by Donna Hill
After several attempts she was finally able to get the dish out of the oven, while balancing on her crutches and not falling on her face.
She savored every morsel, taking sublime pleasure in each mouthful. It was the first real meal she’d had in a week. But she knew what she’d have to do. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure if only for the moment, dropping her fork against the yellow-and-white-checkered plate.
It was times like this, late in the evening when she wished there was more to her life than the next day on the track. She had no real friends or family. Although she had teammates and they went out from time to time, she never felt like one of them, that she was really accepted. For the most part she kept to herself and was ultimately branded a diva. What a joke. If they only knew.
Kelly pushed up from the table and took her dish to the sink. She turned on the water and watched as it mixed with the remnants of sauce to gather in a stream of red and disappear down the drain. It was as if she were suddenly watching her life dissolve in front of her. All that she’d endured, all that she’d worked for could wash away like the sauce on her plate, disappearing into a black hole of no return—unless she fought back. All she had was her skills. She wouldn’t lose the only thing in life that she’d ever succeeded at—not without a fight.
The phone rang.
She ambled over to the wall phone. “Hello?”
“I know it’s late, but I wanted to check on you.”
“David.” Her insides warmed.
“Did you get your dinner?”
“Yes, I did. Thank you. How…did I get in my room?”
“I carried you. You were totally out of it and I didn’t want to wake you. And I certainly didn’t want you to fall off the couch.”
She laughed. “I didn’t hear a thing.”
“You need your rest. It’s one of the best remedies for any ailment. Do you need anything? I can drive back over if you do.”
As much as she wanted the company she declined. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Well, I’ll be there in the morning.”
“Don’t you have to be at practice?”
“Reggie can run the team through the drills. I don’t want you to be alone.”
She didn’t want to read more into what he said. He was only offering his help to an injured member of his team. He would do the same for any of them.
“I’ll call you when I get up.”
“Make sure that you do,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Good night, K.”
“Good night.”
Thoughtfully she hung up the phone. She’d known David since she was seventeen years old and he was standing at the finish line when she’d won her race at a high school track meet.
“You’re good, but I can make you better,” he’d said by way of introduction.
She bent in half to catch her breath and looked up at him. “Who are you?”
“Your future coach.” He grinned and her heart did a funny little dance in her chest.
“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am.”
She stood up and braced her hands on her hips. “How do you know I want a coach?”
“Because you want to be a winner.” He handed her a towel.
She stared at it for a moment before taking it and wiping her face. “Thank you.”
“So what do you say? If you want me to talk to your family, I will.”
“There’s no one to talk to. Thanks for the towel and the offer. But forget it.” She handed him back the towel, turned and jogged away before he could react.
But as Kelly soon discovered, David was as determined as he was handsome and that was saying something. David Livingston was tall and lean, his features angular but with the kind of even brown complexion that women slaved to maintain. His smile was as generous as his eyes and his deep laughter reminded her of winter nights sitting in front of a fireplace.
He showed up for every track meet. He was the loudest in the stands as she jetted to the finish lines. David became a fixture to a point where she looked for him in the stands, listened for his cheers among the crowd.
Finally one day after practice she walked up to him.
“Okay, I give up. What can you do for me?”
“That’s what I wanted to hear.”
They’d been a “team” ever since.
But not even David knew all her secrets.
Slowly she went into the bathroom, pulled up the toilet seat and stuck her finger as far down her throat as she could.
Chapter 7
“This wheelchair is a bit much, David,” Kelly said as he pushed her through the terminal of American Airlines.
“You may be fast as lightning on the track, my dear, but you need a little work with the crutches. I want to get to the hotel sometime today.”
“Very funny.”
They trailed behind a redcap who pushed a metal cart that was loaded with their baggage.
“There’s a car waiting for us out front. We’ll have you settled in no time.” David weaved in and out of the flow of human traffic mindful of his precious cargo.
As always JFK airport was bustling with activity. The press of people in myriad attire, speaking in every imaginable language, was an awesome experience. The airport was a microcosm of humanity. Voices from unseen sources called out a steam of flights to everywhere in the known world, periodically interspersed with warnings about unattended baggage and the consequences of taking packages from persons unknown to you. A montage of aromas stampeded through the food court reminiscent of raucous stadium revelers doing a victory dance. The occasional National Guard patrolled the walkways, a holdover from 9/11.
“At least they cut the cast down,” Kelly said as they made it toward the exit doors. “I never would have made it through this crowd to the flight with my leg sticking out a mile in front of me.”
“It’s progress. I told you that you would be back in no time. It’s only been four weeks and look how far you’ve come.”
