things—the hospital stays, the surgeries—were behind us.”
“Yeah. Well, so did I. But this new technique—”
“Is unproven.”
“It’s not unproven, Mom. Dr. Pommier’s performed this procedure on a lot of people.”
“If he’s the only one doing it, it’s unproven and experimental.”
“Any new technique is experimental. The bottom line is that what he does works.”
Gina stood up, dumped the pancake griddle into the sink and ran the hot water. “It works for certain people, Wendy, and for only certain types of injuries. You and your father admit that.”
“That’s right. And as far as I can tell, I’m a perfect candidate.” Wendy stood up and reached for a dish towel. “Look, I know you’re worried, but—”
“You had the very best surgeons in Norway, and the best doctors at the French rehab clinic.” Gina shut off the water, wiped her hands on her apron and turned around. “If any of them had thought there was more they could do, they’d have done it.”
“Exactly. They did everything they could, but things have changed. This technique didn’t exist back then.”
“And what about the fact that this doctor says he’s not taking on new patients? That you phoned him, sent him a letter, and he won’t even discuss your case?”
Wendy tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you that!”
“You’re probably right. You kept everything else from me, letting me think you were coming home—really coming home—when all the time—”
“I never said that, Mother. Never!”
“No. You didn’t. But I thought...I thought—” Gina turned away, wrapped her hands around the rim of the sink as if that might help steady the turmoil inside her. “Aside from anything else,” she said quietly, “you’re not facing reality. Do you really believe you can change Dr. Pommier’s mind simply by meeting him?”
“Of course not. But if I can talk to him, show him my records, explain how desperately I want to try this—”
“Why ‘desperately’? That’s what I don’t understand. They said you’d never walk again but you did. You are. I mean, just look at you. You’re on your feet, getting around on your own—”
“I limp. I can’t ski—”
“For heaven’s sake!” Gina’s face flushed. “You’re my daughter. I can’t believe you’re so...so foolish that you’d think people would judge you by the way you walk, or by what you can or can’t do!”
“How about the way I judge me?” Wendy’s voice trembled. She felt her eyes fill with tears and she swiped her hand across them, hating herself for letting her emotions show again. “Do you know what it’s like to be reminded, every single day of your life, of what happened to you one morning a long time ago?”
“Oh, sweetie.” Gina clasped her daughter’s shoulders. “Is that what it’s all about?”
Wendy shut her eyes. The scene in her head was as real as if it had happened yesterday. She saw herself early that fateful day, dragging out of bed. Tired, exhausted, muscles aching, barely making it to the bathroom before her stomach rose in her throat as it had done every morning since the ski team arrived in Lillehammer...
“Wendy.” Gina cupped Wendy’s face. “Darling, you can’t possibly think you were responsible for the accident. The run was icy. Other skiers had wiped out before you in that very same place. You caught some ice, lost control....”
Gina couldn’t bring herself to describe the rest. Wendy sighed and put her arm around her.
“I’ve gone over it a million times,” she said softly.
“Then you know that it wasn’t your fault.”
Wendy nodded. She did, sometimes, when she was being logical. There were inherent dangers in racing down a snow-covered mountain at eighty or ninety miles an hour. When you stepped into your skis, you accepted that as a fact of life.
But...but maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to win a medal, she’d have faced the
“Yeah. Well, so did I. But this new technique—”
“Is unproven.”
“It’s not unproven, Mom. Dr. Pommier’s performed this procedure on a lot of people.”
“If he’s the only one doing it, it’s unproven and experimental.”
“Any new technique is experimental. The bottom line is that what he does works.”
Gina stood up, dumped the pancake griddle into the sink and ran the hot water. “It works for certain people, Wendy, and for only certain types of injuries. You and your father admit that.”
“That’s right. And as far as I can tell, I’m a perfect candidate.” Wendy stood up and reached for a dish towel. “Look, I know you’re worried, but—”
“You had the very best surgeons in Norway, and the best doctors at the French rehab clinic.” Gina shut off the water, wiped her hands on her apron and turned around. “If any of them had thought there was more they could do, they’d have done it.”
“Exactly. They did everything they could, but things have changed. This technique didn’t exist back then.”
“And what about the fact that this doctor says he’s not taking on new patients? That you phoned him, sent him a letter, and he won’t even discuss your case?”
Wendy tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you that!”
“You’re probably right. You kept everything else from me, letting me think you were coming home—really coming home—when all the time—”
“I never said that, Mother. Never!”
“No. You didn’t. But I thought...I thought—” Gina turned away, wrapped her hands around the rim of the sink as if that might help steady the turmoil inside her. “Aside from anything else,” she said quietly, “you’re not facing reality. Do you really believe you can change Dr. Pommier’s mind simply by meeting him?”
“Of course not. But if I can talk to him, show him my records, explain how desperately I want to try this—”
“Why ‘desperately’? That’s what I don’t understand. They said you’d never walk again but you did. You are. I mean, just look at you. You’re on your feet, getting around on your own—”
“I limp. I can’t ski—”
“For heaven’s sake!” Gina’s face flushed. “You’re my daughter. I can’t believe you’re so...so foolish that you’d think people would judge you by the way you walk, or by what you can or can’t do!”
“How about the way I judge me?” Wendy’s voice trembled. She felt her eyes fill with tears and she swiped her hand across them, hating herself for letting her emotions show again. “Do you know what it’s like to be reminded, every single day of your life, of what happened to you one morning a long time ago?”
“Oh, sweetie.” Gina clasped her daughter’s shoulders. “Is that what it’s all about?”
Wendy shut her eyes. The scene in her head was as real as if it had happened yesterday. She saw herself early that fateful day, dragging out of bed. Tired, exhausted, muscles aching, barely making it to the bathroom before her stomach rose in her throat as it had done every morning since the ski team arrived in Lillehammer...
“Wendy.” Gina cupped Wendy’s face. “Darling, you can’t possibly think you were responsible for the accident. The run was icy. Other skiers had wiped out before you in that very same place. You caught some ice, lost control....”
Gina couldn’t bring herself to describe the rest. Wendy sighed and put her arm around her.
“I’ve gone over it a million times,” she said softly.
“Then you know that it wasn’t your fault.”
Wendy nodded. She did, sometimes, when she was being logical. There were inherent dangers in racing down a snow-covered mountain at eighty or ninety miles an hour. When you stepped into your skis, you accepted that as a fact of life.
But...but maybe if she hadn’t been so determined to win a medal, she’d have faced the
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