Introduction

The lives of two disparate women—a single mother working hard to make ends meet and a young figure skater at the top of her game—entwine in an unforgettable novel of warmth, depth, and wisdom.

Izzy and her daughter Quinn have been on the move for all of Quinn’s nine years. Izzy works the fields as a fruit picker, following the produce north and south through the growing season. When they reach a struggling pear orchard in the Sacramento River Delta, Izzy intends it to be just another way station in their nomadic lives. But the orchard and its kindly owners capture Quinn’s heart, and Izzy briefly forgets that she’s running from a past that still haunts her—until a strange incident brings national media attention to the Delta.

Seemingly a world away, Karen is a rising young star in figure skating with an edgy, daring new partner. Nathan is everything her old teammate wasn’t: sexy, dangerous, and extremely headstrong. As Karen nears her eighteenth birthday, the partners find themselves on the world stage—and the simmering intensity between them finally erupts.

As each woman struggles with a sudden thrust into the spotlight, their narratives become more intertwined—until Izzy’s past and Karen’s future finally collide.

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Excerpt

A sample chapter from Delta Girls, by Gayle Brandeis

Lifts were her favorite.

To the average viewer on bleachers in the ice arena, or on a couch watching skaters on tv, it probably looked as if the guy was doing all the work, as if all the girl had to do was look pretty and let her partner bear her up to heaven. But a partner couldn’t lift a girl who wasn’t lifting herself, too. When she was over her partner's head, his hand pressed into her ribs or stomach or the side of her thigh, she had to harden herself against his palm, his thumb, lift herself away from it. Otherwise she would end up with hand-shaped bruises on her skin, maybe a cracked rib. And that's if she didn't fall.

Karen liked lifts because everything looked smaller, more manageable, from the air. The judges with their score sheets. The television people with their cameras. Her mother in fur boots leaning against the boards. For those few seconds of height, none of them mattered. They were earthbound, finite. She was soaring; she was towering; she was sweetly, briefly above it all. The closest she could get to escape.

Nathan Main was different from Karen's skating partner of five years, Brian. Nathan didn't treat her like a princess or a butterfly. He didn't apologize for shoving his hand between her legs during a lift or catching a couple of strands of her hair under his blade during a death spiral. “You can take it,” he said, and she realized that she could. Nathan treated her like a woman. A body. Strong and capable, worthy of desire. Her mom Deena treated her like a body, too, but a body that needed to be changed, perfected, a body that was never quite right—nose job at 13, platinum dye since 12, constant stream of diets. With Nathan, it was “Here we are in our skins. What are we going to do about it?”

Karen was nervous when her mom first suggested pairing with him. His latest partner Tabitha was recovering from a concussion and a fractured vertebra. Her partner Brian had gone off to Harvard to study French literature and be surrounded by smart boys. Regionals were only two months away.

“He has the best triple axel of any pairs skater out there,” Deena said. “Just think of it. With your jumps, you'd be brilliant together.”

Deena had groomed her daughter to be a single's champion, but when Karen was twelve and placed sixth at Junior sectionals, Deena told her she didn't have the chops to go it alone. “You have the jumps,” she said, her voice matter of fact, her eyes calm, “but not the pizazz.”

Brian had stellar technicality, enough to get them on the podium of most regional competitions and close to placing at Nationals, but Nathan—Nathan had pizazz. Groupies followed him from town to town—a few raised “Go Tabathan” signs for the pair, but most held signs like “Marry Me, Nathan” and “Watch Out, Tabitha, Nathan's Mine!” He and Tabitha had placed third in Nationals the previous year, and had done respectably at Worlds. They were considered America's next great hope until he dropped her in the middle of a Detroiter—a lift banned from competition—during a summer tour.

Karen was 17, Nathan 22 when Deena arranged a private early morning try-out session, the sun just starting to send a hint of itself into the sky. Nathan showed up at the rink in Connecticut on a pale green Vespa in jeans and a tight yellow t-shirt, his skates in a black leather backpack, just as Karen and her mom pulled up in their BMW. He wore a multi-colored knit beanie instead of a helmet, his dark shaggy hair swooping out in tufts. Karen tried not to look at the nipples poking under his shirt. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days; his blue eyes were bloodshot when he took off his sunglasses.

“Not used to getting up so early,” he said as he shook Deena's hand. She gave a coquettish shrug that made Karen wince.

“But you're worth it, sweetheart.” He turned to Karen, looking her up and down. “You're worth every second of missed sleep.”

Nathan stepped onto the ice before Karen, which startled her; her other partners always gave her the courtesy of entering the rink first. His hair was a bit flat on top after taking off his beanie, but it streamed up like flames as soon as he started to stroke quickly around the rink. Karen took more leisurely strokes, waiting for him to catch up with her rather than racing to catch up with him. He held out his hand as he drew near; she grabbed it and he surged ahead, practically ripping her shoulder out of its socket.

“Find your rhythm!” Deena yelled from the penalty box.

Karen sped up and Nathan slowed down and soon they were stroking side by side, doing crossovers at the end of the rink, their legs moving in perfect tandem, his left arm behind her back, her right across his front as they held hands. Nathan was taller than her other partners, older. She could feel the difference in the way he held her hand, in his smell of sweat and cigarettes and some sweet musky scent Karen couldn't name, in his physical presence beside her—Nathan was solidly in the world, every muscle. She felt her own muscle fiber pack into something more dense, grounded, as they skated together. She felt a current of power run through them, a bright circuit through their arms and chests.

“Show me what you got,” shouted Deena.

Karen looked at Nathan with her eyebrows raised.

