A simple act of love

By the time I graduated from college, I was ready to spread my wings. I got a job teaching special education at a school in Coachella, California, a desert town about 170 miles from home. It was no dream job. Low-income housing across the street from the school was a haven (避难所) for drug users. Street gangs (街头帮) hung around the school after dark.

"Be careful," Dad warned me during one of my frequent weekend visits home. He was concerned about my living alone, but I was 23, enthusiastic and naive, and I needed to be on my own.

"Don't worry," I reassured him, as I loaded up the car to start my trip back to the desert and my job.

Several evenings later I stayed after school to rearrange my classroom. Finished, I turned out the light and closed the door. Then I headed toward the gate. It was locked! I looked around. Everyone had gone home. I glanced at my watch — it was almost 6 P.M. I had been so engrossed (专注) in my work that I hadn't noticed the time.

After checking all the exists, I found just enough room to squeeze under a gate in the back of the school. I pushed my bag through first, lay on my back and slowly slipped through.

Horrible shadows fell across the street. Hurriedly, I picked up my bag in haste and walked toward my car, parked in a field behind the building. Suddenly, I heard voices. I glanced around and saw at least eight boys following me. They were half a block away. Even in the near darkness I could see they were street gangs.

"Hey! Let's get the young lady!" one boy shouted.

Quickening my pace, I reached into my bag to get my key ring (钥匙圈). "If I have the keys in my hands, I can unlock the car and get in before ..." I thought, my heart pounding. I felt all over the inside of my bag, but the key ring wasn't there. Suddenly, my fingers wrapped around a loose key (单独的一个钥匙). I didn't even know if it was for my car, but I took it out and held it firmly.

I ran across the grass to my car and tried the key.

When I returned to my apartment, the phone was ringing.

Grandfather was a wise and honorable man. His house was not far from ours, and I would visit him often going home after school.

No matter how rotten I had been, 1 could tell Grandpa anything. My secrets were safe. He always understood. He loved me.

I remember a time when a bunch of us were playing baseball in the field behind Mrs. Ferguson's house. I hit one pitch (投) just right and . . . slam! It was a home run that soared (急升) high and away, and ended up breaking Old Lady Ferguson's kitchen window! We all ran!

Walking home, my best friend, Tom, asked, “How will she ever know who did it? She's blinder than a bat!” I decided to stop by Grandpa's. He must have known something was up by the expression on my face. I felt ashamed. I wanted to hide. I wanted to bang my head against a tree a thousand times and make the world just go away- as if punishing myself could undo things. I told him about it.

He knew we had been warned many times about the dangers of playing where we shouldn't. But he just listened.

“I was wrong,   I told him, with my head down. “I hate myself for what I did. I really blew it. Is there a way out? Will she call the police?”

“Well,” he said, “she has a problem, just like you. I'll bet if she knew you cared, she would be sad to know that you're afraid of her. I'll bet she wishes you would give her a chance... a chance to be understanding, It's your decision, ” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “Just so I don't say the wrong thing, is the plan to pretend nothing happened? Just keep quiet and carry your little secret around . . . hide what you're not proud of?”

“I don't know, ” I sighed. “Things might get worse. . . . ”

Grandpa asked, “If you were Mrs. Ferguson, what would you do?”

“Doing what's right is not always easy, ” Grandpa said, handing me the phone.

My crippled(瘸腿) grandmother was dancing. I stood in the living room doorway, absolutely shocked. I heard her sing when I opened the door but did not want to interrupt her by shouting I had arrived. She was wearing beautiful dancing shoes and her legs obeyed her perfectly. As long as I could remember, she was once the pet of the dancing world. But it was all over after a sudden accident. She had always limped(一瘸一拐地走)，helped with a cane(拐杖).

She turned around and saw me standing in the doorway. Her song ended, and her beautiful movements with it. Grandma turned towards the kitchen. She was walking with no difficulties in her beautiful shoes. I followed her, not believing my eyes.

“So…” I asked surprisedly but happily, “How did your leg heal（康复）?”

“To tell you the truth—my legs have been well all my life,” she said.

“But I don’t understand!” I said, “ I mean… You pretended all these years?

“Very much so,” Grandmother closed her eyes, “And for a very good reason.”

“What reason?”

“Your grandfather.”

“You mean he told you not to dance?”

“No, this was my choice. I am sure I would have lost him if I had continued dancing. I weighed fame（名声）and love against each other and love won.”

“We were talking about engagement（订婚）when your grandfather had to go to war. It was the most terrible day of my life when he left. I was so afraid of losing him, the only way I could stay peaceful was to dance. And then one day a letter came. There were only three sentences:‘I have lost my leg. I am no longer a whole man and now give you back your freedom. It is best you forget about me.’”

Grandma continued to tell me that Grandfather was in hospital and she made her decision not to give him up. She took her leave, and traveled away from the city.

Several weeks later, she returned.

She took a deep breath, leaned on her cane and limped to Grandfather.