Worlds Collide, page 13
“I’m sorry.” Amaliya looked at him now. “I didn’t want to get in the way of your plans.”
“You’re the only part of my plans that I’m not willing to bend on.” Tyler took her hand again. “I love you. I want you to be happy too.”
“I am happy.” Amaliya hesitated a moment, then forced herself to ask, “Have you ever thought about competing beyond worlds? Is that even something you would want to do?”
“I don’t know.” Tyler drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It’s hard to imagine staying with it unless we wanted to try for the next Olympics.”
“Nicole and Andrew competed in back-to-back Olympics,” Amaliya said.
“Wait.” Tyler released her hand and stood. “Are you saying you want to compete in the ’88 Olympics?”
Amaliya stood as well. “What if we did? I’d only be twenty-four. You’d be twenty-seven. That’s still young enough to compete and have a shot for another medal.”
“But how would we live?” Tyler asked. “I’m sorry, but teaching skating lessons at the rink isn’t going to give us enough money to pay our training fees and pay for rent somewhere.”
“I know. It’s just . . .” How could she put her feelings into words? How could she explain that sinking feeling that crashed over her every time she thought of joining the Ice Capades? Finally, she said, “We don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
“What were you going to say?” Tyler asked. “It’s just what?”
“When I try to imagine what life would be like with an ice show, I feel this squeezing in my chest, like I can’t breathe.” Amaliya blew out a breath.
“But you do want to keep skating?”
“Yes. I love skating.” She stepped closer and slipped her hands around his waist. “I love skating with you.”
“But you don’t want to skate with me as part of a show.”
Slowly, she shook her head. “No. I’m sorry, but I really don’t.”
“This changes everything.”
“Not everything.” She tilted her chin up, her gaze meeting his. “I still love you. I still want to marry you.”
“I want to marry you too, but your father was right. I don’t have a way to provide for you. Not anymore.”
“Tyler, wait . . .”
He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss. “It’s getting late. We both need our sleep.”
She didn’t release him. “We need to talk first.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” Tyler stepped free of her.
Amaliya touched the back of his arm. “I love you.”
Tyler smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”
Amaliya stood in the living room and watched him go. She let out a sigh. Her father had given his blessing, but now everything was even more unsettled than before. Was this what she had in her future, always balancing what she really wanted with what was best for Tyler? And should she have gone along with his plans instead of admitting to her own desires?
The 1988 Olympics. Four more years of training. Four more years of getting up early, of curfews, of not eating cookies.
The last item on her list gave her pause, but she moved past it. The certainty of her situation flowed through her. She did want to compete, even more than she wanted Eleanor’s homemade chocolate chip cookies. But she was also a pairs figure skater. She wanted to compete, but she couldn’t do it alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Tyler kicked off his shoes and left them by the door. He dropped his skating bag on the couch, and he strode across the modest living room. The one-bedroom apartment was adequate for his needs, but he had been looking forward to moving into something bigger, something that would give him a real kitchen and maybe a second bedroom for when he and Amaliya started a family.
The thought of creating a family beyond him and Amaliya startled him, and his emotions pitched again. Even as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea of becoming a father, the timeline for the Olympics stretched out before him. Four more years of training meant four more years of putting their lives on hold. It meant four more years of putting off having children.
Then again, if he and Amaliya joined the Ice Capades, he would lose his job as soon as she got pregnant, or at least as soon as she was too pregnant to perform. He wanted the stability the job would give them, but he couldn’t do it alone. He was a pairs figure skater. Pairs meant two.
His thoughts still whirling, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it at the hamper. He missed, and the shirt crumpled onto the floor. Frustration welled within him and threatened to overwhelm him. He needed to talk to someone, and it was too late to call his parents.
Taking advantage of the three-hour time difference between Virginia and California and the phone Gordon had returned earlier so he could call his family with his news, Tyler picked up the receiver and dialed his sister instead. Two rings later, Carolyn’s greeting came over the phone.
“Hey, sis.”
“What are you doing up so late? Gordon is not going to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, I doubt he’ll be happy regardless of when I go to bed if I don’t get my act together.”
“What’s going on?”
“I asked Amaliya to marry me.”
“You’re getting married?” Excitement rang over the line. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, but our future is a little uncertain right now.”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
Tyler explained the offers from the Ice Capades and the endorsements, along with Amaliya’s revelation tonight about her desire to continue competing.
“Wow, that’s tough,” Carolyn finally said. “How do you feel about the possibility of competing for another four years?”
“Even with sponsorships, I can’t support a wife on part-time work,” Tyler said. “Where would we even live?”
“What’s wrong with your apartment?” Carolyn asked. “Amaliya’s parents agreed to let you live there while you’re training.”
