Whispers on the Ice (30 page)

Moments later, Nick heard George Junior’s laughter as he helped Megan through the doors, her skating bag slung over his shoulder, her costume bag draped over his arm. With a scowl, Nick looked at the two young people, obviously attracted to each other and growled a greeting as they passed.

George and Megan’s bemused expressions met and held, breaking apart on a nervous laugh as they reached the locker room doors and George handed over Megan’s bags. With a quick, light kiss to her cheek, George wished Megan luck and ran off to see what the next thing on the
short list
of to-do’s was before the show began.

With only two hours until show time, a lot could happen!

* * * * *

Cynthia Washington made the mistake of entering the locker room before Jordan had left it and found herself the center of Jordan’s glaring attention. “How could you do that to me, Cyndi. How could you give that bastard access to my life?” Jordan growled, slipping her foot into her skate, setting her heel in place with three solid kicks to the padded floor and furiously lacing up her boots.

Cynthia didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out who the
bastard
Jordan referred to was. “He’s been lost and drifting for three years, just like you. He had questions, I thought maybe you had the answers.”

“How can I have answers to his questions when I have so many of my own I’m still trying to figure out? Cyndi, I can’t believe you set me up like this?” Jordan hissed angrily, standing up and squatting slightly to settle into her boots.

“You’re over reacting. The show’s making you edgy,” Cynthia suggested, watching as Jordan paced back and forth before her.

“My edginess has nothing to do with the show—I’m fine with the show.”

“Then why aren’t you skating in it?”

Jordan stopped abruptly, her fiery gaze meeting Cynthia’s calm, steady look. “This show isn’t about me. It’s a way for our students to show their family and friends how much they’ve accomplished. Whether or not I choose to skate—and I choose not to—has nothing to do with the show.”

“I think you’re afraid to be out there under the spotlight alone,” Cynthia stated bluntly.

“I skate everyday
alone
, Cyndi.”

“Not by choice, but because you have to skate, just like you have to breathe.” Cynthia corrected. “Why aren’t you skating in the show, Jordan? Every student in this building has asked me that question a dozen times. And I’ve never been able to give them the real reason, even though I know what it is.”

“So tell me, knower of all things. What is that reason?” Jordan asked sarcastically, her anger growing.

Cynthia took in Jordan’s defiantly raised chin, her flashing eyes and hoped she was doing the right thing. “Because you’re afraid if you’re a success alone on the ice people will forget Aleksei and that part of your life will have been a waste. It’s easier to stay hidden in the shadows crying over what could have been and screaming unfair than it is to put yourself out there on the line and make a fool of yourself. Well, Jordan—you’re right—it’s easier not to try but then there’s not much satisfaction in hiding and wallowing in your own self-pity.”

“It’s my life. I’ll live it as I choose and if I choose to spend it alone then it’s my damn business and no one else’s!” Jordan stormed.

“You’re right, it is your life. But I don’t have to stand by and watch you die a little more each day. Do you think Aleksei’s happy knowing you’re just biding your time on earth? Do you think it would make him happy if you threw yourself off a damn cliff so you could be with him?” Cyndi yelled, grabbing Jordan and turning her to face a full-length mirror. “Look at yourself, Jordan, you’ve changed. You’re twenty-two years old but for all the life in your eyes you could be two hundred. The last thing Aleksei would have wanted you to do was mourn him for your whole life. He didn’t expect you to. If he was here now he’d kick you in your skinny ass and tell you to start living again.”

“If he was here we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Jordan answered flatly, the tone filled with pain.

“But he’s not here—he’s gone—forever, and no matter how much you wish it could be different, if can’t be. It’s time to let Aleksei go. It’s time to thank him for all he gave you and get on with the business of living,” Cyndi stated softly.

Jordan lifted tear filled eyes to her friend. “I don’t know how to start.”

Cyndi wiped tears from Jordan’s cheeks and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Listen to the whispers on the ice, Jordan, they’ll show you the way,” Cyndi offered and left Jordan alone in the silent locker room.

