Chapter 29 2006
I arrived breathless at the clover patch to find Meryl already there. But she wasn’t dressed for skating. Instead she wore jeans, hiking boots, and a white wool coat. It was a little after three, and the rabbits weren’t out yet. Typically they came out closer to dusk.
“I’m afraid spring has sprung,” she said to my questioning look. She nodded toward the pond. “And our season of merriment is over.”
I looked with her to see the ice sheeted with a thin film of water, a sign of the first thaw. My heart sank. For four months, except for the two weeks I went home for the holidays, I’d come to the pond each day to skate, and on most of those days, Meryl met me and we skated together.
Meryl wasn’t just a skater. She had been one of the best figure skaters in the world. Normally she lived in Europe, where she coached other skaters at an ice-skating school, but she’d come home that winter to care for her sick mother. Her mother had died three weeks earlier.
“Nothing lasts forever,” she said to my fallen expression.
It was a lesson she didn’t need to teach me. It seemed every time I fell in love with something—Boodo, Astur, Kai, gymnastics, skating—it was taken away. Meryl was leaving, and it was likely I’d never see her again.
“I came to say goodbye.”
I tried not to cry but found it impossible. Skating and spending time with Meryl were the two best things in my life.
“You should keep skating,” she said.
I sniffled, and more tears escaped.
“You have talent. Perhaps your mother could get you a coach.”
I didn’t answer. Mother didn’t know about my skating, and I didn’t dare tell her. If I did, the minister might forbid it the same way he had gymnastics.
She held out her hand for me to shake. “It’s been an honor skating with you.”
My emotions overwhelming me, I ignored the hand and threw myself at her, wrapping my arms around her hips.
“Thank you,” I whimpered. “Thank you for teaching me how to fly.”