Whispers on the Ice (24 page)

“I wouldn’t worry about being late. I could count the times my Mom’s been on time for things on one hand, and that would be being generous!” George quipped, setting the ice-chipper blade aside and moving to hold the inner door open for Jordan. “Let’s go find Mom and she can get you started on your lesson. Is this your first time on skates?”

“My first time on skates?” Jordan asked in confusion.

“Yeah, you have the scared, glazed look of a new student. I just figured it was your first time, that’s all.”

Jordan laughed at the apt description, considering the apprehension she felt at the prospect of being back on the ice, she wasn’t surprised her expression sent the same message. Aleksei had always said her emotions were out there for all to see, apparently, they still were. “I suppose it’s sort of my first time. I’ve been off the ice for a long time,” Jordan offered carefully.

“Bad injury, huh? Sorry to hear that, but, heh, you’re back and that’s what counts,” George stated encouragingly.

“Yeah, that’s what counts,” Jordan agreed softly, hoping it was true and wondering for the millionth time if getting back on the ice was the right thing to do.

George continued to talk, non-stop, leading Jordan through the interior of the old building, pointing out the various rinks, three in all, the locker rooms, bathrooms and his favorite spot, the snack bar, stopping to reach over the counter and grab a donut out of a Tupperware container.

Jordan smiled at his youthful exuberance and wondered if she’d ever been that carefree and happy. The last two years had passed in excruciatingly slow motion. Every night’s sleep brought dreams of each moment she spent with Aleksei, replaying in her mind over and over, calming and comforting yet leaving her empty, cold and exhausted each morning when she awoke and had to return to reality. Aleksei was gone, and with him her happiness. She’d spent two years trying to find a way to be happy off the ice and hadn’t. Maybe she would find it back on the ice. Aleksei had told her to listen for the whispers on the ice and yet it had taken her two years to gather up the courage to step back onto the very place the two of them had loved with all their hearts and seek him out. He was here; she could feel him drawing her ever closer to the ice, to him.

“Here were are. See? I told you. There’s Mom, checking out the ice,” George stated knowingly, pointing toward the far end of the rink where a skater carefully checked the ice. “Mom, Jordan’s here,” George called loudly, his voice echoing off the high ceiling. “God, I love the smell of ice!” he quipped, taking a deep breath of the cold air.

“Georgie, go help your father with that machine, please. He’s still flooding the ice!” Cynthia Washington said, her voice carrying across the rink and reaching his ears before she slid to a graceful stop at the doorway and stepped onto the rubber mat, pulling her son into her arms and hugging him tightly. “Thanks, sweetie.”

“Mom…” George complained, returning the hug.

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me. Go save our Zamboni,” Cynthia encouraged, pushing him in the direction of a large set of double doors, her smile widening when she heard her son groan ‘Dad!’ upon seeing their new machine with it’s hood open and his father holding a wrench.

“He’s a great kid,” Jordan offered, her eyes widening at the sound of tools hitting the cement floor and a wail of pain.

“Yeah, he is. And, thank God, a great mechanic. Unlike his father who isn’t sure which end of a nail to hit. But then, I didn’t marry him for his mechanical abilities!” Cynthia stated, wiggling her eyebrows humorously.

“You haven’t changed one bit,” Jordan stated, walking into Cynthia’s outstretched arms and accepting her hug of welcome.

Jordan and Cynthia had become friends several years before when Cynthia had coached at the same rink Jordan had trained at. Jordan still was amazed that the young man who had just left to rescue his mother’s Zamboni machine had once chased her around the ice when she was only twelve.

“Oh, yes I have. You’re just too nice to notice. But you’ve changed,” Cynthia held her at arms length, studying her from head to toe and back up again. “You’ve lost weight.”

“Not enough to count.”

“When there wasn’t much there to start, every little bit counts. And your eyes, they’re older. Does that make sense? I don’t know if that’s possible. Can eyes age?” Cynthia babbled, watching Jordan’s eyes darken to a deep green as her emotions rolled over her like a huge wave. “Talk to me Jordan,” Cynthia urged.

