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On Tuesday afternoons, the beginning skaters had the rink to themselves. Pudgy little boys and girls in layers of sweaters, hats with pom-poms, and mittens on their hands were learning how to balance, take a step, stop, and fall—learning when they weren't chit-chatting and giggling about anything and everything.
Brenda always enjoyed watching them as they got used to the ice. They were so fearless. It was all about fun, and the thought of competitions or injuries never entered their little minds. Instead, their happiness was contagious, forcing Brenda to smile even though she was nervous.
Pamela's office was near the end of the hallway, next to the skaters' corral and farthest from the locker room. It was quiet except for the little ones' echoing voices from the rink. Peeking into the office, Brenda saw Pamela typing up schedules, class updates, or some piece of information everyone associated with the rink would need to know.
"Ahem." Brenda cleared her throat, feeling tightness in her chest. Pamela looked up from her work. "Can I bother you for just a minute?" Brenda said, hoping Pamela wouldn't roll her eyes or pinch her lips together. Of course, she'd have the right to cop an attitude, but Brenda hoped she wouldn't.
In usual Pamela style, the coach tilted her head to the right and smiled. "I was hoping you'd come back. But, of course, come in. Sit. I didn't like how things ended last time."
Brenda waved her hands in front of her. "No, Pamela. I didn't even think of the position you were in. I'm sorry. I'm to blame. It's been all about me in my head for so long, and I'm ashamed that I'm not more thoughtful of the people who've been helping me all along." She took a deep breath and thought, Get it all out on the table and see what can come of it.
"Wait," Pamela said, holding up her hands. "I'm sorry too. I should have talked to you about this instead of going ahead and blurting out what I wanted you to do. This isn't about me, and it isn't about you. It's about us, as a team."
"I agree, Pamela, and, with that said, maybe you're right. Stepping up to help the girls remember the basics might be just what's needed. I can still skate on my own time, and, who knows, maybe after a little while, you'll see that ..."
"No."
Brenda stopped speaking and blinked.
"I think you should be back on the ice, but not like before. Things will have to be different. We'll have to take some precautions and see your skating in a new way."
Was she really saying what Brenda thought she was saying?
"I think I know exactly how we can do that, but ..." Pamela propped her elbows in front of her, folded her hands together, and leaned her chin on her knuckles. "You can't question my motives."
"Hey, Pamela, you know I've always done what you say. You've never steered me wrong. I'll be even more dedicated, I promise."
Brenda's face had the same look it had every time she entered a competition. It was excited and serious, like every gear in her brain was operating at maximum speed.
"You'll have to work harder. Remember, you have a handicap now. That means you have to be twice as committed as the other girls. And you'll have to pay even more attention to my instructions. No creative license, okay? If you have ideas or want to make changes, you must run them past me first."
Brenda nodded enthusiastically.
"And no matter what you think to the contrary, what I say goes. No deviating from the script. This is non-negotiable, Brenda. I mean it. You've got one chance with me; if you listen, I think we can get you back in the running. If that's what you want."
Brenda wanted to scream for joy. But instead, she stood up and extended her hand to Pamela.
"It's a deal." They shook on it, and Brenda started to leave but stopped in the doorway. She turned, rushed around Pamela's desk, and wrapped her arms tightly around her coach's shoulders, giving her a quick, tight squeeze. Pamela patted Brenda's arm.
"Okay. I'll call you and let you know when practice starts."
Three days later, Pamela left a message with Mrs. Wagner for Brenda to call her.
"Okay, dust off your skates, girl," said Pamela over the phone. "I'll expect to see you here at 5:30 Monday morning."
"Wow. Okay. Why so early? Did the rink change the hours for hockey or something?"
"Nope. That's the only time your partner could make it until his schedule changes."
Brenda nearly choked on the water she was sipping.
"Partner?"
"Yes, partner."
Silence.
"That's the catch," said Brenda, her voice low to disguise her disappointment. "I knew there had to be a catch, but I never suspected it would be a partner."
"Brenda, I don't know how many different ways I've explained that you were injured severely," said Pamela. "This is the only option you've got. Sure, there might be other coaches out there who don't know you, don't have as much faith in you as I do, who'll tell you, 'Sure, you can skate. Whatever.' But I know differently. Your parents, they also know differently. So a partner is exactly what you need to assist you."
