Life on the Edge (12 page)

“What’s up, chickadee?”

“I’m ready to do two clean run-throughs today,” she said with determination.

“Now, that’s the kind of attitude I love.”

She took off her sneakers and set her eyes on the ice. “Sergei is such an awesome skater. I wonder why he quit so young.”

“I don’t know. He never talks about it. He and Elena had just won Junior Worlds when they retired. No one seems to know why.”

“You’ve never asked him?”

“No, I figured it must be a sore subject because he never mentions it.”

Since I’d met Sergei, I’d been curious about his skating career and why he’d quit when he was eighteen. But the few times Chris or I had brought up his partnership with Elena, Sergei had quickly diverted the conversation. I assumed the split hadn’t been amicable.

Through the blue double doors from the lobby, Aubrey waltzed in, carrying a large crystal vase of flowers. She approached us with a big smile.

“
Em
, these were delivered to the office for you.”

“They’re so pretty!” Courtney cried.

I hopped down and took the card from the bouquet as Aubrey set the vase on the bleachers. Bending over, I sniffed the sunflowers, and the scent of summer filled my nose, taking me away from the dreary winter and into my mom’s garden.

I slipped the tiny card out of its envelope and read the note to myself.

Aubrey read over my shoulder and said, “He’s a doll.”

“Who’s a doll?” Courtney asked as she pulled on her skates.

“Drew Henry,” Aubrey said.

“Ooh, he’s cute.”

I fingered one of the smooth sunflower petals, and my heart warmed at Drew’s thoughtfulness. The only flowers I’d ever received were from my family at competitions.

“I need to call him,” I said and brought the vase into the locker room.

Drew didn’t answer, so I left a message. “Hey, I got your flowers, and they’re so beautiful. They’ve definitely brightened my day . . . my whole week. Thank you
so
much. I’ll talk to you soon.”

After Courtney and Mark’s session, I stored my skates in the locker room, put on my down jacket, and picked up the flowers to bring home. Sergei was walking out of the rink ahead of me, and he held the door. I thanked him as we strode out into the frigid evening.

He glanced up at the sky. “Looks like the rain has finally stopped.”

“It’s about time,” I said. Was he intentionally not commenting on the huge floral arrangement in my hands?

Sergei walked toward his car, and I took a step toward mine, gazing at the bouquet. My feet flew out from under me, and I landed hard on my bottom while the vase crashed to the ground, spraying glass and flowers across the slush-covered pavement.

“
Em
!” Sergei cried, hurrying over and crouching next to me. “Are you okay?”

My tailbone throbbed, similar to when I’d first practiced triple jumps and spent more time on my butt than in the air.

“Yeah, I’ll just be a little sore tomorrow.”

“Let me help you up.” Sergei held my arm, and I stood gingerly. As soon as I was upright, he released me from his grasp.

I stared at the broken vase and scattered flowers lying in half-frozen puddles. My little bit of sunshine was now a wet, dirty mess.

“They’re all ruined,” I lamented.

“Don’t worry about the stupid flowers.” His voice rose with intensity. “You could’ve really been hurt.”

“They’re not stupid!”

I bent down to try to salvage the bouquet. When I reached for one of the stems, Sergei squatted next to me and touched my hand.

“
Em
, there’s glass everywhere,” he said softly. “Let me pick them up.”

He pulled his hand away, and I stood back as he retrieved every single flower, deftly avoiding the shards of glass. Meanwhile, the rink manager came out, saw the potential hazard, and went to get a broom.

“We can wrap them in some paper towels,” I said.

Sergei followed me inside and through the swinging door to the snack bar. The café was full of noisy teenagers sipping on sodas and sharing baskets of
french
fries.

I grabbed a handful of napkins from the counter as Sergei laid the flowers on an empty table. Bundling the stems together, I folded three layers of paper around them.

“What’s the occasion . . . for the flowers?” he asked.

“I’ve just had a bad week.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

We looked up from the table at the same time. Sergei’s eyes showed genuine concern, and I lost myself in their sea of blue.

I lowered my eyes and tightened the napkins around the flowers. “It’s just been one of those weeks when everything goes wrong. Drew thought I needed a little pick-me-up.”

Sergei’s jaw clenched and he didn’t say anything further as we made our second attempt to leave for the day.

“Thanks for helping with the flowers,” I said.

“Sure. Watch your step from now on, okay?” He gave me the same concerned look as earlier.

I walked head-down to my car, watching for any slick patches. As I placed the flowers on the floor mat of my backseat, I thought how fitting it was I’d turned Drew’s gift into yet another disaster. But there’d been one thin silver lining–seeing how worried Sergei was when I fell.

.

Chapter Nine

“I still can’t believe you have to skate on Christmas. Today is the Lord’s birthday,” Mom said as she loaded dirty plates into the dishwasher.

“Nationals is only a few weeks away.” I handed her the grill pan from the stove. “And I got to spend Christmas Eve and this morning with you and Dad. Sergei made sure we had time with our families.”

