Page 65 of Shining Through

But Monday morning’s brave talk felt far away Wednesday evening. His future, everything he’d worked for came down to how he skated in the short program tonight and the free skate tomorrow.

In the backstage corridor, Daniil paced through his program. Inside his shirt, he felt the weight of a coin-sized medallion Ilya had given him earlier in the day.

“That’s St. John the Warrior,” Ilya explained. “He’s the intercessor for difficult circumstances. He’s on your side, and so are we.”

A saint known as “the Warrior” was a good fit, as Daniil had been called a warrior, too. Though he wasn’t religious like Ilya, he appreciated the thought. Just as he appreciated Anton and Carrie working their contacts for endorsements and teaching gigs, so Daniil could continue in competitive skating, even if he didn’t qualify for Grenoble.

Daniil didn’t want to let them down. He didn’t know if he had it in himself to be perfect, he only knew he had to try.

He put on his headphones to pace through “Moonlight Sonata” once more. A memory popped into his mind. He saw Tabitha, sitting across the table in the diner in Chicago, a plate of French toast in front of her. Even with the music playing he could hear her voice.“You’re dynamic, exciting. The technique is perfect too, but there’s more to it. Your love for skating shines through.”

When she’d told him that she wanted the same, he’d told her,“your body knows the moves. You just need to get your head out of the way, soyoucan shine through.”

He’d really just wanted to convince her to come to Vancouver. But the essence of why he loved figure skating was right there in that little conversation.

The moves were important, and he’d spent fifteen years training his body to do them exactly right. Sure, things could go wrong. But didn’t that usually happen when he was trapped in his head, and not one with the ice?

Skating was motion and emotion. It was prowess and passion. Honesty and fearlessness. It was the most fun a person could have with their clothes on. Those were the qualities Tabitha had responded to and wanted for herself. He’d helped her see that because of what she’d overcome, she already had them. He’d helped her see how she could use her skating to turn something bad into something beautiful.

Couldn’t the same be said for his struggles?

Years ago, he’d transformed a punishment into a way to shine, and in doing so, he’d won. He’d fought to make a fresh start when everyone had written him off. He’d fallen in love when he’d never believed it was possible.

Now he faced a new hill to climb, but what he’d said to his father in the nightclub was true. Daniil had everything he needed.

He closed his eyes and let the somber notes of “Moonlight Sonata” envelop him. He pictured himself on the ice performing the program. Though he stood still, each movement in the program was so familiar, he could sense how they stretched and pushed his muscles.

The first time he’d heard the piece, he’d connected with its solitude. He’d once seen it as painful, but not anymore. There was peace and strength too.

Someone tapped his shoulder. His eyes snapped open, and there was a moment’s sadness when it didn’t turn out to be the woman he longed for. But it was one of the many people who cared about him, so he’d be grateful for that.

“Are you ready?” Anton asked.

Daniil nodded with certainty. “Yes. I am.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“YES!” HUNCHED OVER HER LAPTOP,Tabitha watched the video of Daniil’s riveting free skate at Russian Nationals. He’d nailed all four quads in his program, even the Lutz/toe combination, landing with confidence each time. Even more impressive was the emotional power of his skating, which brought the Moscow audience to its feet.

When his scores were posted, she felt like weeping. Combined with the stellar marks he’d earned for last night’s short program, it meant that Daniil had won gold. He would represent Russia in Grenoble.

Hands clasped to her face, Tabitha brushed away the moisture that brimmed in her eyes. Should she send her congratulations? He’d ignored her message when she’d called to say she missed him and was happy he’d done well at the International Series Championship. He’d ignored the one she sent yesterday after the short program.

But wasn’t three times the charm? She grabbed her phone.

Samara came out of the bedroom, to see her weeping and texting. “So my film moved you to tears and now you’re raving about it on Twitter!” She grinned. “Gosh, Sis. I don’t know what to say.”

Tabitha closed her laptop and set her phone aside. “I loved your movie too. Congratulations.” Samara’s project for her documentary class had taken a top prize in the fall student film festival. “I had no idea you were interested in documentary.”

“Me, either.” She sat down cross legged on the living room floor and unrolled a spool of candy cane wrapping paper. She positioned the box containing Fiona’s Christmas gift in the middle. “So the tears. Is it good news or bad?”

“Good. He took gold.”

“Sweet. That means you’ll see him in Grenoble.”

“I doubt it. The Games are a big place. It’s not like the US team hangs out with the Russians.” Never mind that there was no guarantee she’d even be one of the three skaters who got to go.

The front door swung open and Fiona came in, her arms loaded with paper grocery bags. A blast of rain followed. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Would one of you get the door, before this place floods?”

---