At this, indignation buzzed through the room.
“Who has five hundred dollars to spare?”
“Why did they get our hopes up?”
Dee’s hand that held her speech dropped to her side and anguish crumpled her face. “Ladies, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect this either. I know the disappointment many of you must feel. Back in 1924, I qualified to go to the Olympics in Paris, but the U.S. decided not to field a women’s team and I was stuck at home. Because of that, I wanted to bring as many of you as possible. But I want to make it clear that the AOC is taking its budget shortfall seriously and it extends to all of us. It’s covering my travel expenses, but I won’t be paid any coaching salary.”
The outbursts quieted as the women considered this.
“Do other teams have to do this fund-raising too?” Olive asked.
“Not all of them, no. Some are able to pay for themselves because they raise enough money on their own. Since everyone’s eager to see Jesse Owens compete, the men’s team expects to cover their budget through charging admission at their trials this weekend, but as I’m sure many of you know, the women’s teams have trouble generating enough audience at our events to make much money. I understand your frustration, but we have almost a week until we leave. Make phone calls, send telegrams. Try to secure outside sponsorship. I urge you not to give up.”
Dee hurried from the room. Helen remained against the wall, alone.
What about Betty?
She was not one of the five women on Dee’s list.
Helen inhaled sharply. How could they not include Betty? She was the first woman to show them what could be accomplished! How many of them were standing in this room because of her? Because they had read about her in their newspapers and wanted to emulate her?
Helen searched the room, but there was no sign of Betty so she darted for the door. Outside, a few women lingered in the lobby, but still, no Betty. Seeing a line for the elevator, Helen hurried to the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, sometimes three. Initially the air was cooler in the stairwell, but soon Helen was sweating, her heart pounding as she leapt up the stairs. At the seventh floor, she hurried to their room. She burst through the door and found Annette sitting next to Betty, who lay on the bed, a look of utter dejection stamped across her face.
“Goodness, Helen, what’s wrong?” Betty asked, propping herself up on her elbow.
“I’m fine. Sorry I lost you back there,” she panted. “But what are we going to do about you?”
Annette clutched a notepad with the hotel’s letterhead at the top and held a pen over it, ready to write. “How are we going to get you to Berlin?”
“I have no idea,” Betty said.
Helen started pacing. “That’s not an answer. Think.”
Only the sound of street traffic from seven floors below filled the room. Betty leaned against the headboard and raised her hand to brush her hair away from her face. In the low light, her diamond ring, one of her beloved prizes from Amsterdam, glittered. Betty studied it for a moment, swung her feet off the bed, and rose. “Wait, I have an idea. Where’s the closest phone?”
43.
July 6, 1936
New York City
LOUISE PLACED THE PHONE BACK IN THE CRADLE AND leaned her forehead into her palm to stop the aching behind her eyes. How was she supposed to wait to find out if she had the money to go to Germany?
“I don’t know if I can make it,” she had protested to Mama, trying to keep her voice down. “I’m getting low on cash.”
“I’ll have an answer for you within the week. It’s the best we can do,” Mama said. “Sit tight, pray, and be careful with your spending.”
Louise pictured Mama putting on her Sunday best and going to see Reverend Thompson at his home. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, God, please help me. Please help the good people of Malden find it in their hearts to help me again.”
“Excuse me, are you all right?”
Louise opened her eyes to find Betty Robinson gazing at her from where she stood outside the telephone kiosk.
A sheepish expression crossed Betty’s face. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to rush you. I just saw you lower your head . . .”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Louise slid out of the telephone kiosk and stood. The two women looked at each other uncertainly.
“I’m Betty.” She held out her hand.
“I know who you are. I’m Louise,” she said, taking Betty’s small hand in hers.
“Were you calling home?”
Louise nodded.
“Any luck?”
Louise shook her head. “I won’t know until next weekend. My church will try to raise the money. They paid for me to get here, so I don’t know if there will be more. It’s a lot to ask. Especially because I haven’t qualified for an individual event and am only being considered for the relay.”
“But you did well in the individual hundred-meter. Didn’t you win all your heats?”
“Not the final one. I almost fell and came in last, so I’m nervous. Back in ’thirty-two when I went to Los Angeles as a member of the relay pool, I never raced. What if that happens again? I hate to ask my neighbors to pay all of this money and not even race.”
“I know.” Betty bit her lip and whispered, “I’m being considered for only the relay too, but I can’t ask my family for anything more. They’ve been supporting me in so many ways for too long.”
“So what will you do?”
“It might be a long shot, but after Amsterdam, I was given many lovely gifts.” She raised her hand and a diamond set on a gold band sparkled on her finger. Louise inhaled sharply, admiring it. “Yep, this ring, a diamond watch, some gold charms, and a few other really beautiful expensive pieces of jewelry, and of course, my gold and silver medals. I’m going
