Her vision swam with tears and she let out a sob. Until that moment, she hadn’t realized how hard she had been working to appear cheerful and patient. Not only was her body immobilized, but she could scarcely allow her true feelings to stretch out and reveal themselves for fear of upsetting her parents or disappointing the staff working so hard to make her comfortable. What in the world was going to happen to her? She felt ruined. She wept with a ferocity that frightened her, but gradually her sobs subsided, leaving her raw but relieved and emptied of a weight that had been jammed deep in her throat and chest for weeks.
There was a knock at the door and her mother pushed her head inside the room. “Betty, Bill’s here. Are you ready?”
Betty inhaled deeply and hoped her face didn’t look blotchy from crying.
“Betty!” Bill called as he entered the room. Her mother withdrew to leave the two of them alone, and Betty felt a surprising shyness and almost wished her mother would stay. Bill’s skin shined with good health and summer color, and when he reached the side of her bed and leaned over to embrace her, she could smell the outdoors on him. A tinge of perspiration and the sun-warmed cotton of his shirt. Here in the bland sterility of the hospital, he felt like a strange outlier with his broad chest and glowing health. “Geez, Betty, you’re a sight for sore eyes.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it tightly.
She gasped.
“Oh no, did I hurt you?”
“No, actually you didn’t. Your strong grip just surprised me. Everyone handles me like I’m fragile and might break.”
He dropped into the chair and leaned forward, elbows set gamely on his knees. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” As she said the words aloud, she meant them. She searched his face and he glanced away.
“Say, this place isn’t too bad. The staff seem mighty proud to be taking care of you. How are you feeling?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. Should she tell him how she dreamed of hurtling through the air every night? How she awoke sometimes in a cold sweat, only to find herself trapped in these wretched plaster casts? Should she tell him about the moans that emanated from the other rooms at night and how they scared her? Should she ask if he still wanted to marry her? Had anyone told Bill that she might not walk properly again? All these questions stretched between them like a gaping chasm that she didn’t know how to cross.
“Everything feels different.”
Bill frowned. “I know.”
Betty decided there was no more postponing the inevitable. “One of the last things I remember from before the crash is that you proposed to me, and I want you to know that I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind.”
“Betty, my feelings for you haven’t changed at all.”
“But everything’s changed. My recovery’s going to be slow. They don’t know if I’ll walk again.”
“The wedding can wait. Sure, you’re a little dinged up, but you’re the same girl. I’ll wait for you.”
Betty winced. She would never be the same girl who had gone up in that plane. She had changed in ways she didn’t fully understand and couldn’t explain. It was just like Bill to want to be a hero, but did he understand what he was committing to? Did either of them?
“Your doctor said I could only stay for a couple of minutes.” He squeezed her hand. “I hate to leave you.”
“I understand. Thank you for coming.”
“Should I come back tomorrow after work?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
He smiled tenderly, bending over to take her free hand. “May I kiss you?”
She nodded, feeling her throat tighten. He bent deeper, and when he kissed her, no amount of morphine could dull the surge of awakening she felt within the plaster covering her body. She longed to be free of her confinement, free to reach around his shoulders with both hands and feel his chest against hers. He pulled back. “You’re so brave. I’m proud that you’re my girl.”
She suddenly felt exhausted. How could she tell him that she didn’t feel a single ounce of bravery?
25.
July 1932
Los Angeles
BLUE SKIES. ORANGE TREE GROVES. ENDLESS SUNSHINE. Louise had never seen anything like Los Angeles. It felt magical with its elegant lines of palm trees edging the wide boulevards and the air’s sweet and salty mixture of hibiscus and ocean. The men were ferried out to the Olympic Village in an area called Baldwin Hills, where bungalows had been hastily thrown up to accommodate them. The women were given rooms at the Chapman Park Hotel on Wilshire Boulevard, a busy spot central to all the excitement.
“Miss Stokes, I’ve got some mail for you,” the hotel’s front desk clerk said, rummaging around under the check-in counter.
Louise grinned and took the small stack of envelopes from the young woman and held them to her chest with delight. Everything about California was wonderful, including the lovely welcome they were receiving at the hotel. It was a far cry from the disappointing accommodations and poor treatment they’d encountered in Denver.
Around her, the other girls clutched their mail, shrieking with joy, but Mary walked away from the front desk empty-handed. As much as Louise had felt annoyed by her ever since the incident with Babe on the train, Mary’s forlorn expression now made Louise feel a pang of sympathy.
“After you’ve settled in, do you want to join Caroline, Tidye, and me to visit the salon around the corner? It’s offering free haircuts for Olympians,” she asked Mary as she headed to the elevator.
“Sure, that would be fun. Thanks.” She eyed Louise’s letters hungrily. “You got something from your folks?”
Louise nodded, unsure what to say, but Mary, brightened with the invitation to the salon, didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s nice. I live with my aunt and uncle and they have a bunch of their own kids and probably don’t have time to write. They’re always busy.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get something in the next few days.”
“Maybe,” Mary said, trying to look like she believed it. “Find me when you’re ready to go?”
“Of course.”
The busy hive of the Chapman Park Hotel and the nearby salon kept the Olympians occupied when they weren’t training. All the girls had their hair done, and Caroline even had her eyebrows plucked. Howard finally rumbled into Los Angeles in his dusty jalopy, and Caroline, Louise, and Tidye had dinner with him each night, eager to tell him about the beautiful training facilities over at the stately campus of the University of Southern California, where they spent their mornings.
The morning of the Opening Ceremonies dawned with more perfect weather, and the women were abuzz with excitement, but the energy shifted when they received their uniforms in the team captain’s room. When Mary held hers up, the top almost hung midway down her thighs.
“How are you supposed to compete in that?” Caroline cried. She lifted the shorts in her bundle. “Why, look at the width on this waistband! Three of us could fit into this.”
Their chaperone took one look at Caroline and Mary and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Oh heavens, they’ve given you the same uniforms the men are getting. Sit tight while I call the hotel’s seamstress.”