Leaving Tracks (3 page)

I
pondered the
strange girl on the trudge to the chicken coops. She had called herself Hadley and had said she lived there. I could only surmise she was one of Ms. Penny’s other daughters, but in all my life, I’d never had the opportunity to meet them.

She made me uncomfortable through no fault of my own. I hadn’t dated since high school and seeing the pretty girl sitting on the side of the lake had me instantly thinking about it. And wondering how close to age we were and how long was she staying.

She had been very pretty, in a tired, almost broken way. It stirred something I didn’t have any interesting in exploring. Attraction was one thing, the need to comfort and protect was something else entirely.

Her neither brown nor green eyes, while amused, had been tired, almost weary while the tones of red in her dark hair were clear to see in the bright midmorning sun.
She looked a little drawn–as if she had been sick for a while. But still, even with fatigue eating at her, she’d been very pretty and her accent, my God. It was as beautiful as any French accent and just as lethal to a guy’s brain functions. It had almost dropped me to my knees. It was mild south, not quite Deep South, but anyone listening to it would know it was south.

Something about her name was familiar
, as if I should already know it, even if I didn’t know the face attached to it. I couldn’t pin the reason why though.

It circled in
my mind tauntingly as I gathered eggs from the hens and checked–out of habit–health and activity. The hens paid me no mind and allowed me to move quickly and nimbly through them. There were more eggs than we or Avala would need but Wesley would find a home for them if not a recipe.

Wesley would also know who the strange
, beautiful Hadley was. He was King of Gossip in our little piece of the world. And if he didn’t know, he’d know how to find out discreetly. A skill none of my other brothers had acquired.

With that in mind
, I carted the two buckets of eggs into the house, stopping briefly to drop off my skates and shed my boots in the mudroom. Wesley met me at the door and took the buckets.

“These girls keep
dropping more and more. I’m going to have to wring some necks.” Wesley clucked and carried the buckets over to the sink. “Your lunch is on the hot plate. Wash your hands and eat. You’re back early, something wrong with the ice?”

“Not that I could tell. I met Hadley,”
I answered as I turned from the kitchen door to wash my hands in the mudroom sink. Wesley had insisted that the sink be installed. He hadn’t wanted to disinfect everything several times a day because of grubby work hands.

“Hadley?” Wesley’s voice was barely audible over the running water
but I still heard the question in it.

“I thought you knew everyone,”
I grinned at my brother’s back as I took my plate from the warmer and sat at the table.

“I do.
I do. Don’t insult me. She and Glory aren’t supposed to be here until tomorrow. We’ll send over extra eggs if the girls have arrived early.” Wesley commented and sent me a mild look.

“I’ve never met Hadley before today.”
I stood from the table for the ketchup my brother hadn’t set out, but Wesley waved me back down.

“I haven’t forgotten your obsessive need to put ketchup on everything.
Disgusting.” Wesley pulled the ketchup bottle out of the cupboard near his head and set it next to my elbow. A mug followed the ketchup and strong black coffee was poured into it. “As far as Hadley is concerned, her daddy, the infamous Jonnathan Becke, took her and Glory to Atlanta, Georgia, when he split things off with Ms. Penny. They had, I’m told, joint custody, but the girls only visited between events or activities. I theorize that was orchestrated by the infamous, to limit their contact with their ma.”

“Huh,” was
the only response I could make as I shoveled in the home fries and steak. I might as well bury my pride if I wanted the information that was plaguing me. “Her name sounds familiar.”

“For you, it should. Hadley Becke was the favorite for the last Winter Olympics
, well, that was until Boston.”

Thierry
came in before I could ask my brother what he meant by that cryptic comment. Thierry studied my plate then nodded. “Good. You’ve eaten. Wesley mentioned you’re going over to Avala’s to get some things. Take the truck.”

“The girls have arrived early,” Wesley told him.

Thierry nodded. “Avala called me down in the office to let me know if it was possible she’d like the meat order a little early. She’s not exactly stocked to feed four mouths. That’s why he,” he jerked a thumb at me, “is taking the truck. I’ve already loaded Avala’s coolers–I include some surplus dairy since Morgaine was nice enough to give us some surplus corn for the cows. Rhett should be back tomorrow with the horses he didn’t sell.”

“Oh, he called too?”
Wesley asked.

“He did. He sold all but two, but he said he expected that
, as the fillies are a little green yet. They’ll sell next time.” Thierry picked up my coffee and drank. “Some of the cows have crossed the frozen pond into the horse pasture. They’ll need to be rounded up before Rhett gets in.”

“I can do it as soon as I get back from Avala’s.”
I offered knowing it was expected and not really wanting to do it, but I would if he wanted me to.

“Nah, I’ll do it now. There’s nothing left to do in the house as the household chores are up to date for the moment.” Wesley tossed in. “Take your time at Avala’s and tell Morgaine I appreciate all she does.”

“You always do.” I replied.

