Whispers on the Ice (22 page)

Her doctor held the door open for her, and with a final glance over her shoulder, blew a kiss to Aleksei, and entered the hospital corridor. Two personnel from the mortuary stood beside a gurney, ready to enter the room that held Aleksei’s body. Both men stood silent as they watched Jordan sway slightly, then catch herself, her chin lifting courageously as she shook her head at the doctor’s offer to sit in the awaiting wheelchair.

Jordan turned her gaze on the two men, respectfully silent, and slowly walked the short distance to the gurney. “Take good care of Aleksei for me, please,” she asked softly, tears filling her eyes and spilling onto her pale cheeks. “He was the best part of me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the men replied in unison, nodding in understanding.

“Thank you,” Jordan whispered in return, gracing them with the smallest of smiles before returning to her doctor, and sliding gracefully into the wheelchair.

The two men watched the doctor wheel Jordan down the long corridor, away from Aleksei and toward a new, uncharted life. Their eyes darkened in sadness as they watched her petite form disappear around the corner from their view, but they would always remember the haunted sadness in her deep green eyes, and soft smile of thanks.

“God bless you, Miss,” one of the men offered into the silent corridor, hoping the blessing found it’s way to her.

“Amen,” his partner agreed, and the two made their way into the now darkened room that held the body of Aleksei Rocmanov.

CHAPTER 16  

The winter sky had the look of impending snow, steel gray blending into ash white, the frigid wind whispered its nasty intentions, yet the lone figure, enveloped in a warm fur coat, sat unblinking on a stone bench gazing over the frozen lake in heart-broken silence. Had it really only been five days ago that she and Aleksei had gazed out across another frozen lake, had made love in the snow and skated together for the last time? Jordan felt numb; as frozen as the ice that stretched before her vision, beautiful to gaze at but ready to shatter like crystal at the least amount of pressure. Aleksei had always called her the strong one but she felt anything but strong today. Today there would be reporters and cameras and people to face, all wishing her well but all a constant reminder of what she had lost, what she wanted to forget, if only for an hour or two. She wondered if she should have taken up the offer her doctor had made her for a light sedative, something to knock back the pain when it felt overwhelming, a little pill to make her a little numb. Being numb had to be better than feeling as if she were going to explode at any moment. She couldn’t deal with this feeling of being out of control and seriously wondered if being drugged was better than feeling this kind of pain. As she looked across the great expanse of ice before her, her eyes wide and unblinking, and listened intently, for the whispers that would tell her Aleksei was near. Deafening silence was all she heard.

“Jordan, the limo’s here,” Dee stated softly, her voice choked with sorrow, her eyes red from tears, still full of concern. Dee’s words echoed ominously in the winter quiet as she looked out the back door to where the lone figure sat unmoving.

“How long has she been out there?” Whittaker asked quietly, peering over Dee’s shoulder at Jordan.

The barely perceptible shrug said it all. Easily he turned her into his arms, hugging her tightly against his chest. “We’ll make it through today…somehow,” he stated, his voice fading into a whisper as he finished his statement.

“Will we? Will Jordan?” Dee asked brokenly, dabbing at her eyes with a damp, crushed Kleenex.

“She’s stronger than both of us. Somewhere she’ll find the strength.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dee whispered, resting her forehead against his chin and trying to stop the tears that filled her eyes from falling.

“So am I,” he answered simply, his voice husky. His own eyes filled with tears as he looked at Jordan’s huddled, still form. “We’ll give her another five minutes, then I’ll go get her,” he offered.

Nodding in agreement, she accepted Whittaker’s soft kiss on her damp cheek and left to tell the limo driver they would be ready shortly. She could only hope it was so. But more than that, she hoped they would all survive this day, a day that should never have needed to be faced. A day they would all say good-bye to someone they had each loved in their own way. A day the world would watch Jordan say farewell to the skating partner she had found, the friend she had made, the man she had loved. The day Jordan Jamison would say good-bye to the life she had believed would last forever and take her first step alone toward the long journey that would be her future.

* * * * *

The church the limousine pulled up to was a small, quaint structure built of brick and covered with struggling vines that refused to go dormant despite the winter. The tall spire reached into the gray sky, it’s lonely bell ringing sadly in the chill air, a somber reminder of death. Velvet ropes hanging from brass pedestals rested on either side of the stairs leaving a clear entrance up the stairs into the church and kept the growing crowd from invading the privacy of the famous expected to mourn the passing of Aleksei Rocmanov.

