Whispers on the Ice (11 page)

Whittaker, as usual, came straight to the point. “Well—you two look like shit!” he boomed and the four fell apart with laughter.

Eventually Dee restored order and made the grim observation they only had a week to correct the costume problem. Ideas and suggestions were offered and rejected until, finally, changes they could all agree with were hit upon and the appropriate details were finalized. Calls to the seamstress were made and once again, they were in a holding pattern for their final dress rehearsals.

Aleksei and Jordan headed for their respective locker rooms to change back into their practice clothes, Whittaker making sure Aleksei found his way to the men’s locker room. All the while Aleksei grumbled he knew Jordan’s body as well as his own after all the time they’d spent together on the ice. One couldn’t remain oblivious to his partner’s body after hours of lifting, throwing and holding it, it was a minor detail it had always been clothed, if you could call the form-fitting leotards clothes. Whittaker hadn’t bought Aleksei’s argument and ushered him into his side of the locker room.

* * * * *

The time it took to change clothes was brief and within ten minutes the shredded costumes were in a pile on the desk in the office and Jordan and Aleksei were back on the ice practicing. Whittaker had them do a final easy walk-through of their Romeo and Juliet program before leaving them to work on their exhibition piece, a heart-pounding rock and roll number by a well-known group. Whittaker shook his head in wonder as he watched the two skaters shift from a highly classical number only moments before to the now high-energy, dangerously athletic number they worked on. Aleksei’s lifting and throwing power amazed Whittaker, and he had to give Jordan credit for her courage. He sure wouldn’t have been willing to leave his life in someone else’s hands while they threw him twenty feet across the ice at thirty miles an hour. God bless the young, he prayed.

Dee joined Whittaker at the boards, tapping her toe to the heavy beat of the music, holding her breath as Aleksei launched her into a throw triple Salchow, then breathed easier after Jordan’s perfect landing. “They’re something to watch, aren’t they?” Dee asked Whittaker, her eyes never leaving the pair.

“That they are!” Whittaker stated proudly, cringing slightly at the dangerous dismount they used from their star-lift. “I’m going to have to talk to them about that dismount—I don’t feel comfortable with it.”

“How do Jordan and Aleksei feel with it?” Dee asked.

“You know Aleksei, he’s got the strength to carry it off and Jordan trusts him completely.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Whittaker shrugged. “Just a little nagging voice in my head telling me to change that dismount.”

“Has it ever steered you wrong?”

“Never!” Whittaker answered quietly. “And that’s what bothers me.”

* * * * *

“Whittaker is uncomfortable with the dismount from your star-lift,” Dee stated coming straight to the point as she watched Jordan remove her skates in the locker room.

“What’s your take on the dismount?” Jordan asked quietly, her hands quickly loosening the laces.

Dee shrugged, a small frown furrowing her brow. “That whole program scares me, honestly. Too many risky moves for my tastes.”

“Whittaker said we had to push the bounds of safety if we were going to get the judge’s attention. We’re not one of the “tried and true couples” who get points for having skated together for ten years. We’ve got to get our names to the front of the judge’s minds and make it stick if we even want to entertain thoughts of the Olympics.” Jordan stated firmly.

“At the risk of injury?”

“Aleksei’s leg is fine.”

“I’m not talking about Aleksei. I’m worried about you.”

“What’s to worry about? I’m fine, never better.”

“And what about when Aleksei drops you out of one of your lifts or a dismount goes wrong?”

Aleksei’s never dropped me. He promised me it would never happen.”

“That’s not a realistic promise. There are some things he has no control over and if he’s got you over his head and hits a bad patch of ice, there’s no way he can keep you from falling the ten feet to the ice.”

“Nothing’s happened yet,” Jordan stubbornly stated.

“You’re tempting fate, Jordan. Change the dismount. Please,” Dee urged.

