Whispers on the Ice (29 page)

Nick started to open his mouth to say something, closed it, opened it, closed it and finally shrugged and groaned.“I don’t know where the hell that came from!” he muttered, running his hands through his hair in frustration. “I was watching the kids out there practice their program, saw Ram-jet drop his partner for the forty-second time and something just snapped. The next thing I knew, I was out there, telling that snotnosed punk to pay attention and Jordan was over my head before I even realized what was happening. Let me tell you, it was
fucking weird
!” he growled deeply.

Cynthia nodded understandingly. “You’re right, it is strange. But what you’re about to see is probably really going to throw you for a loop,” she said, turning on the TV/VCR combo. “I want you to watch this, and when it’s over, we’ll talk.”

The screen came to life, two figure skaters alone on the center of the ice. Nick immediately recognized Jordan and a slight chill shook his body as he looked at the tall, dark-haired man holding her in his arms, familiar but not. As he watched, the two began their program, picking up speed as they covered the ice and the man lifted Jordan into the air, holding her high as they circled the corner and carefully lowered her back to the ice. Her hands traced down her partner’s shoulders and arms as Jordan had his own only moments before. Nick directed a startled look of surprise at Cynthia who only nodded in acknowledgment, and told him to keep watching. Nick watched the program, saw his own skating style matched the man’s on the screens and shook his head in disbelief. None of this made any sense. The longer he watched, the more he recognized himself in the skating style of Jordan’s partner, the more confused he became.

Finally the program ended and Cynthia stopped the tape.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick asked, obviously bewildered. “Who is that guy?”

“That, Nicholas Devon was Aleksei Rocmanov, Jordan’s partner, both on and off the ice.”

“Was?”

“Yes, was. They were in a car accident, he died in her arms.”

“Christ!”

“It’s been a difficult three years for Jordan.”

“Three years?” Nick mumbled, confusion warred with disbelief, he rubbed suddenly cold hands together in an effort to warm them as a wave of strange sensation crashed over his head.

“Yes. Aleksei died on January ninth…” Cynthia began.

“The same day I had my knee surgery and was dead on the table for twenty minutes.” Nick ended.

“Georgie told me about the
visions
you had while you were officially dead.”

“Georgie has a big mouth!” Nick repeated, stunned at the realization there were too damn many coincidences to be coincidental.

“What did your doctors say?”

“You mean besides oops? That it was probably an allergic reaction to the anesthesia, probably nothing more than hallucinations. What are the doctors going to say?
Don’t worry, you just picked up someone else’s soul who isn’t ready for heaven just yet?
They might as well have had me wrapped up in rubber padding if that was their only explanation,” Nick looked back at the screen, now blank, and asked if there were any other programs he could watch. Maybe—just maybe—it was only a coincidence that their lift had been identical to Jordan and Aleksei’s in the program he’d just watched.

Cynthia watched Nick and felt helpless to assist him. Everyone had to find their own way in this world, despite her own beliefs that sometimes shit just happened and no matter how hard you fought it or how loud you screamed against it, it just happened, with or without your agreeing to it. “Do you remember much about your visions? Does anything ring a bell or pull at you that you remember?” Cynthia asked as she gathered together videotapes of Jordan and Aleksei for Nick to view.

“Only bits and pieces that are so vague and hazy they don’t make any sense.” Nick offered, accepting the stack of tapes from Cynthia and heading for the door. As he opened the door, he stopped as a surge of something flashed through his memory. “Cynthia, have you ever heard Celine Dion’s song,
The Prayer
?”

Nick’s question completely stunned her and she leaned against the desk as her legs threatened to give way. Slowly she nodded up and down, her mouth dry as she finally got her one word question out. “Why?”

Nick shrugged his wide shoulders. “I’ve never heard it played, I’ve never seen the sheet music to it. And yet I know the words and can hear the music as clearly as I can hear Jordan’s blades whisper across the ice. Yet there’s something that won’t allow me to listen to that piece of music alone. Why is that? Why should one piece of music mean that much to me?”

Cynthia swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her, wiping away tears from the corners of her eyes. “That piece of music was the one they had decided on for their next program. As it turned out, it was the piece of music they were listening to when the accident occurred, it was the piece of music they were listening to when Aleksei died in Jordan’s arms.”