The crowd was large, yet subdued, and watched in both wonder and disbelief as limousine after limousine let out their famous occupants, now dressed in dark, somber colors that matched the mood of the occasion.

As the hour neared three o’clock, a long black limousine slowly pulled to the curb, parked and the driver opened the back passenger door. Whittaker slid from the limo and turned to assist Dee as she exited the warm interior, giving her hand a quick reassuring squeeze before turning his attention to Jordan. Dee waited quietly beside the limo.

“Ready?” he asked softly, offering his hand to her, their eyes meeting and holding, understanding the desire they each had to refuse to believe why they were here this day and yet each knowing they had to close this chapter of their lives.

“No,” Jordan whispered brokenly, her eyes filling with tears even as her lungs refused to allow her to breath fully.

“Everyone will understand if you decide not to come in. You just got out of the hospital two days ago…”

Jordan shook her head from side to side and struggled to still the tears that threatened to overflow her forest green eyes. “Don’t lie to me Whittaker. You and I both know no one would understand if I didn’t go to Aleksei’s funeral. Christ, Aleksei would never let me live it down if I didn’t even give him the satisfaction of seeing me in this damn black dress.”

“Aleksei always liked you in black. He once told me that when you wore black you were the sexiest woman he’d ever seen,” he remembered fondly, a soft smile flickered across his lips.

“Sounds like some sexist remark he’d make,” Jordan whispered past the painful lump in her throat, brushing away the tears that traced a path down her cheek. “I could have changed that chauvinistic attitude he had. In fact, he was coming along quite nicely. If I’d only had a little more time…” Jordan’s voice trailed off brokenly.

“We all wish we’d had a little more time with him. But for whatever reason, our time together is over and we need to take the next step forward. It’s time to say good-bye,” Whittaker choked out deeply.

“I can’t say good-bye, not again,” Jordan moaned softly, feeling her heart break a little more as she looked toward the church.

Whittaker nodded in understanding. “No problem, Jordan. We won’t say good-bye. How about, until later?”

Jordan nodded in agreement. “Until later. I like that. And we will see him later, won’t we? God couldn’t be so cruel as to keep us apart forever. Right?”

“No God that I pray to, Jordan. I swear to you, one day you’ll look into someone’s eyes and you’ll see Aleksei smiling back at you. His soul is too special to keep locked away in heaven somewhere!” Whittaker stated firmly, believing in his heart the words he spoke to the petite woman before him.

Jordan cast the barest hint of a smile at the man whom Aleksei had loved like a father and placed her small hand into his larger one that waited patiently outstretched. With a gentle squeeze of reassurance, he pulled her gently out the door of the limo and to her feet, cautious of her injured shoulder and arm. Dee joined the pair and slowly made their way up the stairs and into the church.

Camera shutters clicked around them, the whirring sound of film winding forward and backward unusually loud in the cold, gray afternoon. Surprisingly enough, there were no calls from photographers to
look this way
. Somehow in death, it seemed, Aleksei demanded more respect than he ever had in life. Jordan remembered the time one obnoxious cameraman had demanded they stop while he photographed them and Aleksei had responded with an international gesture that everyone understood. After that, Jordan made sure that Aleksei always had his hands full carrying their luggage and skates and thereby made it impossible for him to be making any gestures at all. A soft, sweet smile touched her lips at the memory and she cast a loving look toward the darkening sky. The photographers caught this loving glance heavenward, and heartbreaking smile, and unknowingly Jordan took her first step toward independence. It was this picture that would grace the covers of numerous newspapers the next day, along with the accurately quoted headline,
JORDAN’S FAREWELL TO ALEKSEI—‘UNTIL LATER, MY LOVE’.

Jordan, Whittaker and Dee entered the small church, their steps slowing as they joined the remaining mourners as they slipped silently into their seats. Acknowledgments were made in silence, a nod of the head, a squeeze of a hand, a soft smile. Jordan accepted the condolences silently, her composure holding precariously, her fingers playing with the pearl and diamond ring on her finger as she struggled to keep from falling apart. A priest appeared at Jordan’s side and with a softly spoken question, guided Jordan toward the front of the church, where Aleksei’s coffin lay draped in a blanket of gardenias, her favorite picture of him sitting atop the pewter casket. The priest held her steady when she stumbled slightly as she drew closer to his casket, offering encouragement and words she would never remember and then finally assisted her into the front pew. Whittaker and Dee followed behind and slipped in beside Jordan, their gazes traveling from Jordan to Aleksei’s casket and back again.

