She stepped out, and he chuckled when he saw her pull a long stick out of the trunk of her Honda.
“Is she about to beat somebody with that?” he whispered to himself. But instead of looking like she was about to head to some martial arts class, she pulled out a jug of water, closed the trunk, and then started using that stick to walk toward the overlook.
He got out of his car and walked to where Kenya sat perched on a large rock, her back to him. “Kenya?” he whispered, trying not to startle her as she gazed out over the valley.
After two seconds of no answer, he crouched to her level and said her name again. “Kenya.”
She jumped, not so much that she would injure herself but enough to make her whip her head around, eyes widening when she saw him.
“Solomon.” She placed a hand to her chest. Shook her head. Flexed the foot that had gotten them both where they were. And then, to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, almost pulling him off-balance.
“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear. “Thank you for what you did.”
“I don’t know what to say.”Great answer,Dr. Anruchi.
She released him, setting her eyes back on the valley. “You said everything when you called Robert Bluestone. But why would you do that for me?”
“You know why.”
Her lips pursed then, her chin lifted as her head dropped to the side, her lovely eyes on him. “Do I?”
He paused, praying for the courage to say what he needed to.
She filled the silence first. “I’ve started to recognize why I’ve always loved coming up here.”
“The movement helps you cope?”
She stretched her arms behind her and leaned back. “I remember this moment when I was little and sitting on the grass, and all these ants began to crawl over me. I got so frustrated and scared. Thank God they were not red ants.”
“Oh, I hate red ants.” Solomon shuddered.
“Me too.” She made a face that made him laugh. “But I remember my daddy scooping me up and putting me in his lap and saying, ‘Kenya, you’re safe here.’ Or the time we were at a concert, and he scooped me up and said, ‘Here, baby girl, you can see better from here.’ I think that’s never left me.”
Kenya took a deep breath. “When I can sit on top of the mountain, it’s like I’m in those moments again. My daddy protecting me from all the little things trying to get at me or lifting me up so I can change my view. I can see the big picture, and it reminds me not to get discouraged by all the small things or all the ways I mess up. I just can’t forget to see the way God sees, and even if I don’t know the steps, he knows the way.”
She released her breath, her shoulders loosening. “I’m still learning to find my way.”
Solomon motioned toward her ankle. “That injury sure didn’t help.”
“No, it didn’t. But if it wasn’t for this, maybe I wouldn’t have slowed down long enough to really see all the ways I was letting little things like my issues from dyslexia get to me. And how I was letting even what I loved to do box me in.”
“Speaking of this...” Solomon shifted in front of her. “May I...?” He gestured to her right foot.
Kenya nodded. He took a moment to survey her ankle, carefully taking off her shoe to get a better look.
“I’ll have to confirm with Dr. Allen, but it looks like your ankle healed nicely.”
He set her foot gently back on the ground. Eased her sneaker back on as if she were made of glass.
“That’s good to hear,” she breathed.
He looked up at her, wanting, ready to kiss her as she stared back at him.
After a beat, she lifted her face to the sun, grinning into its warmth. “This mountain has been like good medicine for me.”
Solomon moved to sit back beside her, his throat thickening as he sensed his moment coming.
“You know what I realized has been good medicine for me?” he asked.