“Yes, but when we made that agreement, we were talking about me living here for two years, not six,” Tyler said. “Besides, I’d rather not live another four years without a real kitchen.”
“Does that really matter?” Carolyn asked. “The Marcells let you use their kitchen any time you want. And they have that great dance studio for you to use.”
“I know, but it would feel too much like living with Amaliya’s parents.”
“And?”
“And what?” Tyler asked.
“What else is bothering you?”
“I don’t know.” Tyler twisted the phone cord around his finger. “I guess this is really the first time that Amaliya and I don’t want the same things.”
“And it’s coming at a time when you’re trying to create a path together.”
Her words rang true. “Yes. Exactly.”
“I hate to say it, but the only right answer is the one you come up with together.”
“This is feeling a little too much like when you retired,” Tyler said, the pain of that memory surfacing. “Amaliya and I can’t have our dreams unless we can agree on the same path.” He ran his hand over his face and let out a sigh. “How did you know for sure that it was time to walk away from skating?”
“It was when the joy of my family became more to me than the joy of skating,” Carolyn said. “I kept getting this overwhelming desire to have a baby, and no matter how much I tried to convince myself to wait, I couldn’t make the feeling go away.”
“I wish my emotions were that clear-cut.”
“You can’t compare your life to mine. We’re different people in different situations,” Carolyn said. “I was only married a little over a year before I decided to try for a baby. That might not be right for you.”
“But we will want to have a family eventually. How am I supposed to provide for Amaliya once we start having kids?”
“Maybe the person you should be talking to right now is Gordon,” Carolyn said. “He’s been in your shoes before, more than any of the rest of us have.”
“That’s true.” Tyler dropped onto his bed. “I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow.”
“Good plan, but for now, get to bed.”
“Now you’re sounding like my coach.”
“Hey, any day I get to boss my baby brother around is a good day.”
Some of Tyler’s earlier stress melted away. “You’re so easily satisfied.”
“Right now, all I want is to sleep for eight hours straight.” A baby squeaked in the background. “That’s Grant. He must be ready for his next feeding.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” Tyler said. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Let me know what you decide.”
“I will.” Tyler hung up the phone and flopped back on his bed. Maybe if he got a good night’s sleep, the answers to his questions would be easier to find in the morning.
Artyom spent half the morning in meetings and the other half fielding calls about travel. This had to stop. He didn’t have time to do his job and everyone else’s. They were leaving for Canada in six days, and nearly a quarter of the permissions had yet to be granted. Ridiculous.
With the latest travel request in his hand, this one for the meal coordinator, Artyom pushed back from his desk and headed for the travel office. He reached the two-person office and held up the paper. “Which one of you idiots denied the travel request for Izolda Rogova?”
The younger of the two men looked up, a guilty expression on his face. “She didn’t have the proper approval.”
“Grigori Lenkov’s signature is right here.” Artyom stabbed at the spot on the bottom of the page where the approval had been granted. “I want this processed. Now.”
The man at the adjoining desk stood. “We have dozens of these requests to work through. We will get to it in due time.”
“At the rate you’re going, half of the travel staff won’t be on the plane next week.” Artyom shook his head. “I’m tired of fielding calls for your ineptitude.” He took a step forward. “Now, unless you would like me to forward these complaints to the director, I suggest you take care of this and the others that you are ‘working through’ for this trip by the end of the day.”
Someone stepped up behind Artyom, and both men stiffened. Artyom turned. Behind him, Budimir stood with a piece of paper in his hand, Josef Petrov beside him. Both men wore their coats as though they had just come in from the cold.
Budimir stepped forward. “While you are taking care of the issues Mr. Belsky has brought to your attention, please process this one as well. I expect Mr. Petrov will be by later today to pick up his papers.”
The older of the two men reached out and took the offering. “Of course. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.” Budimir turned to Artyom. “Mr. Belsky, I was hoping to speak with you.”
Artyom forced himself to keep his posture straight and his composure intact. He handed his paperwork to the other clerk and followed Budimir into the hall.
Budimir pulled the office door closed behind them. “Artyom, I believe you have met Josef Petrov.”
“I have seen him around.” Artyom shook the younger man’s hand and addressed him. “I’m surprised to see you here today.”
“We needed to have a brief discussion about his role in Canada.” Budimir moved farther down the hall before stopping. “Since I will be busy with security, it would be best for Josef to communicate with you when he has any information for me.”
Josef’s gaze darted to the floor briefly before he asked Budimir, “Should I wait and get the travel papers myself?”
“No. Let your father take care of that task.” Budimir pulled his gloves from his coat pocket. “I have another errand to run. Artyom, perhaps you can show our young friend the way out.”
