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Her stomach churning, Susan took one deep calming breath before she ushered her guests into Ed’s old office a few minutes later. She just kept telling herself that Ed Halliday had loved his wife for a reason.
“Mrs. Halliday, I have someone I want you to meet.”
“Oh!” Tricia started to stand, and then, as she saw her guests, fell back into the chair behind her desk.
“Cool room!” The childish voice tumbled into the sudden silence. They were the first words Susan had heard Ronnie say.
“Ronnie!” his mother whispered, leaning over the child’s wheelchair.
“It’s okay,” Susan said, aware of Tricia’s striken look, her stunned silence, but more aware of the little boy who desperately needed a chance to live. She knelt down by Ronnie’s chair, smiling at the cute little dark-haired boy.
Having heard the child’s voice, Annie got up from beneath Tricia’s desk and lumbered over.
“A dog!” Ronnie cried, leaning over the side of his chair to pet the old setter.
“Her name’s Annie,” Susan said, giving the dog a reassuring pat.
“His, Annie,” Ronnie said, still petting the dog. Annie returned the greeting by licking Ronnie’s arm, then sauntered out of the room.
Probably on her way to the stairwell that was always kept open for her.
Ronnie watched her leave, his eyes lingering. “Where’s she going?”
“Who knows?” Susan shrugged, smiling. “The cafeteria maybe, or down to the first floor where her doggie door is—it leads to the courtyard. Or maybe she’ll go to my office.”
“Why would she go there?”
“She likes the carpet.”
Ronnie nodded politely, but his attention was straying to the basketball court beside them.
“You ever shoot hoops, Ronnie?” she asked him.
“Used to.” His eyes dropped to his lap.
“Well, here.” Susan retrieved a basketball from a rack on the wall and handed it to the boy. “It’s okay if you miss. I do all the time.” She wheeled his chair beneath the basket.
The boy looked from Susan to the hoop and back again. He was ignoring Tricia.
“Go ahead,” Susan urged. Another couple of minutes passed in tense silence.
And then, without. warning, the boy launched the ball with his one good arm. And actually hit the rim.
“Here, try again,” Susan said, placing the ball back in the kid’s lap. Ronnie did. And again. And again. He just kept trying, rising out of his chair as much as his limp left leg would let him in his attempts to sink a shot.
And then he succeeded. “Two points!” he hollered, looking back at his mother with a grin.
Ellen McArthur’s eyes were brimming with tears.
Tricia Halliday didn’t say a word, barely moved, as she watched the boy.
“Cool! What’s that?” Ronnie asked, trying to turn his chair to the right. It moved easily enough on the ceramic tile floor, but he still had trouble maneuvering with only one arm.
“It’s like an arcade game,” Susan replied, wheeling Ronnie over to the big machine.
“It’s soccer,” Ronnie said, grinning over at his mother.
“That’s right, it is,” Susan continued, forging on ahead because she simply didn’t know what else to do. Tricia still hadn’t moved. “You kick the ball into the net like this, see,” she said, slipping out of her pumps to demonstrate. “See how it’s attached to this rope?”
