Chapter 32
"So here you are, I've been looking for you!" Trixie exclaimed.
Tempest looked up and she saw wariness flash across his battered face before he smiled at her. Mr. Wheeler's study was an interior room, but even in the dimness, she thought he looked pale. He had seemed all right earlier, but now his energy and animation were gone. The hint of laughter she'd become accustomed to seeing in his eyes was absent.
"It's too dark in here," Trixie brushed past him and snapped the lights over the mantelpiece on. As she turned back toward him, she tripped over his dufflebag and he caught her before she fell flat on her face.
"Whoa, thanks, just call me Grace!" she laughed. As soon as she was steady, he stood back from her and said something indistinguishable as he moved the bag out of the way.
As Trixie straightened, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large gilt mirror over Mr. Wheeler's huge desk. She laughed, embarrassed to be admiring her unremarkable self, but she felt her smile fade when she saw Tempest's reflection. His eyes were closed and he seemed to sway slightly. Alarmed, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him down onto the leather couch and then shoved his head down between his knees.
"Hey, what are you doing?" he asked with an annoyance she was relieved to hear.
She kept her hand on his head as she answered, "I think you've been overdoing it. You looked like you were going to pass out."
"I am not overdoing anything, I'm fine," he protested and sat up and blinked at her. "I am not going to pass out!" He sounded disgusted at the very thought.
"I would be more inclined to believe you if you could focus on me," Trixie told him dryly, but his pallor had eased and she felt the crisis was over. She put her hand on his and watched it curl into a fist. "I'm going to go get your dad."
"No! Don't get Dad, there's no reason." As she hesitated, he added, "If I can tell you how many fingers you're holding up, will that prove it?" He pretended to peer at her hands and said triumphantly, "None!"
She laughed, he did sound normal, maybe she was over reacting. Still... "You lie down for a minute, I'll be right back." He protested and she put her finger over his lips as she warned him, "I won't get your dad unless you get up."
The color had been creeping back into his face, but it receded and he lay back with a quick intake of breath. She darted out of the room. Tempest was swearing under his breath or he might have heard a quiet rustling behind the couch. He had his arm over his eyes or he might have seen a shirtless Bob crawling from behind the couch. But before Bob could even get to his feet, the sound of approaching voices chased him back behind the couch.
"Thanks, Celia. I feel bad, though commandeering the tray like this!"
"Please don't feel bad, Miss Trixie, I have another pot brewing, I'll bring that out to the party. You just take care of this young man." Celia had been a maid for the Wheelers for years, and she bustled in with a tea tray, examining it critically as she placed it on a small inlaid table.
Tempest sat up hastily, now flushed with embarrassment as he muttered something about being too much trouble. Celia gave him a motherly smile. "It's no trouble at all, Mr. Smith." She added, "I saw you at the ice show the other day, you were wonderful, I know you'll win the Olympics!"
They chatted for a few minutes until Celia excused herself to get the other tray. Mr. Wheeler's study was quiet. As she poured tea into a lovely antique Wedgwood cup, Trixie caught another glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was smiling like the Cheshire Cat, "but what else can you do when you're happy?" she asked herself. "Happy that Tempest is safe. Happy that you have resolved a major guilt issue in your life. Happy that the barrier between you and Jim is finally gone. Happy that you are going to be beginning your real life work in just a few short months."
"Earl Grey!" she said as she passed Tempest a cup. "I thought you could do with a cup and I was going to just bring a big old mug, but Celia wouldn't hear of it, had to fix us up with all the goodies. Even after all these years, I am still not used to it, I guess I never will be. Anyway, we get Cook's great scones this way. Try one. They're Bob's favorites!" she urged him and she put one on a plate for him. "I'm sorry I made a big deal just now. You just looked, I don't know, bad. You've been though a lot, you know. If you want to talk about it..." her voice trailed off as his brows lowered.
"I'm not going to fall apart or pass out because of a broken nose or, or, or because someone waved a gun at me. It's kind of insulting of you to think that." He was speaking through his teeth.
"Insulting! It's insulting to be concerned about a friend? Sor-REE!" she said more astounded than angry. "If you feel so great, why were you hiding in here?"
He flinched. Had he really been hiding? Di had been kind of hitting on him, maybe she was coming on too strong. She laughed at herself scornfully, yeah right, Tempest was hiding from a beautiful girl who wanted to flirt with him.
