Wesley was another matter. He could, on a whim, be awake whenever he wanted. Often it was early enough for Thierry to eat decently before starting on the work, but sometimes he slept in. Wesley was a wild card I could never predict.
Thierry, by design, should already be out feeding and checking the other animals before he started with the dairy cows. Getting by Thierry as I crossed the yard would be tricky. But I had a semi-plan and a decent excuse if I got caught.
I didn’t linger in my shower. I didn’t really have time to if I wanted to be at the rink on time. Since I figured the audition to be the same as an interview, I dressed for my short program and then to ward off the cold threw an additional sweater over it. Stuffing what I needed into a pocket and carrying my shoes, I listened at the door again before, as quietly as possible, exiting the bathroom and heading for the stairs.
The outside wall of Wesley’s bedroom was shared with the staircase. If my brother were in bed, he would instantly wake and listen. If he wasn’t then I might slip by him by using the French doors in the great room instead of going through the mudroom.
I didn’t hear or see Wesley anywhere. It put my back up and put me on high alert. My brother could be sneaky.
I crossed the backyard to my little pottery studio–I really shouldn’t call the space little. It was the size of a four-car garage. My brother had been slightly generous in his bribery gift.
The space was broken into three rooms. The main door opened into the packing, storage, and shipping space. Across from the main door, a bay door graced the wall allowing for easy unloading and loading of stock and materials. An archway adjacent to both doors led into the production space. I had that space divided with clay working. Storage and molding on one side and all my glazes and drying racks for the glazes on the other side. An airtight door directly across from the archway led into the room with my kilns.
My normal habit would be to check the kiln first, and then my molds and glazes but I forced the habit back. I had other things to do this morning first. After dinner last night, I’d packed the set I wanted to give to Hadley. In the same box with the set, I stashed my skates and some papers I was sure she would want. When I turned to leave, I crashed into Wesley and nearly, very nearly, screamed like a girl.
“What the hell, man!” I caught, barely, the box I bobbled and glared at my brother.
“You’re up awfully early on a Sunday.” Wesley commented slowly looking around.
“Hadley needs a dish set. I picked one out and she asked me to deliver before she starts her day. She starts ungodly early like the rest of you yahoos.” I used my excuse on Wesley and walked around him for the door.
“Didn’t see your skates in the mudroom,” Wesley commented casually.
“I don’t always leave them there.” I retorted as I shoved the door open with a shoulder. “As it is Sunday and my only day of the week completely free to myself, I’ll be in here when I get back. I’ve got some stuff I want to do.”
“Sure. I’ll leave your paperwork on the verifying desk.” Wesley walked out with me and I could feel his eyes follow me until I was out of his line of sight.
I wasn’t overly worried about Wesley. My brother could be slightly overbearing at times but he wouldn’t invade my privacy. I worried about Thierry.
At the edge of the trees, before I climbed over the sheep fence, I took a quick look around for my older brother. When I couldn’t immediately see him, I set the box over the fence before I climbed it and hurriedly continued on my way with my load.
Instead of crossing the frozen lake, I followed its edge towards the Knifeblade family cemetery that rested close to the northern most banks. There were trees here too, but it was a bit tamer than what surrounded our house. Once I reached the cemetery, I could see the rink a handful of acres in the distance. Worried about the time I picked up my pace.
There was a door on this side of the rink I hadn’t noticed before, and when I tested it, it opened with ease. I realized it was the door opposite the one we had used to haul Hadley’s stuff in through, once I looked around. And with my glance around, I didn’t see Hadley. I thought she would have met me down here, but apparently not.
Shrugging, I crossed the width of the space and climbed Hadley’s stairs. I knocked once, waited, and then knocked again. Worry crept in when I heard no movement on the other side of the door. Juggling the box with one hand, I tried the door, and when I realized it wasn’t locked, I pushed it open slightly.