“I’ll talk to Aleksei about your concerns, but I honestly think the program is amazing the way it stands,” Jordan answered, frustration clear in her voice. With a final wipe of soft cloth across her blades, she slipped the soft cotton guards over the gleaming, perfectly sharpened metal, and slipped them into her bag.

“I just want to see you safe,” Dee offered.

Jordan smiled softly, and quietly responded. “That’s the same thing Aleksei keeps saying. Funny how everyone seems to think I need protecting. I’m not some china doll that is going to shatter if I fall. If that were the case, I would have hung up my skates the first time Hanks threw me into the boards. I bruise but I don’t break.”

“I’d rather see you didn’t do either.”

“Nice thought but not very practical. We’re doing things on a sheet of ice that most people wouldn’t do on a surface that isn’t slippery. But an element of danger is what keeps people watching us and I want them to see what Aleksei and I can do. There was a time when I used to watch Gordeeva and Grinkov skate and wished I could slip into her skates just once, and feel his arms around me, feel what she felt when he lifted her and carried her, and yes, even threw her. And then Aleksei came into my life and he pushed his way through this wall I’d erected that kept everything calm and even and boring. He made me feel things I never thought I’d feel, pissed me off in ways unimaginable, pushed me physically in my skating that I never knew I could manage and made me laugh like I never believed I would again. I owe him my life, literally, and I’m not going to risk losing all he’s given me because Whittaker is uncomfortable with our dismount out of the star-lift. I trust Aleksei, body and soul! You’ve watched us do the program a hundred times, there’s never been a mishap. Trust and believe what you see before you. Like Whittaker keeps saying—we’re magic!”

“Magic can’t keep you safe,” Dee argued.

“Probably not, but I like the way it makes me feel and for now, that’s enough!” Jordan stated emphatically. Slipping the bag’s strap over her shoulder, she slid her stocking covered feet into clogs and walked out of the locker room.

“My only concern is what happens when the magic disappears?” Dee quietly asked the silent room. The sound of the heater kicking on was her only reply.

* * * * *

Whittaker’s conversation with Aleksei didn’t go any better. Heated words about trust and ability were exchanged, charges of the coach knowing what was best and safest tossed back and forth only to be trashed beneath the heels of both men, each certain their position was right.

Finally Whittaker backed down, stating that if this was their decision jointly, he would abide by their wishes but if it was Aleksei grand-standing and anything happened to Jordan, he would personally see that Aleksei never skated again. Aleksei, seething in anger, pointed out for the fourteenth time that he would never put Jordan’s safety at risk and their one desire was to win a berth to the up-coming Olympics and make both their coaches proud. It was to this end that they planned to skate their risky programs.

“If it works, you’re the hero, Aleksei. If it doesn’t, you’ve put a child at bodily risk!” Whittaker argued.

“Jordan’s almost seventeen, hardly a child, and the last thing I would ever do is purposely endanger her. We’re here to win and we’re committed to doing what ever it takes to get us there!” Aleksei growled, his eyes flash

ing dark and dangerous.

“Is it worth the risk?”

“If it was you, what would you do?” Aleksei asked quietly.

Whittaker ran frustrated hands through his thinning hair and shook his head as he pondered the question. Sheepishly he glanced at Aleksei, scowling at the tall, muscular man before him, strength and energy shimmering around him in waves and shook his head slightly. “Probably the same damn thing you’re doing,” he admitted quietly, reaching out a hand and waiting for Aleksei’s response.

“We’ll do our best, Whittaker. We’ll make you proud,” Aleksei stated resolutely, his voice deep and calm, accepting his coach’s hand and holding it firmly.

“That’s all I can ask of you.”

With a slight nod, Aleksei released his coach’s hand, retrieved his skating bag and left the locker room to meet Jordan rink-side.

Whittaker watched him go, his eyes shining brightly with tears and cast a pleading glance heavenward. “Watch over them, please.”

With a final silent prayer, he slowly left the locker room.