"I wasn't hiding, I had to get something for Mart before we left." He glared down at his teacup. It should have been a good opportunity to see how long his eyelashes were but the bruises under his eyes made it too hard to see. Tempest shifted his position slightly. Was it an accident that it moved him away from her as he did so? He took a deep breath and finally looked directly at her. "I'm sorry. I should be thanking you. I would be dead right now if it weren't for you." He swallowed and added carefully, "Or looking for a new line of work."
That was a rather stiff thanks. "I'm just glad you're all right. It was as much due to Bobby and your own common sense as to me."
She helped herself to a lemon scone. That was funny, she'd thought there were three, but now there were only two on the tray. "Where did...?" she started to ask and then the words died away as she met Tempest's gaze. It seemed to hold a question. There was a long silence. She had the odd but pleasant feeling no one had ever really seen her the way he did.The brass clock on the mantel chimed softly and the spell was broken. Tempest stood up and put his cup down on the desk. "Dad's waiting for me, I better go."
As he leaned over to collect his skatebag, Trixie appreciated anew his athletic, um, build. She felt a delicious shiver of happiness and the smile rose unbidden to her lips again.
"Can't you stay a little while longer, Tempest? I, well, we have a big announcement to make. That's why Honey insisted on champagne today."
Honey had been almost happier than Trixie when Trixie talked to her yesterday. She'd wanted Trixie to join as a full partner, wanted to change the name of the agency immediately, but Trixie had been insistent on joining as just another operative. Now that she had her confidence back, she had every intention of working her way up to partner, but fairly, and on her own terms. She knew she needed the experience, and even though it would be tough, it would be worth it.
That's what she needed to focus on, her future and her career. Not some guy's gorgeous body or sweet character, she thought, although Tempest was suddenly looking anything but sweet. He was so still, he could have been carved out of stone. After a long pause he spoke through clenched teeth, "No, I'm sorry, I can't stay."
Disconcerted for a moment, she rallied, "Oh, well, you don't even know what the announcement is, wouldn't you like me to tell you? It's a very happy one for me and I owe it partially to you."
He was obviously not about to share her happiness. His face looked as grey as his sweater. "I already know, I heard Honey talking about it to Jennifer. It seems to make her very happy." What a grudging way to put it, thought Trixie, disappointed in his reaction.
He must have realized he sounded ungracious because he quickly added, "You both seem very happy. I mean I'm really happy for you both."
"You don't seem very happy," she flashed before she could stop herself.
"Oh, I'm supposed to be ecstatic about this? Well excuse me if I can't quite manage that!" he fired back.
"Why? It's what we've always wanted, always dreamed of! I thought you of all people would understand. How did you feel when you thought Julie was going to, to rob you of your career? Can't you see this is the same thing?"
He turned away from her. "No, I don't think it is the same thing at all." he said gruffly.
"Oh. Well. I guess there's nothing more to say then. Except good bye" she replied, subdued. What was his problem anyway? There was a long pause, then he seemed to come to a decision.
"Before I go, I have something to give back to you" Finally his smile looked genuine, if sad. "I may look like Santa Claus reaching into his pack, but don't get too excited," he warned her as he pulled something out of his duffle.
"I'll get you a new one," he said sheepishly as he held out a tattered, tiny sweater. "I'm so sorry, I just completely wrecked it." He handed it as he repeated, "I'll get you a new one, I'll try to find another one that brings out the color of your eyes."
The sweater she bought for her first date with Jim was stained with Tempest's blood. Her head suddenly felt muddled. She was remembering Jim's hand on hers as he asked about the ring she was wearing right now, the feel of his lips on her wrist and the agony in his eyes when he said he would never forgive himself. She could hear Tempest's muffled laughter when she'd yelled at him and Mart and see the passion in his eyes as he skated for a crowd that was on its feet for him. Her heart was thundering in her ears and she covered them without thinking. With devastating clarity she saw Jim as she had seen him the day she met him, thin, strong, defiant, homeless, and at the same time remembered Tempest diving to shield Amelia from a shower of broken glass.
Tempest's voice came to her dimly. He tossed the sweater aside and took both her hands. "I think you are the one who is tired," his voice was soft, his eyes full of concern
Mutely she looked up at him. She loosened her jaw gradually only to become intensely aware of his leg next to hers. When did they sit back down on the couch? She shocked herself when she realized she wanted to touch the patch of stubble on his jaw and gave a tiny gasp. What on earth had come over her? This must be a major case of PMS, that was the only possible explanation. She put her hands firmly in her lap and forced herself to listen to him as he explained that he'd used hot water to wash her sweater.
