“I’m going to be fine. I’m actually on my way to therapy so that I can speed up my healing in the right way.”
“That’s good to hear. Keep us updated.”
“I most definitely will not. Y’all need to focus on doing what newly married people do on their honeymoons.”
“Like eat?” John asked. Adanne laughed, and the lightness and joy in that sound was music to Kenya’s ears. Her cousin deserved all the happiness, and perhaps one day that kind of happiness would be hers too. “Y’all go on now. I’ve got other stuff to do and an ankle to resurrect.”
And ahandsome doctor to see.
She hung up with a smile on her face despite the pain. Those two were so stinking cute. Adanne had fought hard against her feelings in the beginning. That seemed to be the way of the Stewart women.
If Kenya hadn’t attempted to ignore her own pain, perhaps she wouldn’t have such a serious injury. But what choice did she have? She couldn’t just throw out her second chance to give their pitch and redeem her mistake. The event-management industry didn’t care about injury or delay. People had parties to put on. Companies had campaigns to move forward with. She loved all the frenzied chaos of it, and this would not stop her. There was too much at stake.
Kenya carefully pulled the pants over her ankle and up her right leg. The pain intensified, but she pushed through to finish dressing. She could do this. This was why she was going for therapy. It wasn’t fun, but she needed to make this work. She hobbled out of her bedroom. Using the wall as support, she headed slowly to the kitchen to see if there was something that she would even consider eating right now.
She glanced at the calendar stuck by a magnet to her fridge. She grimaced again, this time not from the pain. The red circle over certain dates pierced her, reminding her of the potential loss if she didn’t get herself together. Her job was on the line, and so much more. And thanks to that reminder, her appetite was completely gone.
But crazy hope remained. Maybe if she really put effort into whatever Dr. Solomon was thinking, she wouldn’t miss out on any of these future plans.Lord,I sure don’t havetime for this. And I don’t have time notto do this. Do I?She patted the calendar, grabbed her keys, reluctantly tucked her crutches under each arm, and limped out the door.
You were right,Mama. ThankGod for elevators.That thought brought her a twinge of guilt. Her mother didn’t know the rest ofwhat happened. Only her sister Salome, who should be coming to pick her up at any moment. She would tell Mama later. Sooner than later. She just couldn’t deal with disappointing another person. She liked to keep her failure quota to just two a week, maybe three if she was feeling generous. She’d learned real hard and fast that was par for the course when you grew up with your brain scrambling every word or instruction before your eyes. She had probably disappointed her mom enough for a lifetime.
“Good afternoon, Miss Kenya. I don’t usually see you around this time.” Gary, the manager of her building, grinned at her in appreciation. He acted like he had a crush on her, but that didn’t keep her from engaging. Didn’t hurt anyone to get a smile back and to know that they were seen.
“Hey, Gary.”
He dipped his head. “What’s going on with that ankle right there? I hate to see what the other person looks like.”
“Don’t even ask.”
He set aside his broom. “Well, looking at you, I’m glad that I’m not mopping right now. That would be a sight to see.”
She groaned. “Please don’t remind me. Or better yet, can you give me a warning when you do mop? I don’t need to reinjure this ankle.”
“Sounds like you’ve been in some trouble. Do you need help getting your car? I can pull it around for you.”
“That’s okay. My sister is picking me up. Over...” She stuck out her thumb and pointer finger on both hands.L for the left side.The trick a pastor at church had shown her in Sunday school to help with directions. The hand that formed the correct L was the left hand.
Kenya dropped her right hand and pointed to the left corner of the apartment building. “There.”
“Well, how about I at least use our golf cart to get you a little closer to the front?”
Kenya grinned.
Seemed like a good time to be carted around like a queen.
9
SOLOMON WAVEDgoodbye to his eighth patient of the day. After updating the files on the computer, he glanced toward the open door of the waiting room. The Optima Work and Wellness Clinic was usually slow on Tuesdays, and today was no exception. Still, he expected to see at least one more patient who’d arrived during his back-to-back appointments.
He stepped out the door.
There she was, looking more like she was ready for a stroll down a boardwalk than finishing up her first session of physical therapy. A scarf in a kaleidoscope of colors held back the thick tresses that sat on top of her head in a polished bun. Sunglasses hung around the neckline of a turquoise blouse that was tucked into her pants. She lounged in the stiff waiting-room chairs like her view was lapping waves at a beach instead of the generic images that dotted their walls.
Keep it cool,Solomon. His heart ignored him and kept up its elevated pace. He walked toward her.
“Well, Doctor, funny running into you again.” She flashed a grin his way.
“Yeah, how about that? Especially since we made a specific plan to talk in this very waiting room.” He smiled back.
