Chapter One #2
I lifted my glass again. “So, here’s to Black women loving on Black women and passing the torch.” We clinked our glasses once more.
Over the next ten minutes, she shared her expertise with me on managing multi-million-dollar accounts, and I absorbed the new information like a dry sponge.
Meanwhile, we snacked on Jimmy’s freshly baked pretzel bites to soak up the alcohol.
Once we left, I felt even more confident that I was ready for the challenge.
Between my meetings, the All Pro Sports campaign, and the excitement over the Gideon account, I had my assistant grab us lunch and chose to eat in the office while I worked.
I stayed late into the evening and finally got home around eight o’clock to reheat leftovers from the night before.
Afterward, I hopped in the shower and climbed into bed.
As soon as I pulled the comforter over me, it occurred to me that I had never returned my mother’s call.
I jumped up, grabbed my purse, and powered on my cell phone to check my messages.
The first message that popped up was from A. Baker.
Thanks for the note, but I was hoping to get a phone call.
Delete. Yeah, I’m not dealing with that.
As soon as I read that one message, my body reminded me of how exhausted I was.
Okay, sleep first, and I’ll call Mama first thing in the morning.
As I was plugging my phone into the charger, I saw I had ten missed calls from my mother.
Panic gripped my heart, and just as I was about to dial her number, she called me again.
“Mama! What’s wrong?”
“Amariah, sweetheart. It’s your father. You need to come home—now.”
My gloved hands tightened around the steering wheel as the Jeep approached the beautifully golden-lit sign covered in holly that read: Welcome to Skye Ridge.
The usual sense of dread I felt was replaced by worry.
Returning often felt like a chore checked off the to-do list rather than the feel-good, homey feelings that others associated with it.
These days, the only part of Skye Ridge that warmed my heart was my parents, especially my father.
What could I say? I was a tried-and-true daddy’s girl.
Pushing the worry aside, I aimlessly drove through the holiday-decorated streets, heading toward my heart in human form.
As I stood at the entrance of Skye Ridge Hope Memorial Hospital, I couldn’t shake the numbness that spread through my body.
My eyes blinked rapidly as I struggled to remember how I even got here.
Since the moment I’d answered my mother’s call, everything had been a blur, swirling around like an EF1 tornado.
Vaguely, bits of memory returned—packing a suitcase, calling Scottie, ordering an Uber, the plane ride, and the rental car at the airport—then suddenly, I was here at the hospital.
The words my mother spoke echoed in my mind like brass cymbals.
It’s your father. My daddy. That’s the reason I was here.
Fear gripped me, but concern propelled me forward.
The two emotions warred inside like an Ironman game of tug-of-war.
But when it came to my parents, I knew which one would win. Concern. Nothing outmatched that.
“My…uh…my name is Amariah Luke. I’m here to see my father, Adam Luke.” The words came timidly to the friendly nurse behind the station who didn’t seem the least bit irritated by my slow and hesitant response to her inquiry for assistance.
“He’s in Room 1508. Just follow this hallway and turn right.”
Quickly thanking the nurse, concern ignited like jet fuel and drove me down the corridors at warp speed.
The sharp scent of antiseptic hit me first. Machines beeped somewhere down the hall, steady as the heartbeats they were set to monitor.
My heels clicked slower this time, each step heavier than the last. My thoughts and movements were in sync, and though heavy, didn’t slow until I pushed the door open, and my eyes landed on my father with a tube under his nose and an IV coming from his arm.
“Daddy.” It was all I could muster before tears, hidden behind a range of emotions, poured down my face, culminating in one feeling: grief.
His head turned, and despite the tubes and monitors, his eyes lit up when he saw me. “Baby girl,” he huffed out, and instantly, I took flight.
I was by his side in a nanosecond, slipping my hand into his and clutching it for dear life. His life. “Daddy, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”
“Shhh,” he whispered, shaking his head. “I’m all right.”
Just then, my mother walked into the room holding a coffee cup. “Amariah!” she shrieked, surprised and relieved. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Slightly turning, I released my father’s hand briefly to warmly embrace my mother, squeezing a little tighter to show her I was also happy to be there. She pulled away, using her free hand to wipe my tears.
“None of that. Everything is going to be just fine, sweetheart.”
Her comfort was soothing, but the last thing I needed was to be coddled. I needed answers. “No, Mama. I need to know everything. What’s going on with Daddy?”
She placed the cup on the nightstand by the bed and lovingly caressed my face. “Shhh. We will discuss everything, but you just got here. For now, spend time with your father. We have time to discuss his health.”
I knew not to argue with either of my parents.
Even at thirty-six, I always listened whenever Adam and Melinda Luke spoke.
Besides, Mama was right. I didn’t know what news I might learn about my father’s condition, so instead of worrying about prognosis, treatment, and care, I decided that the best medicine for both of us was quality time.
Nodding, I turned back to my father and sat in the chair beside his bed.
Recapturing his hand, I glanced over at him, offering a lazy smile.
“You know, if you wanted me to change my Thanksgiving plans, there were less dramatic ways to tell me.” Cackles and coughs erupted in the room, and Mama handed me his water cup so he could take a sip.
“Easy, old man. You’re gonna make the doctors run me out of here. ”