Free Ruby's Slippers by Leanna Ellis Page A

with your eyes open, minus all the tubes and such.”
    “You visited me?”
    “Prayed for you.” She pats my arm. “Worked, didn’t it? Look at you now!”
    Prayers to me are like wishing on haystacks. “Well, I don’t know about—”
    “Sure it did. Don’t get all practical on me now. We see what we want in this life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not taking credit. I’m not smart enough to do something wonderful like that. But even someone like me can believe.”
    “Is that all it takes?”
    “To move a mountain.” She pops more popcorn into her mouth and chews. “You walk all the way from the Blue Building?”
    “I’m not there anymore. They’ve moved me since I’m more motivational.” I frown.
    She laughs. “You are that! A miracle for sure.” She hooks her arm through mine. “But I think you meant ‘mobile.’ Come on, I’ll walk you back. Where are we?”
    “You don’t know?”
    “Tell you the truth, I get lost in this place all the time. Plays with my sense of direction, which is much better out of doors.” She looks at the room number on the plaque outside the door then peeks back inside as if she forgot something.
    She scratches her head, a frown deepening the wrinkles lining her forehead. “Sometimes my son thinks I’ve lost my brain.” She leans close. “He might be right.”
    “Lost it?” A smile tugs at my lips. “Then we make the perfect pair. Where could it have gone?”
    She chuckles and pats my arm, then rubs Otto’s head. “I like the way you think.”

Chapter Eight
    Someone’s looking for you, Dottie,” Chuck Wyler says as he joins a group of senior residents watching Antiques Roadshow . They’re planning a trip to Seattle with all their personal heirlooms in tow for an upcoming show.
    “Thanks, Chuck.” I concentrate on Wii bowling, which has become a popular sport at the facility. To me, it’s a way to work on regaining my balance and coordination. I left Otto in my room because my pooch has a tendency to get under my feet and trip me. Sophia and Maybelle sit on a nearby sofa sharing a coconut cupcake.
    I click the button on the Wii remote, step forward, pull my arm back as if I’m holding a bouncing—no, bowling— ball and let it go. The virtual pink ball rolls in slow motion down the alley on the screen but hooks left and winds up in the gutter.
    “You’re twisting your arm,” Maybelle advises from her armchair view. “Give it some power, girl! And keep your wrist straight.”
    I retrace my motions. This time, I throw the “ball” over my head and make all the Miis behind me jump and spin.
    “Try again.” Maybelle leans forward, her elbows on her dimpled thighs, watching my every action with the scrutiny of an Olympic coach. “Go faster.”
    “You have to go slow,” Sophia contradicts.
    I step toward the TV, release the virtual ball, and watch it roll toward the pins at a pokey pace. It’s as if time slows as the ball has little momentum. But then it strikes the first pin. The rest topple, bumping and knocking into each other until not one is left standing.
    “Whoo-hoo!” Maybelle raises her arms in triumph.
    Sophia claps.
    Someone from the Antiques Roadshow crew says, “Keep it down.”
    I punch the air, turning and freezing with my arm raised high at the sight of a strange man watching us. Watching me. Slowly, I retract my arm.
    The man wears a navy suit. Suddenly self-conscious, I tug at the hem of my shirt. Sophia and Maybelle compliment my spare, and I clear my throat to get their attention.
    “Excuse me,” the man says, his tone clipped, “I’m looking for a Miss Dorothy Meyers.”
    My eyebrows arch. My friends look at me. He’s about my age, but I don’t recognize him. And apparently, he doesn’t know me either. I give a slight wave of my hand, like I’m in school again. “That’s me.”
    “Could I have a word with you in private, miss?” He has a crisp New England accent.
    I hesitate. “What about?”
    “Official business,