Dreams of Gold A Christian Clean & Wholesome Contemporary Romance: The Colorado Springs Series, #1

Chapter 1

Fortunately for Brenda, it wasn't a sharp pain that danced around her right ankle as she sat on the carpeted floor. It was just a little twinge—a small reminder that she had torn a ligament a couple of months ago. The feeling was hard to nail down to one particular spot. Like a shiver, it traveled around her ankle and seemed to hide as she was about to pinpoint its location. Maybe it was just her imagination.

Continuing to stretch her muscles and warm up her body, Brenda couldn't help but hear the instructions from Doctor Coyle. He'd been her doctor since she was twelve years old.

You've got to stay off that ankle for at least three months. That includes staying off the ice. Then he scared her by reading her mind as well as her x-ray. I mean it, he said in a low and haunting voice. Any sooner, Brenda, and you risk ending your skating career.

In just four short days, it would be three months exactly. The more Brenda thought about her injury and studied her ankle, the more she thought the twinge was all in her head.

Her nerves were overloaded with the excitement of the day. So every little ailment—the hangnail on her thumb, the pimple on her forehead, the twinge in her ankle—was magnified a thousand times. She knew it. Yes, it was all in her head. So who could blame her for being nervous? Today was the Pacific Sectional Ice Skating Championship. The next stop was the Olympics.

Colorado Springs, Colorado, was a quiet place to live for eleven months out of the year. But come January, when the skating competition for Olympic hopefuls began, the entire town transformed into a swarming hive of activity. People from all over the nation booked every hotel, motel, bed and breakfast, and spare room available so they could compete or report on the competition. Restaurants were packed for breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. Souvenir shops were swamped with people buying snow globes, magnets made in the shape of Colorado, and T-shirts with crazy sayings like I skated through Colorado Springs or I-Heart-Colorado.

Chain department stores had their racks cleared out by people from warmer states who never realized places even got this cold if they never lived at the North Pole. Unprepared, they'd buy thick, down-filled coats, wool hats with tassels on the top, matching gloves and scarves to cover up the windbreakers and baseball hats they brought. To residents of Colorado Springs, thirty-two degrees was still car-washing weather. To someone from Tennessee, it was the Arctic Tundra.

Traffic became a competitive sport in a category all of its own. People who had no sense of direction as they drove down the streets in unpredictable patterns. They scanned street signs and merged into turn lanes, only to squeeze their way back into the main stream of cars. It was a miracle that the accident rate didn't go up more than the usual thirty-five percent around this time of year. And, if it snowed, that rate climbed a tiny bit higher. Some people just weren't equipped to deal with ice and snow.

This year, it had been mild with no snow in the forecast for the next ten days. The sun would blaze over the icy cold landscape in a sharp blue sky, while the stars would be out by the millions at night.

It was a great tradition. And, of course, everything was glorious to Brenda, who loved not just skating but also the fanfare, the ceremony, and the atmosphere of competition.

Pulling herself from the floor, she stretched her arms behind her head and twisted her body at the waist, feeling the warmth of her blood starting to infuse her limbs.

No, she mumbled to herself. Feels fine. No problem. Her eyebrows pursed together as she held onto one of the stretching bars and rotated her right ankle.

PING! There it was again. Brenda's grip tightened on the bar. Her mind darted in a hundred different directions, searching for the answer she was purposefully avoiding. She couldn't focus. This wasn't good. Brenda would replay her routine in her head when it came to competitions, warming her muscles with gentle stretches. Then she would scan the audience for her family, who'd attended every tournament since she began competing ten years ago. It was never hard to find them. They jumped up and down like lunatics and held wildly colored signs that read, Team Brenda or Go Brenda Go. This time, they had a particular sign that read, Next stop: South Korea—referring to the next Winter Olympics. The sign was in red, white, and blue glitter on a giant piece of white cardboard that had to be held by two people because it was so big.

But Brenda had temporarily forgotten about it. She didn't scan the crowd like usual. Instead, she rotated her left ankle and then her right again, measuring the tingling difference. Was it there? Now she was beginning to think both ankles were hurting.

This is stupid. Her voice was quiet but deliberate.

Are you talking to me? A sharp voice came from behind, causing Brenda to jump just a little.

Her eyes settled on Stacy Richards. To say she and Brenda were rivals was like saying the North Pole could get a little chilly. There was a genuine dislike for each other that had started the day Brenda stepped onto Stacy's rink.