“Although this space boot isn’t a fashion statement.”
David chuckled and pushed open the glass doors.
The first blush of New York City welcomed them with a cool breeze and a spring shower.
A middle-aged man decked in a black suit, striped shirt and shiny black tie stood in front of a silver stretch limo holding up a sign with David’s name on it.
“Right here,” David instructed the redcap, pointing to the driver.
“Welcome to New York, Mr. Livingston, Ms. Maxwell. I’m your driver, Bill.” He turned to Kelly. “Let me help you into the car, ma’am.”
“I can—”
But before she’d finished her sentence, he’d lifted her from the wheelchair as if she were no heavier than a bag of rice and gently put her in the backseat.
“There’s juice, soda, snacks and the buttons above you control the music, DVD player and the air,” Bill said before backing out of the car door. He straightened and turned to David who immediately held up his hands.
“I think I can get in by myself.”
“Of course, Mr. Livingston.” He stood aside.
David got in and sat opposite Kelly. “Efficient,” he muttered then shut the door behind him.
Kelly giggled. “I thought for sure he was gonna pick you up, too.”
David reached for a bottle of chilled water from the bucket of ice. “So did I. But we would have had to fight.” He twisted off the top then took a long swallow. “Aaah. You okay?” He took another gulp.
“Fine.” She propped her leg up along the length of the wraparound leather seating.
The motion of the car
rocked them gently against the plush interior. Kelly looked out the tinted windows as the landscape of the Big Apple spread out in front of her. Buildings rose toward the cloudy skies, murky silhouettes against the light gray backdrop. She was missing home already.
“How much do you know about this doctor-therapist, whatever he is?” she asked tersely.
“I checked Dr. Hutchinson’s credentials thoroughly. He’s worked with plenty of athletes. He’s one of the best.”
Kelly looked away. “How long do we have to stay here?”
“Until you’re better.” He glanced at her profile. Her mouth was a tight line as it always was when she was upset, worried or concentrating on the track. This was not the track. “You want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
“Nothing,” she muttered.
“Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
She folded her arms. “Sure.”
“Hungry?”
“No.”
“You really haven’t been eating lately. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Please stop asking me.”
“All right, all right. Take it easy.”
She pushed out a breath. “I’m sorry. Guess my nerves are getting the best of me.”
David leaned over and took her hand. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly she did.
“Haven’t I always taken care of you?”
“Yes.”
“Have I ever let you down?”
“No.”
“Then that’s all you need to remember.”
“But what if someone finds out?”
“They won’t. They won’t,” he repeated. “All you have to do is follow the instructions of the therapist and the rest will take care of itself.”
The car slowed then came to a stop. Moments later, Bill opened the door. David got out first, went around to the trunk and retrieved Kelly’s crutches. Together he and Bill helped her from the car.
“What…no wheelchair?” Kelly quipped while gaining her balance.
“Time is no longer of the essence.”
Bill signaled the bellhop and they loaded the luggage onto a cart.
The decor of the Marriott was gracefully elegant. A dazzling chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling was the centerpiece of the circular floor. Light touches of gold filigree graced tables, the edges of counters and the reception desks. The hotel was busy. There was a steady movement of guests and uniformed hotel staff, but not one seemed to pay Kelly any undue attention. In a town like New York, celebrities were a dime a dozen.
“Welcome to the Marriott,” the concierge greeted. “I hope you have a lovely stay with us and if there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable, Ms. Maxwell, please let me know.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“If you will follow me, I’ll personally escort you to your room. You’re all checked in.”
“You have her in the presidential suite, correct?” David asked.
“Of course. Only the best. And it has the connecting suite as you requested.”
David nodded. “Excellent.”
“Connecting suite?” Kelly mouthed to David.
“We’ll talk upstairs.”
Once they were settled and the concierge had bowed his way out, Kelly didn’t waste a moment in getting to the connecting suite situation.
“You want to tell me now?”
“Look, I plan to be here for the next two weeks. You’re going to need help. What sense does it make for me to be in a completely different room, possibly on a different floor, in case of an emergency?”
She’d have to be extra careful. David must never know. There were many things she shared with David, but this could not be one of them. No one must find out. She was too ashamed.
“Fine. I suppose you’re right. Just make sure you knock first.”
He chuckled. “The door locks from your side.”
Her lips flickered ever so slightly until they formed the halo of a smile. She half walked, half hopped toward the couch and sat down. She looked up at him then stretched out her hand.
David walked toward her, took her hand then sat down. “What?” His voice was a gentle nudge.