“Of course.” Why Budimir didn’t escort Josef to the exit if he was leaving anyway, Artyom couldn’t explain. He waited until Budimir walked away before he started down the hall in the same direction. “I understand you are to be one of our translators in Canada.”
“Yes, sir.” Josef walked beside him.
“And you will also be providing information to our friend.”
“Yes.”
Artyom’s sense of integrity surfaced, and he tried to comprehend what would cause this young man to turn on his own family. Though he knew he should limit his involvement as much as possible, Artyom couldn’t help asking the question burning through him. “What exactly have you been asked to do?”
“Simply to make sure my father and my sister don’t fall under the influence of my American cousin.”
Artyom furrowed his brow. “And what information has our friend asked you to give me?”
“I am to tell you if they speak to one another or if they plan to meet.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, sir.”
The boy didn’t know. He didn’t have a clue that he was being used.
“What has been promised to you in return?” Artyom turned down the next hall.
“A chance to travel to Canada and perhaps continue working as a translator.”
“And?”
“A new heater,” Josef said as they approached the door.
“A heater?” Artyom repeated.
“Yes.” Josef pulled out a new pair of gloves from his pocket. “It has been a cold winter.”
The door opened, bringing with it a gust of frigid air. Artyom caught his breath. “Yes, it has.”
Viktor pushed the table against the wall to make space as Josef pulled his mattress into the living room. Despite the supply of firewood he and Josef had managed to store, the subzero temperatures were too much for the little woodstove in the living room. The bedrooms were no longer habitable and wouldn’t be until this cold front broke.
“I’ll get the other mattress.” Josef headed back toward the bedrooms.
Ursula shivered and huddled closer to Viktor. “You never told me if you visited the travel office today.”
“I will go in the morning.” Viktor debated whether to share the rest of what Pavel had said.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Leave it to his wife to sense when something was wrong. “Pavel said if the travel office doesn’t process our papers, he will have to find others to take our places.”
Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but her words were matter-of-fact. “We always knew something like this might happen.”
The edge of a mattress appeared in the hallway opening at the same time it started to tip. Viktor grabbed it before it toppled forward.
“Push it over here.” Viktor guided the mattress to the open spot beside the stove and eased it onto the floor.
“I’ll get the blankets.” Ursula disappeared and returned a moment later with the rest of their bedding. She shivered despite the hat and coat she wore.
Viktor tugged his own hat lower on his head. “Josef, put another log on the fire.”
“Yes, Papa.” Josef did as he was told and then climbed beneath his blankets.
Viktor waited until Ursula spread out her covers and climbed into bed, coat and all, before he turned off the light and made his way to his side of the bed.
Like his wife, he left his coat on when he slid beneath the covers.
Ursula snuggled closer. “With your next paycheck, we should buy more blankets.”
“We need better heating,” Josef said. “Maybe it’s time to invest in another stove for the bedrooms. Or better yet, central heating.”
“That all costs money,” Viktor said. “Money we don’t have.”
“And our turn has not come,” Ursula said.
“Sonya won an Olympic medal,” Josef said. “That should help us move to the front of the line.”
“Perhaps, but until we receive the papers to let us buy what we need, we will have to get by with what we have.” Viktor tugged the blankets tighter around him. “For now, try to sleep. We have work in the morning.”
“Yes, Papa. That we do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Tyler didn’t know what to say to Amaliya. Hardly a word passed between them on their drive to practice on Wednesday morning, Gordon generating what limited conversation they did have.
“Tonight when we get home, I want you to start going over your packing list,” Gordon said.
They wouldn’t leave for four more days, but Gordon was a firm believer in being prepared.
“Is our packing list as bad as when we went to Leningrad?” Amaliya asked.
“Not quite.” Gordon made the turn into the rink parking lot. “At worlds, we won’t have to worry about the Soviets trying to sabotage you by limiting your supplies.”
“I know we’re trying to change our practice time to match Sonya’s,” Amaliya said. “We aren’t going to have to deal with Popov and Sidrova, are we?”
“No. I already requested that they be assigned a different time. After the accident they caused in Helsinki, it wasn’t hard to get that issue taken care of.”
“Good. I’m sorry, but I really don’t like being around those two.”
“It isn’t much worse than dealing with Andrew and Nicole,” Tyler said, referring to the other top American team, a team Gordon had previously coached.
“Don’t worry. Andrew and Nicole aren’t in your practice session either.” Gordon parked, and a sparkle flashed in his eyes. “In fact, they got the same draw as Popov and Sidrova.”
“I actually feel sorry for them,” Amaliya said.
“As long as we don’t have to deal with either of them, I’m good,” Tyler said. But he wasn’t good. His whole life plan had crashed down around him last night, and he had no idea how to fit the pieces back together.