Jordan sank to the bench when her knees refused to hold her any longer. Cyndi’s words recycled through her mind and Jordan knew she was right—she was afraid to succeed on her own. Aleksei had been the best part of her life and no matter how much she raged against fate and its cruel hand, she was alone, and had to learn to stand on her own. The very thought of standing alone scared her to death, let alone the thought of being on that huge piece of ice under a spotlight by herself. What if she failed? She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to try to be a single skater. And if she did, what if she couldn’t make it as a single? What if no one was interested in seeing Jordan Jamison skate any longer? There were so many
what ifs?
to worry about.

On the other hand, what if she did become a single skater? Or for that matter, who said she had to return to competition any way? Wasn’t she happy coaching and teaching? Didn’t she find joy in watching her students accomplish a new move? Didn’t she feel their excitement when they won a competition? Wasn’t there more to life than competitions, exhibitions and injuries?

Yes! As sure as the sun would rise the following morning, Jordan knew she could find joy in her life as long as she had the ice beneath her feet, one way or another. She’d hidden behind her grief and fright long enough. Aleksei had always told her she was stronger than she realized; maybe it was time to see if he was right.

Feeling both emotionally and physically stronger than she had in years, she rose to her feet, the comforting feel of her blades beneath her made her smile. As she pushed through the locker room doors, the haunting notes of music she hadn’t heard since the accident reached her ears and sent shivers coursing through her body. The melody to
The Prayer
crashed over her like a wave pounding the sand and nearly sent her to her knees. It was common knowledge at the ice house that that particular piece of music was never to be played, under any circumstance, and yet the music concluded and began again, it’s softly pulsing beat drifting from the rink used only for hockey.

Jordan realized it could only be Nick who would be belligerent enough to play that piece of music. Obviously, since he’d been unsuccessful in his attempts to seduce her, he’d decided it was his job on the planet to torture her in every way possible and somehow he’d discovered this piece of music would be the best way to twist the proverbial knife.

“Nicholas Devon, you bastard…” Jordan yelled as she forcefully pushed through the double doors leading to the rink, her strength making them slam against the walls sounded like gunshots in the large rink. Yet the sound didn’t disturb Nick as he skated to the music. Jordan watched him in silent awe, her breath barely making a sound as she watched the beauty of his skating as he circled the ice, his blades soundless against the freshly groomed ice.

Nick skated to the far side of the rink and lifted the remote to the sound system and started the piece of music over again. Jordan watched him skate to the center of the rink, his brow furrowed as if he was struggling to remember something just out of reach then smoothed as if the puzzle was solved and the pieces fit. Nick began to skate again; his feet secure beneath him, even though he wore hockey skates. His strokes were strong and lengthy, eating up the ice as he gained speed and suddenly leaped into the air, spun around three times and landed backwards on his left foot. He held his backward glide position for several long seconds and then turned as if he were lifting a partner into his arms and then setting her back on the ice.

Jordan watched Nick in silence. Chills raced up her spine as memories of the program she had described to Aleksei, as he lay dying in her arms, suddenly came to life before her. How often had she visualized this program in her mind, too afraid to actually attempt it on the ice for fear of it not being all that she had promised Aleksei it would be? And yet, now before her, their program was being performed by a stranger whose style and strength was nearly identical to Aleksei’s but who physically looked nothing at all like him.

Jordan looked from the ice to the exit door she had only moments before slammed through and knew in her heart she was on the brink of something life-changing. Her mind screamed for her to run as fast and far away as possible to escape the power that beckoned to her from the ice. Yet her heart reassured her there was peace and love and comfort to be found on the shining, mirrored surface that had always been home to her. With a final glance at the exit sign, Jordan removed her blade guards from her skates, and stepped on to the ice and into her future.

