
“Do you live there, when you’re not working?”
Karina nodded. “I have an apartment. It’s not much, but I like it.”
“I’m glad Daddy hired you,” Janey said. “You’re not at all like I was afraid you’d be. I mean, Daddy likes women like Lindy,” she added with a drawn down mouth. “They’re all like her, sharp and smart and snarky.”
Karina’s eyebrows went up. “You stole my word,” she accused. “Snarky’s my own, personal word. You stole it.”
Janey made a face. “I did not,” she returned. “You can’t own a word.”
“I can so. I’ll copyright it,” Karina said with dancing gray eyes.
Janey just laughed.
* * *
MICAH TORRANCE, JUST walking into the house, heard his daughter laughing. It was a rare sound. She was depressed about school, where she was bullied so much. He wouldn’t go and fight her battles for her. He couldn’t. He’d make it impossible for her to defend herself when she grew up. She had to learn the lessons of how to fit in society. The school of hard knocks was the only way to manage that.
It hurt him to see her cry, but it was the same lesson he’d had to learn at her age. His father had been fairly brutal. Micah, like Janey, was an only child. His father had been a military officer, so Micah was raised like a little soldier. He was still used to that routine, and he lived it. He regimented everyone around him. Even Janey.
But that was for her own good, he reasoned. A child needed structure. It had been good for him. It would be good for Janey, too.
He paused at Karina’s door and frowned. “Why are you two sitting on the carpet?” he asked curtly.
“I don’t have chairs,” Karina blurted out, indicating the bed and chest of drawers and television stand. There wasn’t a single chair in the room.
He made a rumbling sound in his throat and turned quickly away, before the amused grin was visible. “Burt!” he called. “When’s supper? I’m starving!”
“Go shoot a bear. I’m making venison stew. Don’t interrupt me or I’ll burn something,” t
he older man teased.
“What would be unusual about that?” Micah murmured.
“I’ll throw something at you,” Burt threatened, his silver hair gleaming in the overhead light as it was reflected there, above his amused dark eyes.
“If you hit me, I’ll scream. So help me.”
Burt laughed and turned back to his chores, while Micah went into his office to check his email and return phone calls.
Karina had to smother a laugh. She hadn’t credited her new, crusty boss with a sense of humor, but he seemed to have one, even if it wasn’t displayed very often. Janey grinned at her.
“First thing Monday, after school, okay?” Karina asked. She wasn’t going to tell the child about Micah’s surprise: the trip to Jackson to buy new skates. She only hoped he wouldn’t forget.
Janey grimaced. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“It will be worth waiting for. I promise,” Karina said and patted her skating bag. She hoped it was a promise she could fulfill.
* * *
THERE WAS A quiet routine to the ranch that turned to pandemonium when Micah was home. He kept everyone on their toes. Karina was a little afraid of him. He was formidable, like a tank.
She tried to keep out of his way. It wasn’t hard. He was gone a lot since Karina came. After the first few days, he seemed to trust her. Not too far, but enough.
Micah, true to his word, did take an excited Janey to Jackson Hole to get fitted for figure skates, and to have the heat molding that would help prevent the usual blisters from new skates. He grumbled, but not too much, when he saw the light in the child’s eyes.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Janey enthused that night, displaying them for Karina just before bedtime.
“They truly are,” she replied, recalling her own joy at her first pair of real figure skates with toe picks. However, Karina’s had come far earlier than the age of nine. She wasn’t sharing that.
“I can’t wait until Monday!” the child sighed.
Karina smiled. Inside, she grimaced. The fear was a living, breathing thing. What if she skated and broke the ankle again? What if she broke her leg? What if she fell...
She forced herself to put the fear aside, until she had to deal with it. And that wasn’t easy.
Monday after school, at the ice rink, Karina put on her skates for the first time since her accident and tried not to remember the cheers of the crowd, the flashing lights, the music, the sound of her skates as she sped along with Paul and he hurled her into the air to do Lutzes and toe loops and Salchows.
Janey had been so excited about her new skates that she couldn’t wait to get onto the ice. It seemed to take forever, she remarked. Karina had laced Janey’s skates before she started on her own. Now, Janey watched Karina go through the long process of lacing up her own skates. “I didn’t know that it was so important, how you laced them,” she said.
“It can mean the difference between landing a jump and falling,” she replied. “I always take time to do it right.” She smiled at Janey. “We won’t do much today,” she added, indicating Janey’s new skates. “You’ll have to break those in a bit more. The heat molding will help, though.” They’d already placed the pads in both their skates to help keep down blisters. Karina had ankle supports in hers as well.
Janey sighed. “So many things to learn,” she said.
“And this is all just the very beginning,” Karina replied gently. “You sure you want to do this? It’s harder than you might realize.”
Janey nodded. “I’m very sure. There’s nothing like the feel of skates on the ice,” she said, trying to put into words a feeling that was sheer exhilaration. “I’ve never loved anything so much!”
Karina saw herself in the child. “It was like that for me, the first time my mother laced me into ice skates.”
“How old were you?”