“I don’t understand,” Nick stated softly, his mind whirling as he tried to make sense of the insensible.

“Sometimes we’re not suppose to. Sometimes all we can do is hang on and believe that things happen for a reason and that someday that reason will be revealed,” Cynthia offered.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Nick stated.

“What’s the other option?” Cynthia asked.

Nick shrugged and shook his head back and forth.

“Be patient, Nick. Good things come to those that wait.”

“Yeah, and Santa Claus is real,” Nick grumbled and left the office.

Cynthia watched him walk away, his head held high and proud, his swagger so much like Aleksei’s it made her want to cry. With a look toward heaven, she closed her eyes and said into the silent room. “I knew you hadn’t gone far, Rocmanov. We’ve all missed you so much.”

The clear sound of blades as they whispered across the ice filled the small room and seemed to return the sentiment. Cynthia smiled.

All would be well very soon, she felt, and on that thought, left the small office, closing the door behind her. Seconds later, the soft strains of
The Prayer
filled the room, yet the sound system remained dark—the power off.

CHAPTER 21  

The day of the ice show dawned with crystal clear blue skies and a disguised temperature of twenty-two degrees. Jordan had to once again remind herself that just because the sun was out, it didn’t mean the heat was on. As she stepped from her SUV, she wished she had worn her down-filled coat instead of her fleece skating jacket. Shivering as the wind blew through her hair, she grabbed her oversized bag, which held her skates, make-up, sewing kit and anything else she had felt might be necessary this hectic day and dashed toward the front doors of the ice house. Side-stepping George Junior as he spread salt over the sidewalk, Jordan laughed a hello and dashed through the double doors, pushing the second set of doors open with her bottom as she answered George’s yelled question from the walkway and collided with Nick as she quickly spun to face forward.

Jordan’s breath left her body on a whoosh as she hit the solid wall of his chest. She felt herself bounce backwards, her large bag slipping from her shoulder, the straps tangling with her feet and tripping her up. A small cry escaped her lips as she felt herself falling helplessly backwards. Suddenly, large, strong hands grabbed her forearms, their grip firm, but not hurtful, and she found herself pulled quickly forward, and against Nick’s rock-hard chest. Jordan’s cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat a steady, comforting rhythm in her ear. Closing her eyes, she sought to calm her own racing heart and frowned as she felt her heart slow and then match the rhythm of Nick’s until she couldn’t tell if it was Nick’s heartbeat she was hearing or her own.

Nick stood still, despite his desire to wrap his arms protectively around her and tried to ignore the heat that radiated from her body and seeped into his. With a silent moan of loss that seemed to roar in his ears, he released her arms and stepped away from her. At the loss of his closeness, Jordan looked up into Nick’s eyes, now a deep blue, and stumbled yet again as an all-too-familiar look gazed back at her, one of hunger and yearning.

Nick steadied her yet again, keeping her at arms length and shook his head in amusement. “It’s a good thing you’re not skating today or we’d be scraping you off the boards within the first thirty seconds after you hit the ice,” his voice was deep and sexy in spite of his insult.

Jordan lifted her chin a notch and did her best to look down at him despite the fact he towered over her. “If I wanted to skate today, I would. I had my time in the spotlight. Today belongs to all of our students. And besides…” she picked up her skating bag and slipped it over her shoulder, “I’ll have enough on my hands seeing to the show without needing the additional worry about performing,” she ended and turned to head toward the locker room.

“I don’t remember you ever being nervous or worried about a competition or exhibition before,” Nick called to Jordan’s retreating back, his voice challenging. Jordan stopped and turned to look at Nick; ready to engage in the next verbal volley when his next words made her freeze. “Except after that fall at the Nationals when you sliced my leg open—again.”

Waves of dizziness crashed over Jordan as visions of the fall he referred to flashed before her eyes. Bright red blood splattered across the pristine whiteness of the newly groomed ice and ruined their beautiful costumes. Her hands and knees were scraped and bloody, his leg cut open from her sharp skate blade, his cheek cut and bleeding from his collision with the boards, and yet, they had skated, and won. No, she and Aleksei had skated, and won. This was Nick before her—not Aleksei. No matter how badly she wanted it to be Aleksei, it wasn’t. It was Nick! And suddenly she was furious, at Aleksei for leaving her, at herself for still wanting Aleksei so badly she saw him everywhere and in everyone. But especially, at Nick, for making her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you weren’t there. You don’t know anything about me!” Jordan accused from across the room.

