Wyoming Legend

by Diana Palmer

  Janey grimaced. “She makes me do figure eights. What are inside and outside edges?”

  Oh, boy, Karina was thinking. The district competition–winning skater was just running Janey through the old-time basics. Not bad, but it wouldn’t prepare her for even the easiest pre-preliminary competitions. Perhaps Lindy thought, as Janey’s father did, that she was only playing at it and wasn’t serious enough for a trainer.

  Janey’s face fell at Karina’s expression. “I’m not learning the right things, am I?” she asked plaintively.

  “You’re learning what used to be compulsories back in the ’90s. They aren’t used anymore. It’s not a bad thing,” she added firmly. “They teach patience and control. Are you learning to use both the outside edge and the inside edge?”

  “What are outside and inside edges again?” Janey asked.

  Karina made a whistling sound. “Okay. I’ll teach you what I can. But you need a full-time coach if you really want to compete.” She hesitated, her eyes quiet and soft as she smiled at the child. “Figure skating isn’t a pastime, it’s a career. It obsesses people who do it. They’re on the ice every free minute, practicing. It really is a full-time commitment. Once you start, you won’t have much of a social life,” she concluded.

  Janey sighed. “I don’t have much of a social life already,” she said heavily. “Nobody likes me except Bess. She’s overweight and they pick on her, too.”

  She frowned. “Why do they pick on you?”

  The young girl looked up at her with sad eyes. “I’m clumsy,” she said. “I fall all the time, and they think it’s funny. Once I fell right in front of the principal and tripped him and he went headfirst into the cleaning guy’s bucket. It was full of dirty water.” She drew in a long audible breath. “So I’m sort of the class joke.”

  That reminded Karina of her own childhood. She, too, had been clumsy and the other kids made fun of her. Karina moved closer. “There will always be bullies,” she said gently. “Even when you’re grown. You’ll learn how to handle them. This is just a stage in your life, the hard part. When you’re older, it will get better. Honest, it will.”

  “Were you picked on, in school?” Janey wanted to know.

  Karina smiled. “Always. I had a hobby,” she said. “I was obsessed with it, and my classmates thought I was stupid. I had to learn to balance what I did after school with what I was supposed to do in school. I made an effort to study every night, and brought my grades up.”

  “A hobby?”

  “Yes. A silly one,” she added, to keep Janey from asking questions. “We should go.”

  “Okay.” She grabbed her skating bag and looked up at Janey. “You know about figure skating.”

  Karina nodded. “My mother used to be in competition,” she said. She didn’t add that her mother was a two-time gold medalist in the Olympics.

  “You do skate, don’t you, when you can, I mean,” Janey amended, looking at Karina’s foot in the boot.

  “When I can.”

  “I wish you could skate with me. You wouldn’t yell if I made a mistake, would you?” she asked with a resigned smile.

  Obviously, Lindy did. It wasn’t the way to teach. You had to be gentle and explicit and able to translate what you knew into words that a novice could understand. “I never yell,” Karina replied.

  “I guess I could pester Dad again about a coach, when he’s home,” she added quietly as they got into Karina’s car and started down the long driveway to the highway. “He’s never home, though.”

  “It’s a big ranch,” Karina said.

  “Sure it is, and he has lots of stock in oil and oil refineries,” Janey said. “But I’d rather he made less money and stayed home more.”

  “I’m sure he wishes he could,” she replied.

  “At least I have you, Karina,” Janey said with a smile. “We’re going to be great pals, I can already tell.”

  That lifted Karina’s heart, and she smiled.

  * * *

  THE RINK WAS almost empty. Well, it was a school night, after all, and many children would be home doing work for the next day. Karina’s own parents had insisted that she do her homework every night, even if it meant missing a few hours’ practice when she had a lot of homework.

  But this was bad for business. The rink needed to attract a lot of skaters in order to keep the doors open. It would be a shame if it had to close down for lack of patrons.

  Karina frowned. There was no music. Apparently, there were no rental skates, either. She’d left her skates behind at her apartment, which was paid for a year in advance when she still had money. She couldn’t afford to get rid of it, in case she lost this job and had to find another. It was great foresight, she thought, that she’d been wise enough to do that.

  But she didn’t have skates with her. Just as well. She was too afraid to get onto the ice, afraid of causing the ankle to break again.

  She’d used the cane and the boot as a defensive mechanism, a way to convince herself that she was unable to get back on the ice. But her therapist had said that she could skate, that she was hiding behind a healed injury. She only had to conquer the fear, he insisted. She let out a long sigh.“I wish you could skate with me,” Janey said when Karina had helped her lace up her skates. “That’s not how Lindy laces them,” she added, frowning.

  Karina frowned. She didn’t like the skates Janey was using. They were hockey skates, not figure skates. It was a bad start.

  “Why do you have hockey skates?” she asked the girl.

  Both eyebrows rose. “Hockey skates?” She looked at the skates Karina was lacing up for her.

  “Yes. Those don’t have toe picks. You can’t do jumps in them.” She felt guilty when she saw the child’s face fall. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “Lindy said they were all I’d need, because I wouldn’t be able to learn anyway,” Janey said with a long sigh.