"Assist me? You make it sound like I can't bathe myself or change my clothes."
"Stop it. You know that isn't the case. But the sooner you come to grips with the fact that you'll never be able to skate the same as before, the sooner we can move on and see what you can do. These are my terms, Brenda. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm trying to help."
Brenda shook her head. "Okay, Pamela. I'll see you on Monday. Bright and early."
"Good girl. I'll see you then."
"Oh, wait. One last thing. Who—?"
Pamela had already hung up when Brenda thought to ask who her partner would be. Taking a big, deep breath, she let the air stretch her lungs and then let out a big sigh. Things were so different. It was a little scary, like being on a roller coaster. But there was no turning back now.
Monday couldn't come fast enough, and Brenda was excited, nervous, giddy, and depressed when it did. It would be amazing getting back on the ice. Her feet skated over the hallway floor as she went to the bathroom to get ready. When Brenda was prepared to go, she performed a few minutes of her usual pre-workout before slipping into her combination of tights and yoga pants—she noticed she'd gained a little weight around the middle. Not a lot, just a little. Enough to make her stomach bulge out a bit.
"Will have to work that off," she mumbled while pulling her hair back into a sloppy ponytail. She was going to be rusty and probably pretty clumsy the first time she skated. It was a good thing that practice was so early. Then, there wouldn't be anyone to see her work the sand out of her gears.
No one except your new partner, she thought. Partner. What a joke. She knew Pamela was looking out for her best interests. It probably made perfect sense and was the right idea, but it still made Brenda mad.
She scrubbed the sleep off her face, brushed her teeth, and grabbed the duffle bag she'd packed and repacked two nights before in anticipation of her first day back on the ice. Then Brenda headed out to her car.
The sun hadn't even started to appear over the horizon. Brenda could see her breath in thick, white puffs as she hurried to her car parked in the driveway. The engine grumbled as if it had been happily sleeping and was reluctant to wake up. But it turned over and idled, blowing chilly air onto the windshield to eat away at the frost that had collected there.
The streets were empty except for a slow-moving truck that occasionally tossed out newspapers, which landed in someone's driveway with a thwap.
The radio played a happy country song about exes in Texas that Brenda reluctantly sang along with. Her mother had borrowed her car to get milk the night before, and it was apparent she'd changed the pre-set from Brenda's pop music to her own drawling crooners. Her mother had never been to a single southern state, but she loved those country-western tunes.
Brenda hated to admit that she did like some of them. The songs about America and Daddy made her cry every time. But exes in Texas she could take or leave. Traveling down the empty roads, she found her foot pressing harder on the accelerator. She wanted to get to the rink, not only to get out of the cold but to see what would happen.
Her body ached to stretch and move and glide over the ice. For several weeks, she'd felt like she had forgotten something important. Then she realized that before the accident, she would always leave the house carrying her skates and duffle bag. When she left the house without them, it was like she'd left a piece of her behind. But not today. Today she felt whole.
Meanwhile, Scott drove to the skating rink from the opposite side of town. He tried to stay calm, but he didn't like that Pamela hadn't told Brenda he would be her new skating partner. He understood why. Had Pamela first told Brenda about it, she would have stomped off in a huff. Brenda might have tried to recruit another trainer—one who couldn't care less about her injury. But by keeping Scott a secret, Pamela could hold Brenda to her word. And if there was one thing Scott knew about Brenda, it was that her word was as good as a written contract. She'd never break a promise she'd made to someone, no matter if it was a terrible inconvenience or burden to her. She was amazing that way.
Yes, Brenda never went back on her word. Like when she'd told Scott she'd never forgive him for leaving her the way he did, boy, she meant it. She never went back on that either. She held to that promise like a drowning man to a life preserver. It ate him up inside, knowing this. Maybe, if she accepted their partnership, instead of vowing never to speak to him or Pamela, this would be an opportunity for some healing. Perhaps she'd open up just enough for Scott to get a foot in the door. He could only hope. Whenever he thought of seeing her smile at him, hearing her talk to him without all the sarcasm and quick answers, he felt a jump in his chest.
"I'm not sure it's a good idea to wait on Brenda, Scott," his sister had said as they sat together the night before in his apartment. Joyce had stopped by after work and offered to buy some fast food for her little brother, whom, she teased, had no one to look out for him. So they brought home a couple of burgers and fries and enjoyed them on the floor in his small living room space, having a heart-to-heart.
