Chapter 7
But what were the chances that checking in with his former colleagues would coincide with Kenya’s arrival?
He’d done a double take when he noticed her name on the whiteboard at the nurses’ station.
And then Dr. Grant had invited him to consult on her X-ray as a teaching moment. It had to be a sign, right?
The door had been left ajar and the woman who seemed to haunt his thoughts appeared more frazzled, if that was possible, than when he’d seen her last. He couldn’t pull his eyes away, captivated by the sliver of her visible through the partially opened door.
She drew his attention like an accident on the freeway.
He smiled as she flailed her hand, clearly in distress.
Her prone form pierced his soul with concern.
Maybe he was more than an onlooker. Maybe he was the type who couldn’t just stand idly by.
And maybe he had to do something, since he’d sort of brought her up to his family in the most ridiculous kind of way.
Another woman pushed open the door from the inside, nearly colliding with him.
“Oh, sorry,” she huffed, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair, a couple fingers snagging in her curls.
“Oh, wait, are you the doctor?” Her question was loud enough to draw the attention of her friend, the miserable but beautiful woman he’d accidentally portrayed as his having-it-all-together girlfriend.
Although she was less made up than she had been at the wedding, the fluorescent lamps highlighted Kenya’s rounded cheeks and button nose.
Her shoulder-length black hair was pulled back, a few tendrils floating around her face.
Kenya’s dark-brown eyes flickered in recognition. She probably wanted to smile, but the pained expression on her face only allowed a grimace. Compassion pooled in his heart, loosening his tongue.
“I’m a type of doctor, yes. But not the one that you may need.” Disappointment etched in the bedridden woman’s expression. Was she losing her battle with patience as she waited to be seen, or was there another reason?
“But . . . I am making some rounds and thought I’d check in.” It was a semblance of the truth, and enough of it for the ash-blond-headed woman to retrace her steps and for Kenya to sink back against the raised hospital bed with relief.
“I couldn’t help overhearing”—he glanced at the way her foot was positioned—“that you have a nasty sprain. Is this the same foot that you injured before?”
Kenya nodded bleakly. “You could say that . . .”
The other woman eyed him with suspicion, probably wondering why he had more information than a typical shift doctor should.
“Tell him the whole story, Kenya Stewart.” Solomon didn’t miss the admonition in the friend’s voice or how she held back a snicker when Kenya shot a glare her way.
“Tell him why we are here and not back at our agency, finishing up a coveted event pitch.”
Ah, yes, Kenya the event planner. Her specific job, like her full name, had been so elusive to him until these past few days. A crown of identity to place on her lovely head.
Kenya sighed. “I don’t have to tell you that this is my second time here in, what, three days?”
Solomon couldn’t help the twitch in his lips. “No, you don’t. We had a little adventure on Saturday, didn’t we?”
“Ugh.” Kenya covered her face with her hands.
“Not the kind of adventure I like to go on, if you can believe that. At one point I thought I made it all up, hallucinating from the pain. But then I look at my foot and remember one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.” She peeked at him through her fingers.
“And now I’m back here with probably the worst thing that has happened to me to date. ”
He grinned and perched on a chair in the corner of the room. “Something worse than falling at your cousin’s wedding? You have me intrigued. Can I ask what caused this additional tearing in the calcaneofibular ligament to give you a lateral sprain?”
“Oh, it sounds so nice when you say it,” the blond friend purred, her eyes flitting between the two.
“Dedra, don’t forget your boyfriend.” Kenya rolled her eyes. “Excuse my friend.”
“Excuse me? I only commented on the way he said the name of the muscle. I’m not trying to hit on the man.”
Perhaps they’d suddenly forgotten he was still in the room. Either way, he could thank God and his parents that his dark skin hid the blushing he knew spread across his face.
“Anyway”—Kenya cut her eyes at the smirking Dedra—“I got nauseous this morning at work. And then I rolled my ankle on the way to the trash can.” She groaned.
Solomon raised his eyebrows. “You went to work today? Based on how you felt on Saturday, you probably should have been at home with this elevated. Didn’t you receive discharge papers detailing recovery protocols? I’m surprised you weren’t set up with an outpatient therapy appointment.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kenya responded at the same time as Dedra’s “I told you!”
“I don’t remember what I got. Maybe my mom stuffed the papers into her purse?” She shrugged, fiddling with the knit hospital blanket and keeping her eyes trained anywhere but on his gaze. “I just couldn’t do all that anyway, Dr.—”
“You can call me Solomon.”
“Oh, first name already.” Dedra sat back in her chair, smirking. She might as well grab a bag of popcorn while she was at it. She had more interest in this unfolding conversation than the top trending movie on Netflix.
He glanced at Kenya, chuckled at the slight tinge of rose on her cheeks. “Solomon is much easier to say than Dr. Anruchi. I think as many run-ins as we’ve had over the past few months, it’s okay for us to be on a first-name basis.”
When had he become so bold? Or so eager to invade someone else’s personal space.
