by Ann Mcintosh
She hadn’t had to befriend him. She was from a well-respected family and popular in school, not a misfit like he was, yet she’d gone out of her way to make him feel welcome and, after a little while, her friends had accepted him, too.
His mother hadn’t been pleased about their friendship. Not that there was anything that made his mother happy.
“You have no business making time with that girl,” she’d said, shaking her finger in his face. “You an’ she no have nothing in common, and if she father find out ’bout you, he not goin’ be happy.”
“We’re just friends,” he’d protested, knowing how truly upset his mother was, from the way her English deteriorated into St. Eustace patois.
“Make sure you keep it that way,” she’d said, turning back to the stove and rescuing the ripe plantains frying in the pan before they burned. “We don’t need no trouble ’round here.”
He knew what she meant, of course. The Haraldsons were rich, like Mrs. Burton, and he was a little black boy from nowhere—son of one of their neighbors’ hired help. Kiah had believed his mother when she said Mr. Haraldson would be angry if he found out but, to his surprise, it had been the complete opposite.
Without Mina and her family, who’d treated him as though he were one of their own, he’d have been lost, and who knew where he’d have ended up? They’d been there for him during all the worst moments in his life, in a way his mother never had.
Witnessing his father’s fatal heart attack, barely a month before meeting Mina, had devastated him, left him floundering, unmoored. Mina’s friendship had helped him get through it, just as it had helped him deal with his mother’s increasingly violent rage. And when his sister had died, she was the first person he’d called.
She was the best friend he’d ever had, and now she needed him to repay all the care she’d given him.
As Mina’s sobs abated, Kiah leaned forward, holding her with one arm, and snagged the box of tissues off the coffee table. Clearly, this wasn’t the first crying jag she’d had, if the used tissues strewn around were any indication. Pulling out a couple, he thrust them into her hand, noticing for the first time how she’d crossed her left arm over her body and tucked her stump out of sight.
His heart broke all over again.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, mopping at her face.
“For what?”
“For crying all over you, of course,” she replied, burying her face back into his neck. “For being such a soggy mess.”
He chuckled, as she no doubt meant him to, with the reference to one of the classifications they’d come up with for different types of people they’d met. “Soggy mess” was reserved for the whiny, weepy, complaining type. Not her at all.
And in his estimation, not what she should be apologizing to him for. She should be sorry for not telling him how deeply she’d sunk into depression, and for not asking for help. He was trying to formulate the right thing to say, but before he could figure it out, she sighed, and from the way she suddenly relaxed, he realized she was falling asleep. Then Mina conked right out, so abruptly he wondered how much rest she’d been getting.
Sliding down slightly in the couch, he made himself comfortable, cradling her across his lap. Eventually he’d transfer her to her bed, but not yet. If this was what she needed, he had no problem staying exactly where he was.
Reaching down, he gently took her left arm in his hand and lifted it. Mina didn’t stir as her sleeve dropped down, revealing the site of her transradial amputation. He was surprised that she wasn’t wearing a compression garment—a shrinker—since he’d read about the efficacy of its use for controlling edema, and how important it was for pre-prosthetic fitting.
There were so many questions he wanted to ask about how she was managing with the loss of her hand. Some of them he’d tried to ask her before, on the phone, and she’d brushed him off, wanting only to talk about her then-ongoing divorce from Warren the Worm. Just thinking about her ex-husband had his temper simmering, but Kiah pushed his antipathy aside. Now wasn’t the time to indulge.
Just as it wasn’t a good time for the dampness making him blink, as he looked at where Mina’s small but eminently capable hand used to be. The last thing she’d want, or probably needed, was his sympathy.
She’d always been driven, in control, and fearless. Whatever needed to be done, she’d been there with a plan. Seeing her like this, drifting and seemingly broken, was almost too much to bear.
Lifting her arm a little higher, he pressed a gentle kiss just above the surgical site and then laid it back across her stomach, making sure not to jostle it. He pulled the sleeve back across to cover the stump.
“I got you, sweet girl,” he whispered, before also kissing the top of her head. “Kiah’s got you.”
CHAPTER TWO
MINA DRIFTED UP from a dreamless sleep, the first she’d had in she couldn’t tell how long. Despite her eyes being gritty, she actually felt rested. When had that become such an anomaly that she had to lie still in bed for a few minutes savoring it?
Then she remembered.
“Kiah!”
Dammit, she must have fallen asleep after crying all over him the evening before. Had he left?
Then she noticed the faint sounds of reggae music coming from her living room, and what could only be kitchen noises. And...
“Mmm,” she muttered, tossing back the sheets. “Bacon.”
When she opened her bedroom door, it was to indeed find him in front of the stove, his head and shoulders moving in time to the music, and she leaned on the doorjamb to watch him, a smile spreading across her face.
As though sensing her regard, he turned to look over his shoulder, and his answering grin warmed her better than any blanket ever could.
“So you’re finally up, eh?” He did a little shimmy to the music and waved the spatula at her. “Sleepyhead.”
“Yeah,” she replied, suddenly aware of her grungy state and bed head. “Do I have time for a shower before breakfast?”