“Hadley?” I called out but still got no answer. I pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped through before I could chide myself on the breach of privacy.
I set the box on the kitchen bar, saw the coffee pot already brewed but no coffee apparently poured. I heard the alarm clock, faintly, as I turned towards the living space but paused before I crossed through the living room into the tiny hallway. Panic hadn’t set in yet, she probably just hadn’t heard me.
Hadley slept like the dead on the fainting couch. There was a book on the floor in front of her that appeared to have slipped and fallen. A throw blanket, not really meant for sleeping with, was pulled up around her, as if she got cold while reading and wanted to be comfortable. Her braid was seriously coming loose, strands framed her face, and surprisingly a pair of reading glasses perched stubbornly on her nose.
She’d fallen asleep reading before, I surmised. Otherwise, those glasses would be broken. She looked almost too peaceful to bother. I should just pick her up and tuck her into that floating bed of hers. I’d let her decide if she wanted to reschedule the audition.
Before I could decide on how to pick her up without waking her, her eyes blinked open. I watched her brows draw together in confusion as she studied me blearily.
“Sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Wake me? You’re not supposed to be here until…” she trailed off looking over my shoulder at the clock on the mantle. “Well, shit.”
With surprising speed and agility for someone with her ailment, she flung off the blanket and pushed to her feet. “Give me twenty minutes.” She jogged to the bedroom, where, I would swear; I heard an alarm clock die.
I’d never lived with women other than my mother, but I knew enough from that experience that twenty minutes probably meant forty. And then considering Hadley was who she was, I figured I’d probably not be on the ice until closer to seven.
I took it philosophically and unpacked her dishes. It wasn’t a hardship to be in her company. There was a sweetness about her, hidden by pain and sorrow but it was there. I liked seeing it.
When I opened the cupboard to put the dishes away I frowned at the dishes already placed there. Curious, I pulled one out and studied it.
I had to agree with Hadley. The yellow and green plaid rim with the daisy bouquet in the center was ugly. It could have, maybe in the seventies, been considered pretty, in a seventies disco kind of way.
Shaking my head, I began to switch out the dishes. Any friend wouldn’t allow her to be forced to use such horrible dishes. It was bound to be bad on the digestion system. I was just being a friend.
Hadley came out of the bedroom in fifteen minutes rubbing a towel over her hair. She was still a little rosy from the shower I hadn’t heard her take. I gave her an absent once over then took a second survey a lot slower.
She was wearing a long sleeve black tee shirt that showcased her slim build and rock solid abdomen. My stomach tightened as my eyes fell over the flat abdomen; I could even see a slight cut of ab muscles. It was easy to see her body had been well toned.
Her shorts were, I supposed, a type of cargo just long enough to accommodate the pockets in the front. The shorts revealed her legs–both were slim, muscular, tan, and smooth to the knee. The left leg held that strength down to her toes. I had a sudden craving to kiss those toes, one by one. Then kiss up her leg. My eyes shifted to the other leg before my brain could complete that thought.
The right leg from just below the knee to the floor looked
like carbon fiber and titanium. She didn’t have a fake foot; instead, it was some kind of duckbill metal wedge.
I didn’t expect the reaction I had to her. She was pretty, I knew that from the first time I saw her, but I hadn’t expected her flushed from the shower to cause my mind to lose its civility. I hadn’t expected her slim body and hard abs to be an instant turn on. It took a moment to snap a leash on the unexpected lust, and I kept my eyes down until I was sure I had it under control.
I swallowed nervously before raising my eyes to meet hers. I hoped, none of it showed. I didn’t want to scare her, or for her to think I was some crazy, horny boy not really serious about skating.
I didn’t think she’d want that kind of relationship with me anyway. She’d never given me any reason to believe she was attracted. At least I didn’t think she was attracted. What I felt didn’t necessarily have to be reciprocated though it was always nice if it was. I didn’t really know her well enough to even make a judgment call on it. For now, I’d ignore it and deal with the task at hand.