I
studied the
skating rink as I slowly–dammit–limped back to the main house leaning on my cane. I’d walked too far again and could feel the chaffing already beginning. Still, I couldn’t avoid the rink forever. It was best to get it over with.

I
didn’t have my keys on me but doubted the main doors would be locked. Who would come way out here to steal ice? Though I doubted the rink was even frozen. When I was away for long periods of time it was more efficient–for the machinery–since the building ran on solar power–to be shut down while I was gone.

I
walked around to the front, ignoring the side doors for the moment. The main doors should be unlocked. I don’t remember ever locking them since they faced the main house. When I stepped inside, I was surprised to be greeted by a familiar chill in the air. I stepped forward to the wall and studied the ice.

I
was foolishly pleased to see it had been painted. There was a center circle with my initials monogrammed in blue paint. Nothing else marred the virgin ice. Nothing else would, but it was kind of my sisters to have the ice prepped for skating.

I
walked along the wall separating the ice from a small run of bleachers to the far end of the rink. Nothing had changed. Nothing had been moved.

An elevated table still sat against the ice wall looking out. Across its surface notebooks were stacked with a cup of pencils resting in the center. Some of them were
mine I knew, from when I wrote my own programs during my singles years. I should have stayed a single skater.

There were staircases against the wall behind
me leading up. They were for the coach’s and the personal trainer’s apartments. Under the trainer’s apartment would be the gym and sauna. Under the coach’s would be the offices and study room. Between them was the refrigeration room for the ice. They probably hadn’t changed either.

Ignoring the lower rooms for now
, I slowly climbed the stairs to the left. I’d go up to the coach’s apartment and have a look around. That door wasn’t locked either, but I hadn’t expected it to be.

My
staggered footsteps sounded overly loud on the wood floor. A thin coat of dust covered everything. Since the door opened into the kitchen and dining room area, I saw the untouched papers scattered across the table first. I stepped further in the space and under the archway to my left and saw linen cloths covering the couches and chairs in the living room space. The wide window in the living room overlooked the ice and the seat under it was empty.

I
sat heavily in the chair and coughed at the cloud of dust that rose from it. I’d sat in the chair many times before. It had usually been before a lecture or a pre-event review. Even here, from my coach, I’d never achieved the “Good job” or “You did well today” statement that every athlete craves. I had always fallen short; had never been good enough. I had almost beaten the record set by Michelle Kwan minus the Olympic medals and still…praises had been nonexistent.

Even as a pair skater
, I was never good enough. After Hugh had the breakdown, he’d never got the lecture or disappointment I had. After the accident, I had realized he had only intended on riding my victories to the top with minimal effort from him. He’d already realized something I hadn’t–for some people; even being the best was never good enough.

I shouldn’t sit
in the negative apartment any longer. If I had it my way, I’d burn the whole building to the ground. But it had been a gift from Mom; I didn’t have the heart to destroy a gift from her. I would have to learn to accept and move on from the pain this place caused. It dragged me down even further than I already was, but I would find a way. I sighed and shifted in the hard seat.

I
should have everything cleared out instead. Morgaine or Avala probably knew the Medicine Man that could cleanse the space. My sisters could probably do it themselves if I asked.

“What are you doing up here?”

I jumped at the sound of Morgaine’s voice. Morgaine crossed the room and coughed. Then coughed again and scowled. She marched over to the window in the kitchen and threw it open.

“The air is sick in here,” Morgaine stuck her head in the window.

I didn’t say anything at first while she was clearing her head. I was thinking and an idea formed. “I want to move everything out and have the space cleansed. Then, I think,” I paused considering, “I think I’d like to move in here myself.”

“What? Avala’s not going to like that idea.”
I heard Morgaine move from the window before she stepped back into my line of vision. “You have the room in the house.”

“I know. I was thinking about coaching
, or teaching small classes or something.” I hadn’t really but it was good enough an excuse to be closer to the rink. “Mom would want me to be useful and I’d like to at least attempt to be.” I thought I saw Morgaine tense, but then she moved over to the window overlooking the rink.

Morgaine
stood silent for a moment then moved away from the window to study the stuffy male room. “Glory’s already down at the kennels. She said something about working with trainers in Atlanta?”

“Yeah. She had a fondness for animals.”

“I don’t get why you’d want to live here. There’s nothing wrong with living in the main house while you work here.”

“I need to be here. I need
to be okay with being here.” That was truth. I did need that. I needed to learn how to be okay. Avoidance wasn’t learning.

Morgaine sighed. “Avala’s going to be upset.” She repeated, “
But I get it. I don’t like wasting wishes but I wish that you’d have come home sooner if you were so unhappy. We’d have found a way to keep you. Heaven above, we knew you were tired. We have eyes. But you didn’t once complain. A single word from you, and everything could have been different.”

“
I’m not going to complain now. I’m going to move forward, not stand still. Let me tell you what I’d like to do with this space and you can tell me if it’s doable.”