Leaving Tracks (11 page)

I
hastily composed a reply, proofread it to make sure I didn’t sound like a star struck idiot then sent it. Since waiting for a response was as bad as waiting by the phone for a girl to call, I pretended I wasn’t waiting and finished sorting emails and sales slips. Wesley would get the receipts from PayPal for shipping and accounting purposes–the only reason I printed and filed the emails was to compare against PayPal for quality and inventory purposes.

Deciding against working with glazes–
I’d lose track of time and Wesley would have to come get me for supper again–I began the tedious process of pulling inventory off the shelves for shipping. It was a necessary part of retail service; a part that I loathed with fervor usually reserved for longtime enemies.

I
was an artist and as such found it a waste of time to have to stop my process to pack and ship. However, if I didn’t pack and ship then I wouldn’t sell any art and I’d be up to the ceiling in useless pottery. That would definitely annoy Thierry more than he was already annoyed.

The phone rang as
I was fighting with the labeling machine. How the hell had the sticker part gotten stuck on the metal part? And how did I fix it so it stopped ripping the labels down the middle. The phone was only an additional annoyance and I answered it as such.

“Hello? What?”

“Can I speak to North Graton?” a hesitant, but pleasant woman asked.

“That’s me, hold on a second.”
I set down the phone long enough to rip the rest of the roll out of the label printer and chucking it in the garbage. “Sorry about that, mechanical difficulties with a printer. How can I help you?”

“My name is Reaghan with U
niversity of America Fine Arts. I’m an academic advisor here at the University. Do you have time to speak about your interest in classes?”

I
sank to the floor as my knees gave out with my surprise. “Yea, ah, yes. Sure.”

I
rarely took
naps. The reason behind that was time–training didn’t allow it–and I didn’t nap well. I always woke disoriented and groggy. After crying was no different. If anything, it was worse.

The room was lit only by the fireplace.
I could smell lavender on the air with something else. Something almost but not quite citrusy. Calm and soothe, I thought as I sat up.

The motion caught the attention of the person sitting in a chair on the other side of the coffee table. “You hungry?” Glory asked from her partially shadowed seat.

“No. Headache,” I mused glad the light was low as my head throbbed in time with my heart.

“Bound to happen,” Glory moved from the chair to sit on the coffee table’s edge. She studied
my face. “You could use more sleep.”

“Where’s North?”
I asked and vaguely remembered a hand holding mine and a quiet voice telling me I wasn’t alone. It had been his simple kindness that in the end had me sinking into a dreamless sleep. “I owe him a thank you.”

“He went home. Avala, Morgaine
, and I have been taking shifts here. There’s soup warm if you’d like.”

“No.”
I drew up my real leg and rested my cheek against my knee. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Glory sighed and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes. It was her habit to rub out stress. “Dad.” Glory answered when she lowered her hands. “He forbade it. Not until after you qualified for Olympics and then…well, it sort of got lost in all the new pains. We were going to tell you. Just didn’t know how…or when.”

“Right. Sure.” It was a different kind of ache that my father would keep this from me. Things could have turned out so different if I had known. I wouldn’t have skated, I’d have come home. I’d still have two legs. Would I have met North? It wasn’t worth trying to change the past that was set in stone. What ifs never accomplished anything but a migraine and fear.

I
stretched and slowly stood up. “Can’t be undone now. What time is it?”

“A little after four. Sun should be setting soon. We drew the blinds so you could have some dark to sleep in.” Glory answered and gestured to the window over the sink in
my kitchen. Since the inside window faced the skating rink all that had to be done to darken that side of the apartment was turn off the rink lights though I could see the blinds had been pulled there as well.

“I need some alone time, Glory. I need to think, to process.”

Glory chewed on her lip and considered. “I don’t know…”

“Please.”
I turned and stared down Glory. “Give me some time.”

Glory stepped close and wrapped her arms around
me and held on tight. “You’re not alone,” she whispered.

I remembered someone else saying those words and
took comfort from the hug for a moment before drawing back. He had been right. “I know. But I need to be right now.”

“Okay. Just…call if you need anything.”