“I didn’t know how you take your coffee,” I said when I realize she just stood and waited for some comment. She probably thought I pitied her, or worse, judged her. “So I didn’t pour it.”
She didn’t frown, but whatever tension had been in her eased. I saw her shoulders relax. “Just black.”
“I brought over your new dishes too. If you’d like I can make these ones vanish to never be seen again.” I told her as I poured the cup and handed it to her.
“I would love that,” Hadley said as she took the cup and blew before gulping, “but I’d have to check to see if that’s okay first.” She studied the pretty matte white mug with the cheerful poppy inside. “You made this?” She moved closer to me to study the plates I was putting away. The outside matched the cup but the inside of all the plates and bowls were a different color and they were octagon shaped instead of round. There were no hard lines to it so the octagon was soft and somehow delicate. It was cheerful and very simply elegant too. It reminded me of her. Blank on the outside but vibrant on the inside.
“Yeah. I brought you a serving set of six in case you have your sisters and guest over. I also brought a serving platter and a pair of serving bowls. They go with the set. I thought they suited you. If you don’t like them I have others.”
“I love them. They’re beautiful. Do you go to college for ceramics?” Hadley sipped her coffee again.
I paused slightly stunned a moment. I could, couldn’t I? And it was something I loved to do. I studied a plate before putting it away. I would, I decided. It would certainly please Thierry. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“You should. I think, just from what I’ve seen, you’d be great.” Hadley guzzled the rest of her coffee and set the cup in the sink. “Come on, let’s get started. Where’s your music?”
I handed her a CD case. “It’s there. Both short and free as you requested. And I have these.” I handed her the papers I brought along. “I figured you’d probably want them.”
She studied the papers I handed her as we climbed down the stairs into the rink space. I’d taken several of the skills tests already. My basics were done and I was halfway through my free skate tests.
I knew my membership was valid and I was associated with the club in Fergus Falls to the north. That wasn’t surprising as Wheaton didn’t have a registered club–I knew Hadley had been associated with Alexandria’s club until her move to Georgia.
I was skilled, but not as skilled as she had probably hoped. No matter. She would let me know what she thought when this was over.
“Well.” Hadley smiled and I didn’t like the way it looked even though it seemed innocent enough. “Paper is good,” she said, “but let’s see what you can really do.” She tip toed up and kissed my cheek lightly. “Good luck.”
Hadley
I sat cross-legged on the judge’s table with my clipboard and a very sharp pencil. The pencil was being tapped idly against the pressed fibrous board. He wasn’t what I expected.
I had worn the shorts on purpose to see his reaction. I wouldn’t be cold in the rink–the temp was kept at sixty and the ice at twenty-four. Since I wasn’t skating, I wouldn’t get the chill of the ice directly thus the shorts. I had expected questions, at the very least a comment on my prosthetic. I hadn’t expected the slap of attraction and lust. In the almost two years since the accident, no one had looked at me that way.
I wasn’t sure if he had wanted me to see the brief flash of fire in his eyes when I stepped back from the light kiss, or notice that he swallowed nervously before meeting my eyes in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. My toes, of all things, had tingled with his intense stare. And that tingle had spread as his eyes rose back up over my body. I was used to being studied, critiqued even. I would have to think it over in greater detail later. If I coached him, attraction and acting on it could jeopardize his chances. I would have to eventually discuss that with him if we made it that far.
He’d have to take his level five tests by December, I calculated reviewing his papers once again, and refocused on the task at hand. That was if we wanted any shot for him to be ready for Regional and State this season. He was currently ranked as a novice and that just wouldn’t work. I wished–slightly–he was already a Junior.
If he had competed at his lower levels, I would have allowed him to continue competing as we built up but he needed to start from the gate as the best he could be since he was starting so late. It would be in time for Junior World but that would be a lot of pressure for a first real competition.