“Three,” Karina said.
Janey’s lips opened on an indrawn breath. “Three?”
She nodded. “I was doing compulsory figures by the time I was four.”
“They don’t do those in competition anymore,” Janey began, displaying her knowledge of the sport.
“No, they don’t. But that’s one thing your father’s fiancée is right about: they should,” came the firm reply. “They teach discipline and technique, learning to use your edges properly. That’s why my mother taught me to do them first, before anything else.”
“I didn’t even know that skates had inside and outside edges,” Janey said.
Karina frowned. “You didn’t?”
Janey made a face. “Lindy just yelled when I didn’t do something right,” she said miserably. “If I asked a question, she made fun of me. I don’t even think she’s that good on skates,” she added with unexpected rancor. “She stands with her ankles skewed, not straight up. I watched this video on YouTube by a trainer who said you never did that, because it was sloppy and taught bad habits.”
“It does,” Karina said, recalling that Janey had remarked about it before. “But don’t you mention that to Lindy. Okay?”
Janey laughed. “Okay.”
Karina finished lacing up her skates and took a deep breath as she slowly stood up, the edges of her skates encased in the guards that kept them from scoring the wooden floor. She looked toward the ice rink dubiously. There were a lot of people out there. One section was awkwardly roped off where a parent was working with three preschool children. Out on the ice, people were wobbling or skating recklessly or attempting jumps without regard to other skaters.
One skater fell and put his hands flat on the ice to push himself up. Karina groaned.
He barely avoided having his hand sliced open by a skater who almost ran over it when he fell.
“You never put your hands flat on the ice like that to get up,” Karina said, turning to Janey.
“How are you supposed to?”
“I’ll show you again. There’s a correct way to fall as well. The important thing is to keep your feet under you, close together. Bend your knees and keep your chin tucked, and lean slightly forward as you go. You never want to flail about with your arms and get off balance so that you fall backward.”
“This is all very complicated,” Janey said.
Karina nodded. “Very. But it’s fun, too.”
She took a breath and started walking on her blades toward the entrance to the rink, holding on to the barrier with one hand as she got to the ice. It looked frightening, after the accident that had sidelined her. But she was going to have to conquer the fear, or she could lose her job.
Micah Torrance was right. It would be very dangerous for Janey to go on the ice alone, without supervision or training. Karina would have to conquer her own fear to teach the girl how to skate.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Janey asked gently. “It will be all right. I’ll catch you if you fall.”
Karina laughed. The girl was so sweet. “I’ll be fine,” she promised. “We’ll take it very slowly. You know how to get onto the ice?”
“You just skate out there. That’s what Lindy did.”
“No. You do it like this.”
Karina showed her. She took off the guards and put them aside. Holding gently onto the barrier, she put first one foot on the ice and then, slowly, the other, keeping her feet together. She bent her knees and began to walk forward, with her feet in a V shape, using the barrier for support.
“Like this,” she told Janey. “See?”
“Oh. That’s easier,” the girl agreed. She followed in Karina’s footsteps and laughed. “This isn’t so hard.”
“Keep your knees bent. Weight forward. Tuck your chin. Just walk, as if you were marching.”
“Okay!”
* * *
EVEN JUST WALKING was fun. Karina felt the wonder of being on the ice again, remembering with bittersweet
pleasure times like this with her mother, when she was just learning to skate.
She glanced behind. “Doing okay?” she asked Janey.
The child laughed. “Yes! This is fun. And I don’t fall so much.”
“Keep going. Once you feel more secure, we’ll try something else.”
“Fine!”
They marched around the rink, stopping at the roped-off area, turned, and walked back again. They’d both been holding on to the barrier with one hand. But as the ice became familiar and they gained confidence, they turned loose from it and just walked.
“You see, with your toes in a V formation, you can grip the ice,” Karina told her. “It gives you more traction.”
“I noticed...oh, great,” she muttered under her breath.
Janey held on tight to the smooth wood of the barrier. Karina followed suit as Mr. Torrance walked down to the rink with Lindy at his side.
Lindy started laughing. “Good Lord, can’t you get out into the rink? Why are you walking around like penguins?”
“It’s the best way for a beginner to gain confidence,” Karina said quietly, flushing at the criticism.
“I had her skating the first day,” Lindy scoffed.
Janey didn’t mention how many times she fell that first day in the clumsy skates Lindy had bought her.
“Seems better to start slow,” Torrance replied. “It’s less risky.”
Lindy made a face at him. “I was a champion skater,” she said haughtily, brushing back her blond hair. “I think I know how to teach people to do it. Janey’s just clumsy. She doesn’t listen.”
“She’s done very well today,” Karina said.
Janey beamed.
Lindy glared at the other woman. “Walking on the ice,” she nodded. “Wonderful. I can see you really know how to teach.”
“Let’s go,” Torrance said curtly. He glanced at Janey. He smiled. “I think you’re doing it the right way, sweetheart,” he said gently. “We were on the way to Denver to a business meeting. I wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”
“They’re going fine, Dad,” Janey said, grinning. “I love my new skates.”