  Karina felt her temper rise. She fought it. “Anyone can learn to skate. It’s just a matter of practice.”

  “I’m clumsy,” the girl reminded her. “I fall a lot.”

  Karina finished the lacing. “Do you know how to fall properly, so that you don’t break your wrists?”

  She shook her head.

  Karina stood up and demonstrated the correct way to fall, drawing in the arms and the chin. “You try to fall sideways if it’s possible, so that you don’t break your wrist trying to break your fall,” she explained. “And you lean forward, so that you won’t slip and fall back on the ice and hit your head.” She hesitated. “Really, you should be wearing a helmet while you’re learning.”

  Janey made a face. “Nobody wears helmets around here,” she protested.

  “Well, we can talk about that later,” Karina compromised.

  * * *

  “THIS IS HOW you get up on the ice,” she continued. She put herself down on the floor, pulled one leg up and propped both hands on it, then pulled up her other leg and stood up, keeping her weight on the bended knee.

  “Wow,” Janey said. “That’s amazing!”

  Karina smiled, loving the child’s enthusiasm. That was how she’d felt when her mother first put her on ice skates at the age of three.

  “Always remember to put the pads on your feet before you put on your skates. It’s how you keep your ankles from getting sore and blistered,” Karina replied, with her long knowledge of skates and their idiosyncrasies. “I’m glad to see you have pads, at least.”

  “Lindy said I’d get blisters if I didn’t wear them.”

  “These skates are very stiff. Did you get them new?”

  “Yes,” Janey said.

  “There are heat molds that can shape them to your foot. I don’t know if they have such a machine here, but I know they have one at the rink in Jackson Hole.”

  “Dad would never
have time to take me so far,” the young girl said with a sigh. “It’s business, all the time.”

  “We’ll see what we can do. Meantime, we’ll try breaking in your skates slowly. It also helps if you exercise your ankles before you even put the skates on.”

  “You know a lot.”

  She smiled. “My mom knew all this stuff. She taught me.”

  “I don’t know anything. I can just barely stay on skates. At first, I couldn’t even stand up on them. But Lindy taught me to spread my legs apart with my ankles turned out. It feels good to stand that way.”

  “It’s dangerous,” Karina corrected. “You must always stand straight on your skates, with your feet together. Can you do swizzles and crossovers?”

  “Can you speak English?” Janey teased.

  Karina laughed. “See that girl over there, the one in the black outfit? She’s doing backward swizzles.”

  Janey watched. “Gosh, I can’t even skate backward at all!”

  Obviously, Lindy wasn’t interested in tutoring the girl. It was a shame.

  “Get out there and skate for a bit. Hold on to the barrier and just walk along the ice near it. Feet together, weight forward, hold on to the barrier. I’ll be back in a minute. I want to talk to the owner of the rink. They say she’s a former coach.”

  “One of the older girls at school has lessons with her. She’s German,” she added. “The girl says she’s nice and very patient.”

  “I’ll just have a word with her. Go slowly,” she added. “Stand straight, feet together, knees slightly bent, body slightly bent forward, but not too far. Feet with heels together and toes turned out. Walk like a penguin. Hold on to the barrier.”

  “That’s so much to remember!”

  “Just give it a try,” she said. “How did you learn Gaelic?”

  “By repeating the phrases over and over again until I knew them by heart.”

  “Skating is exactly the same. We learn by repetition. I’ll go find the owner.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Karina!”

  She smiled. “You’re most welcome.”

  * * *

  JANEY WENT GINGERLY onto the ice while Karina, with her cane, made her way to the office. It was a huge building. Walking tired her.

  She was out of shape, she told herself, because she was winded by the time she reached the owner’s office and tapped on the door.

  “Come in,” came a very German-accented voice from the other side.

  Karina went in, closing the door behind her, and gasped when she saw the woman’s face.

  “Mrs. Meyer!” she exclaimed, stunned.

  Hilde Meyer lifted her eyes from her computer screen and recognition brought a beaming smile to her own lips. “Karina!” she exclaimed, rushing around the desk to hug Karina close. “Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so sorry for what happened to you!”

  Karina fought tears. “The doctor at the rink where I fell said I should give up trying to ever skate again!”

  Mrs. Meyer drew back. “Most doctors tell everyone that who breaks a bone,” she scoffed. “One told me that, the last year I was in competition. I ignored him. I won the silver at the Worlds a month later,” she chuckled. “But you, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m babysitting a nine-year-old girl whose father owns a ranch. Please don’t tell anyone about me,” she added gently. “I don’t want anyone to know.”

  “You’re a legend down around Jackson Hole, you know,” the owner teased. “Everyone was so proud when you and Paul won the Worlds.”

  Karina sighed. “Paul’s trying out a new partner for the competitions this year. He didn’t want to do it. We’ll lose the Envelope, you see. But I told him that he has to have a partner to compete and I’m not sure I want to skate again. Ever.” She sighed. “I miss Paul. We were good together.”

  “Good enough for Olympic gold, in my opinion,” Mrs. Meyer replied. She winced as she looked down at the protective boot on Karina’s foot. “You had a very bad fall. I hope you’re keeping up with the physical therapy. And you should get back on the ice as soon as you’re able,” she added firmly. “The longer you wait, the harder it will be.”

