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Now what had I said wrong? He seemed even more embarrassed. Why, this was almost as good as Billie being Elizabeth Taylor. I could envision Billie gracefully skimming over the ice, wearing some skimpy little costume that glittered. She’d whirl and spin and do those things called double axles and never become dizzy. And in all the time I’d known her and Arden, they’d never boasted, never even hinted. She’d talked to me as if she was nobody special, and she was.
A small noise distracted me. I whirled around to see Billie, who must have waited until my back was turned, then swiftly hurried to sit in a chair. I stared. Why was she wearing such a full, long skirt in the middle of the afternoon? The gown she wore looked very expensive, as if she were going to attend some gala formal affair.
Her marvelous jet-black hair was piled high on her head in a mass of ringlets instead of just hanging loose down her back, and that alone made her look different. Her face was heavily painted, even garishly so. Her lashes were longer and thicker than I’d noticed before. And she must have put on every last piece of jewelry she owned. I smiled weakly, not knowing how to handle a situation like this. Without all that stage makeup she was stunningly beautiful. The fancy taffeta dress and heavy costume jewelry made her seem cheap, a fraud, someone I didn’t even know. And worse, someone I didn’t think I’d want to know.
“Mom,” said Arden, a struggling smile trying to survive on his lips, “you didn’t need to go to so much trouble.”
No, Billie, you didn’t. I liked you the way you looked before much better.
“Yes, I did—and Arden, you should have warned me, you know that.”
I looked from one to the other, guessing something was dreadfully wrong. The vibrations between mother and son were so strong I quivered, sensing their anxieties because I was inside their house—where she didn’t want me. Yet Arden was gazing at me with so much appeal; his eyes were pleading for me to notice nothing amiss. So I smiled and stepped over to shake her hand. I sat down and began a silly conversation. When she’d been at the window and I’d been on the ground outside, she’d been so easy to talk to. Now we were like strangers meeting for the first time. Soon I made some flimsy excuse about having to hurry home to help Aunt Ellsbeth.
“Won’t you stay for dinner?” asked Arden. I flashed him a hurt look of reproach. At least Papa was direct with his hostility and didn’t hide it behind the guise of friendship as Billie was doing. Gee, I thought childishly, feeling hot tears stinging the back of my eyes, our friendship was only for the outside, not indoors. It was just as Vera had told me—I wasn’t respectable enough for Billie. Was I so crazy that people didn’t want me in their houses? Again my eyes clashed with Arden’s—mine accusing, his still pleading for understanding. Please, please, his eyes were begging. I decided to stay on long enough to find out what was making all of us so self-conscious.
There was something burning in the oven. Maybe I was interrupting her cooking and she didn’t like it. There wasn’t enough for three and she didn’t really want me to stay for dinner. It was such a little house that the kitchen seemed part of the living room. “Billie, I think I smell something burning in the oven. May I take it out for you?”
She blanched, shook her head, gave Arden a furtive signal before she weakly smiled at me. “No, thank you, Audrina. Arden can do all of that. But please do stay and have potluck with us.” But the expression of anxiety she couldn’t control gave lie to her words.
Really distressed and embarrassed now, I bowed my head. “Thank you for asking me. But, as you know, my father doesn’t like for me to come through the woods and over here.”
Arden glanced at me, then his mother, and said somberly, “Mom, this is getting to be a bit much. Can’t you tell Audrina?”
She flushed, then paled. I didn’t want to know now. All I wanted to do was escape. I stood to go.
Suddenly Billie gushed, “Oh, why not!” Flinging wide her slim, strongly muscled arms, she went on, “Audrina, my dear girl, you are now gazing upon what was once the world’s Olympic ice-skating champion until I turned professional. That lasted about eighteen years. I had a glorious time, loving every moment of the excitement. Arden can tell you tales of how we lived out of trunks. We traveled all over the world entertaining people, and then one fateful day I fell on the ice because someone had lost a bobby pin. I could have broken my leg, but I only received a cut from my skate. That small cut should have healed in a week or so. But it didn’t heal in six months because the doctors found out I had diabetes. Would you believe my leg was rotting right before our eyes and there didn’t seem to be anything the doctors could do to stop it. I hadn’t been to a doctor all during my career. I suppose if I had known what kind of vicious disease I had, I might have given up skating much sooner. But as it was, I had my day, didn’t I, son?”