He winked and said “Let's blow her little mind.”

They tried a few twist lifts. Armpit holds, waist holds, hand to hip lifts, lasso lifts, press lifts. Side by side camels, then flying camels. Side by side jumps, then throws—first doubles, then triples. She loved the air he gave her when he threw her into a triple loop, loved how he held her lower back when they did a pairs sit spin, how her leg pressed against his when they tried a spiral sequence. This is how it’s supposed to feel, she thought with wonder as she leaned back into his chest during a spread eagle. With Brian, she always felt as if she was skating with herself, as if she was holding her own hand—comfortable, familiar. Nathan was another creature, maybe even another species. The contrast was invigorating.

“One more lift,” her mother called from the penalty box, “and let’s call it a day.”

This time, Nathan did something with his thumb when she was over his head. A little wiggle between her legs. It caused a zing to go through her body, all the way to the top of her skull. A sudden flood she hoped wouldn't drip down his arm. She almost tumbled off his palm, but somehow stayed upright, her one hand clutching his wrist so hard, it left marks.

“What was that?” she asked, still catching her breath. She could barely look at him as they slipped on their skate guards and stepped off the ice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shook his wrist. She couldn't tell if he was smiling or smirking.

“Don't do it again,” she said, as firmly as she could.

He held her gaze until she flushed and looked away. She could hear him chuckle under his breath as he walked toward the lobby.

“That was brilliant.” Her mom strode up to her. Somehow even in her puffy down jacket, she looked sleeker than Karen could ever hope to be. “Utterly brilliant.”

“I don’t want to skate with him again.” Karen unzipped her sweater. Sweat ran down her sides in sheets.

“You have to,” said her mom. “Nathan brought something out in you, Karen. I’ve never seen you skate like that before. ”

Karen brushed past her and ran to the bathroom, her skate guards clapping against her blades.

Karen peeled her skating dress and tights down her body and sat in the bathroom stall, her head in her hands. The cool air felt wonderful against her flushed skin. She wished she had worn underwear so she’d have something to throw away. She dabbed at the damp crotch of her tights with toilet paper before she pulled everything back up, the fabric cold and clammy between her legs.

Nathan and her mother were sitting with cups of coffee by the snack bar. The morning figure skating session was about to begin—the lobby was now filled with sleepy eyed skaters, the die-hards who were already skating both before school and after. Some of their mothers kneeled before them, tightening their laces; others stood behind them, tightening their buns. Karen forced herself to smile at the girls who waved excitedly in her direction. She wondered if any of them missed the days when skating was just for fun, when it wasn’t about competition, the endless, impossible quest for perfection.

Before she started on the competitive track, rising up the rungs of the United States Figure Skating Association testing system, Karen took classes at a rink that followed the more recreational Ice Skating Institute program. She started at the most basic Alpha level, then moved on to Beta, then Gamma. She loved learning how to fall, how to swizzle, how to glide on one foot, wiggle backwards. Just being on the ice filled her with joy. But then she couldn’t pass her Delta test. She could do the three turns, the outside edges, the bunny hop, just fine, but she couldn’t seem to get the hang of the Shoot the Duck. Every time she crouched down and tried to lift one leg in front of her like a rifle, she toppled onto her bottom. Her mother got more and more exasperated, especially after Karen failed the test the second time.

“What is wrong with you?” Deena had demanded, her face more fierce than Karen had ever seen it. “If you can’t pass this test, you can’t move up to freestyle. Do you want to be stuck doing bunny hops the rest of your life? Do you want to be a Delta girl forever?”

At the time, Deena made this sound like a fate worse than death, but looking back, it didn’t seem so bad to Karen. What would life be like if she had stayed a Delta girl forever—someone just starting to learn, just moving for the pure joy of it? Someone who skated only for herself, who didn’t have to worry about other people’s judgment, other people’s hands?

She slipped onto a green fiberglass bench next to her mother.

“So,” Deena said, not looking up from her clipboard. “We can rent the rink early on Mondays and Wednesdays. Other days, you’ll have to skate during club time. Three hours a day, minimum. Even more in the beginning. And we’ll have to figure out the dance and Pilates sessions.”

“I look forward to it.” Nathan smiled at Karen and the anger inside her chest unknotted and dissolved. A sudden weakness filled her limbs.

And, as if she had never said or felt anything to the contrary, she took a deep breath and said “Me, too.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the Author:

--Is Izzy a good mother to Quinn? What missteps does she take? How do Deena and Izzy differ as mothers? How are they alike?

-- Consider this line from page 8: “Better to pluck it when it's green, store it someplace cold, let it forget where it came from.” Izzy is talking about more than pears here. Do you agree with her? Has trying to forget her past helped or hindered Izzy? Quinn?

--Why is Nathan so jealous of Karen’s friendship with Isabelle? Her innocent interactions with Lance Finkel? Do you think it’s possible for a young person with serious goals—in dance, skating, music, acting, sports—to lead a somewhat normal life with fun and friends?

--Abcde is able to provide something for Quinn that Izzy is not. What is it, and why can’t Izzy fulfill this role? What does Abcde give Izzy? What do Viera Pears and the community of Comice offer Izzy and Quinn?

SPOILER ALERT QUESTIONS (don’t read these until you read the book):


--Before you realized Izzy and Karen were the same person, how did you think they might be connected? At what point did you realize that Izzy was an older version of Karen? Which clues tipped you off? Were you surprised?

--When Karen becomes Izzy, she feels like a different person. Do you ever feel like someone else entirely when you look back at your childhood self, your teenaged self, your young adult self? What about you changed, and what events in your life fueled those changes?

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