The priest began the service and prayers were offered, songs were sung, those that had known and loved Aleksei Rocmanov spoke words of remembrance. Jordan struggled to keep from drowning in the tears that threatened to overwhelm her, her gaze on the circle of diamonds and pearls that circled her finger, Aleksei’s final gift to her. As the priest asked if anyone else wished to speak, Jordan found herself standing and walking the short distance to stand beside Aleksei’s casket, placing her hand on the cold surface. Beside it, she looked like a heartbroken child, but her words rang clear and strong in the silent room filled with those who had loved Aleksei.

“I want to thank all of you for coming here today. Aleksei is probably thinking all of us must have a better place to be than here, but I thank you all the same. All of you know how much Aleksei meant to me. Besides being my partner on the ice, he was my best friend, my biggest supporter and the one I loved most in this life. I can’t imagine ever loving anyone again the way I love Aleksei. And so I can’t—I won’t—say good-bye to him. I’ll simply say, until later, my love,” Jordan finished softly, kissing Aleksei’s coffin a last time and removing one gardenia from the blanket of gardenias adorning its surface.

The words of Celine Dion’s
The Prayer
suddenly filled the room and she caught Whittaker’s questioning glance, smiled in understanding and walked the few steps to meet him, sliding into his encompassing arms. The mourners filed forward, each taking a gardenia from atop Aleksei’s casket and bidding their friend a final farewell. As the last notes of the beautiful music faded, Jordan ran her hand along his casket a last time and joined Whittaker and Dee as they walked through the outer doors of the church, and toward their respective futures.

* * * * *

Two weeks after the accident that shattered the future of Jordan and Aleksei, a package was delivered by Federal Express to Dee’s residence addressed to Jordan. Dee signed the ever-present electronic clipboard and thanked the driver as she accepted the package and closed the door. “Jordan, a package just arrived for you,” Dee called walking through the small living room and up the stairs toward the bedroom that Jordan occupied.

The door lay partially open, allowing only a thin stream of light from the hallway into the room, it’s glowing touch missing the small figure that lay curled on the bed, covered with a down comforter. Dee glanced through the opening, shaking her head in concern and knocked softly against the gleaming white wood. “Jordan, something came for you. Federal Express just delivered it.”

“Thanks, Dee. Just set it on the table please,” Jordan responded quietly, without emotion.

Dee pushed the door open and moved to sit beside Jordan on the bed, pushing the tangled coppery curls from her cheeks and looking into her pale face. “Aren’t you even a little curious what it might be?” Dee asked, waving the small package before her.

“Not now, maybe later,” Jordan answered, pulling the comforter higher over her shoulder but not before Dee caught a glimpse of the sweater she was wearing that had belonged to Aleksei.

“I think you should see what it is now,” Dee suggested, concern etching her eyes.

“What’s the big deal? It will still be there tomorrow if I don’t get to it this minute,” Jordan mumbled, snuggling deeper into the comforter.

Dee groaned in frustration. Jordan hadn’t left the house in the two weeks since the funeral, and worse, hadn’t left her room for the past three days. Dee was worried about her health, both physically and mentally and wasn’t ready to call in the professionals just yet. But her ideas were dwindling as to how to start a fire under Jordan and get her back to the business of living. Dee was the first one to admit that their lives were certainly different. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about Aleksei. She’d find herself listening to music and begin planning their next program, only to suddenly realize there would be no more programs for the two of them. Their time and magic had ended sooner than anyone could have imagined, and despite the unfairness of it, it was time to start slowly moving forward. So far, Jordan was refusing to even attempt that first step, and Dee was growing concerned. Even Whittaker had commented on Jordan’s loss of weight, and general loss of interest in everything. And now, as Dee looked at the small figure huddled beneath the huge comforter wearing her dead partner’s sweater, she decided the time had come to force Jordan back into the living world, whether she wanted to be there or not.

“Fine, I’ll open it,” Dee stated, tearing the tape and opening the square box to reveal an unmarked videotape and small folded note. Dee unfolded the note and began to silently read the neatly written words before her, gasping in shock as the words before her sank in, her eyes filling with tears and blurring the contents of the note. “Dear, God…” she whispered, her fingers covering her lips to still their quivering.