"I love her, too, and wish things could have been different between the two of you, but she barely talks to you. Believe me when I say that the last thing you want is a spouse who doesn't really have time for you."
Scott stopped in mid-bite of his sandwich.
"That sounds like a warning. Are you and Ryan having problems?"
Joyce had been married to Ryan for almost seven years. They had two beautiful daughters and a lovely home in the quiet suburb of Evergreen Park, which was about an hour from Colorado Springs.
Joyce looked off into the distance and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Work is busy, and Ryan has been putting in a lot of long hours lately." Her gaze fell to the floor. She didn't cry. With all the things she saw at her job, it took something especially tragic to jar any tears loose. Instead, she seemed to shrink before Scott's eyes. She got smaller, weaker, maybe even a bit transparent, like part of her wasn't really there.
"Has he said anything to you?"
Joyce played with her fries, moving them around the tinfoil wrapping she'd spread on the floor, and shook her head no.
Scott leaned his back against the easy chair he was seated in front of. "Well, if he hasn't said anything ..." He raised his eyebrows innocently.
"I don't know, Scotty. I just have a gut feeling, you know? Something isn't right. The truth is that things haven't been right for a long time."
"How long is a long time?"
"Over a year," she said, taking a deep breath. "I mean, I always put in a lot of hours. I brought work home with me sometimes, but I always made a point never to let it get in the way of the girls or Ryan. Dinners were always ready. The laundry was always done. The house was clean, and so were the girls. We had family game nights, and Ryan and I had date nights. I thought we'd settled into a nice routine. But then it seemed like Ryan started to have better things to do at work than come home at his usual time. In fact, it's gotten to the point where I'm handling the girls most of the time by myself while he's out."
"Where does he go?"
"He's got meetings and golf outings and trials to prepare for. Briefs to write. All these things he did before; it's just that now he seems to want to do them more than be with us."
Scott remembered when he found out his sister was marrying a lawyer. He couldn't wait until his father called to tell him that he wouldn't have to worry about her. She'd found a really nice guy with a good, solid job and a good head on his shoulders. Scott liked Ryan. They may not have been as close as brothers, but he could talk to the man and have a decent conversation. Ryan never seemed to be anything other than loving to Joyce. And he saw how he acted with his daughters. There was no question there that he loved them. At least, that was how it seemed just a few months earlier when Scott had gone to visit for Christmas.
"He's mad all the time. He yells at me if I forget something from the grocery store or if the computer gets left on in his office. Stupid little things—like being human, for example." Scott knew her sarcasm was meant to hide her feelings.
"Do you suspect ...?" He wasn't sure how to say what he was thinking.
"Another woman? Anything is possible." She shrugged again. "I'm not too proud to think that isn't a real possibility. But I'm not going to go digging for it. He's got to be the one to come clean."
"What do you mean? Don't you want to know?"
"Know what? That my husband is acting like a jerk and someone or something is the cause? I already know that. I'm not going to become one of those talk show women who whine and cry as they snoop through phone records, credit card receipts, and emails. I need just to confront him and ask." She shook her head. "The problem is when? I don't want to do it with the girls around, and they're always around. The poor little angels don't need to see or hear anything this grown-up."
"Well, then let me help. Bring them over. They'd love to spend the night at Uncle Scotty's house. We'll do arts and crafts. Eat pizza. Stay up late watching old black-and-white movies. I'll even take them for a spin on the ice. How cool will I be in their eyes? I'll be super cool," Scott said, pretending to polish his nails on his vest.
"I don't know. My girls aren't babies anymore. It won't be like the last time you watched them at our house." Joyce was already making excuses why she couldn't let the girls go. Scott was well aware she was an overprotective mother, to say the least. But, with her line of work, there wasn't a soul alive that could blame her.
"You mean the last time I answered the phone half a million times to reassure you that they were fine, sleeping, eating, pooping, whatever they were doing safely and happily with their Uncle Scotty? I should hope it isn't like that. Come on, Joyce." Scott shifted on the floor to stretch his legs and reach for the fries his sister wasn't eating. "If you need time to talk to Ryan, then take it. We're just talking about overnight. I promise I won't take the girls to sign up for the Peace Corps. We're talking twenty-four short hours."
