The athletes’ village at Quebec City had a small section set off for married couples, so that’s where Warren and Sophie found themselves. Betsy was with Ellen, and would be coming with her when they arrived on Friday, in time for the Opening Ceremonies.

They got settled in on Wednesday, and spent that evening and most of Thursday, just wandering around the village. They explored the various amenities, and met some of the other athletes who were arriving.

Liz had arrived the same day they did, and they ran into her in the dining hall for supper that evening. "Jeez, you’re awfully early for someone who doesn’t skate for two weeks," Warren told her.

Liz laughed. "Don’t you remember? After Nationals, you guys elected Evan and I the figure skating team captains? Well, we have the captains’ meeting tomorrow."

"Lucky you," Sophie said.

"Yep. Well, at least I get to hang out and relax!"

Thursday, after checking out the athletes’ village and eating supper, Warren and Sophia were sitting in their room, just chatting. There was a knock on the door. They opened it up to find Liz and Evan.

"Hey, come on in!" Sophia said. "What’s up with you guys?"

"This isn’t a social call," Evan said with a grin.

"We had the team captain’s meeting," Liz told them. "And, after discussion, we took a vote. And it gives me great, great pleasure to say this." She turned to Warren. "Warren Kelleher, by a vote of all of the team captains, you have been chosen to carry the American flag in the Opening Ceremonies tomorrow night."

Warren was absolutely dumbfounded. He sat down hard on his bed, his mouth wide open in surprise. Sophie squealed, delighted. "Oh, honey, that’s awesome!"

"My God," Warren hissed, "why me?"

Evan told him. "Since you have been a competitive figure skater, you’ve been through more than most people would’ve been able to handle. The beating and rape. The knee injury. Getting married, raising a child, getting through school and doing well. It’s all about perseverance. You put yourself through a lot to get here. All the team captains saw that. You deserve this."

"Sophie’s been through some of that, too, and she had a baby."

"Actually, our first thought was both of you, but we found out that’s not allowed," Liz said. "So we picked you. Sophie gets enough publicity!"

"She’s right," Sophia laughed. "You do deserve this, Snugglebear. I’m thrilled."

"I’m honored. Not to mention stunned," Warren said. Then he looked at Sophie. "We won’t be able to march in together, though."

"I’ll be right behind you," Sophia smiled.

"We’ll make sure she gets in the front row," Liz assured him.

"I’ll be watching your ass the whole way," Sophie said to laughter. "Now. Call your parents!"

"Good idea," Warren laughed, reaching for the phone.

Warren didn’t sleep particularly well that night. And he was jittery all day Friday.

"I’m more nervous about this than I am about skating," he said over lunch.

"Why?" Sophia asked him.

"What if I trip? What if I drop the flag?"

Sophia laughed. "Snugglebear, when’s the last time you fell on the ice? You can do furious footwork without dropping a beat—you can carry a flag into a stadium."

"I hope so. It was just unexpected, so now I’m gonna worry," Warren said.

"Don’t worry," Sophia grinned. "You’re going to be awesome."

They spent the afternoon chilling out, then they headed to the gathering spot where the athletes got together to prepare to march into the stadium. There they saw lots of athletes including Alan Zimmer, the skier they had met four years earlier. Alan was a top contender now.

"Hey, congratulations on the flag," he told Warren. "Don’t drop it!"

"Oh, thanks," Warren laughed.

Warren went and talked to the protocol person from the IOC, who instructed him on the correct protocol about carrying the flag. He chatted briefly with the very nice young lady who’d been chosen to carry the placard with "LES ETATS-UNIS D’AMERIQUE" on the front. She was a local girl, about 18, from Quebec City and was thrilled to have been chosen. And it turns out she was a huge fan of figure skating and knew who Warren was, so that was cool. He chatted with her for a while about skating and the Olympics.

Then, it was time to march.

The folks from the USOC that were with the American team got them lined up and ready to go, with Warren out in front. As they were lined up, waiting to march, Warren heard the unmistakable sound of Sophie’s voice: "Nice buns, flagbearer!" Warren laughed, and thought to himself that Sophie must have made it up front.

The countries ahead of them started filing in, and Warren got ready. There was a belt he wore around his waist, and in the front of the belt was a cup. That’s where the end of the flagpole went, to steady it. The country in front started moving—Estonia, L’Estonie being ahead of Les Etats-Unis D’Amerique in French alphabetical order. So, Warren put the flag in the little cup, and they started moving.

He had to steady himself at first. This wasn’t as easy as it looked, and Warren felt all the nervousness coming back. But he managed, keeping the flag steady and sure as they marched into the stadium.

The ovation for the US team was loud and strong—with the Olympics in Canada, there were quite a few Americans in the audience. Warren just tried to drink it all in—the sights, the sounds, all the people, the pageantry. This was his second time marching in an Olympic opening ceremony, and he still remembered the first one vividly. This would be the last, and he wanted to remember every second. And you only get to bear your country’s flag once.

He carried the flag surely in one trip around the stadium, then veered into the infield. The athletes would gather there in the infield, but the flagbearers were directed to go to the edge of the infield, so they formed a ring around the infield and the outside marching area (what would be the track if this were the summer Olympics). As Warren veered off, he looked back, caught Sophie’s eye, and threw her a kiss. Then he took his place.

He stood there for the duration, eagerly watching the rest of the nations march in, chatting amiably with the woman next to him—the Estonian flagbearer. A luger named Marta, this was also her second Olympics and she was having a ball. She spoke perfect English and had Warren cracking up with her pithy comments about some of the uniforms the other countries were wearing. They talked about their respective sports a bit.

"That’s the cool thing about ice dancing," Marta said, "you can do it with someone you love. Well, doubles luge is theoretically co-ed, but it’s never been done that way."

"Doubles co-ed luge? Now that would be close quarters," Warren teased.

"No doubt," Marta laughed. "My boyfriend, unfortunately, is not a luger. He’s a biathlete."

"Ah, men on skis with guns," Warren said, getting a laugh out of Marta. "I think I’ll stick to ice dancing!"

Afterwards, Warren met up with Sophia, who was waiting for him.

"You were wonderful, Snugglebear," she said, kissing him.

"Were you OK by yourself?"

"Sure," Sophia told him. "I marched with Liz and Evan. I had to listen to Evan make comments about your ass the whole time. And you thought I was bad!"

They headed into the athletes’ dining hall for a late snack. The various American athletes there were quick to congratulate Warren.

"Nice start to the Olympics," Sophia observed.

"Very nice. Now all we need is a nice ending!"