Jordan was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts and her courage as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I’ve spent the last two years afraid to step foot on the ice because I was terrified of being alone on it. So I spent all that time away from the very place that made Aleksei and I the happiest. The ice is where we fell in love, you would think I would want to be on the ice more than anywhere else in the world. But now it’s as if something is drawing me here.”

“What makes you say that?” Cynthia asked.

“I’ve never dreamed of skating alone in my life. There was always a partner at my side. But lately…” Jordan trailed off, running her hands through her hair, then shrugging her shoulders, “I’ve dreamed of being on the ice alone. Not competing or anything, but standing back and watching. I don’t know. Teaching maybe? I don’t know, Cynthia. None of this makes any sense at all. I’m so confused it’s ridiculous. Maybe Whittaker’s right, he thinks I’m nuts.”

“Screw, Whittaker. You do what you want to do and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise!” Cynthia stated firmly, smiling at Jordan’s shocked expression. “Don’t go soft on me, Jamison. Tell me, when was the last time you put those on?” Cynthia nodded toward the bag looped over Jordan’s shoulder that held her skates.

“The day before the accident,” Jordan answered dully.

“Tell you what. You get yourself a cup of coca and sit down while I go sharpen those blades and then we can see how much you remember,” Cynthia suggested easily. Taking the bag from Jordan’s shoulder, she pulled her behind her in the direction of the snack bar where she left her with her cocoa and headed back toward the double doors to the sharpening wheel where she carefully sharpened the expensive blades into perfectly balanced edges.

“How’s your new student?” George asked over her shoulder, whistling in surprise as he viewed the expensive skates. “Hey Mom, those aren’t beginner skates. Someone sold her up the river.”

“Sssh. You make me screw up these blades, you’re paying to replace them.”

“You’d have to give me a raise then. Those blades are top of the line. Why would someone sell a beginner such expensive skates?” George persisted.

“Georgie, you talk too much. Is our Zamboni machine still alive?”

“Yeah, Dad was just checking the oil.”

“You just changed it two days ago. Why did he think it needed to be checked? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. How could I marry someone so un-mechanically inclined? No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

“Mom, you’re losing it. You want me to finish sharpening those blades?” George asked, anxious to get his hands on the gleaming metal.

“No, they’re done. But thanks anyway.” his mother offered, kissing him quickly on the cheek. “Now you stay out of trouble for a while. Jordan’s been off the ice for a long time and she’s more than a little nervous about getting out there again. I don’t want to add any pressure by having any extra bodies watching her.”

“Boy, it must have been a really bad injury to make her this anxious,” George suggested.

Cynthia looked into her son’s blue eyes and saw his compassion and understanding. “Yeah, Georgie, the worst kind. Be good now!”And with a final quick kiss to his cheek, returned to the snack bar and held the newly sharpened skates out to Jordan. “Ready?”

Jordan looked at her skates, her expression clearly stating she wasn’t at all sure this was the wisest decision she had ever made. “I don’t know.”

“Good. Let’s go!” Cynthia stated, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “The ice is perfect and calling our names.”

“I thought your husband flooded the rink.”

“That was last week. This week, the ice is perfect!”

“I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Cynthia stopped and turned to look into Jordan’s tear-filled eyes. “Aleksei’s waiting for you out there. How much longer do you intend to make him wait? Think about it and let me know. I’ll be on the ice,” she stated softly.

Jordan closed her eyes and breathed deeply. A sweet calm swept over her and what felt like a gentle kiss against her temple. A deep voice whispered her name softly against her ear, the curls at her temple rustling gently. “Aleksei,” she whispered in return. Opening her eyes, she found herself alone. Cynthia was at the far end of the ice, too far to have been the one calling her name, and the voice she’d heard was lovingly familiar. With a quick glance at the skates she held in her hand, she walked determinedly to the bleachers, sat down and slipped into them.

