Breathless, she snapped open her purse on her lap, rummaging through it to find the photo, the picture of him in Europe. She held it up and studied the two men gazing into the camera, their expressions solemn yet expectant, youthful. Everything about their posture told her what she needed to know. Their straight backs, their air of sophistication. The handsomeness of their uniforms. They had served their country regardless of how they were treated. They had persevered, and they had done it with pride, not to mention a sense of style.
Louise hid her tears by turning to look out the window. Houses, storefronts, and elm trees blurred past. She would make Uncle Freddie’s sacrifice mean something. She would persevere in her own way. She would keep running. In four more years, there would be another Olympics.
28.
November 1932
Chicago
BETTY SLOGGED AWAY AT HER EXERCISES THROUGHOUT the fall. Her world had shrunk to the front parlor, the kitchen, the bathroom, and her bedroom. She wanted to get out, but leaving the house in her wheelchair? Demoralizing. She missed school with a sadness that would have been inconceivable to her before the plane crash. Why had she complained about homework? About her training schedule? Since returning home from the hospital, she considered a good day to be one she could make it through without crying.
One November weekend, Bill visited and she smelled the dampness of fall’s wet leaves and cool weather on his wool jacket as he bent over to kiss her. “It’s a beautiful afternoon outside and the sun feels marvelous,” he said. “Want me to take you out for a spin around the block?”
Betty had been knitting and she placed her skein of yarn and needles down on the couch next to her. “Doesn’t it embarrass you to go out with me in that dreadful thing?” She pointed to the wheelchair. The caning on the backrest appeared worn, and nicks and scuffs marred its wooden frame.
“No, not at all. When I was in church last weekend, our minister spoke about how sometimes obstacles can be blessings because they teach us humility and gratitude. Do you ever wonder if this happened to teach you something?”
Betty stared at Bill. This wasn’t the first time someone had said something similarly well intentioned to her. “I don’t think I was particularly egotistical or ungrateful before,” she said.
“Of course you weren’t. But you survived that crash for a reason. Do you ever wonder why?”
With all of her newfound idle time, she had concocted all kinds of elaborate reasons to explain the crash, but after making herself crazy with fear and guilt, she had concluded that sometimes bad things just happened with no rhyme or reason to them. To attach too much meaning to accidents felt exhausting and unnecessarily punishing. She needed to focus on improving, not overanalyzing the reasons behind the crash. It had been an accident—that was all there was to it.
He removed his coat and straightened his tie. “This might sound nuts, but I envy how much stronger you will be as a result of this.”
Betty sighed. “Are you crazy? I wouldn’t wish this upon anyone.” She looked away from the perfect whiteness of his straight teeth, his unshakable smile. He didn’t understand pain, loss, and grief. How could he? He had never lost anything. Life came easily to him. Before the crash, it had come easily to her too, but now she knew how quickly life could change. It would be easy to feel angry with Bill for his naïveté, but the truth was she was glad for his optimism. She needed it because doubt and fear plagued her all the time. She understood she would never be the same girl from before the crash, but who was she now? What would her future bring?
DR. MINKE VISITED Betty once a week to assess her progress and examine the muscles of her legs and arms and test their flexibility and range of motion. At the end of one of these appointments, he called her parents in to speak with them.
“Betty’s progress has exceeded anything I anticipated. She’s said she wants to walk again, and I think that home visits with a nurse could really make a difference toward getting her to that goal quickly.” He consulted the notes he kept in his appointment book. “I’d recommend two appointments a week.”
Betty didn’t miss the grave look that passed between her parents. Though no one spoke of it, hospital bills had been flooding her parents since the plane crash. Before checking out of Oak Forest Infirmary, Betty had gotten her first glimpse of the financial toll her injuries were taking on her parents. It happened when Caroline had visited only a day or so after returning from Los Angeles.
“Looks like California agreed with you,” Betty had said, admiring her friend’s tanned glow.
“It’s hard to find fault with Los Angeles.” Caroline crossed her long legs. “But ugh, that Babe Didrikson. She was the worst. We tied in the hurdles, but the judges gave her the gold medal and me the silver and said they’d send me a gold one, but I’m not holding my breath.” Caroline pointed at a vase of carnations on the windowsill, clearly eager to change the subject. “Those are pretty. Did Bill bring them?”
Betty gazed at the flowers and rubbed at her temples. “He’s very sweet. He still wants to marry me, but—”
“Of course he still wants to marry you. He loves you.”
Betty’s stomach tightened. When Bill