He’d have to take his level six tests no later than May to skate in the next season as a Senior skater. This meant he had five months to learn and refine skills before the test. He could be a Junior skater in the Olympics but without the triple Axel, he wouldn’t win in the top three in my opinion. He needed that triple Axel before May. Not impossible. Hard, but not impossible.
I had showed him how to latch and unlatch the door in the wall for the ice before I came and sat down. I needed some time to create his paper file that I would keep regardless if I coached and it gave him the time to focus and get ready to skate.
The panel to the audio system was built into the judge’s table, and I popped in his CD and queued it up but didn’t hit play. After what I considered a decent amount of time for him to lace his skates up, I flipped a switch.
“Skaters, please take the ice for your six minute warm up.” An automated voice requested.
I saw North’s surprise before he shrugged, removed his blade safeties and stepped out onto the ice. If he were surprised by an automated voice, the scoreboard would really surprise him.
I had no idea what he was skating to, nor had he provided me with a skate sequence. If he did well, I’d go over the paperwork with him later so he would understand it. The CD he had handed me simply said “Short–Free”.
I couldn’t figure it out from his outfit either. He wore black pants–fat surprise there–and a semi loose white romance shirt. It was buttoned completely to the top and surprisingly had a cleverly tied scarf around his neck in bright red. I supposed back in the day that it would have been called a cravat. I hadn’t noticed when he applied the makeup but he had some smoky eye thing going that made the rest of his untouched face appear lifeless.
North made a few laps, did some footwork, but did a pretty good job of keeping his skill and routine under wraps. I would know when he allowed me to know. I noted that he skated better on my uniform ice than he had on the lake.
“The six minute warm up has ended. Skaters, please clear the ice.” The automated voice informed.
I watched North shake his head and skate towards the door to step out. He shook his feet off, replaced the blade protectors, and then stepped out. He did a few squats and swung his arms around still limbering up.
I flipped the switch for the other automated voice.
“Skater please take your position on the ice for the short prog
ram.” It announced.
North rolled his shoulders, and then repeating his warm up routine–took off the protectors, and stepped out, closing the gate behind him. He made a single lap, seemed to reevaluate the space before he took position within the ring of my monogram.
I hit play and the music began. I recognized the boy band pop song right away. It was hard not to since it had been one of my favorites at one point in time.
The music video had the boy band in a haunted house of some kind and the members had been dressed up as different paranormal creatures. Leave it to North to pick the vampire. But it was the simplest costume to reproduce. Points for simplicity and class.
With the start of the next season, the music would be allowed. Currently, not. Vocal music was strictly prohibited. Something else I’d have to talk to him about.
I continued to write, and watch at the same time. A skill I had mastered when I taught a class for a few months. I’d have to decipher it once North was done, but for the moment, it was sufficient.
It was only because of North’s position on the ice that I saw the main door open and several people walk in. I didn’t see who, as I continued to track North across the frozen water and since they didn’t seem interested in interfering, I ignored them for the moment.
The music was loud. It wasn’t something I had considered when I set up the audio system for this. I supposed it would have attracted attention.
He wasn’t as bad as I had originally presumed. There were some raw moments–his hand came down on the ice landing a triple Lutz–but nothing that couldn’t be refined. His footwork was clean and very precise.
When he finished, the applause drew both his and my eyes. Avala, Morgaine, Glory, and surprisingly Wesley sat in the little bleachers alongside the rink. North bowed to them, then turned and bowed to me before leaving the ice.
I saw Wesley rise, but Glory touched his arm and gestured over to me. Leave it to my sister to explain–probably briefly–the process.
I reset the switches in preparations for the long program before I studied my clipboard and reinterpreted my abbreviations and points. After doing the math, I calculated lowest score and highest score from mine, since I knew my score was always a few points below a regular IFS judge. Then I calculated an overall average before entering it all into the automated system.
Leaving Tracks Page 6