CHAPTER 7  

The spacious arena in New England scheduled to hold the National Figure Skating Championships was filled to capacity. The crowd noisy and excited as they awaited the debut of Jamison and Rocmanov. Dee and Whittaker had kept their pair under close scrutiny, limiting reporters and photographers to a minimum and thus ensuring a secrecy that was driving the public wild with speculation and their competitors crazy with worry. Rumors flew about the volatile new couple, ranging from constant fighting to wildly in love, from landing a throw quad-axel to missing double axels regularly. Time would tell and the time was here to prove all the nay-sayers wrong.

Scott Hamilton was commentating, along with Verne Lunquist and Rosalynn Sumners, for the competition, and all were impressed with the previous evenings short programs and looking forward to the long programs to come.

“Good evening, everyone. This promises to be one of the season’s most exciting competitions. Tonight’s long programs will determine the winner for the National Championship and move the winners toward the World Championship and that much closer to a berth for the Olympics.” Verne Lunquist announced.

“That’s right.” Scott Hamilton agreed. “And the question on everyone’s mind is, Can Jamison and Rocmanov hold on to their second place standing after their short program with the reigning U.S. champions, Wyatt and Hamilton, breathing down their necks? Considering the short time this pair has been together, their chemistry on the ice is very reminiscent of Gordeeva and Grinkov and it should prove very interesting to see their long program, kept tightly under wraps until now. We all wish them well and look forward to the skating to come.”

The announcement came for the pair skaters to take to the ice for their five-minute warm-up and the crowd watched with interest as Jordan and Aleksei joined the others on the ice.

The newly Zambonied ice was perfect. It shone like a glassy lake undisturbed by any breeze, free of ripples or flaws as the five pairs of skaters stepped onto its slick surface. Slowly they circled the ice, getting a feel for the ice, the size, and the smell of it. Jordan and Aleksei were the last pair to step into the arena, Jordan casting a quick look at Aleksei and smiling broadly as he quickly stuck his tongue out at her, making her laugh and breaking the tension he could feel as he held her hand.

Dee and Whittaker watched as they slowly circled the ice, noting the other people around them and watching with interest as the others practiced various moves. Aleksei bent his head to Jordan’s and whispered something to her, nodding in agreement at her response and the two immediately picked up speed as they rounded the far corner of the ice. It was amazing to see the speed with which they skated, their blades barely whispering a sound as they flew over the ice, scarcely scoring the slick surface beneath them. The audience watched in anticipation as they picked up speed, holding their breaths when he threw her effortlessly into a triple axel and she landed on one foot, arms gracefully spread forward, reaching for him and gliding backwards, joining Aleksei where he met her further up the ice.

“If that’s any indication of how they’re performing tonight, the defending champions definitely have their work cut out for them. Jordan and Aleksei obviously are going all out this evening. It would appear this pair does not believe in an easy warm up and fully intend to make the team of Wyatt and Hamilton work for their win. Tonight will prove to be a true test of strength and courage.” Rosalyn Sumners stated, her voice full of excitement.

“You’re right, Roz. Jamison and Rocmanov are looking very much like the pair everyone else is going to have to keep up with.” Scott Hamilton added.

The announcers returned their attention to the ice, and watched the remaining minutes of warm-up for the five pairs on the ice. Jordan and Aleksei returned to the boards where their coaches awaited them, listening intently to suggestions and comments, nodding in understanding and pushing away from the boards as they returned to their warm-up and prepared to execute a final lift. Aleksei and Jordan picked up speed, keeping a watchful eye on the other skaters, shifting their position when one of the other couples cut across their ice, then resumed their position and once again picked up speed. Jordan took her position slightly in front of Aleksei, grasping his wrists as he placed his hands beneath her bottom and lifted her over his head, holding her ten feet in the air. Her legs bent gracefully, carefully avoiding his face with her sharp blades, she raised her arms slowly and sensuously over her head, smiling serenely as the chiffon sleeves of her costume billowed in the breeze they created as they sped across the ice. Aleksei held her slight form over his head without strain, sensing every muscle movement Jordan made as she stretched her legs straight and arched her back, completing the movements of their lift.