I pushed a tired smile onto my face, “I know.”

To give Glory comfort
I walked down with her to the door. Then stood there and watched her cross the expansion of yard. Avala and Morgaine stepped out the moment Glory was within speaking distance of the porch. I didn’t stay at the door to see what would transpire. I trusted Glory to protect my quiet time.

I
studied the ice a moment before stepping out onto it in only my crocs. The cold didn’t bother me. It never had, really. I loved it in a way most people loved the tropics. Cold meant ice and ice meant skating. It had brought me great pleasure once upon a time and great comfort.

In the center of the ice
, I sat down then lay back to study the roof above me. My mother had insulated it to help regulate the indoor temperature. My father had complained of the expense but it was a long-term solution to the problem of maintaining an ice rink in July. All the walls had been properly insulated too.

The ice rink and everything in it was
my only real connection to my mother. It was all I had left of her, really. I lay there, and took a trip through all the memories created in this space, on this ice.

After
my father took us away, I had lost touch with Ma. I hadn’t called as often as I should have, certainly hadn’t visited often enough. I had on my travels always bought a postcard and sent it. Ma had hated to fly, so I shared the world with her in postcards.

That was all
I knew really. I knew of my Native American heritage because I had lived it for the first part of my life. My hand snuck up to rub the carved rabbit on my necklace. It brought me a little peace. I knew a little of what Avala and Morgaine did but the reality was I didn’t really know them anymore either.

The past can’t be undone.
I sat up and drew my legs up to rest my chin on my knees. I couldn’t change what had been but I could certainly influence what was to come. The question was how did I want to do so?

No that wasn’t really the question. The real question was did
I have the strength to be what my mother would have expected me to be? I honestly didn’t know but I knew how to begin.

I
was surprised
to see Hadley sitting in Wesley’s kitchen when I came in from the shop. I hadn’t expected to see her at all for the rest of the day. I’d rather deal with her in the rink than in this house. My brothers weren’t the most open minded.

“I’m going to go clean up,”
I muttered to Wesley, “I’ll only be a few minutes.”

In the interest of time because
I didn’t know what Hadley had already said to my brother, I skipped the shower for the moment and did a quick wash in the sink. I figured my pants were clean enough but switched out my shirt and as an afterthought dabbed some cologne on. Wesley would undoubtedly smirk when he caught the scent but I figured it for polite. Smelling like cow wasn’t pleasant to everyone.

When
I returned to the kitchen, Wesley was pulling the plates from the cupboard to set the table while happily chatting with Hadley.

“Rhett won’t be eating with us tonight. He has a buyer for one of the fillies down at the stables.” Wesley told
me and expectedly raised his brows and wiggled them when he caught the scent of cologne. “You can set the table in the nook. There’s no point in using the dining room, as Thierry is also unsure if he’ll make supper due to a sick cow. The cow’s in quarantine now, but he’s worried he didn’t catch it in time.”

Obediently,
I picked up the black, square plates–ones I had made for my brother when he’d gone through his deco phase–and began setting the table behind Hadley.

“Hadley will be eating with us tonight, and then I expect you to drive, not walk, her home
, so does Avala.” Wesley continued as he set out cups and silverware.

Hadley smiled and sipped fro
m her glass of water, “I’m told Wesley’s potpie rivals Avala’s. While I’m skeptical, I’m willing to test this hypothesis. And it will make Avala happy that I’ve eaten in front of viable witnesses.”

I
stepped up next to her stool and out of compassion, I wasn’t aware I held, I stroked a hand lightly down her hair. “How are you?” She hadn’t fooled me with that smile. I wanted to make the fatigue and sorrow that haunted her eyes to vanish. I wanted to see the real smile I knew she was capable of.

Hadley exhaled a shaky breath.
She tensed and relaxed under my hand. She didn’t pull away when I left it at the small of her back. “Coping. It’s all I can really do. I can’t change anything. And I’m a little angry at my sisters, a lot angry with my father, and it’s all mixed together with sorrow and regret. I wish I had done things differently. I wish I had known.”

“Can’t change the past.”
I murmured quietly.