CHAPTER 22  

The clear, soft whispers of sharp blades as they scored spider web-like designs into the ice lead Jordan forward, encouraging her to move toward the ever-strengthening power that drew her on toward the future that awaited her. Soft music tickled a vague memory and reached her from far away yet grew in volume as she focused her attention on the soft, beckoning notes, the musical strains causing waves of warmth to flow through her. Warm fingers traced a gentle path down her arm and interlaced with her fingers, a light, reassuring squeeze offered comfort.

The whispers grew, becoming more insistent, urging her ever forward, and her eyelids twitched at the sudden splashes of bright light that flashed before her eyes.

“Jordan… Jordan…? Can you hear me?” a familiar—yet not familiar—male voice called from far away. A bright light crossed her line of vision again, hurting her eyes and she weakly turned her head away from the source of discomfort, a small groan escaping her lips.

Pain stabbed through her brain like a hot, sharp knife and she gasped in surprise, struggling to understand the chaos that suddenly surrounded her. Had she fallen and struck her head when she stepped on to the ice to confront Nick? Portions of questions formed in her mind in slide-like flashes, incomplete and scrambled, and the more she tried to concentrate, the more her head hurt.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, relax. Come on now, Jordan; breathe for me, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Remember? Just concentrate on breathing, push the pain away.” his voice, deep and familiar, coaxed softly into her ear, his warm breath stirring the hair at her temple as a pair of hands slipped into her hair, and held her head still, while his thumbs gently caressed her temples.

Jordan stilled at his softly spoken words and gentle touch, her subconscious blindly following his lead. She tried to concentrate on the man’s voice, deep and calm, and fought to open her eyes in the hopes of making some sense of the madness that still swirled confusingly around her. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain receded and her body went limp, as she was able to relax again.

She sighed in dismay as he pulled his hands from her hair and gently laced his fingers with hers as he held her hand, missing his gentle touch. The brief thought,
‘Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore’
flashed through her brain, making her laugh at the absurdity of the thought.

The sound came out as more of a croak, and everyone in the room cast concerned looks at each other. All silently voicing the same question.
Well
?

“Come on, Jordan. Open your eyes—try sweetheart,” the voice requested, his tone soft yet insistent.

Jordan did try, but her eyes felt weighted down and refused to obey her command, and when she tried to verbalize her dilemma, her mouth felt as if it had been stuffed with stale, gritty cotton.

“All her stats check out, Dr. Devon,” a nurse stated quietly, handing the chart toward the doctor that stood at the foot of the bed.

“Come on, Jordan, vacation time’s over, quit screwing around and open your eyes, brat.”

Jordan groaned, a hoarse, raspy sound, and swallowed, groaning again when she took a deep breath and felt fire spread through her chest. Her hand clutched convulsively at the fingers still laced with hers, squeezing tightly as she struggled to control the pain that stole her breath away.

“She hasn’t lost her grip!” the voice stated dryly, surprised at the strength of her hand in his. “Come on, brat, open those gorgeous eyes for me,” he coaxed yet again.

“Go away, Rocmanov, you’re a pain in the ass!” Jordan complained, her voice barely more than a whisper as she turned her head away from the voice beside her.

The sudden silence in the room was deafening, and everyone held their breath in anticipation.

“Who?” the voice asked, his hand reaching her cheek and gently turning her face to his.

Jordan’s eyes fluttered open, blinking at the bright lights above her head, fighting the desire to succumb to the peaceful darkness that hovered at the edges of her consciousness. Her eyes dropped closed, then opened again, squinting as she sought to bring the face before her into focus. “Don’t screw with me now, Aleksei, I’ve got a hell of a headache. What did you do, drop me on my head?” she asked softly, her eyes absorbing every detail of the face before her. Dark hair fell haphazardly over his brow; his ebony eyes glowed brightly with a hint of tears, despite their arrogant expression. A bandage covered his cheek, hints of the bruise beneath it visible. His beautiful mouth smiled widely, stretching the stitches at the corner of his lip, even as it trembled with emotion he could barely contain.

