“Sure thing. Just tell me the day before you want to go, and I’ll make it happen.”
They stopped walking. The silence was filled by the sound of a woodpecker tapping into a dying tree trunk. They were surrounded by a thick canopy of tree cover. Few of the sun’s rays reached them.
“If you don’t want to go out too far, maybe we can do the Sequoia Valley Nature Preserve next week. There’s a ten-mile-long stretch of trail that runs parallel to the Merced River. Not too many people take the time to seek it out. It’s always empty.”
A sudden thought struck Frankie. “Charlie, who do you normally go hiking with?”
“Me, myself, and I?”
“Isn’t one of the number-one rules of hiking not to go out by yourself?”
“Well, if you want to be technical about it . . .”
“Says the man who was upset that I was skating alone at a public session when we first met,” she fired back.
“That’s different.” His voice grew defensive.
“How so?”
“It just is.” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “When I’m hiking, I make sure to text the trail I’m taking and share my location with Leslie or Jack.”
He’s scratching that scar again.
She could see him beginning to get worked up. His face was flushed pink, his fists clenched by his sides. She didn’t need to be an expert in reading body language to see her words had upset him.
“Charlie?” She took a deep breath. “What’s bothering you?”
His eyelids fluttered. He didn’t answer her.
“Hey, look at me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbled up and down. His eyes traveled from the ground up and locked onto hers.
“I’m sorry for whatever I said that set you off.” She tentatively took hold of his hand and squeezed it tightly. “Let’s keep walking. Clear your mind. Focus on your breathing.”
They started walking again, albeit at a slower pace than when they had started out, still holding hands. After several minutes, Frankie heard his breathing shift.
When he finally spoke, his voice came out slightly hoarse. “If our roles were reversed, I probably would be full of burning curiosity and would be asking you a million questions.”
I am curious, but if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. There are some subjects that are too painful to give voice to.She chose to stay silent.
He exhaled deeply. “My therapist said the more time that passes and the more people I talk to about the accident, the easier it will be to move on.” He let go of Frankie’s hand and gripped the straps of his backpack. “So here goes . . . Five years ago, during a practice session, just as I was lifting Camille into a star lift, I tripped and hit my head on the ice. It took less than three seconds for my life to change forever.”
CHAPTER 14
Frankie winced. Falling was a part of skating. She thought about the thousands of spills she’d taken over the years not just on jumps, but also on spins and footwork. When you fell in pairs skating, though, it was a whole other matter.
A fall on a lift was the worst possible thing that could happen. It meant there was a high probability of both skaters getting hurt.
“When we went down, I had the oddest sensation that everything was happening in slow motion. I had just enough time to use my body to shield Camille from hitting the ice. Everything that happened after that is still fuzzy. Camille was shaken, but physically fine. I remember having this searing pain in my head. I couldn’t hear or see straight. It was like I was having an out-of-body experience.”
Charlie’s voice grew softer. “Leslie had been watching us practice. She knows a lot about head injuries from playing hockey. Our coach kept telling me to shake it off, but it didn’t sit right with Les. She knew I needed to be checked out for a concussion. From what I was told, they got into a nasty argument that ended with her firing our coach before she dragged me to the ER. I told myself if I ever became a coach, I’d always make sure something like that never happened to my students.”
Frankie’s nails dug into the tender flesh of her palms. Anger bubbled inside her. How could a coach, a person you were supposed to rely on, just tell somebody to shake it off? Shouldn’t Charlie’s coach have been watching out for his well-being? Every single person who joined the American Skating Union was supposed to take an annual course on the proper protocol for head injuries and concussions. There was no way Charlie’s former coach could have been that clueless.
Charlie’s face was grim. “At the ER, the medical staff confirmed that I had a concussion. The treatment protocol was to get lots of rest and avoid any strenuous physical activity for a couple weeks until my symptoms subsided, but that was only the beginning of the nightmare.”
The roller coaster of emotions continued. Frankie felt her stomach muscles tying themselves in knots. Her breathing grew shallow.