“I know,” Hadley sighed, “I’m working on what to do about the future.”

“Let’s start,” Wesley turned from his oven holding a casserole dish of golden crust, “with food.”

She was different.
I wasn’t sure if it was a part of her personality I had yet to see or if it was politeness, and manners that covered the broken woman. Hadley had a lot of sides to her, and I couldn’t decide if I liked this side. I knew I had definitely liked the crying, hysterical woman more than the polite, reserved one sitting at the family table. It was like the plates I had given her. None of her vibrant color showed on the outside.

Hadley was
, as dinner conversation revealed, also ridiculously smart. It was amazing and a little intimidating, especially when she got into a budgeting debate with Wesley and could rattle off numbers and calculate figures in her head in seconds. I couldn’t keep up with their conversation and wasn’t sure I wanted to when it turned to predicted and estimated statistics. By the time Wesley cleared the table for coffee and pie my head was thrumming from information overload so I missed it when Hadley said my name the first time.

“Huh? What?”
I focused on her face and tried to process if she had asked a question.

Hadley tilted her head at
me and I watched her eyes study me. “I realize you’ve been up for some time but shouldn’t you be more aware than this?”

“Sorry. I’m not good with numbers so I tuned out the conversation. Did you ask me something?”

Wesley scoffed as he set the pie plates on the table. “Why am I not surprised?”

“I hadn’t asked anything yet. I was only trying to get your attention.” Hadley scooped up some pie and sampled it. “This is delicious, and obviously Avala’s recipe.”

Wesley chuckled. “Yes, Avala sends me frozen pies on occasion and I send her a variety of breads. She especially likes the cheddar loaves.”

“Anyway,” Hadley turned her attention back on
me, “I promised to talk to you about your skating today.”

I
choked when Thierry strode in from the hall and stopped short at Hadley’s words. I didn’t look at my brother, couldn’t look at my brother and instead, focused on Hadley. “I think with everything going on right now it’s completely understandable you take your time to settle.”

“Regardless of my moods, and you’ll find I have many, I keep my word. I said today and today it is.” Hadley pulled some folded papers from the purse hanging on the back of the chair.

“North’s skating is just a hobby.” Thierry cut in as he sat down with his dinner plate. “Nothing more. There shouldn’t be anything for you to talk to him about.”

Because I was watching her intently and not looking at Thierry
, I saw Hadley bristled at his dismissive tone. And I realized as her eyes darkened, his words had sparked anger in her that would probably flame into wild fire if I didn’t find a way to diffuse this now.

“It doesn’t have to be.” Hadley stared hard at Thierry challenging him
before I could utter a word, “North’s extremely talented and with the right kind of guidance can go a very long way.”

I
noticed her accent clipped and realized too late that it was a sign of unavoidable anger. I shared a glance with Wesley and didn’t know quite what he was going to say to interject but knew he should.

Thierry stared
Hadley down with annoyance and derision in his gaze. “Guidance?” His chuckle was scornful amusement. “Doubtful. I would more think you want a skater you can live your career vicariously through. My brother isn’t interested in being your stand in.”

Hadley’s face
flushed and her eyes flashed, “You arrogant asshole. Who gave you the right to live North’s life for him? This is North’s decision not yours. He’s got to decide on what he’s willing to sacrifice and what he’s not.” She stood abruptly and stuffed the papers back into her purse. “You’re no different than my father. A controlling prick who thinks because he holds the purse strings he knows what’s best. Well, fuck off. North, you know where to find me.”

Hadley stormed out before any of
us could move or respond.

“Shit,”
I jumped up, “I was supposed to drive her home. Avala’s going to be pissed. Hadley wait!” I shouted and ran after her before Wesley or Thierry could stop me.

“Brave, brave boy.”
I heard Wesley mutter even as the door slammed behind me.

I
didn’t consider it bravery to be going after Hadley. Especially when the snow was coming down hard and visibility was crap with it blowing. Thankfully, the snow disoriented her enough that she wasn’t moving fast. I was able to clamp a hand firmly around her arm before she got too far from the house.

