Hero at Large

  “That’s beautiful,” Ken gasped. “How does she do that?”

  “This is her toughest combination of jumps coming up.” Chris watched her skater closely. “Double toe. Double loop.” Patti sailed into the air and rotated two-and-a-half times. “Double axel!” Chris beamed. “A perfectly executed double axel.” The music suddenly changed tempo and Patti shifted into more balletic maneuvers, gracefully gliding past them and smiling.

  “Did you teach her to jump like that? It’s like magic.”

  “Haven’t you ever watched skating on television?”

  “It’s different on television. It’s so remote.” Ken’s attention was riveted to the skater. “Skating always seemed like entertainment to me, but this is actually a sport. This kid is an athlete.”

  “You’re impressed!”

  “Darn right I’m impressed. I don’t know what I expected to see here, but it wasn’t this.”

  Chris grinned. “Thought you’d find a bunch of little girls in pink tights sipping hot chocolate?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Skating is not for delicate types. It takes a lot of guts and a lot of perseverance.”

  “You said she was a Junior. Don’t you have any Senior skaters?”

  “None that compete. Unfortunately, I can barely get a skater to Junior level. This is a privately owned rink and in order to pay the electric bill it’s necessary to make money on public skating sessions and hockey. There just aren’t enough hours for the figure skaters. Patti trains three hours a day, five days a week. She skates against girls that train six hours a day, seven days a week. If Patti does well this year and gets a national title, she’ll most likely leave home and board at a larger rink…like Denver or Tacoma, or maybe one of the California rinks.”

  “That must be upsetting for you.”

  Chris shrugged. “I’d like to have a Senior-level skater, but it’s not a killer. I like the glory of winning as much as the next person, but I also enjoy the satisfaction of seeing improvement.” She pointed to a leggy brown-haired girl. The girl wore red tights and a red skating dress topped with a sweatshirt. She moved with a style uniquely her own and very different from the Junior skater. She entered a camel spin, leg extended, toe pointed. She rotated in the spin nine times, swooped down, and changed supporting legs to go into another camel spin. “Alex,” Chris told him. “She started skating late. She’s thirteen and only working on her third test, but she still has a chance. It’s a slim chance, but it’s there. If we work hard together, someday she might be my winning Junior-level skater. When I lose a Patti there’s always an Alex to get excited about.”

  A loud whining noise droned behind them. The skaters stopped practicing and left the ice. “The Zamboni,” Chris explained. “The forty-five-minute freestyle is over. Now they’ll make ice, and a new session will begin.”

  Ken watched the skaters wipe the ice from their blades and cover them with rubber guards. “Why do they do that?”

  Chris steered him toward the lobby where students were changing skates and dressing in warmer clothes. “There’s a very fine double edge on the bottom of the blade. It nicks fairly easily and one strategically placed nick can slow you down and ruin a spin or a spiral. Besides, those blades cost three hundred dollars.”

  Ken raised his eyebrows in astonishment. “Three hundred dollars for a skate blade?”

  Chris nodded. “Boots can range anywhere from two hundred to seven hundred. It costs from ten to fifty thousand dollars a year to train a competitive skater. This is not a slum sport.”

  “You sound upset about that.”

  “Some of our best athletes are priced out. I constantly see potential being wasted because there simply isn’t enough money in a family’s budget to provide sufficient ice time.”

  His brows drew together in displeasure. “How about Alex? Does her family have enough money?”

  “Barely. Her father works at a second job to keep up with expenses.”

  “Is it really all that expensive to operate this place?”

  Chris sighed. “I know the electric is very high. I think expenses could be cut if there was some modernization, but the man that owns the rink is getting on in years and isn’t interested in making improvements. Frankly, I think the only reason he doesn’t turn it into rubble is out of kindness to the skate club.”

  “Why doesn’t he sell it?”

  Chris made an exasperated gesture with her arms. “Who would buy this albatross? Skating rinks are going broke all over the country.”

  “Sometimes people buy things for reasons other than profit.”

  “You mean like a tax shelter?”

  “That’s one reason.”