“Yes, Mom. You had your day in the sun, and I’m happy you did.” His eyes lit up with pride as he smiled. “I can close my eyes right now and see you skating, the star of the show. And I felt so proud, so very proud.” He paused and glanced my way again. “Audrina, what my mother is trying to say and having so much difficulty with is—”
“I don’t have any legs—that’s what!” shrieked Billie. I stared at her disbelievingly.
“Yes,” she cried, “I was hoping you’d never find out. I wanted us to be friends. I wanted you to treat me like a normal human being and
not like a freak.”
So stunned by her information I felt sick, I stared at her face, trying not to look where her legs should be under all those rustling skirts. No legs? How did she get around? I wanted to get out, to run, to cry. For here was another beautiful, kind and wonderful woman whom God had punished—and somebody else Papa wouldn’t approve of.
A dreadful silence filled the small room and spread throughout the whole cottage, almost as if time were standing still. We all hung on the brink of some chasm that would swallow Billie and forever separate Arden and me. Whatever I did or said, whatever expression was on my face this very moment, would tell them more than my words.
I didn’t know what to do or what to say, or even what to think. I floundered helplessly, trying to grasp something that would give me the right words … and then I thought of my mother. Suppose, just suppose, that Momma had come home from the hospital with no legs. Would I have felt disgust, revulsion? Would I have been ashamed and embarrassed to have her seen? No, I’d have wanted her back, no matter what. I’d do anything to have Momma back, with or without legs. That’s when I found my voice.
“You’re the most beautiful woman with dark hair I’ve ever seen.” I said it sincerely. “I’d say you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, but my mother was beautiful, too. If only I could have my mother again, I wouldn’t care if she had legs or not—” I paused, flushed and felt guilty. For Momma would have cared. She wouldn’t have been able to cope with her loss. She’d cry, hide herself away and probably die from the lack of wanting to live without her legs.
Admiration washed over me for Billie, who would live for Arden’s sake, for her own, too, no matter what the circumstances. “I think, too, that you are the kindest, most generous woman I’ve ever known,” I went on. “I’ve piled my problems on your shoulders and not once have you even hinted you had your own.” Humbled and ashamed, again my head inclined. I had felt sorry for myself just because my memory was perforated with holes through which the secrets of my existence had been dropped.
Now that she’d told me a little, Billie was going to tell me everything. “My husband left me shortly after I came home from the second amputation two years ago.” There was no bitterness in her voice. “My son waits on me; at least, he helps me with what I can’t do myself. Although I’m pretty good about doing for myself, hey, Arden?”
“Yes, Mom, you’re super. There’s very little you can’t do for yourself.” He smiled at me, so proud of his mother.
“Of course, my ex-husband does send his piddling check once a month,” added Billie.
“Dad will come back one day, Mom. I know he will.”
“Sure he will. In a year of Sundays he’ll come back.”
I jumped up to run and kiss her heavily rouged cheek, then impulsively I hugged her close. Her strong arms closed about me almost automatically, as if she couldn’t resist someone who loved and admired her, even though tears were streaming down her cheeks and black mascara ran in streaks. “I’m so sorry I burst in on you without warning,” I choked, crying, too. “I’m sorry you lost your legs. But Billie, if you were still skating, and this may sound selfish, I’d never have known you or Arden. Fate brought you both to me.” I smiled and brushed away my tears. “Papa says that fate is the captain of all our ships, only we don’t know it.”
“That’s a fine way to put responsibility where it doesn’t belong. Now get along home, Audrina, before your papa comes looking for you, and I’ll see you another day. If you want to come back.”