“Sure,” he said easily, turning back to the stove. “But don’t take too long, or everything will get cold.”
“I won’t,” she called, already heading back into her room, her stomach growling in protest of the wait. She could also smell ripe plantain frying, and it had been far too long since she’d had any of the island delicacy. He must have gone to the grocery while she was sleeping, since she knew there definitely hadn’t been any food in the house.
Rushing through a shower, but taking the time to wash her hair, she tried not to think about the grilling Kiah was bound to give her after he fed her, if he even waited that long. They’d talked on the phone at least twice a month, often more, since the accident, and he’d tried so many times to find out what was happening with her arm. He’d couched the questions both as a friend and as a doctor, but there’d been a barrier inside her, a wall around everything to do with the loss of her hand, and she’d evaded answering.
It had been easier to tell him about how Warren had left her—although she was too embarrassed to repeat all the horrible things her ex had said. Like how she was no longer someone he was proud to be seen with. That her stump disgusted him, and she wouldn’t be an asset to their relationship anymore. Only afterwards did she find out he’d actually been cheating on her from before the accident, and had planned to leave her anyway. The fact that he’d use the loss of her hand as an excuse just showed what a waste of skin he was.
So it had been better to talk to Kiah about her determined fight to ensure Warren didn’t take advantage of the situation and con her out of more than his share.
Oh, and he’d tried. His underhanded double-dealing had completely opened her eyes to facets of his character she’d ignored all the years they were together. Warren had become, in her and Kiah’s old parlance, a snake oil guy. It was totally in keeping with some of the things he had boasted of doing in his law pra
ctice, but like a fool, Mina had never thought he’d turn on her that way. Especially since he was the one who’d wanted to end the marriage.
Thankfully, his cruelty had spurred her out of the depression that had settled over her after she’d lost her hand, even if only temporarily. She’d hired a lawyer known in the Toronto legal circles as the Rottweiler, and the one female attorney Warren had admitted he hated going up against in family court. Jalissa Chang had made sure Mina got everything she was due, and a bit more, too.
Mina had been angry—mostly at herself—and that anger had sustained her. While she had known for a long time things weren’t going well between her and Warren, she’d ignored the problems, putting them down to how busy they both were. In truth, now that everything had come out, and in light of the way he’d treated her, she wondered if she could ever trust her judgment of others again.
They’d been together since they were sixteen. How could she not have realized a long time ago how truly selfish and immoral he was? She’d also let him steer her away from motherhood by saying he wasn’t ready, or didn’t want a pregnancy to derail her career. He’d couched it in terms of delaying it, but now she saw it as a denial, and that was something she was having a hard time getting over. She’s always wanted children, but at her age, single, unemployed, and with only one hand, that particular dream seemed unattainable.
As did most of the plans she’d once had.
During her darkest times, she’d known Warren was right to leave her, as useless as she’d become, but she couldn’t condone his meanness. So she’d concentrated on the divorce and everything that went into getting the separation agreement finalized. It had taken almost a full year, by which time she only had a month or so before the divorce, too, was done.
That was when everything truly fell apart.
She was always at her worst when she had nothing to do. Nothing to plan for or look forward to.
“Well,” she said aloud as she rinsed her hair. “Now you have breakfast with your best friend to look forward to, so no feeling sorry for yourself today.”
By the time she came out of the bedroom, all squeaky clean and dressed in something other than shapeless sweats, she felt better than she had in ages. Even noticing that Kiah had cleaned up the place brought only a small pang of guilt.
Something about being around this man always made her life better, and she was going to enjoy it for the short time he’d be in town.
“Come on, lazybones,” he said, putting two plates laden with bacon, eggs, toast and plantain on the dining table. “I’m starving.”
“I can’t believe you’d call me that, Mr. I’ll-Sleep-’til-Noon-If-I-Want-To.”
“Ha,” he said as he pulled out her chair. “Those days are long gone, now that I have Charm to take care of.” The face he pulled was a mixture of fond amusement and a grimace. “I miss those days sometimes.”
Glad of a conversational topic that didn’t involve her arm or her divorce, Mina asked, “How is Charm doing? And Miss Pearl?”
“Charm is growing like a weed. It’s hard to fathom that she’s almost twelve already, and Granny is doing well, considering her age and the health problems she’s had.”
Kiah’s grandmother had had a stroke just after he’d qualified as a general surgeon, and he’d been his niece’s guardian for five years, ever since his sister Karlene’s untimely and tragic death. Miss Pearl’s ill health had initially drawn him back to St. Eustace, and although the stroke had been minor and Miss Pearl had fully recovered, he’d stayed. While Mina understood the appeal of home and family, she often silently lamented the fact he’d never come back to Canada.
She’d missed him so.
“Twelve, already?” Her mind boggled at the thought. Mina had been at the hospital when the little girl was born. It really didn’t seem that long ago. “That’s crazy.”
Tucking into his food, Kiah just nodded, but she was all too aware of his gaze on her, at least until she picked up her fork and started to eat. Then he relaxed and concentrated on his plate, rather than her.
