“I don’t think they can be mad,” he said simply. “They couldn’t help her right now… so I did. I’m not blaming them. It’s just… she needed it.”
Emily opened the door in her old chair—and froze the moment she saw David.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, Em. I…”
She looked from him to the box, then back again. “What’s that?”
He glanced at me briefly, then back at her. “It’s a new wheelchair for you.”
Her mouth fell open. She looked like she might cry. “What?!”
Jillian, her mother, appeared behind her, wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Emily, who’s—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
David set the box down so quickly he nearly dropped it. “Your old one was bad,” he rushed. “I mean—not bad bad—just… it wasn’t working right. And I found one, and I thought maybe…”
Emily’s eyes filled instantly.
“You bought me a wheelchair?” she whispered.
David looked embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“How?”
He hesitated.
I answered gently, “He sold his guitar, sweetie.”
Jillian covered her mouth.