  Chris wrinkled her nose. “I’ll have to talk to my accountant about it.”

  Skaters began to make their way back to the ice surface. One by one they filed past Ken and smiled a welcome or said hello. When the lobby was empty, he turned to Chris. “They’re a nice group of young people.”

  Chris smiled with pride and agreed. “They’re like family to me. Now maybe you can see why I was reluctant to become involved with you. My life is so full. Besides not wanting to repeat a hideous mistake, I wasn’t sure I had any more love left to give. I was afraid I would have to take some from one place to put in another.”

  “I don’t think love is like that. I believe in the ‘use it or lose it’ theory.”

  Chris giggled.

  “Shame on you. You’re thinking something dirty.” He shook his finger at her in mock reproof. “I wasn’t talking about that kind of love.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. It’s my hormones.”

  He placed his hands on her hips and lowered his lashes in a loving gaze. “So what have you decided? Do you have any love left over for me?”

  Enough love to last a lifetime, she thought. You’re as much a part of me as my arms and legs and lungs. “Well,” she said, “maybe a little. I might be able to work you into my schedule on Thursday nights…and maybe every other Saturday.”

  “Hmmmm…feeling spunky, aren’t you?”

  Chris wrinkled her nose. “Spunky?”

  “Yeah. That’s ‘adorable but rotten.’” His attention wandered to the ticket office and the skate concession. “Maybe I’ll just hang around and explore the rest of the facility.”

  Bitsy was waiting for Chris when she stepped back onto the ice. “This looks serious. You look at him as if he were lunch and you hadn’t eaten in days.”

  “I really like him. R-r-r-really like him.”

  “I know this sounds crazy, but he looks familiar. There’s something about those dark blue eyes and long black lashes.”

  “He’s from Pennsylvania.”

  “No. That’s not it.”

  “Maybe you’ve seen him at a bar or something. You know…bachelor haunts.”

  “I don’t go to bars. I don’t do anything. I teach skating, and I sleep.”

  “You shouldn’t tell fibs like that, Bitsy. God’ll get you.”

  “Better God than Aunt Edna.”

  Chris pulled the feather quilt under her chin and nestled closer to Ken. Sunlight spilled through the bedroom windows and glowed in brilliant patterns on the carpeted floor. “This is nice.”

  “Mmmmm,” Ken hummed into her love-tangled hair. His voice was deep and richly resonant with relaxed satisfaction. Chris had come to recognize it as his after-sex voice. She heard a smile creep into it. “Wouldn’t your students be shocked to know this is how you spend your lunch break?”

  “Absolutely. Even I find it shocking—and decadent. Isn’t that a great word? I always wanted to be decadent.”

  The phone next to the bed rang, startling them out of their easy banter. Ken rolled away from her and answered it. Chris watched, fascinated, as a peculiar expression settled on his handsome features. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh,” he said. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll be right there.” He replaced the receiver and looked blank-faced at Chris. “Edna and Luc
y are at National Airport.”

  Chris blinked in confusion. “I spoke to them last night, and they were planning on staying another three days.”

  Ken stood and pulled her to her feet. “Lucy woke up with a cold, and Edna wasted no time getting them on the first plane out of town. Worried about the new baby,” he added as an afterthought while he searched for his socks. “I’ll drop you at the rink, and then I’ll go get Edna and Lucy.”

  Chris checked the clock on the night table. “I have an hour before my next lesson. I could go to the airport with you.”

  Ken pulled his jeans up over his lean hips and zipped the fly. “Unfortunately, we won’t all fit in my truck.” He smiled wickedly. “Of course we could let Edna ride in the back.”

  “Kenneth Callahan!”

  “Just a thought.”

  Chapter 8

  Edna smacked her lips together in satisfaction as she surveyed the table. “Isn’t this nice? Here we are all together at dinner.” She looked sternly at Chris. “And it’s nice to see that no one’s broken any more bones while I’ve been gone.”

  Chris opened her mouth to protest and closed it with a snap. Edna was just frustrated. She’d been so busy babysitting in Kansas City that she hadn’t had a chance to meddle in any lives all week.