“I know more about you than you think. Cynthia gave me tapes of all your programs and told me to watch them, closely, and then to watch them again.”

“Why would she do that? There’s no reason you need to know about me. I don’t want you knowing anything about me—I don’t want anyone knowing anything about me! This is my life!” Jordan stormed.

“You’re right, it is your life. And from what I’ve seen, for the last year you’ve been hiding out in this hole of an ice house teaching kids to skate for nothing and going through the motions of life.”

“So what? It’s my life. It’s my right to spend it however I want and if I want to spend it in this ‘hole’, then dammit, I will and if someone does-n’t like it, they can go screw themselves!”

“You’re a champion, Jordan. You shouldn’t be here, you have so much more to show the world!”

“WAS! I was a champion. A long time ago, but I learned there were more important things in this world than medals and trophies and ribbons. Unfortunately, I learned it too late and it cost me the one thing that mattered most to me in all the world.”

“It wasn’t your fault Aleksei died,” Nick stated deeply. “You wanted to stay at the cabin another day. Remember?”

Jordan’s mind swirled anew, her blood roared in her ears as her heart pumped dangerously fast. How could he know such things, she’d never told anyone, not even Whittaker or Dee about that particular detail. How could Nick know? “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jordan yelled, holding up her hand to ward Nick off when he started to approach her. “You couldn’t know!”

Nick stopped, his breath caught as he took in her large dark eyes so vivid against her pale skin. Her coppery hair became a mussed maze of curls as she pushed her hands through her hair in an effort to control their shaking. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she fought to breathe normally. “You’re right, I shouldn’t know, but I do. For the first time in three years my life feels
normal
—or at least more normal than it has since
things
started happening. For three years I’ve felt disconnected, like a part of me was missing, and then I saw you, and suddenly everything made sense. This is where I was being lead—to you.”

“You’re out of your mind!” Jordan stated in disbelief. “Georgie said you were weird.”

“Yeah, well Georgie talks too much!” Nick growled. “And this has nothing to do with Georgie, it has to do with you, and me, and Aleksei.”

“There is no you and me, and don’t you dare even mention Aleksei’s name. You know nothing about him other than what you may have seen on the tapes Cynthia had no business showing you.”

“Jordan, Aleksei was a man, not a god. He doesn’t want you spending your life mourning his memory and simply marking time, he wants you to laugh, and be happy, and love again.”

“How would you know what Aleksei wants?” Jordan questioned, her voice filled with pain.

“Because the son-of-a-bitch has been leading me toward you for the last three years!” Nick yelled.

Jordan’s wide-eyed look of disbelief said it all. “And I thought I’d heard every pick-up line out there,” Jordan stated in disgust.

“It’s not a line—it’s true—and believe me, I’m not happy about any of it!”

“Well, that makes two of us buddy. The idea that you think you could simply say
Aleksei sent you
and that I’d fall over at your feet in rapture and thanks makes me want to throw up. There was more to Aleksei than good looks and a great body.”

“So you think I look good and have a great body?” Nick asked belligerently.

“I never said that.”

“Your eyes say differently.”

“You’re reading something that isn’t there,” Jordan parried. “Aleksei was kind and caring and funny…”

“And opinionated and obstinate and infuriating!” Nick finished, crossing his arms over his chest, his muscles clearly defined through his turtleneck shirt.

Jordan’s mouth felt suddenly dry as she watched the play of his muscles beneath his shirt. With an effort, she returned her attention to Nick’s face and found herself staring at his mouth. “You could have learned any of that from the articles Cynthia keeps in her scrap books. Information she had no business sharing with you by the way,” she mumbled.

“I didn’t have to look at Cynthia’s scrap books to know about you. All of a sudden I knew things I’d never had any interest in, let alone a reason to know about, like figure skating. I’d always hated figure skating because it was for wussies…” Nick charged.