"So, then my dad tells me you have to wash stuff like that in cold. I guess I won't forget that any time soon," he concluded, his laughter sounding a bit hollow. She laughed too, and the tinny sound embarrassed her. What if he knew what she had been thinking?
"That sounds better. Look, Trixie, I'm sorry. I really am happy for you. I guess, it just seems so sudden. Are you really sure about this? It's really what will make you happy? I mean just a few days ago, you were very upset with Jim and the whole thing with Jason. How could that be resolved so quickly?"
She owed him the truth. "Well, I thought a lot about what you'd said, about learning the wrong lesson. And then when I was trying to, well, with the whole thing with Julie, I realized, I don't know, I realized what was important, who was important to me. And it all just kind of came together."
"Yeah, but has Jim forgiven you then?" he asked nastily.
Trixie decided not to rise to his bait this time. "We finally talked about it. He never did blame me. He was blaming himself all this time. He felt guilty for what happened to Jason and for, well, that I changed my mind. That's no longer between us. We're ready to move on." She leaned forward and spoke from her heart. "Can't you believe me, Tempest? Can't you believe I really am happy, this is absolutely the right life for me? I realize that now."
He whispered, "Yes, I believe you. And I am happy for you."
She was speechless. He didn't look happy, but truth rang in his voice. She shook her head. Too much had happened in the last few days. Too many emotions to sort out. She struggled for the comfort of platitudes. "Thanks. I guess I'll be seeing you around town. Unless, are you going back home now?"
He looked grateful at the change of subject. "Well, I'm not going back home till Nationals, that's in a few weeks. But I'll be training pretty hard now. I lost too much training time." His eyes looked determined, but his words were ordinary, "I'm not going to lose any more."
"Well, good luck," she said in a small voice. "I love, I loved your skating. You have the goods to win it all."
He'd picked up his bag for the third time and was in the doorway, but he turned at that. "Really? I didn't think you liked it. When I saw you at the show you were just standing there."
She looked down. "I was blown away, Tempest. It was beyond anything I had ever seen before. Celia's right, you are going to win that medal."
"Don't. It's bad luck," he said involuntarily. "But you liked it? Really?"
"I really liked it, Tempest." She answered, surprised that he needed reassurance.
"Thanks," was all he said but it came from the heart. "I guess I better get going. Thanks for everything."
"You're welcome," she answered, feeling foolish. "I'll see you around."He paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder, smiling. "Yeah, I'll see you around. Good bye, Trixie Belden."
"Good bye, Tempest Smith." she said to the empty doorway. She looked aimlessly around the room, not noticing that there was now only one scone on the plate. She picked up the remains of her sweater and Mart's neatly folded shirt.
"Trixie?" It was Jim's voice, dear and comforting and familiar. "Are you ready? Honey wants to make the announcement of the new addition to her firm."
She looked up with a slow smile. "Yes, Jim, I think I'm finally ready."
She put her hand in his and they went back to the party together.
Epilogue
Dick Button was waxing poetic. "Last week, in this same arena, we saw the skaters: fierce, determined, competitive. We saw triumph and we saw tears. Tonight, they can relax. The skaters are skating for the crowd tonight, and for themselves. Ladies and gentlemen, it's the Olympic Golden Gala! And in a little while, we will see the new Olympic Gold Medalists, including this guy, Tempest Smith of Canada."
Bob hit the mute button as the camera shot of Tempest laughing with his coach, switched to a quacking duck on an insurance commercial. He still could not quite believe Tempest had won. A week ago, he'd watched Tempest on TV with a crowd of skaters and coaches at the Skate Connection cafeteria. When he'd finished, his only mistake being making a planned quad toe loop, a triple, you could have heard a pin drop.
Then he heard Heather give a smothered sob next him, Rosita squealed, and the room erupted into cheers. Tempest had skated first and his marks were a little low, meaning the competition was wide open for the other skaters. But when it was all over, no one had came close to him and Tempest had won the gold. Bob and Jerry had pounded each other on the back, Mr. Lynch called for a toast. The future of Skate Connection seemed well established, while on TV, Tempest was being fiercely embraced by his father while the entire Canadian team crowded around.