Joyce drew a slight smile as she picked at the carpet. "Tell you what. If you come to dinner on my movie night with the girls, I'll say yes and make it within the next week or two."
"Why would I want to come to that?" he asked, suddenly feeling he might have just been played.
"Because I have some lovely, single friends I think you'd like. It's time you started getting back to the business of living."
"I don't know, Joyce. It's just that—"
"What? It's too soon? Five years have passed, and I think you went out for coffee with one girl all that time."
"You don't understand, Joyce. I know you're trying to help, but I don't want anyone else but Brenda."
"How do you know? You've never even tried." Joyce looked at Scott with a worried, motherly expression. "Aren't you afraid of being alone the rest of your life?"
"No," he said calmly. "But I'd be terrified of being with the wrong person for the rest of my life." Joyce sat for a second, studying her brother's face.
Scott knew his sister liked Brenda. They had a good bit in common, and had the marriage taken place, he was confident that Joyce and Brenda would have become like sisters. He knew it had been painful for Joyce to completely side with him when the wedding didn't happen. Joyce was familiar with the entire situation but had stayed home because her daughters were still babies.
He also knew Brenda avoided Joyce now, too. If their paths happened to cross during the holidays or when Scott had a student in a competition of some kind, all Joyce would get was a slight smile from Brenda before she looked away.
Scott understood Brenda's behavior. She had every right to be angry, especially because she believed in the old adage, "We don't just marry the person, we marry the whole family." So if a wedding doesn't happen, we aren't just unhappy with the person but with their whole family.
Scott felt the sting of having hurt Brenda as if it had happened yesterday instead of years ago. He was frozen, stuck under Brenda's spell, whether she knew it or not. Maybe there was something to be said about a love that strong.
But no matter how much Joyce tried to convince him, it was no use. She wasn't going to get through to her little brother this way. He was set in his ways and clearly set on Brenda. So, she appealed to his animal instincts.
"Well, you still have to eat. We're having Chinese food. I'll make sure there are extra egg rolls if you come. As much as you can put away down that maw of yours."
The mention of Chinese food was all it took for Scott to weaken. He looked at Joyce through squinted eyes and grinned. "Okay, but it's only for the food. Do not tell any of your friends that I'm single, available, desperate, or any other descriptive word to make me out as lonely and depressed. I'm neither one of those things, thank you very much."
"It's a deal. I'll see you next Thursday around six o'clock. And we can make a plan for you to watch the girls after that."
Scott nodded, taking another handful of his sister's fries and shoveling them into his mouth. "Hey," he said, chewing and trying to speak simultaneously, "when will you sign the girls up for skating lessons with me? I'm just waiting to teach them. You know they'll be the teacher's pet. Pets. I'll give you a real break on the fee."
Joyce smiled and shook her head no. "I don't want them to get hurt."
"They aren't going to get hurt. I won't be tossing the girls up in the air or pitting them against my hockey players."
"I should hope not."
"Let me just say that you're really killing my business."
"What?" Joyce looked at her brother as if he were crazy. "No, I am not!"
Scott nodded as she looked at him with a puzzled face. "Everyone knows I have a sister with two young girls. So how does it look when my sister doesn't trust me to teach my nieces?"
Joyce started to laugh.
"I'm not going to that Scott Porter fellow. His own sister won't even let him near her children. So what does that tell you?" he said in his best southern-belle accent. "He probably listens to rock-and-roll music and goes to drive-ins with girls."
By now, Joyce was really laughing. "Well, they're right about that first part," she teased, laughing hysterically at her joke.
Now it was Scott's turn to laugh.
And he laughed out loud in the car on his way to the rink, recalling his sister's comments. He was happy. He couldn't help it. He had a chance to be with Brenda again, and he wasn't going to blow it. She had a heart, and although she might have built a wall around it and promised herself she'd never talk to him again, he wasn't going to give up. Not yet. Not when God had placed this second chance before him.
It was sneaky the way he was just going to appear, and Brenda would either have to take him or leave him as her skating partner. It wasn't ideal. But it was where he had to start from. At least it was a start.
He held his breath and said a quick prayer for himself, his sister, and Brenda. They both needed to feel the love of God around them to give them courage and confidence. And he also said a quick prayer for his brother-in-law, who he feared might have strayed from his Christian walk and needed guidance home.