Kenya stared at him. And, awkwardly, he stared back, fascinated at her ability to disarm him but concerned at her narrowing eyes.
Maybe the recollection of their brief shared past would move her to discard him altogether, kick him out of the room and her business.
But to his pleasure and surprised relief, instead of telling him off like he expected, she repeated his name with a whisper, as if she’d forgotten everyone else was in the room and she savored a new taste on her tongue.
“Okay, Solomon Anruchi,” she said, and he quite liked the way his name sounded when she said it.
After the words left her mouth, she grinned, obviously pleased at his reaction.
“So, uh, why didn’t you take a day off?” he sputtered.
Kenya shrugged. “I had a presentation to give. I didn’t have the luxury to sit around feeling sorry for myself while someone else took this opportunity from me.” The last words held a certain vehemence that he felt across the room.
But he still wasn’t convinced it had been the right decision. “I understand and applaud your drive, but you also don’t want to exacerbate your injury by moving quickly through recovery.”
“Too late.” Dedra raised an eyebrow and glanced at the phone she pulled out of her purse.
“That’s her MO, Dr. Solomon. You are looking at one of the best event planners in the region.
She moves fast and efficiently all the time, and usually no one can keep up.
Kenya is the best in our agency. Along with all the other events she is doing, she has a tour coming up in a few weeks that is the first of its kind for the Huntsville area, including Hope Springs. ”
“Dedra, is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Dedra shrugged. “And that is why I brought her straight here. She needs all the goods so she can get back on her feet.”
“Ahh.” Solomon could sense Kenya’s frustration. He couldn’t forget how bubbly she’d been when she talked about her work. It had allured and invigorated him and also stirred a level of commitment that he wasn’t ready to deal with then. But was he ready now?
“You probably need to be prepared for how long your recovery will be.”
“How long, Doctor?” Kenya’s eyes looked so forlorn that he almost didn’t want to tell her—or correct her in order to hear her say his name again.
“First, I’m sure they will keep you in here until this bag of fluid is gone.” He looked pointedly at the IV bag next to her. “The type of sprain you have is a lateral one, a third-degree sprain, so—”
“Sprains have degrees?” she wailed. “Even my ankle is smarter than me!”
Solomon couldn’t help the laugh that burst out right alongside Dedra’s giggle.
He peeked out the door to make sure they weren’t drawing attention and glanced back at Kenya with a grin.
But she didn’t join their laughter. He was surprised at the look that flitted across her features.
As soon as her eyes refocused on him, she masked that strange expression, giving him a tight grin.
He exhaled. “What I was trying to say is that because of the nature of your sprain, which I assume was made worse by your situation this morning . . .”
She sighed.
He continued, hating to be the bearer of negative news but tapping into the resolve molded in him by education. “You are looking at six to twelve weeks of recovery.”
Dedra gasped. Kenya laid her head back on her pillow, shutting her eyes tight.
“That is with specific and intentional physical therapy. Healing takes time and work.” He glanced at his smartwatch.
“Which I’m sure is what your attending physician will say when he comes back in the room.
” Solomon knew that all too well. His knee still bore the scars from the surgery that had ended his soccer days at boarding school.
He needed to leave, but how could he just drop this truth bomb on her without cleaning it up?
“I don’t know how I can heal in time,” she said, her voice drifting to the ceiling.
“There is so much activity involved in my upcoming events—walking for long distances, running. I don’t know if I can squeeze in therapy.
And if the investors’ tour doesn’t go well, we might not get to work with this organization next year. ”
“Oh,” Dedra breathed, joining Kenya in her melancholy. “I forgot that their three-year contract with us was over this year.”
“Yup.” Kenya sighed, the air in the room as weighty as her expression.
A thought was triggered in his mind. Could this be the solution to what he’d been tasked to do? He stepped closer.
“I may have a solution for you, Kenya.”
“What?” She sat up, all at once intrigued.
Her curiosity and hopeful look set off an erratic rhythm in his chest. He needed to get out of this room.
“I’m thinking of a creative way to get you back to normal and me out from being in over my head.
” He rushed through the words. He wasn’t a risk-taker.
Even going against his parents’ initial wishes for a career choice had been carefully calculated and planned.
So much so that he’d committed to a detailed timeline in exchange for their financial support as he finished school.
He’d never lost confidence in his ability to follow through with all of it until the past few weeks.
And he’d never conjured up such crazy ideas until the past couple days.
“Do you think one of the best event planners in the Southeast would make a deal with a doctor?”
“The best,” she corrected and tapped her chin, his words drawing her curiosity, lifting her despair. “But you have intrigued me.” A slow smile spread across her face and wild hunger lit her eyes. This was a woman built for spontaneity. “Tell me what you have in mind, Dr. Solomon Anruchi.”
He reached into his pocket and handed her a card.
“Get some rest and meet me at this clinic tomorrow afternoon.” Surely her interest would be enough for her to follow through.
“My supervisor should be able to squeeze you in.” She took the card from him, her fingertips brushing his. “I’ll tell you then.”