Bob had sent a congratulatory e-mail to Tempest at the Olympic Village and had been surprised when Tempest had responded so quickly, after all, Tempest was now the hero of Canada, a country which had been so eager for an Olympic gold medal for decades. He must have gotten thousands of e-mails and faxes. Bob shook his head remembering the media and Internet coverage of the ecstatic, tearful response across Canada. It seemed so weird that Tempest, who just seemed like regular guy, had prompted this reaction. And his response had been friendly; he'd sounded genuinely pleased that Bob had written and asked how things were at Skate Connection. He did not mention Trixie.
The broadcast tonight was the exhibition the skaters do after a competition. Only the top skaters would skate, so he knew he would not see Amelia. When she'd had two bad programs, finishing 15th, she'd been devastated. Bob would have done anything to have been there with her, but instead he'd gone to his classes, helped with the chores and sent her e-mail after e-mail. When he spoke to her today on the phone though, she'd sounded better, she'd talked with Michelle Kwan and Tempest, and some other skaters and had come to terms with not skating her best. He knew her spirits had returned when she told him the Olympics were really fun and she wanted to come back in four years.
The commercial break ended, and Peggy Flemming and Dick Button were talking about all the gold medalists. When they showed a clip of Tempest on the podium as the Canadian flag was raised, Bob felt choked up. It was great to see Tempest looking so happy. He'd seen Tempest around the rink before he went left for the Olympics and he'd been pleasant and friendly to everyone. On the ice, he'd been all business: fiercely determined and focused. But Bob had not been able to forget the scene at the party he'd been an unwilling witness to.
He still felt a flush of shame, knowing he'd eavesdropped on an incredibly personal conversation, but when he asked himself how he could have extricated himself without humiliating Tempest and Trixie (and himself), he didn't see what he could have done differently. He'd sat completely still behind the couch until his stomach had started growling. Worried that the noise, which sounded thunderous to his frantic ears, would reveal his presence, he'd sneaked two scones and ate them hurriedly. Ugh, he would never eat another scone again.
Anger at Trixie surged in him. How could she be so stupid? He'd always thought Trixie knew everything, but she completely missed all Tempest's signals. Bob had no idea why Tempest didn't like Trixie being a detective, but why didn't Trixie just ask him? It had to be something to do with the way Tempest felt about her. Probably he was worried she'd get hurt. But it showed he, well, cared about her! Weren't girls supposed to be the sensitive ones? It wasn't fair to be angry with her, he supposed. But he couldn't help feeling a little disillusioned with his big sister. Now she was dating Jim, or at least she had been before she went back to California. He shook his head. Trixie and Jim? It was too weird.
He heaved a big sigh, feeling years older and more mature than he had just a few weeks ago. In that short period of time, after all, he had comforted his girlfriend, he'd had his career hopes crushed and revived, he'd learned his very own sister was a femme fatale and didn't even know it, he'd helped save the life of a famous athlete and (this was the big event) he'd faced death. He'd applied for the internship, and was confident he'd be working for Honey before the year was out. He'd left little lisping Bobby Belden behind forever. He was a man.
Bob Belden, The Man, glanced back at the TV and gasped. They were showing Amelia! Oh gosh, she looked beautiful and thank goodness, she looked happy now. She was with a bunch of American athletes, and she had a little American flag painted on one cheek. As the camera zoomed in on her, the well coifed blonde commentator asked her a question. Bob's heart was pounding so hard he couldn't hear her answer, exactly, but since no one was home, he got down on his knees next to the TV and kissed her image. He almost fell over when, just before the camera moved away Amelia mouthed, "I love you Bob!"
Bob paid no attention to the next skater or two. He was yelling, "I LOVE YOU TOO, AMELIA GOULD!!!!" He was dancing around the living room, singing some golden oldie song Mart used to play called The Power of Love. Finally, out of breath from throwing all the pillows and sofa cushions up in the air, he sat down to plump them up and watch the rest of the skaters. Good timing, it was Tempest.
Tempest had the crowd roaring with his first number, the same one he'd done at the ice show. But as Tempest skated an encore, Bob suddenly felt his throat get tight. Guys weren't supposed to be emotional, especially about skating, but Tempest was skating to a song Bob had heard Trixie singing when she thought she was alone.
You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You could be the one I'll always love
You could be the one who listens
To my deepest inquisitions
You could be the one I'll always love
I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before
First there was the one who challenged
All my dreams and all my balance
She could never be as good as you
You could be my unintended
Choice to live my life extended
You should be the one I'll always love
I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before
I'll be there as soon as I can
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before
Before you
Tempest was skating from his heart. The words he'd had spoken a few weeks ago while half-conscious behind the boards suddenly made more sense and Bob realized, "This is not the end!"The End...?