Displeased? After witnessing how Nazi officials had not displayed the slightest hesitation in threatening the athletes over a few missing goblets on the train ride from Hamburg, Helen doubted the German authorities would limit themselves to only being displeased.
“Is it another boycott letter?” asked Betty.
Helen handed it to her. Betty’s eyes darted down the note and then she lowered it to her side.
“Are you going to show it to Dee?”
“No. I saved the boycott manifesto that met us aboard the Manhattan. I’ll add this one to my growing collection. These resistance groups mean business, but at this point, it’s not really as simple as just backing out, is it? We’ve come all this way. Now we need to show the world that we can win over these Fascists.”
“Of course I want to beat them, but that’s a tall order. When I went to Amsterdam, nothing went as the coaches planned. People got sick, the facilities were unfamiliar, weird things happened. I wasn’t a favorite at all, but got lucky and won. You can’t take anything for granted here. There’s a lot of pressure.”
Helen lay down on the bed, massaging her temples. Because of the pain in her legs, she had scarcely run in the last week. What if she didn’t do well when it was time to race? She’d return home a nobody. After all the fanfare Fulton had showered upon her, the idea of going back to William Woods College as a failure was enough to make her feel ill. She’d told everyone she was the fastest woman in the world and she fully intended to live up to that promise. She simply couldn’t go home without a victory.
“What’s wrong? Are your legs hurting?”
“No, I mean, yes, they are, but that’s not what’s worrying me at the moment. Do you think I can’t win here?”
“Of course you can. I didn’t mean to doubt you. All I’m saying is that we need to be careful. I wish I’d been paying more attention to the news.”
“Do you feel guilty about participating?” Helen asked quietly.
Betty placed a sweater on her bed. “Yes. I keep telling myself that I shouldn’t, that I’m an athlete whose job is to race, but I can’t help it. I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. And then I wonder if I’m crazy because there’s a good chance that I may not even be selected for the relay.”
“I’m sure you’ll be selected.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“You and Dee go way back. You’ve already won a silver medal in it. There’s a good group of you who could run it and do well.”
Betty sat on the edge of her bed. “Do you not want to run it?”
Helen batted at the air. “At this point, I’m just trying to get my shins better.”
“So you’re not going to try it?”
Something brittle in Betty’s tone made Helen roll herself onto her elbow. “I really need to win individual gold. That’s what I’ve been training for. That’s what everyone back in Fulton is gunning for.”
“But if we’re going to win the relay, we need you. I’ll need you.”
Helen pursed her lips and chose her words carefully. “Dee and I have both agreed that we will see how my legs are doing and assess the relay after I’ve raced in the individual.” All relay talk brought about a dull ache behind Helen’s eyes. The precision of the transitions, the worrying about the other girls, the pressure not to let anyone down—it was more than she wanted to think about. The expectations seemed stifling.
At that moment, a woman appeared in their doorway. “Ladies, I welcome you to Berlin and am honored to serve such esteemed guests of the Reich. My name is Ruth Haslie. I’ve been assigned to serve as your translator and guide and am here to help you discover the best experiences and most helpful services that our fine city has to offer.”
“Hello,” Betty said.
Helen opened her mouth but was unable to form words. The sparkle of the woman’s cobalt-blue eyes, the pink glow on the apples of her cheeks, and the pale yellow of her hair, the color of January sunshine—Helen was mesmerized. Even the most rudimentary greeting failed her.
Betty took one look at Helen and shook her head, giggling. “Please forgive our friend Helen. She’s hungry and a bit out of sorts. We were on our way to go find something to eat. Perhaps you could help us with that?”
“I’d be honored to join you,” Ruth said. “Are you looking for anything in particular?”
Helen coughed, clearing her throat. “Whatever you recommend.”
“In that case, there is a delicious café nearby. Please, come with me.”
“Is it a long walk?” asked Betty with an almost imperceptible glance toward Helen’s legs.
“No, no, it is just this way.” Ruth held out a pale hand and directed them out of the dormitory. When they reached the dormitory’s courtyard, Ruth began a running commentary explaining all the features of the Reichssportfeld. Helen marveled at the well-tended green lawns as Ruth pointed to the tennis courts and the distant hockey field while talking the whole time. “During the Opening Ceremonies, you will be treated to a view of the Hindenburg, the largest commercial passenger-carrying airship in the world. Created by the Zeppelin Company, it is a miraculous feat of German engineering and is named for Paul von Hindenburg, former president of Germany. It has already traveled to Rio de Janeiro and made several trips to North America. Also, you will have the pleasure of viewing the final leg of the torch relay that began in Greece. This is the first time in modern history such a journey has been made, and it symbolizes—”
By this point, Ruth had led them out a gate onto a street thrumming with activity. Busy cafés filled the sidewalks and Ruth selected one with a cheerful yellow awning. A fair-haired waiter ushered the women to a table.
Helen took a seat, eyeing the distance between herself and Ruth. She lifted