“No, I didn’t drop you,” he answered quietly, his eyes memorizing every detail of her pale face, the fading bruises that encircled both her eyes barely noticed as his grateful gaze blended with her confused glance, his smile growing as tears filled his dark eyes. Tiredly he laid his head against her shoulder and heaved a sigh of such utter relief he could no longer hold his emotions in check, the blanket caught the silent tears that slipped from his eyes.

Jordan felt Aleksei’s pain, radiating in waves, and struggled to raise her hand and lay it against Aleksei’s head, her fingers sifting through the dark waves of hair the texture of silk. The light caught the glimmer of diamonds on the ring firmly settled on her left hand as she ran her fingers through his hair and she paused, momentarily stunned, at the sight. A soft smile lit her face as she watched the diamonds catch the light and cast miniature rainbows over the pearls. Lifting her gaze from the beautiful ring, she looked about the room, not surprised to see Dee and Whittaker there, looking exhausted but wearing grins that stretched from ear to ear. Whittaker’s quick, happy wink spoke volumes. A doctor leaned over her. Tall with sandy colored hair, and the most startling blue eyes she’d ever seen, eyes that seemed somehow familiar. She tried to figure out why she should know him, as she followed his instructions while he flashed a small light across her eyes, listened to her heart and took her pulse, then nodded in approval, yet she was still unable to determine where she should know him from.

“What happened?” Jordan asked hoarsely, looking from Dee to Whittaker to the doctor and finally Aleksei.

The question hung in the air. How much did she need to be told now and how much could wait until she was stronger? Aleksei looked from Whittaker to Dee to the doctor, they all seemed to be waiting for him to take the lead.

“It’s a long story,” Aleksei finally answered, his voice deep and filled with such relief he felt exhausted and exuberant at the same time. Jordan was back, and safe, and there would be plenty of time later to tell her the whole story of the accident. Time to tell her how close he’d come to losing her forever, how he’d spent the last five days beside her in the hospital, refusing to leave her side. Talking to her; bullying her; begging her to fight to stay with him, telling her what their future would be like if only she’d quit the possum routine, and get up off her butt. But mostly, praying, as he had never prayed before for her to find her way back to him—and he’d been heard. Somehow, someone had heard him, felt him worthy, and answered his prayers. For now, just the fact that his prayers had been answered and Jordan was back was enough for him. He only hoped one day he would understand why he, of all people, had been granted this most magical of miracles.

“So fill me in,” Jordan coaxed softly, her smile gentle and filled with love.

“There’s no rush—we’ve got plenty of time. Nobody leaves, remember?” Aleksei stated, his voice a husky whisper, as his hand again slid into her hair, his soft touch causing tingles to run over her scalp.

“Of course, I remember, nobody leaves,” Jordan agreed and smiled into his eyes as their lips met in a soft kiss that was filled with love and tenderness. “But at least let me know if the story has a happy ending,” Jordan pleaded softly, grazing the knuckles of her left hand down Aleksei’s cheek, a small smile forming at the rough texture of his unshaven face against her skin.

Aleksei grasped her hand, his lips kissing her palm and laid it against his cheek. His ebony eyes sparkled with hope and happiness and a belief that everything was really going to be okay. “How can anything concerning us have anything
but
a happy ending?” he asked huskily.

“Do you think?” Jordan asked simply, her eyes searching his for the truth.

“I
know
!” Aleksei answered firmly, his voice deep and sure.

“Still think you know everything, don’t you, Rocmanov?” Jordan teased quietly, her eyes glowing tiredly but brightly behind the bruises.

Aleksei brushed his fingers through Jordan’s coppery tresses, spreading the shining curls against the stark white pillowcase and smiled at Jordan’s response. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do, and don’t you forget it!” he answered arrogantly.

“That shouldn’t be a problem, Rocmanov, especially since I’m sure you’ll remind me
if
I should ever forget. But trust me, you truly are unforgettable!” Jordan stated softly on a sigh, a peaceful smile lighting up her bruised face.

