When prom season arrived, everyone at school was excited about dresses, dates, and plans. The hallways buzzed with it for weeks.

I had already made my decision.

One evening at dinner I looked across the table at him and said, “I want you to be my date to prom.”

He laughed at first. Then he realized I was completely serious, and his expression softened. He looked down at his wheelchair.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently, “I don’t want to embarrass you.”

I moved from my chair and knelt beside him so we were at the same level.

“You carried me out of a burning house,” I told him. “I think you’ve more than earned one dance.”

He was quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled.

“All right,” he said. “But I’m wearing my navy suit.”

The Night of the Promise

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