  “I’m afraid to skate again,” Karina confessed shamefully. “I actually heard the bones break, and it was on my landing foot, where the damage was done.”

  “We all have had accidents that put us out of competition, sometimes for a year, sometimes two,” she was told. “But a true champion won’t let herself be discouraged by an accident. And truthfully, Karina, you have been most fortunate over the years. This was your first bad fall. Most of us have had several.”

  Karina smiled sadly. “Maybe if I’d had more than bruises, I’d know how to handle being out of competition for so long. I don’t know that I can go back to it. I told our coach that I was through with ice skating.”

  Mrs. Meyer just nodded. “It’s early days yet. The accident is still fresh in your mind, and you must cope with the recuperation period. But you will. If I can help in any way, I will be happy to. I was a coach, you know, after my career on the ice ended. I like to think that I was a good one. I was told that my ideas for choreography were too old-fashioned and silly. I lost so many students to the more modern coaches that I just gave up,” she confessed sadly. “I heard this rink was available on the market, and I had saved religiously while I was earning big money.” She looked around and spread her arms. “So here I am,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “Your choreography was magnificent,” Karina corrected. “You coached two Olympic-winning figure skating teams,” Karina recalled. “Their routines were a little like the ones Paul and I did. Only, much better,” she teased.

  “I know your coach. He’s good. But he isn’t demanding enough.”

  Karina laughed. “That’s what Paul said, after we placed eighth at the Olympics last time.”

  “I watched your performance,” Mrs. Meyer replied. “There were a few things I would have changed about it.”

  “Our coach was involved with a skater at the time,” she chuckled. “His mind was more on her than our choreography.”

  “Such a shame. You had the talent, you know, to go all the way. And Paul! Such grace, such athletic ability. He did the lifts with you as if you weighed nothing at all. He’s trying out the Garner girl over in Colorado, yes?” She shook her head. “She’s good on the jumps, she’s a good athlete. But she has no grace, no elegance, and she’s overburdened with piercings and tattoos and carnival-colored hair. She has an attitude problem that will make Paul uncomfortable. He’s like you, sweetheart, he doesn’t like confrontational people.”

  Karina smiled. “No, I don’t like them either.”

  “Nor is she elegant. You were blessed with that from the beginning. I remember your mother,” she added with a sad smile. “She was so proud of you!”

  “I miss her, still. I miss my dad, too. They made such sacrifices to keep me on the ice.” She didn’t add that she was still having nightmares about the way they died, three years after the fact. She kept that to herself.

  “Parents do sacrifice, when they love their children. I was never so fortunate as to have them with my late husband. So I have adopted many skaters,” she added with a grin. “I formed a skating club here, also, so that we can get a coach to help the beginners who want to learn through the Learn to Skate endeavor sponsored by the U.S. Figure Skating Association.”

  “That’s a step in the right direction,” Karina said. “Do you have a coach in mind?”

  “Yes. He’s coming next week to talk to me. He placed high in world competition and he was tenth in Olympic men’s figure skating at the last Olympics.”

  Karina nodded. She wasn’t really that interested in the coach. She sighed. “I miss being on the ice.” She looked down at her boot. “The doctor said I could begin to skate this month. I didn’t even bring my ice skates up here. Yo
u don’t have any for rent at all, do you?” she added.

  “It seemed a useless expense when I bought the rink,” came the reply.

  Karina cocked her head. “A lot of people won’t go to the expense of buying skates and all the accessories that go with them,” she said. “Casual skaters, especially. Rental skates would bring in a lot more business.”

  “You think so?” Mrs. Meyer asked.

  “I do. I believe the rentals would boost your revenue. More people would be more inclined to hire a coach if they didn’t have to spend money to buy skates.”

  Mrs. Meyer’s eyes brightened. “I will consider it, quite seriously.”

  “One other thing,” she began, and hesitated. “I’m sorry, I’m sticking my nose in...”

  “What was the other one thing?” the coach interrupted, interested.

  “Well, it’s the music.”

  “There is no music,” Mrs. Meyer said, frowning.

  “I know. That’s the other thing. Most rinks have it, especially where there are young skaters. It helps to have a variety, but it’s nice to skate by. The rinks also have announcers who vary the free skate period by calling out men and women and pairs skates.”

  “Music. An announcer.” She pondered that. “I have not considered music, although the wiring and the speakers are there to permit it. Perhaps a mix of classical and pop,” she added thoughtfully.

  Karina grinned. “Thanks for not being offended. I don’t mean to criticize,” she added quickly.

  “Helpful suggestions are not criticisms. I would very much like the business to operate in the black,” she added wistfully. “The attendance is not what I expected when I bought the business.”

  “I think with a few changes, you can make it pay very well, even in a small town like Catelow. There aren’t a lot of rinks north of Jackson Hole. You could make this one into a very profitable business. You might also consider advertising the rink in weekly newspapers around the area, along with the skating club. It will encourage people to sign up, since joining the club will entitle them to enter into competition and take tests to level up.”