“This way.”
I partially dragged her into my pottery studio and shut the door firmly. It was warm, not as warm as in the house but warm enough our breathe didn’t mist in the air.

“What the hell was that?” Hadley rounded on
me as soon as I flipped the lights. “Did you waste my time?”

I
sighed and ran a hand through my damp hair. “No, I didn’t waste your time. My brother is just… Well, Thierry has strong opinions on what a future career is and what it isn’t. Skating isn’t a career to him. That’s all.”

“So he dismisses what you’d like to do because it doesn’t fit in his realm of reason?” She paced away and paced back as she spoke.

“Pretty much.” I leaned against the counter and just watched the temper vibrate off her. This I preferred to the polite, emotionless woman that sat at my dinner table. “I’ve got a trump card I’m willing to play to get what I want. I just didn’t have all the puzzle pieces yet to do so.”

“If it’s really a problem you can stay at the rink. I have a spare room.” Hadley told
me.

I
raised my brows at her slightly surprised she would offer. “You’d do that? You want me to skate that much?”

“I’d do that because skating is
your
choice not his. And if you decide to skate and he wants to be a dick about it, you can find solace and peace at my place.” Hadley corrected. “It’s not about what I want it’s about what you want.”

I
noted the color was fading from her face and her eyes were starting to track what was in the room. “Thank you, Hadley. I don’t think my brothers are going to kick me out, but thank you for the offer of space.”

“No
t a problem,” she walked over to the packing table where some items still waited to be photographed and packed. “What is this place?”

“My pottery studio,”
I pushed off the counter. “Would you like to see more?”

“Yeah, sure.” Hadley traced a finger over
a vase that I had carved canna flowers into. The flowers were bold red against the navy blue of the vase. “I like this one. How much?”

“I’ll pack it up for you. We can set up a barter system if you’d like. There are photographs on the boxes,”
I gestured to the storage wall, “showing what’s inside if you want to look at the stuff that’s done while I pack this for you.”

“Sure.” Hadley wandered to the shelves and began perusing. “Can you make knick knacks? Or is it strictly, oh.”

I glanced over from where I was just sealing the vase to see what had stopped Hadley’s thoughts. She was crouched down and pulling a box slowly from the bottom shelf. I couldn’t tell because Wesley did the sorting what was in it, but I did notice she didn’t try lifting the semi large box. I walked over to the box and looked at the picture taped to the front then smiled.

It was the
eight-piece fairy village I had created after watching the Disney fairy movie with some of the kids I was big brother to at the boys and girls club in Wheaton. It had been years ago, before I graduated, and since I had insisted on selling it as one piece instead of breaking it up, it had never sold.

“I want this.” She looked up at
me and there were no traces of anger left in her face, “They’ll be perfect on the window seat and give me an illusion that there’s not a rink outside my bay windows.”

“Sure.” It wouldn’t sell otherwise,
I knew. Not without splitting up the collection.

“I want to show you the papers I drew up. You need to know what you’re getting into.” Hadley began reaching for her purse.

“How about we go over those tomorrow? Say after I talk to my brothers tonight and do the morning chores.” I offered as I pulled the box the rest of the way off the shelf and lifted it effortlessly to an empty cart in the corner next to the bay door.

“You should at least look at the training schedule so you know.” Hadley pulled the papers back out. “Monday through Wednesday I’d like to start at five in the morning and go until noon. Thursday and Friday
we’ll start at eight and go until two. Saturday and Sunday are yours. Here.” She shoved the papers at me forcing me to take them. “You’ll want to read through them carefully before you say yes or no or even talk to your brothers.”

I
folded the papers and stuffed them into my coat pocket. “First, let’s get you home.”

“You should bring an overnight bag. If it’s worse than what we tromped through, I’d rather you not drive home. You can guest in my apartment or the main house, it’s up to you.”

I studied her face for a moment. The drained anger left her tired looking and frail. I doubted she’d like it if I pointed it out. I wanted to argue on principle, I wasn’t sure I would sleep being that close to sleeping Hadley. I didn’t know what it was that drew me, but I was caught.