Prologue
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It was early afternoon on a warm June Saturday, not long after my eighth birthday, when the tall stranger first strode up the long drive to my home. I was doing what I often did on summer weekends, practicing the splits in the lush green grass of the front lawn. I was completely relaxed, having finished with the dreaded skating for the day around lunchtime. At least, I was relaxed until he started towards me. I began to get more and more nervous, the closer he got. My parents, world-renowned ice dancers who were now involved in the coaching/choreography aspect of the sport, were still at the ice rink. I was all alone and I was scared. I was about to get up and run, when he said something that made me curious enough to stay. �You�re Allison�s daughter, aren�t you? You look so much like she did at that age." It wasn�t surprising that he knew my mother�s name. She was a world champion after all. It wasn�t even surprising that he knew instantly I was her daughter. We�d appeared in a skating special together last Christmas. What astounded me was that this man said I looked like her. Pictures of my mother before she started winning titles were incredibly uncommon. In fact, I only knew of two that had ever been published. In addition to that, hardly anyone said I looked like her. My long, glossy brown hair was so different to mom�s short, blonde bob, that no one really considered how similar our features were. �Why do you say I look like her?� I inquired. �Well now, you have the same freckles, the same cute little nose, the same shining smile. . . You even get the same expression when you can�t place a face!� �How can I recognize you when I�ve never seen you before!� I whined, knowing that he was making fun of me. �Have you ever looked through your mom�s old photo albums?� �Yes. . .� �You�ve gone all the way through the navy blue one?� �Yes. . .� And then I suddenly knew. �You�re . . . you�re . . .�
