Louise swallowed, trying to push past her jealousy. Why should she envy Julia when Coach Quain had all but promised her a trip to the Olympic trials in Providence? For the last four years she had been readying herself to compete in Berlin. And not just compete, but win. So why did Julia’s job in Oak Bluffs leave Louise with a sting of regret?
At that moment, Ann clapped her hand to her face and howled. Within seconds, her howl intensified into a scream as she tottered to her feet and stepped toward Louise and Julia, but as she moved forward, her toe caught on something, and the girl went down flat onto her face.
Louise leapt toward her. “Annie, you’re fine. Let’s take a look.” She peeled the child from the grass and was met with a constellation of red welts rising on Ann’s face, but more alarming was the blood pouring from the girl’s chin. Blinking against her tears and blubbering, Ann stared from giant blue eyes filled with panic. Through the gash on her chin, Louise could see the white of bone.
Louise froze.
Her only movement was frantic swallowing against the rising bitter taste of fear in her throat.
It was as if she had been thrust underwater and lost all oxygen for a moment, but then, overtaken with a sense of resolve, she scrabbled for the surface. She yanked off the handkerchief she wore tied around her head and pressed it against the wound to stanch the bleeding.
“Bees! Bees! They got me!” Ann screeched as Louise pushed on the girl’s chin. Immediately the dark blue handkerchief turned a dark plum color with Ann’s blood.
“Julia.” Louise kept her voice even. “Please go to Dr. Conway and tell him to meet me at Mrs. Clark’s.”
Julia, pale and stunned, nodded.
“Run,” Louise commanded to her sister before leaning over Ann. “There, there, little one, you’re fine.”
Ann slackened in her arms, though whimpers made her chest tremble.
Louise raised her gaze to see Barbara wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the sudden ruinous state of her older sister. The little girl’s face crumpled, but Miss Francine appeared at Barbara’s side and she waved Louise on. “You go ahead and I’ll follow with this one,” she said.
Louise gripped Ann tightly and then broke into a jog across the park with the little girl draped across her arms. Suddenly Ann’s hands began to claw at where Louise had the handkerchief pressed to her chin. The whimpers transformed to wheezing and she stared at Louise, her eyes desperate as she struggled to breathe.
What was happening?
Louise summoned every ounce of strength and speed and fled across the park and along the sidewalk, running the three blocks to the Clarks’ house as if she were being chased by the devil himself. When the Clarks’ mailbox became visible, Mrs. Clark and Dr. Conway appeared next to it. Both darted toward Louise.
“She can’t breathe,” Louise shouted raggedly.
“Annie, darling!” Mrs. Clark called, reaching her arms out for her daughter, but Dr. Conway put a hand on the woman’s shoulder.
“Wait, Louise has a good grip on her,” he said, his voice calm and authoritative. The three of them sprinted across the lawn toward Miss Mabel, who stood at the front door. “Clear the kitchen table and fetch some towels and pillows, please.”
The housekeeper vanished inside. Dr. Conway, Mrs. Clark, and Louise followed.
“Keep the pressure on her chin, but avoid pressure on her throat,” Dr. Conway said, ripping open the girl’s dress to reveal her bare chest, which was clearly straining with exertion to breathe. “Ice, I need ice.”
Miss Mabel spun to the icebox, pulled out a block of ice, and used a pick to chisel off several large pieces that she handed to the doctor. He began rubbing them along the girl’s face and chest. Miss Mabel then tucked some pillows under the girl’s legs to elevate them and handed Louise a fresh towel. Next Miss Mabel pulled an orange box of Arm & Hammer baking soda from a cupboard and mixed a paste for the stings.
All the while, Mrs. Clark fluttered behind them repeating, “What’s happening? What’s happening?” Her voice broke higher and higher each time she spoke.
“Sit,” the doctor urged the woman without stepping away from Ann. “Catch your breath.”
“But what happened?” Mrs. Clark asked frantically as Miss Mabel firmly pressed her into one of the kitchen chairs. “And where’s Barbara?” she asked in a voice edged with hysteria as her eyes darted around the kitchen.
Louise gulped. The blood appeared to be staining the towel more slowly. “She’s following behind with Miss Francine, the Fergusons’ girl. She’s fine. I wanted to move quickly—”
The distant sound of Constance’s squalling cut through the house and Mrs. Clark’s shoulders collapsed.
“Go to your baby,” Dr. Conway said.
Mrs. Clark bit her lip, looking back and forth from Ann to an indeterminate spot on the ceiling in the direction of the upstairs nursery. “I’ll go, but only once that girl is away from my daughter.”
Confused, Louise looked up to see Mrs. Clark glaring at her, fury mottling her face.
“This is all because of you.” Mrs. Clark wept.
Never taking his eyes off Ann, Dr. Conway said, “Miss Mabel, take over so Louise can go home.”
Miss Mabel moved beside Louise and her hands covered Louise’s for a moment with a squeeze, before she nudged her aside.
Stunned, Louise backed away from the table. Suddenly she was also fighting for breath and she reached for her chest, her own hands slick with blood.
“I never want to see you again,” Mrs. Clark spat at Louise.
Louise cast a helpless look at Ann, who lay on the table, seemingly lifeless, and fled out the back door. She raced toward home, ignoring the stares of people she passed. Her chest burned and tears streamed down her face. Was Ann going to die? When she returned home, Julia and Junior were sitting on the steps, waiting for her.
Julia sprang to her feet. “What’s happened?”
Louise collapsed into Julia, burying her wet face into her sister’s shoulder. “Everything’s ruined.”
39.
May 1936
Chicago
JIM DROVE BETTY TO THE 132ND INFANTRY ARMORY FOR the Central AAU Women’s Track and Field Indoor Meet. Her breath fogged the window beside her, but she rubbed the condensation away and peeked outside, looking for Caroline and Tidye. Even after barely sleeping the night before, she felt wide awake and alert, as if electricity coursed through her veins instead of blood. She had developed a secret plan that would make her relay team win and increase their odds of receiving invitations to the Olympic trials, but now she needed to execute it.
This relay was her only chance.
A couple of weeks earlier, Coach Sheppard, her coach from the 1928 Olympics, had stopped by her home, the navy-blue blazer he wore with its AAU crest emblazoned on the chest looking crisp and a little intimidating.
“I’ve been hearing you want to give Berlin a try,” he had said, sitting in the parlor with one of her mother’s delicate teacups in his large hands.
“That’s true. I’ve been training with Caroline Woodson, though you probably knew her as Caroline Hale, and also Tidye Pickett.”
He raised his eyebrows, confused. “Didn’t Caroline have a baby?”