Coming from a family with money and connections, Stacy wasn't used to having an average-looking girl with braces show her up on the ice. However, Brenda, who was taught that God gives everyone a talent and to be thankful for what you can't do as well as what you can, saw Stacy as a kindred spirit. Her competitor seemed to love the sport as much as Brenda did, beginning when they were kids. But Brenda's creative risks in her routines and her pleasant disposition when getting instructions and critiques from their coach, Pamela Dodges, gave Stacy her first taste of being second. She didn't like it, even though both women could turn the heads of every man in the audience. Since when did a girl from a middle-class family outshine her? And even though the girls had skated next to each other for years, Brenda knew nothing about Stacy except that her father was a pillar of local politics. Her mother had her skating costumes custom-made by Tania Bass out of New York City, and before every competition, Nika Babikov, a former Russian champion skater, would call her to wish her luck and offer her a few pointers.

No, Stacy. I was just mumbling to myself. Brenda shook her head and offered an awkward smile to Stacy's judgmental look. She stared at Stacy's outfit, not because she was jealous but because the outfit looked dazzling on her competitor. The amazing, black, sequined costume hugged every curve of her slim body and seemed to grab the light from everywhere and reflect it like silver stars on a pitch-black night.

Brenda's thoughts drifted to the evening before when her mother had added a few finishing touches to her costume. You don't need all that flash when you skate the way you do, honey, her mother had said as Brenda paraded her outfit in front of the dresser mirror. She smiled as she appreciated the dusty-blue costume adorned with Swarovski crystals that her mother had carefully sewn around the collar and hem of the tiny skirt. The truth was that Brenda was never disappointed in what her mom made for her.

How much did this one set you back, Mom?

Well, they reduced the fabric because it was two odd-sized pieces. But I was able to match them up on the seam almost perfectly. The crystals were a little pricey, but I think it only came to about sixty-five dollars.

You should go into the costume design business, Mom. People would be thrilled to own such pretty creations for that price.

Well, if you ever stop skating, maybe I'll do just that.

Brenda watched as Stacy stared at her like a rare monkey on exhibit at the zoo. Stacy's hair was perfectly smoothed back from her face, making her look like royalty. Her teeth were perfectly straight and white, and her nails were painted to match her costume. For a second, Brenda worried about the hangnail on her thumb but then quickly forgot about it.

It looks like that ankle might be giving you a little trouble. Hasn't it been keeping you off the ice for a looong, long time, Stacy said, stepping past Brenda toward the small ramp that led to the ice.

Stacy, you always do make such a fuss over me. Don't you ever get tired of worrying about other people instead of yourself?

Stacy stopped and stared at Brenda, rolling her eyes. She rotated her ankles with ease and then leaned in toward Brenda. See you in the winner's circle. I think your name is already on the second-place trophy.

Brenda couldn't help snickering. Usually, this kind of banter would just roll off, but not today. Today it seemed like everything was bothering her. First, her laces needed retying three times. Then, she'd forgotten her music in the car and had to flag her father to run out and get it for her. And then there was her ankle, which she still couldn't tell if it was hurting or not.

Brenda's stomach jumped as she watched Stacy talk and smile with Pamela for a minute before gliding elegantly out onto the ice after her name was announced. She looked terrific on the ice, like those black goldfish with the scarf-like tails that waved so beautifully in the water. If Stacy had a more humble spirit, Brenda would be going nuts cheering her on. But nope. The girl left such a sour taste in Brenda's mouth she rarely watched her performances anymore. So instead, Brenda would spend those precious minutes concentrating on her routine and staying warm.

It was just a little twinge, and it only hurt if she twisted her ankle to the right as far as it would go. She did not need to do that in her routine, so there was no need to worry.

Lord, just let me get through this routine without a mistake, and I promise to take it easy and make sure I tend to this ankle. Just this one, last routine, she mumbled again to herself. I've worked so hard. I can't let a little twinge derail everything.

To Brenda, it felt like Stacy's routine was everlasting. Finally, Brenda rose to her feet, rotated both ankles, stretched her neck, and listened to the crowd going wild for Stacy's 9.7 score. Then she took a deep breath, trying to calm down. But the screaming behind her kept her distracted. Unable to resist, she turned and saw Stacy's parents waving a dozen roses while holding out a full-length fur coat for their daughter to wear as she suffered through the remaining performances. Stacy walked confidently off the ice and to her parents, who always managed to sit in the most prominent place in the stadium. Stacy stood on the tips of her blades and hugged and kissed them both.

Brenda looked at Stacy's parents. Her competitor's mother had raven-black hair, and her father was as bald as a cue ball. Brenda couldn't help wondering if her father had blond hair at one time. Maybe Stacy would be bald in a couple of years, too.  

Not nice, Brenda, not nice, she could hear her mother's voice saying. Maybe it wasn't nice, but it caused Brenda to chuckle a little devilishly to herself. She gazed to her right. One girl was performing before Brenda—a tiny little thing named Brittany, who didn't look any older than fourteen but showed a lot of promise.

... the promise of a gold medal, Brenda