The routine, familiar and comforting, returned to her as if she’d only been off the ice for two days instead of two years. Slowly she stood, wiggling her ankles and toes; her feet adjusting to the contours of the worn leather like old friends greeting each other. Slowly she walked to the doorway leading to the ice, her balance sure, her stride confident.

Cynthia watched her from across the rink, smiling to herself as she watched Jordan return to where she belonged. “Are you coming or not?”

“Yes,” Jordan answered in a single word as she stepped onto the ice and glided across the shining surface, her feet secure beneath her, her center of gravity solid and un-shifting. Jordan breathed deeply, the chill smell of ice an aphrodisiac to her senses and suddenly she felt the urge to spread her arms and laugh out loud. She glided across the ice, the breeze she created stirring the copper-colored curls and sending them dancing. She picked up speed, flying across the ice, her soul free for the first time in two years and lifted her leg into a high spiral, her arms spread wide. And suddenly she could feel Aleksei’s hands at her waist then sliding up her arms, his fingers lacing with hers. She felt the strength of his chest against her back, her leg stretched against his in the air. She could smell the masculine scent of his after-shave and knew in her heart her decision to return to the ice was the right one and this was Aleksei’s way of giving her his blessing. She clearly heard Aleksei’s voice whisper ‘
I love you, Jordan. Now off you go’
before feeling him push her forward away from him, sending her flying across the ice when she had been drifting slowly to a stop.

George had snuck into the arena, keeping out of sight of both women and watched Jordan gliding across the ice, amazed at her obvious ability. This was no beginner. When his mother caught sight of him, she walked to his side, wrapping her arm about his waist and together they watched Jordan fly over the glassy surface. Both watched Jordan’s perfect spiral position in awe and both gasped in astonishment when she was suddenly propelled forward without changing her spiral position or taking another stroke, as if someone had pushed her

physically forward.

“Mom, what was that?” George asked quietly, his voice a bit shaky.

“My guess would be Aleksei,” Cynthia stated simply, casting a quick glance toward heaven and whispering
thank you
.

“Aleksei? You mean Aleksei Rocmanov?” He’d heard stories of the famous pair team from his mother until he could recite everything there was to know about them in his sleep.

“The one and the same.”

“Come on, Mom. He’s been dead for a couple of years now.”

“I know,” she replied easily.

“You mean to tell me you believe we’ve got the ghost of Aleksei Rocmanov on our ice? You’ve got to be kidding!” George scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why not? We’ve got Jordan Jamison on our ice. Why is it so impossible to believe that Aleksei might still be around?”

“Jordan Jamison? Now you are nuts. When has Jordan Jamison ever been on our ice?”

“Take a good look, Georgie. You and I are seeing Jordan Jamison’s return to the ice and if I’m not mistaken, what we just witnessed was Aleksei’s final appearance with the love of his life.”

“You don’t really believe in ghosts now, do you Mom?”

“Is it really so impossible to believe there might be something for us after we die. I find it comforting to know that those we love and lose are still out there somewhere watching out for us; guiding us; keeping us on track.”

“I guess it’s possible. I never really thought much about it,” George admitted.

“Well think about it, Georgie and hope I live a long time. Because, my sweet son, I’m going to tail you through all eternity!” she swore to her son, laughing softly at his horrified expression.

“Great—just great,” George mumbled as he slipped away from his mother and left her watching Jordan continue to fly across the ice, her soul free and happy.

“Welcome back, Jordan,” Cynthia whispered, smiling as she watched Jordan’s face light up with joy and blew a kiss toward heaven. “See you later, Aleksei.”

With a flip of a switch, she turned on the sound system, cranking up the volume so the rock and roll music shook the walls and returned to the ice, her voice rising over the blasting music. “Okay, Jordan. Time to kick a little ass!” and the two friends began a friendly competition between themselves, laughing and teasing and trying to out-do one another and, when necessary, hoisting the other one back to her feet after a spill.