  Lucy lined her peas up across the middle of her plate. “I can’t eat these peas. My nose is all clogged, and you can’t eat peas when your nose is clogged.”

  Chris smiled at her daughter. “That’s true. I noticed that myself the last time I had a cold.”

  Ken caught the conversation. “I read about that the other day in the ‘Health’ section of the Post. They were talking about how it’s a medically proven fact that you can’t eat peas when you have a cold.”

  Edna looked at Lucy’s peas. “Hmmm,” she admitted grudgingly, “I suppose it is hard to get the little devils down when your nose is stuffy.”

  “You could eat ice cream when you have a cold,” Lucy told them seriously. “’Cause ice cream is slippery, and it goes down easy.” She looked at Ken. “Did you read anything about ice cream?”

  “I didn’t read anything about ice cream, but I know for a fact that there are Popsicles in the freezer made with real fruit juice. One of those Popsicles would probably be just the thing you need.”

  Aunt Edna shook her head gleefully. “Isn’t he something? Right there with the perfect answer.”

  Chris and Ken exchanged conspiratorial glances. “Yeah”—Chris smiled—“he’s something.” She looked at her watch. “I hate to eat and run, but I have lessons scheduled for tonight.”

  Ken pushed away from the table. “Come on, Lucy. Let’s get Popsicles, and then I’ll read you a story. I found one about monsters.”

  At nine-fifteen Chris returned home to a dimly lit house. The porch light was on, but there were no lights glowing cozily in the living room windows.

  “Ssshh,” Ken warned, as she opened the front door. “Everyone’s asleep.” He motioned to Edna, sitting slumped crazily in the rocking chair, her feet firmly planted on the floor, her skirt dipping between her stout knees. Ken motioned to go upstairs. “Let’s go to your room. I want to talk.”

  Chris crept along after Ken. “I feel like a fugitive,” she whispered. She dropped her ski jacket over a chair and sat down on the bed. “Why is Edna sleeping in the rocking chair?”

  “She wanted to wait up for you but fell asleep.”

  Chris sprawled onto her back.

  “Mmmmm,” Ken moaned. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. Why don’t you sit up…or go stand in a corner?”

  “You were the one who suggested we come up here.”

  “To talk. You don’t know what this day has been like.”

  “Let me guess. Aunt Edna?”

  “She’s indomitable. She never gives up. And she’s crazy!”

  Chris held her hands up. “Stop.” She patted the bed next to her. “Settle down and tell me what happened.”

  “All afternoon she told me what a great wife you’d make.” His eyes traveled the length of her and came to rest on her mouth. “I already knew that,” he said softly. He leaned forward to kiss her and stopped just before touching her parted lips. He stood abruptly and resumed his pacing. “Edna put Lucy to bed at seven and then all of a sudden…wham. She started with this lecture about how men never bought what they could get for free, and that she wasn’t going to tolerate any hanky-panky.”

  Chris put her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing. The mental picture of her squat little Aunt Edna intimidating big strong Ken bordered on the ludicrous.

  He shook his finger at her and tried to choke back a laugh of his own. “You think it’s funny?”

  “You’re just upset because she figured us out…and now you’re going to have to sleep in your own bed.”

  “Damn right!”

  They looked at each other for a moment and simultaneously burst out laughing. “That woman scares the hell out of me,” Ken finally gasped.

  Chris wiped the tears from her eyes. “I thought you two were evenly matched, but I was wrong. You’re a pussycat compared to Aunt Edna.”

  They were startled by thumping on the stairs as Edna stomped and mumbled. “Hmmmph, you’re an old ninny,” Edna told herself. “Falling asleep in a rocking chair like some pea brain in an old people’s home.” She rapped on Chris’ bedroom door. “I know you’re in there, Kenneth Callahan.”

  Chris opened the door.

  “Don’t you know nothing about catching a man?” Edna scolded. “After you got ’em hooked, you don’t go giving away free samples.”

  Ken tried to look offended. “How do you know I’m hooked, Aunt Edna?”