Aleksei felt, more than saw, the sudden flash of black as it careened toward him from his left side, leaving him no room to maneuver or escape the sliding body beneath him. An audible gasp left the crowd as the entire audience watched Renee Wyatt, the female half of the defending U.S. champions, fall out of a simple throw and slide beneath Aleksei’s legs, tripping him as he held Jordan over his head.

Aleksei’s immediate reflex was to keep Jordan safe. Without even a split second to warn Jordan of the impending fall, Aleksei abruptly dropped his elbows, the movement bringing Jordan’s lower body immediately lower and her arms instinctively forward. Despite Jordan’s slight weight, the forward force had her falling face first toward the ice until Aleksei physically threw her away from him, the heel of her blade slicing into the top of his thigh. The power of his throw gave her momentum enough to get her hips over her heels so she fell to the ice on her bottom, her hands sliding painfully against the now roughened surface and causing ice burns on her palms.

Aleksei fared far worse. Having used his arms to get Jordan out of harm’s way left him without anything to break his fall, and he landed heavily on his chest and stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. As much speed as they had attained, he slid the final distance into the boards, his cheek splitting open as he hit against the solid wood and finally came to a stop.

The arena was completely silent, everyone holding their breaths as officials and medical help scrambled onto the ice to assist the skaters. Jordan crawled on her knees, ignoring the pain as the ice cut into her stockings and finally her knees, ignoring the bloody trail her palms left on the pristine whiteness of the ice. Her only thought was to get to Aleksei.

Aleksei lay completely still on the ice, mentally taking note of where he hurt, grimacing as he looked down at the leg that throbbed and saw the blood dripping onto the ice. Slowly he rolled to his left side, his eyes coming to focus on Jordan as she called his name and scrambled to his side.

“Oh, God, Aleksei,” she whispered, finally reaching him and pushing his shoulders back to the ice when he tried to sit up. “Don’t move,” She whispered, tears filling her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Aleksei questioned, looking her over and frowning at her bloody knees and hands.

Jordan swatted away his hands as he reached for her, wanting him to lie still until the doctors reached him. “Hold still, you idiot!” She pleaded, gently pressing his shoulders back to the ice, grimacing at the bloody stains she left on his once-glamorous costume.

The doctors were there quickly, poking, and prodding, and asking questions that soon had Aleksei thoroughly frustrated, and wanting to punch something. Yes he could see the two fingers they were holding up. No he didn’t have a headache or feel dizzy. Yes, he could feel his toes, bend his knees and touch his finger to his nose, if they really wanted him to. The doctors wanted to carry him off the ice on a stretcher but Aleksei wouldn’t hear of it. He did agree they could apply pressure bandages to his leg and temporarily bandage his cheek, but he was determined to get off the ice under his own steam. Jordan pleaded for him to follow their recommendations but Aleksei would have none of it, and ten minutes after the accident, he was back on his feet, bandaged and bloody, with his partner at his side, skating off the ice. Thunderous applause followed them as they exited the ice, and headed for the dressing room, the doctors right behind them.

Whittaker and Dee met them as they exited the ice, concern and frustration etching their features. “What the hell happened?” Whittaker demanded, frowning as Aleksei stumbled slightly, then slipping one of Aleksei’s arms over his shoulders as he helped support him.

“The champs need work on their landing. You’d think after seven years together they could land a simple throw,” Aleksei grumbled.

“You’d think so,” Jordan agreed seriously, a small laugh escaping her despite the adrenaline rush that was causing her whole body to vibrate.

“I could have done that well when my damn leg was in the cast!” Aleksei answered with a shake of his head and a frown.

“Don’t think about that, now,” Jordan offered. “Let’s just see how bad your injuries are. Okay?” Jordan ended, doing her best to ignore the sudden weakness in her knees and the urge to be sick as the adrenaline in her system began to dissipate. There was a lot to be said for an adrenaline high but the downside of it sucked!