“You’re pretty unforgettable yourself, brat,” Aleksei countered and watched Jordan’s eyes drift shut, watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed slowly in and out. Over the last five days he’d come to know the meaning of every electronic beep, buzz and whistle in the Intensive Care Unit, and as he watched her heart beat a steady rhythm across the Heart Monitor, he knew she was merely slipping into a normal sleep.

With a final kiss to her cheek, Aleksei slid his fingers from her hand and stood, stretching his muscular arms over his head in an effort to relieve the tension of the past five days. Aleksei walked to Dr. Devon’s side and cast a glance at Jordan, peacefully asleep. “Well?”

Dr. Devon looked at the three people, now all staring at him, and smiled broadly. “From all indications, I’d say she’s on her way back. I won’t lie and say it’s going to be a cakewalk because she’d looking at some heavy-duty rehabilitation. The internal injuries were corrected surgically, and should pose no problem. But a double compound fracture of the same leg takes a long time to heal without throwing in a crushed knee on top of things. I honestly can’t promise she’ll ever walk without a limp, let alone skate again. I’ll be happy if she gets back eighty-percent usage of that leg, I wouldn’t even hope for a hundred percent.”

Whittaker’s snort of disbelief alerted the doctor of the absurdity of his statement and Aleksei added his own opinion. “You don’t know Jordan, Dr. Devon. Mark my words, she’ll skate again and if she has her way, you’ll see us win the Gold Medal at the Olympics four years down the road!” Aleksei stated surely.

“A positive attitude is very important during rehabilitation. I just want you all to be aware that her recovery is going to be neither short, nor easy, and just in case the worst occurs, be prepared for the possibility that her skating career is over.”

“Thanks for the observation, Doc. We’ve listened to you give us your worst case scenario regarding Jordan’s injury, and now we’re going to offer you a little bit of advice—don’t count her out, and I recommend you make your reservations for the next Olympics now, you’re going to want a good room!” Whittaker suggested heartily.

Dr. Devon looked from Whittaker, to Aleksei, to Dee, and finally at Jordan,still resting peacefully in her bed,and smiled at group.“I’ll do that, Mr. Whittaker. And if they don’t win that Gold Medal, I’m sending you a bill for my expenses,” Dr. Devon stated, offering his hand to Whittaker.

Whittaker looked at the offered hand, then Aleksei, and finally Jordan, and grasped the doctor’s hand, pumping it as he stated firmly. “Doc, if they don’t win Gold, I’ll personally promise you and your misses a month-long vacation anywhere in the world.”

Dr. Devon shook his head in amazement, just a tinge guilty about accepting such a sucker bet. The possibility of Jordan ever skating again was remote let alone throwing in the possibility of winning Gold at the Olympics. Still, he felt compelled to be part of this group of close-knit people that had been beside Jordan throughout her ordeal. “I’ll start collecting travel brochures right away, my wife’s been after me to take her to Australia for years,” the doctor answered, his broad smile reaching his bright blue eyes.

“The closest you’ll come to seeing Australia is visiting the
Out-Back Steak House
, Doc. Dress warm, the ice rinks can be chilly!” Whittaker suggested.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dr. Devon responded, shaking all their hands one last time before he left the room.

Aleksei returned to sit beside Jordan, linking his hand with hers again, and smiling as he felt her steady pulse beat against his thumb.

“I’d thought we’d lost her there for awhile,” Whittaker whispered over Aleksei’s shoulder from where he stood behind him looking down at Jordan. “You brought her back, Aleksei.”

“I couldn’t let her go,” he answered quietly, his voice breaking with emotion. “She’s my life, and if we ever skate again, or don’t, it won’t matter. She’s alive and I can touch her, and hold her, and laugh at her bad jokes, and make love to her in the snow again, and that’s all that matters. Skating will just be icing on the cake—if it happens.

“Well, it damn well better happen. Otherwise, you’re going to pay half the expenses for that doctor to take his wife to Australia!” Whittaker chuckled.