Her Own Way Across

Nathaniel sat on the edge of the bed.

"Would you like to talk it through?"

Lily nodded, still holding the dress.

"If I walk, everybody will think I'm better."

"Some people might."

"And if I use my chair, they'll think I'm not."

He looked at the star-patterned cushion, a little faded now at the edges.

"Do you want me to explain anything before you come in?"

"No. That would make it worse."

"Then I won't."

She laid the dress down carefully.

"You're not being much help."

He smiled. "I'm trying very hard not to be too much help."

Lily gave him a reluctant smile back.

Mrs. Bell came to help with the zipper, and Nathaniel went downstairs to find Noah in the gallery, pulling at his collar.

"Your tie looks fine," he said.

"It feels like a seat belt for my neck."

"You can loosen it."

"Mom can see through walls."

From the corridor, Rachel called, "Only when you're touching that tie."

Noah dropped his hands. Nathaniel laughed.

When Lily joined them, she had her walking sticks. Her chair stood nearby, ready if she wanted it.

Noah looked at her dress.

"You look nice."

"You sound surprised."

"I'm trying to be polite. It's hard work."

She tapped his shoe with the end of one stick.

Inside the ballroom, guests settled around tables. Children called to each other across the room. There were no photographers waiting by the door. A short presentation for supporters had taken place earlier, away from the families' evening.

Nathaniel could see Charles near the back, helping a little boy retrieve a dropped toy.

Lily took two steps toward the doors, then stopped.

"Can somebody bring my chair behind me?"

"I'll bring it," Nathaniel said.

Noah moved to her side.

"Do you want my hand?"

She looked at him, remembering.

"Not yet."

The doors opened.

Lily entered between the tall white frames, her sticks settling onto the floor before each step. Nathaniel followed with the empty chair.

Conversations softened.

He saw her notice. Her shoulders rose, and her next step stopped halfway through.

For an instant, he saw her at nine beneath the chandelier, terrified of falling in front of two hundred people.

Noah leaned close enough that she could hear him without the room hearing too.

"Look at me. You don't have to look down."

Lily turned her head.

"You still say that."

"You still don't listen."

She laughed. The sound loosened something in Nathaniel's chest.

She continued to the table at the center of the room. Then she looked back at her father.

"I'd like my chair now."

He brought it beside her and locked the wheels. She sat with help from the armrests, settled her dress, and rested her sticks within reach.

A few people looked uncertain. Someone started to clap, then stopped.

Lily reached for the microphone waiting on the table.

"I promised to say three sentences," she began. "Noah has been counting since breakfast."

Laughter moved through the room. Noah held up three fingers.

She looked down at the small card in her lap, then put it aside.

"Two years ago, I stood up in here, and everybody got very excited. I was excited too. I was also scared, and I didn't know how to say that without making people sad."

Nathaniel's hands tightened on the back of an empty chair.

"Noah asked if I wanted to try. Afterward, he still wanted to play cards with me whether I stood up or not. That helped."

Noah looked fiercely at the floor.

"Now I walk sometimes, and sometimes I use my chair. Tonight I did both. Please enjoy the food before Noah eats all the rolls."

She put down the microphone.

For a heartbeat, Nathaniel could hear the violinist turning a page.

Then the room filled with applause.

Noah bent toward her.

"That was more than three sentences."

"I included you. You should be grateful."

"You made me sound greedy."

She looked at the roll already in his hand.

He hid it behind his back.

The musicians began to play.

Children moved into the open space between the tables. One girl spun her chair so quickly that her father had to step aside. A boy with a walker made slow circles with his sister. Some children stayed at their tables, watching or eating, untroubled by invitations they could decline.

Charles approached Lily after dinner.

"Would you like to dance?"

She looked at him over her glass.

"Do you know how?"

"Not especially well."

"Then don't run over my toes."

He held out his hands. She gave him hers, and they worked out a careful turn together while Noah supplied unnecessary instructions.

Nathaniel watched from beside the piano.

Rachel joined him with two glasses of water.

"You're crying," she said.

He accepted a glass.

"It's an old house. There's dust."

"Mrs. Bell would be furious to hear that."

He laughed and wiped his face.

Later, Lily went onto the terrace with Noah. Nathaniel followed slowly, carrying her chair because the stone outside was uneven and she had chosen her sticks for the short distance.

They sat on a bench overlooking the garden. Lily had taken Biscuit's bell from her pocket.

"Do you want it back?" she asked.

Noah shook his head.

"You can keep it."

At the terrace door, a little girl in a red wheelchair watched them. She had arrived with her mother two days earlier and spoken to almost nobody.

Lily looked from the bell to Noah.

He shrugged, understanding.

She asked Nathaniel for her chair, settled into it, and rolled toward the doorway.

"Do you want to hear something?" she asked the little girl.

The child looked at the bell.

Lily rang it once, then held it out.

After a moment, the girl took it.

"It belonged to a dog," Noah said. "He was extremely fat."

The girl examined the red leather loop.

"Did he like it?"

"He liked food. He didn't have strong opinions about jewelry."

She smiled a little.

Lily asked if she wanted to see the horses the next morning.

"I can't walk," the girl replied.

"There's a path," Lily said. "We can both use our chairs."

Nathaniel stood at the edge of the terrace while the three children discussed which horse was most likely to bite a sleeve.

He did not interrupt.

By the time the last family went upstairs, Noah had fallen asleep on a ballroom sofa. His tie hung loose, and one shoe lay beneath the coffee table. Rachel was helping put away food for the following morning.

Charles said good night without asking to stay. Lily reminded him that he was expected for lunch on Sunday.

When the room was almost empty, Nathaniel found his daughter beneath the chandelier.

"Ready for bed?"

"In a minute."

She looked at the spot where Noah had knelt two years earlier.

"Do you know why I tried that night?"

Nathaniel sat in the chair beside her.

"Tell me."

"I thought if I couldn't do it, he wouldn't look disappointed."

Nathaniel let the words settle before answering.

"I wish you'd felt that way with me."

She leaned her head against his arm.

"I do now. Mostly."

He kissed her hair.

"I'll keep working on mostly."

After a while, she sat back and locked her wheels.

"I want to try something."

He stood, leaving room in front of her.

Lily put her hands on the armrests and lifted herself carefully. Nathaniel stayed near without reaching. She found her balance, looked at him, and took one small step.

Then another.

Her legs shook. She smiled anyway.

"Can I have your hand?"

He held it out.

She wrapped her fingers around his and moved beside him across a few feet of marble. He matched her pace. When she stopped, he stopped too.

"That's enough," she said.

"All right."

He brought the wheelchair close. She sat down with a tired breath and smoothed her dress.

On the sofa, Noah opened one eye.

"Did I miss something?"

"You missed dessert," Lily told him.

He sat up immediately.

"Nobody woke me?"

Nathaniel went to the kitchen and found three slices of cake Rachel had saved beneath a clean towel.

They ate at the little table with their shoes under their chairs. Lily stole the frosting from the corner of his plate. Noah argued that sleeping should not disqualify a person from seconds.

Upstairs, the house settled around the families staying for the week. Someone laughed in the corridor. A door closed softly.

When Lily finally yawned, Nathaniel stood behind her chair.

"May I?"

She nodded, already half asleep.

Noah carried the empty plates to the counter, then followed them out, his forgotten shoe in one hand.

At the ballroom door, Nathaniel paused to switch off the lights. For a moment, the chandeliers caught in the polished floor, showing the faint track of wheels beside two small, uneven footprints.

Lily reached back and touched his wrist.

"Come on, Daddy."

He turned out the light and took her upstairs.

The End