“Caroline, I’m so sorry to miss your wedding next month.”
“You have a good reason. Just send me an amazing present to make up for it.” She winked. “Now, what do you say I take you out for a walk? Let’s go see the nursery and admire all of those wriggling newborns.”
Caroline pushed Betty’s wheelchair through the hallways until they reached the window overlooking the nursery. Cocooned in their swaddles, little puckered pink faces contorted in squalls. From a bassinet in the corner, an arm escaped from its pink blanket, and a tiny fist rose and waved in the air in persistent protest.
They continued to watch the babies for a few more minutes before beginning the route back to Betty’s room. When they reached the lobby, from the main desk came the sound of raised voices. Betty’s father stood in front of the receptionist, his face tense, arms crossed, clearly in the midst of a standoff with her.
Caroline stopped Betty’s wheelchair and no one noticed them.
“Sir, I’m afraid we need a payment. This balance has exceeded the amount we normally let carry over,” the receptionist said.
“But I don’t have the money,” he said, in a voice so raw, so despondent, that it was unrecognizable. Betty would never have believed this was her father if she hadn’t seen and heard him say the words herself.
He let out a chuff of air and thrust his hands into his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and followed the woman to a frosted door labeled Business Office. It wasn’t until her father was out of sight that Caroline wheeled Betty forward and they returned to her room in silence.
Now a headache blazed through her skull with the blinding intensity of a searchlight moving through the darkness, and she inhaled sharply, glancing at her father. He loosened his tie as if his shirt collar was too tight. “Of course, let’s hire a nurse. Anything for our girl.”
Desperation made her almost light-headed, but she blinked and tried to look happy. “I know this will be worth it. Thank you.” Betty grasped his arm with both hands.
He raised her right hand to his lips, but was there a shadow of doubt in his eyes?
She looked at the doctor’s notes, trying to read them, to memorize his instructions. I will make all of these sacrifices worth it.
IN THE WEEKS leading up to Christmas, with the nurse holding on to her, Betty worked on her weight transfer and balance with more focus than ever. On the last day before Nurse Reddy would leave town to spend the holidays with her family, Betty took five steps on her own across the living room floor. She reached the doorway and clung to it for balance. Exhilaration coursed through her.
Finally, she had walked on her own.
Nurse Reddy clapped her hands and then escorted Betty back to the couch. Though the house was colder than usual to keep their coal bill down, Betty wiped sweat from her brow.
“Now I don’t want you doing this on your own and falling while I’m gone. Do you promise me you’ll get someone to help you?” Nurse Reddy asked.
“I promise, but let’s do a couple more laps around the room before you leave. I’m going to surprise my family by walking on Christmas.”
“You better get your Prince Charming over here to help. I’m serious. I know you’re awfully set on this idea but you need to be smart about it. No falls.”
“I’ll ask my friend Caroline to help. Bill’s been busy.”
The nurse agreed, and Betty was relieved to let the subject of Bill drop. When he had come to her apologetically to explain that he would be visiting some relatives in Springfield for the holidays, she had assured him she would be fine. The truth was she wanted some distance and time to think.
CHRISTMAS MORNING BROUGHT several inches of snow, and while her mother and her sister, Jean, bustled around the kitchen preparing cinnamon rolls, coffee, and fried eggs, Betty gazed out the window from her usual spot on the sofa, nuzzling the downy head of her ten-month-old niece, Frances. Outside, her older niece, Laura, and the neighborhood children threw snowballs and constructed a lopsided snowman.
“Come on into the kitchen to get your breakfasts,” called Jean. “We’ll eat in the front room.”
Jim looked at Betty. “You still fine with the baby?”
She nodded.
“Sit tight and I’ll bring you a plate of food.”
“Where exactly do you think I’ll be running off to?” she asked.
“Knowing you, anything is possible,” he said.
Betty smiled to herself. He had no idea.
Within minutes, everyone was sitting in the front room, breathing in the sweet and bitter aromas of cinnamon rolls and coffee. Betty handed off the baby to Jean and accepted her plate from Jim, but she placed it on the coffee table and said, “Mother? Father? I haven’t been able to go shopping this year for gifts, but I think I have something that will make you very happy.”
Her mother laughed, no doubt expecting a package filled with a scarf or socks, or something else that Betty had been knitting, but instead Betty rose from her usual spot on the couch. As she focused on her balance point, the framed wedding photo of her parents on an end table across the room, she heard her mother and Jean gasp. She straightened and put one foot in front of the other. One step at a time, she crossed the room. When she reached for the doorjamb to steady herself, applause thundered through the room.
“Oh, Betty!” her mother cried, rushing to her and wrapping her in an embrace. “You never cease to amaze me.”
Betty leaned into her father’s shoulder and allowed herself to be steered back to her seat on the couch. A hot cup of coffee was handed to her. All talk subsided into easy silence as everyone broke apart the cinnamon rolls and ate them.
Betty’s