Quickly they made their way to the medical center, helping Aleksei onto the examining table, and hoping he would lie back as instructed, but not surprised when he refused to do so.

“Okay, Doc, patch me up. I’ve got a competition to win!” Aleksei stated emphatically.

“Are you out of your mind?” Dee and Whittaker both questioned in astonishment. “After that fall?” Dee added.

“I’ve fallen before. It’s no big deal,” Aleksei responded.

“You need stitches,” Whittaker countered.

“Butterfly’s will work for now,” Aleksei fired back.

“You could have a head injury.”

“I’ve had them before, and this doesn’t feel like one. I’m going to skate!” Aleksei stated emphatically.

“Not if the doctors scratch you.”

Dee, Whittaker, Jordan and Aleksei all looked expectantly at the doctor. Aleksei reached for Jordan’s now-bandaged hand and rubbed it gently.

The doctor looked at the four people before him and shrugged his shoulders slightly. “There’s no sign of head injury and the cheek is primarily superficial. The leg injury should be stitched but butterflies will probably hold. I can’t guarantee there won’t be scarring without real stitches but that’s up to Aleksei. If he thinks he’s up to it, I won’t stand in his way. In fact, I’d be very interested in seeing the outcome,” the doctor answered.

“I don’t like it,” Whittaker argued.

“So what’s new. Lately, you haven’t liked much of anything!” Aleksei complained, taking the two offered pain killers from the doctor and sitting back as he began to clean the wound on his cheek and bandage it closed. Jordan sat beside him, her head resting against his shoulder, one hand absently rubbing his uninjured thigh as the doctor gave Aleksei an approved pain killer, closed the thigh wound and placed a sterile dressing over the butterfly stitches.

“That should do it,” the doctor said, finishing his work and gathering up the bloodied bandages and medical instruments. “Good luck to you two,” he offered, leaving the four-some alone.

“Are you sure about this?” Jordan quietly asked, her hand still softly stroking Aleksei’s good thigh.

“As sure as you can get. Besides, the last time you sliced me open with your blade, I won,” Aleksei stated, cautiously sliding from the table and testing his legs.

“Don’t remind me,” Jordan pleaded. “And if it’s okay with you, let’s not make a habit of this. There’s got to be some other way of insuring a good performance other than me cutting you into pieces.”

“We’ll look into it after we win,” Aleksei stated positively. “Shall we skate?” Aleksei questioned, offering her his hand.

“You bet!” Jordan agreed, taking his hand, then allowing herself to be pulled into his chest while his arms wrapped securely around her.

“I was scared to death for you,” Aleksei whispered huskily against the top of her head, his breath leaving a warm spot where it touched.“I did-n’t know what to do.”

Jordan pulled away slightly; looking into Aleksei’s pale face and gently touched the bandage covering his bruised cheek. “I was afraid for you. When I saw you lying on the ice bleeding, I wanted to take your place. I don’t ever want to see you hurt again,” Jordan whispered brokenly, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. With a shaky smile, she raised onto the toe picks of her skates and softly kissed Aleksei’s mouth. A gentle kiss to take the pain away.

Aleksei brushed the tear from Jordan’s cheek and with his eyes glowing brightly, declared heartily, “Let’s kick some ass!”

“Yeah, let’s!” Jordan agreed smiling, and wrapped her arms around Aleksei; tightly holding him against her and wishing the competition were over.

* * * * *

“Unbelievably enough, Jamison and Rocmanov will be competing tonight. Despite their horrendous spill during warm-up, when defending champs Wyatt and Hamilton collided with them, they will be competing,” Scott Hamilton announced, clearly amazed at their courageousness.

“That’s right, Scott. The judges have allowed them to skate two slots later than originally planned, allowing them time to change into different costumes. Their original costumes, obviously ruined, during their collision with the defending champs,” Verne added.