While they ate, he kept the conversation light, telling her some more about Charm—her dance lessons and determination to be a singer when she grew up—and his cousin’s wedding in Calgary the weekend just gone.
“Was your mother there?”
Kiah shook his head and swallowed before answering. “I was worried that she’d turn up, even though she wasn’t invited, but thank goodness she didn’t. Apparently, I’m not the only person she’s alienated and cut out of her life.”
“No doubt,” she agreed, knowing better than to ask if he’d be looking her up while he was in Toronto.
Kiah’s relationship with his mother had been fraught for as long as Mina had known him, and he’d often said he thought she had an undiagnosed mental disease. Mina wasn’t so sure. To her it seemed more like a personality problem. Mrs. Langdon could put on a nice face to outsiders, but to her children she was mean, selfish and controlling. The kind of person who, because they weren’t happy, felt everyone else around her should be unhappy, as well.
Her assessment seemed to be confirmed when, after Karlene’s death and Kiah’s last big run-in with his mother, Miss Pearl had said, “I’ve known your mother since she was a child, and her parents spoiled her by making her feel she was the most important person in the world. Your father, God rest him, was such an easygoing man he continued that when they married. She never could stand it when she didn’t get her own way, and has to take it out on everyone else when it happens.”
That strained and often frightening relationship with his mother had scarred Kiah in so many ways.
Obviously not wanting to talk about his mother anymore, Kiah said, “I asked Roydon who in their right mind has their wedding in Calgary in January, and you know what he said?”
“What?” she asked, already chuckling. His cousin was a jokester.
“‘Man, what better time to do it? I get to go off on my honeymoon to somewhere warm, while everyone else is here, freezing.’ They’re going to Mexico for two weeks.”
“Hey, you can’t fault his logic,” she said, laughter making her lighter in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. “Lucky them, heading for the sunny south.”
Yet, even with the amusing conversation as he described the wedding and reception, she was on edge, knowing it was only a matter of time before he got on her case about her life.
He finished eating before she did, and leaned back in his chair, his coffee in hand. Mina immediately tensed. She knew that overly casual stance.
“I want to talk to you about something.”
Here it comes.
Trying to be as nonchalant as he pretended to be, she made herself pick up a slice of bacon and wave it in his direction.
“What?”
Had she kept the defensiveness out of her voice? Mina wasn’t one hundred percent sure.
“I want you to come to St. Eustace with me and register as an orthopedic specialist.”
Dumbfounded, she stared at him, the strip of bacon suspended about two inches away from her lips, and like a ninny could only once more say, “What?”
Kiah must have heard the shock in her voice, because he held up his hand and leaned forward, all pretense of casualness gone.
“Hear me out,” he said as she gaped at him. “There’s a new Caribbean Clinicians’ Union formed, and St. Eustace has joined. It gives new doctors a chance to go to various islands and learn from a variety of doctors and specialists. You can help us prepare, in the eventuality we’re accepted into the program.”
Mina just stared at him, still at sea, and Kiah made an impatient sound.
“Don’t you see? We have great doctors, but this is a whole new world to us. We’re not a teaching hospital, so there is some confusion about how to put together a comprehensive training program. This is an area you’re extremely knowled
geable in, and it’s a great way to put some of that knowledge to use. And while you’re there, you can upgrade some of our surgical abilities, too. It would only be for a month or two, or as long as it takes you to put the program together.”
The pain that flashed through her was primal, the anger instinctual and blazing.
“Are you crazy?” Mina realized she was shouting but couldn’t stop herself, and she got up so fast her chair toppled over behind her. “I can’t expose myself like that, in a hospital. What use is a one-handed surgeon? Am I really even a doctor, still?”
She turned away so Kiah couldn’t see how close she was to crying, and the rage left her as swiftly as it had arisen. Her shoulders slumped under the weight of the truth she was about to articulate out loud for the first time.
“Don’t you see? I’m of no use anymore.”
“Nah,” came the stern reply, Kiah’s voice hard, almost cold. “I don’t see that. But what I do see is that you’ve become a coward.”
* * *
Mia spun around so fast she almost lost her footing, and Kiah had to stop himself from jumping up to catch her if she fell. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes, but, as he suspected, she was once more furious, rather than sad.
He much preferred her that way.
“What did you say?”
She wasn’t shouting now but speaking softly, slowly, and that was even more dangerous. But he was committed.
“You’re a coward. Here you are, hiding away, letting all the knowledge you have in your head go to waste, and when I offer you a way back to life, you call me crazy. When you don’t have a feasible argument, turn to insults, huh? Is that how things are going to be?”
Her jaw worked, as though she was trying to get words out, but they were stuck in her throat.
Probably choked by the rage he clearly saw in her eyes.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Kiah? Didn’t you get the memo? I lost my hand. I can’t operate anymore—”
“But you can teach and supervise, help us figure out how best to train the doctors that’ll come to us,” he blatantly interrupted her, which he knew she hated almost more than anything else. “Your skills have attracted everyone from sports stars to politicians to have you work on them. Why let that knowledge and experience, that reputation, go to waste? What else do you have going on? Oh, sitting around, crying and looking out onto the gray winter skies? Sounds lovely.”