I wiped the tile-covered island with a dishrag and watched Mom scrub the pan in the sink. We’d just finished our customary Christmas breakfast of pancakes and baked pancetta. Being home in Brookline and partaking in my family’s holiday traditions was exactly what I needed before the Nationals frenzy began.

“When are Chris’s parents going back to Baltimore?” Mom asked.

“Tonight. Dr.
Grayden’s
on duty at the hospital tomorrow.”

Dad came down the stairs, pulling an old knit cap over his thinning gray hair. Slipping into the mud room off the kitchen, he grabbed his jacket and gloves.

“I’m going out to scrape the ice off
Em’s
car.”

I planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks, Dad.”

He went out the back door, sending a blast of cold air into the warm, cozy room. I perched on the stool next to the island, my favorite spot in the kitchen.

“Did I tell you Chris and Marley went out on a date? Well, actually, three dates now. They’ve become inseparable.”

Mom twisted her neck to look at me. “What do you think about that?”

“I think it’s great. He’s been crushing on her so long, I’m glad they’re finally going out. They’re really cute together.”

“You’re not worried Chris will get distracted?”

“Chris? Distracted? This is the guy who can tell jokes five minutes before he competes and then nail every element. He’s incapable of being distracted.”

“He really is the best partner you could ask for.”

I picked up the dishrag and folded it into a neat square. “Believe me, I thank God every day he chose to skate with me when he could’ve found a more experienced partner.”

Mom shut off the sink and dried her hands on her yellow apron, one I’d given her a few years ago. It was embroidered with the message
Don’t Mess With the Cook
. I’d thought it was fitting since my mother was not someone to mess with in general.

She stood beside the island and patted my hand. “I have to say, even though I was upset you didn’t take the scholarship to Boston University and you postponed college, I think you made the right decision switching to pairs. There’s a glow about you now when you compete.”

I smiled. “That’s because I’m not scared to death anymore. Having Chris out there with me is so comforting. And you know the coaches I had growing up were great technically but not so much with the psychological stuff. Sergei’s helped me tons with my confidence.”

“He definitely has the magic touch with you.”

I stifled a snort.
He’s touched something for sure.

“We should’ve invited Sergei to dinner at Aunt Deb’s last night,” Mom continued. “It must be hard for him, not seeing his family at the holidays.”

No doubt he would’ve declined that invitation faster than Mom could deliver it.

“I heard him say he was having dinner with another coach and his family.”

“Still, it’s a shame he doesn’t have someone to spend the holidays with. He’s such a nice, good-looking guy. I’m surprised women aren’t lining up to date him, but I guess he’s pretty engrossed in his job.”

The thought of Sergei with a woman made my breakfast rise to my throat. I jumped down from the stool and poured myself a fresh glass of apple juice to wash away the sour taste.

Once Dad finished defrosting my car, I got on the road to the Cape. As I drove, I thought about the next time I’d travel that highway–the trip to Nationals in Boston in three weeks.

With our strong showing in the Grand Prix series, Chris and I were the favorites to win. The championship was a title we needed to cement ourselves as contenders for a medal at the World Championships in March. And a medal at Worlds would make us one of the top teams going into next season. The Olympic season. Every competition was a building block for the potentially life-changing event. Sergei always reminded us not to look ahead, but I knew how crucial winning Nationals was to the big picture.

A blaring car horn startled me from my thoughts, and I realized I’d started drifting into the next lane. I gripped the steering wheel harder and jerked it to the right, my leather gloves squeaking against it. Easing my push on the accelerator, I exhaled and shook my head.
Can’t win anything if you don’t make it to practice alive.

****

My blade hit the ice, carving a deep groove, and I reached for Chris’s hand. He lifted me into the air, and I suppressed another laugh at the Santa hat he’d worn to practice.

Aubrey and Nick whizzed past us, concentrating on their midline footwork sequence. Moving in the opposite direction were Marley and Zach, executing circular steps. Those two couples were the only company we had on the ice.

We struck our ending pose, and Chris exclaimed, “Perfect run-through! Merry Christmas, Sergei!”

Sergei applauded and skated over to us. “Not quite perfect. There were a couple of little things, but it was very good.”

“Can’t you humor us for once?” Chris asked. “It
is
Christmas.”

Even Sergei couldn’t keep a straight face looking at Chris. He cleared his throat, trying to regain composure. “I do appreciate you both coming in and cutting short your day with your families. You did a great job today. We’ll pick it up bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“Before we go, we have something for you,” I said. “Can you meet us in the lounge in a few minutes?”

Chris and I changed out of our skates in the locker room and headed upstairs. The lounge was void of the usual crowd of skating moms peering through the glass with critical eyes at their kids on the ice. Sergei stood alone beside the water cooler.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” he said.

“We wanted to solidify our position as your favorite students.” Chris’s face locked into a grin.