“If I haven’t told you thank you—then thank you—for everything. I don’t know how many strings you had to pull to get me here. I did my research, too. This Dr. Hutchinson is booked through the year.”
He tightened his hold on her hand and looked her deep in the eyes. “I told you, whatever needed to be done to help you I was going to make it happen.”
Kelly lowered her gaze. “I owe you so much.” She looked up and stared into his eyes.
David felt himself being pulled into the midnight pools of her eyes. It would be so easy to kiss her right at that moment. Easy to loosen the barrette that held her hair in place and watch it fall in waves across her shoulders. So easy to lean her back against the pillows of the couch and caress the skin that he knew would feel like satin beneath his fingertips.
David forced a smile. “I’d better unpack.” Quickly he stood before desire outweighed reason. “Why don’t you order room service? Let’s see if the hotel lives up to all its hype.” He started to walk toward the door that separated them. “I’ll be back in a few.”
Kelly didn’t trust herself to speak so she simply nodded her head. Once David closed the door behind him, she finally released the breath she’d held. How was she going to be able to get through the next two weeks with David less than one hundred feet away every night?
Chapter 8
Dr. Alex Hutchinson strolled casually down the corridor of New York University Hospital, while studying the chart he held in his hand.
Kelly Maxwell. 29. Track star… He reviewed the details of her injury and his gut instinct and years of experience told him only a miracle would have her running again, at least competitively.
“Dr. Hutchinson, good morning,” said Ruby Rivers, his assistant, falling in step next to him.
Ruby had been assigned to him since he started at NYU six years earlier. She was bright, hardworking and totally no-nonsense. Over the years they’d grown from working companions to best friends. Ruby was the older sister he never had. Alex relied on Ruby’s mother wit and sense of humor on more days than he could count. He knew she was probably near fifty but she didn’t look a day over thirty.
“Aren’t we being formal today,” Alex commented, flipping the page on the chart.
“Have to keep up appearances, Hutch. Wouldn’t want the staff to think that you were actually nice enough to have friends.” She winked. “So who do we have today?”
“Kelly Maxwell.”
“The Kelly Maxwell—the track star?”
“One and the same.”
Ruby took the chart from Alex. Her dark brown eyes quickly scanned the pages.
“Hmm. Serious injury.” She looked up at Alex, then handed back the chart.
“You don’t usually see this kind of injury in someone her age and what I would assume to be in good health.”
“My thought, too.”
“We’ll take a look and map out a plan like always.” He glanced down at her and smiled. “Miracles happen every day.”
“If anyone down here on earth can pull off a miracle, it’s you.”
“Flattery like that will get you a free lunch.”
“That’s what I was batting for.”
“How well I know you, Ms. Ruby.”
Kelly came to a halt in front of the hospital doors. “There’s going to be forms to fill out.” Her full features were pinched tight.
David put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Stop worrying. Just get better.” He kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s get you inside, we’re causing a traffic jam standing here like this.”
“We’re here to see a Dr. Hutchinson,” David said to the nurse at the circular reception desk.
“Name?”
“Kelly Maxwell,” David said.
The nurse typed in the information in the computer, then took a set of forms and attached them to a clipboard. “Ms. Maxwell will need to complete these. As soon as she’s done I’ll send her in. What kind of insurance does she have?”
David gave her the name of the insurance carrier, and then took the clipboard. He joined Kelly on the bench.
“Here, you need to fill these out.”
Panic lit her eyes like fireflies in a night sky.
He sat beside her. “Fill in your name on the first line and check ‘no’ for all of the questions,” he instructed in a low voice.
She pressed her lips together in concentration, forming one letter after the other. Today was worse than usual. Stress.
After what seemed more like hours than minutes, Kelly put the pen down and handed the papers to David.
He smiled. “You did good,” he whispered. “I’ll give this to the nurse and be right back.”
Kelly watched David walk away then engage in lively conversation with the nurse. She twisted her hands in her lap. Perspiration began to dot her forehead. She wanted to run but she couldn’t. The contents of her stomach rose to her throat. She felt ill, always did at times like this—especially over the last two years when the stress and pressure of competition had escalated.
It began with the feeling of panic, as if the walls were closing in on her, followed by waves of nausea that would only subside after ingesting large amounts of food, only for her to purge it all. It was a vicious, ugly cycle that had become a part of her life. A part that she kept hidden from everyone, even David. Sometimes panic wasn’t even the catalyst to set her off. It could be anything, anything that made her remember the young girl she’d once been. Run, Kelly, run. Jeering laughter. She ran faster, as fast as she could to get away from her tormentors—the girls and the boys who reveled in her misery.