  Edna waved him away with her hand. “You’re hooked, all right. It’s written all over your face.”

  “Edna, one; Callahan, zip,” Chris whispered to Ken. “Let’s see you top that.”

  Ken put his arm around Edna. “Okay, Aunt Edna, you’ve got me. I guess I’m just going to have to marry her.” He glanced at Chris. “She’s kind of skinny. And she gets crotchety in the morning, but, what the heck? I suppose I can learn to live with that.”

  “Marry her? Well, don’t that beat all!” Edna slapped her thigh and beamed, puffing her cheeks up into dimpled apples.

  Chris glared at the two of them. “I might not want to get married.”

  Edna’s eyes widened in disgusted disbelief. “What do you mean you might not want to get married?”

  “I’ve known this man exactly eleven days. I picked him up on a highway, for goodness sake! For all I know he could be an escaped ax murderer from Lorton prison. And then there’s his job. When he doesn’t have a broken arm and a broken toe, he’s flying all over the place. I don’t want another husband that’s a globetrotter. If I ever get married again, it will be to someone nice and dull. I want a man who lacks ambition.”

  Edna shook her head. “What a boob.”

  “And besides, that’s the worst proposal I’ve ever heard.”

  “Yeah,” Edna agreed, “it wasn’t such a hot proposal.”

  Ken looked thoughtful. “Did you mean it about wanting someone dull? Someone that lacked ambition?”

  Chris kicked her boots off and removed the heavy rag wool sweater she’d been wearing. “I suppose the dull and unambitious part is negotiable…but I definitely need a better proposal.”

  Ken lowered his voice an octave. “Aunt Edna, if you would leave us alone for a little while…I think I could manage to be more romantic.”

  “Hmmph. I bet you could. Well, no sirree. There’ll be no funny stuff while I’m living under this roof.” She turned him around and began pushing him toward the door. “Go on, now. Chris needs her sleep.” She herded him to the top of the stairs and shook her finger. “And don’t you come sneaking back up. I might be old, but I’ve got top-notch hearing.”

  Chris heard Ken chuckling as he descended the stairs. He was getting a kick out of all this, she thought; he must have had some very lonely years t
o be able to appreciate her protective family so much. Her heart turned at the thought of him spending the night downstairs—alone. She contemplated talking to Edna about sleeping arrangements and decided against it. After all, they weren’t married, and she had to consider Lucy. She didn’t want Lucy discovering a man in her unwed mother’s bed. That wasn’t the sort of value system she hoped to instill in her daughter.

  Chris undressed and pulled a flannel nightshirt over her head. She climbed into bed and closed her eyes, thinking that life was sweet. And fate was even sweeter. It had all started with some smart-aleck greedy mechanic who had charged her 245 dollars for a glamus. And it had led to Ken Callahan.

  Ken sipped his juice and watched Chris as she hurriedly ate her egg and swilled down a cup of coffee. She looked up at him and smiled happily.

  “Sometimes just looking at you knocks the air out of me,” he admitted, his voice filled with astonishment. “How did this happen to me? After all these years…how could I have fallen so ridiculously and painfully in love?”

  Edna clattered into the kitchen. “Awful mushy talk for the breakfast table.”

  “Yeah. I get romantic when I don’t have to cook my own eggs in the morning.”

  Chris wiped her mouth and crumpled her napkin onto the table. “Better watch it,” she warned, grinning, “Edna’ll cut your KP vacation short.”

  Ken looked at Edna working in the kitchen, cleaning a frying pan. “This is a short vacation, anyway. Edna says this afternoon we start getting ready for Thanksgiving. We’re going to order a fresh turkey.”

  “Gosh, that’s awfully exciting.”

  “Don’t get fresh,” Edna called from the kitchen. “It is exciting. Isn’t every day you get to order the Thanksgiving turkey.”

  “Aunt Edna, try to control yourself this time—last year we ate leftover turkey for two months. Maybe you could hold it down to…ten or twelve pounds?”

  Edna looked insulted. “I don’t cook little birds for Thanksgiving.”