“Before your accident… what was your favorite thing to do? Not work. Fun stuff.”
Catherine looked out at the rippling water. The memory was painful, but sweet. “I used to love dancing,” she whispered. “I took ballet when I was a little girl. And even when I grew up, I would put on records and dance around my living room when no one was watching. I loved the way it made me feel free.”
“Dancing!” Lily clapped her hands. “I love dancing too. Do you miss it?”
Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat. “Every single day.”
Lily stood up and extended her hand. “Would you like to dance with me right now?”
Catherine looked at the child, then down at her paralyzed legs. A flash of old bitterness rose up. “Lily… I can’t dance. I can’t stand up. You know that.”
“You don’t have to stand up to dance,” Lily said, her voice firm. “Your arms can dance. Your head can dance. Your heart can dance. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Lily began to move. She didn’t jump or spin on her feet. Instead, she planted her feet and swayed her upper body like a willow tree in the wind. She swept her arms in graceful arcs, swimming through the air. She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and let the movement flow through her torso.
“See?” Lily hummed. “I’m dancing with my spirit. My feet are boring. My arms are flying.”
Catherine watched, mesmerized. Slowly, tentatively, she lifted one arm. Then the other. She copied Lily’s swaying motion. She closed her eyes and imagined the music—a Tchaikovsky waltz she used to love.
She moved her shoulders, rolling them back. She extended her fingers, feeling the cool breeze slip through them. For the first time in three years, she wasn’t focusing on what her body couldn’t do. She was feeling what it could do.
“You’re dancing, Judge Catherine!” Lily squealed. “You’re really dancing!”
Tears leaked from Catherine’s closed eyes, but she didn’t stop. She swayed and reached, her upper body fluid and expressive. She felt a release, a cracking of the emotional ice that had encased her.
“How do you feel?” Lily asked softly, not stopping her own movements.
Catherine opened her eyes, breathless. “I feel…” She searched for the word. “I feel alive.”
Lily stopped and walked over, placing her small hands on Catherine’s paralyzed knees. “Judge Catherine, listen to me. Your legs are sleeping, but they aren’t broken. They’re just waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“Waiting for your heart to wake up completely,” Lily said. “When you got hurt in that car, your body got crushed, but your spirit got crushed too. Your spirit got so scared and sad that it went to sleep to protect you. When the spirit sleeps, the body forgets.”
Catherine stared at the child. It sounded crazy. It sounded like fairy dust. And yet… the tingling in her hands was back.
“And you think you can wake it up?” Catherine asked.
“I think it’s already starting,” Lily smiled. “Didn’t you feel it when we were dancing?”
“Yes,” Catherine whispered. “I did.”
“That’s step one,” Lily declared. “Tomorrow, come back. We’ll dance again. I’ll tell you stories about all the beautiful things waiting for you. We have twenty-nine days left.”
Catherine nodded, wiping her tears. “Okay. I’ll be back.”
As she rolled away from the park, leaving Robert and Lily behind, Judge Catherine felt a surge of adrenaline. She was terrified, yes. But she was also exhilarated. Her life was beginning again.
But she had no way of knowing that the universe was about to test Lily’s gift in the most brutal way possible. Because that very evening, the fragile hope they had built would be smashed against the hard pavement of reality.
Robert was in the middle of straining pasta for dinner when the phone rang, the shrill sound cutting through the quiet apartment like an alarm. He wiped his hands on a dish towel and picked up.
“Robert, you need to come quickly,” Mrs. Henderson’s voice crackled on the line, pitched high with panic. “There’s been an accident at the park. It’s Judge Catherine.”
Robert’s blood turned to ice water. The pot of pasta was forgotten, steam rising into the empty air. “What happened? Is she okay?”
“I don’t know all the details, but… oh, it’s bad, Robert,” Mrs. Henderson stammered. “Someone saw her wheelchair tip over near the embankment by the pond. The ground was soft… she couldn’t stop. They think she might have hit her head on the rocks. The ambulance is taking her to St. Mary’s right now.”
Robert dropped the phone. He looked at Lily, who was sitting at the kitchen table coloring a picture of a garden. She hadn’t looked up when the phone rang, but now she raised her head. Her expression wasn’t one of shock or fear, but of profound, unsettling calm.
“Daddy,” she said softly, laying down her green crayon. “Judge Catherine is going to be okay. But this is the test.”
Robert grabbed his car keys, his hands shaking so hard they jingled loudly. “Lily, we have to go. Now.”
“I know,” Lily said, sliding off her chair. “This is when we find out if miracles are really real.”