“Nobody
hates
figure skating. It’s not possible to
hate
figure skating!” Jordan interrupted.

“I’ve got news for you, Jordan. There are a lot of people out there that think what you do is the epitome of stupid and reckless. Think about it. How smart is it to strap a narrow razor blade to your feet and go as fast as you can on a slippery surface?”

“You make it sound dangerous,” Jordan argued, her look clearly stating she thought he was crazy.

“It is dangerous. How many times did you wind up in the hospital? Did you ever count how many bruises Hanks gave you or how many times you wished you’d make it through a program while he was your partner and not be thrown into the boards?”

“That’s part of pairs skating. You learn to live with it,” Jordan’s answer was simple—it was a fact of life as far as she was concerned.

“But that changed after you became partners with Aleksei. He promised you he’d never throw you into the boards.”

“And he kept that promise!” Jordan agreed.

“But why would I know he’d even made such a statement?” Nick growled. “Why would I suddenly have all this knowledge in my head about a subject I’d never paid any attention to—never had any interest in whatsoever—until after I nearly died on an operating table? Why would my body suddenly be able to do things on skates I would never have even considered doing on a solid surface? Why would I suddenly know where my hands had to be to lift you into the air when in the past I’d have said you had to have a death wish to even let someone do that to you? Think about it Jordan. I went into surgery to have my knee fixed, died on the table, was
visited
by God knows what and after the doctors managed to bring me back, I knew all this shit. I didn’t look or ask for this knowledge—hell, I didn’t even want it! But for the last three years I’ve needed to be on the ice the same way fish need to be in water. Before that, I didn’t even like ice cubes in my drinks. So you explain it to me, Jordan. Why do I know so much about you and your ex-partner? Why do I feel drawn to music that you and Aleksei used for your programs? Why do I visualize you skating in my arms when we’ve never done it before?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you were brainwashed. Maybe they played the same music during your surgery and your subconscious locked on it for some reason. I don’t know. It’s your problem—not mine!”

“You’re wrong! You’re part of the problem and like it or not you’re going to have to deal with it!” Nick growled.

“I don’t have to deal with you at all Nicholas Devon. You’ve got your ice and your stupid stick and you can chase your little piece of plastic around it until hell freezes over. There’s no reason our paths have to cross at all!” Jordan stated furiously.

“Do you still wear sheer stockings when you perform?” Nick asked quietly, his gaze skimming up her warm-up pant covered legs. Closing his eyes, he could visualize her long, shapely legs and his fingers flexed at his desire to run his hands over her soft skin, he just knew her skin would feel like silk.

Jordan’s heart skipped a beat at his softly spoken question. “That’s none of your business,” she answered softly, her voice quivering as Aleksei’s voice vowed in her memory she’d be able to wear sheer stockings again because he’d never throw her into the boards.

Nick watched her eyes fill with sorrow and pain crease her brow and wanted to draw her into his arms, he could almost feel Aleksei pushing him toward her. “Aleksei never wanted you to stop skating. He loved watching you skate as much as he loved skating with you.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me,” Jordan demanded, wiping the tears from her cheeks away angrily.

“It killed him to leave you,” Nick stated knowingly.

“Yeah, well, it killed me to. I’ve been dead for three years—one of the walking dead,” Jordan answered flatly.

“He wants you to be happy again.”

“So he sent you to replace him?”Jordan asked in astonishment. “That sounds like some stupid macho stunt he’d try to pull. Even in death he wants to call the shots!” Jordan snorted in contempt. “Sorry, Nick. I’m not looking for a replacement—I had the best. I’d rather be alone than settle for second place!” She stated nastily.

“Don’t be a bitch, Jordan. The
Ice Queen
bit never worked with me,” Nick warned without thinking.

“You’re wrong—it’ll work just fine with you. I’ll grant you, I let my guard down and let Aleksei into my heart. Don’t think for a minute the same thing will happen with you. And don’t try to pretend to be someone you’re not just to get in my knickers, Mr. Devon. I’m not interested.”

“In me or in life?”

Jordan’s slight shrug was the only answer he received as she turned and walked away from him, grabbing her bag from the floor and slamming through the women’s locker room doors.