late tonight?” Jessica asked as she entered.
“A little bit. I was just trying to get our new client settled in. Kennedy Daniels, I’d like you to meet Jessica Hubbard. She’s on call nights.”
“Hello, Ms. Daniels. It’s nice to meet you,” Jessica said.
“Likewise. So you’re the one I’m supposed to bug in the middle of the night if I need a drink of water or if I have to potty?”
“Yep. Feel free to bug away. Sorry I wasn’t around when you got in yesterday…I had a minor family emergency. Are you about ready to call it a night? If not, I can come back in a little bit.”
“Thank you, Jessica. I’m pretty beat, so, yes, I’m ready.”
“Well, then. All right, I guess I’ll head out now so you ladies can do your thing. Kennedy, I’ll see you in the morning,” Malik said reluctantly, aware that his time with Kennedy had finally come to an end.
“Fine,” she answered, acutely aware of the fact that at some point during the course of their day together, she had gone from being Ms. Daniels to Kennedy.
Later that night, surrounded by a darkness that she believed she would never become accustomed to, Kennedy’s thoughts drifted to Malik Crawford. She wondered what he looked like and whether his smile came from his eyes. Did his stature match the deep timbre of his voice? What about his hair? His nose….
Chapter 7
Blindness, whether temporary or permanent, was not a condition to which Kennedy found herself able to snap her fingers and adjust to. Waking up, after twenty-eight years of living a full and functional life, to darkness, had sent Kennedy into depression. She oscillated between fighting the feelings of despair and giving in to them completely. All the time she questioned why this had happened to her. Was her current situation a result of something she’d done or some offense against nature she’d unwittingly committed?
She found herself only going through the motions of the rehabilitation regimen the doctors and physical therapists had set out for her. Essentially, she had given up on ever having anything that resembled the satisfying life she used to lead.
The team of professionals who were working to reconstruct her life included a psychologist, Dr. Goodhall. Dr. Goodhall was warm and engaging yet she asked tough questions. Questions that forced Kennedy to think about things she preferred not to dwell on. Kennedy didn’t want to probe into the innermost regions of her sentiments, especially because she was struggling to hold the fragile pieces of her feelings together.
Dr. Goodhall suggested that she allow people to be her comfort and source of strength while she dealt with the difficult transitions that lay ahead. This was a suggestion to which Kennedy objected vehemently. As far as Kennedy was concerned, not her parents, other family members nor anyone could pacify her. Furthermore, she could not take one second of her mother’s theatrical hysteria nor anyone’s pity. She had hit an emotional rock bottom and contrary to popular belief, her misery did not want any company.
Unfortunately, being a resident at Stillwater did not afford her much solitude. There was a steady stream of staff members with whom she had to interact, countless appointments and therapy sessions and then there was Malik.
He arrived knocking at her door every morning at eight o’clock sharp and even when she reported that she did not feel like going out, he quietly insisted that she join him. He talked as if they were going out on a date instead of out for a walk around the grounds of a facility for people with disabilities. In spite of herself, it was his subtle charm that coaxed her out of her room every day without fail.
“Malik, what do you do when you’re not playing caddy to damaged invalids like me?” Kennedy asked one afternoon after Malik had parked her wheelchair off the path that led into the gardens.
“Damaged invalids?” He laughed. “I don’t see any damaged invalids around here.”
“You know what I mean. Let’s face it, this place isn’t exactly crawling with healthy people. So you do this all day long…it’s got to be depressing as hell.”
“Not at all. Actually, I kinda like spending time here. I mean, in this place you’ve got all kinds of people facing some of the most difficult challenges of their lives and many of them do it without complaint. Now take folks who have their health and the use of all their faculties out there. They curse and grumble about everything from their Starbucks not having enough sugar to a traffic light that takes too long to turn green.”
Kennedy thought about what he’d said, wondering if she had been one of those people before her accident. While she didn’t think that was an accurate description of herself, she did realize how much in her life she had taken for granted. She could not remember the last sunset she’d seen, having spent the past few months and years locked inside of Morgan Stanley’s offices until long after dusk every night working away like any good corporate soldier.
“That didn’t really answer your question, did it?” Malik grinned. “All right, well, basically I’m not a partying type of guy. So when I’m not working here, I spend time at bookstores, getting my workout on at the gym…watching a good flick on television. That’s pretty much it.”
“Oh, I doubt that’s it. What about dating? Don’t tell me you’re a monk or something?”
Malik laughed.
“No, I’m not a monk. I just don’t date a lot. Bad breakup a while back, so I guess you could say that I’m just being cautious. There’s a lot of nutballs running around out there disguised as Miss America, you know. What about you? I know there’s got to a whole bunch of guys chasing after you like groupies.”
“Groupies?” Kennedy laughed. “Hardly. It’s just me, my job and, oh, can’t forget about my goldfish…Lucy and Ricardo.”
Malik studied Kennedy’s face for a moment, noting the tension that rested there and in her neck and shoulders. In the days that he’d spent caring for her, he’d come to realize that one of her greatest flaws was also her greatest asset. She was incredibly strong and resilient, yet she had no idea how much of those qualities she possessed. She thought that she’d crumbled beneath the weight of her personal tragedy and yet all he could see was a woman who was incredibly determined to hold on to her life. Kennedy’s only problem was that she believed that she could do it alone.
“Goldfish, huh?”
“Yeah, my neighbor, Victoria, is feeding them while I’m here. I might tell her to keep them if…”
Kennedy’s voiced trailed off.
Malik crouched down beside Kennedy’s chair and plucked a delicate white flower from the bush in front of them. He moved the fragrant blossom up, stopping just beneath her nose. When the scent reached her, she smiled, reaching out to touch it. Her hand brushed against Malik’s and a warm flush coursed through his veins.
“The corydalis is one of the longest blooming flowers in the world. People look at its ferny foliage and graceful flowers and doubt its fortitude. But this is a plant that will find a home in cracks in rocks, on slopes in woodlands and along paths. After that, the corydalis self-sows wherever it can and regenerates for years. In essence, no matter what you do to this little guy, he keeps going, kind of like a certain little lady I know,” he said, releasing the flower to her outstretched hand.
Kennedy accepted the flower and raised her other hand to capture Malik’s fingers. As she laced slender fingers around his large hand, a slow smile formed on her mouth.
“Marci, the visual therapist, keeps telling me that there are so many other ways to see other than with your eyes,” Kennedy said. “What do you think I see right now?”
“I don’t know. Tell me,” Malik asked, his heart caught in his throat.
“I see a man whose heart is gold and whose spirit is benevolent. I see…a very dear friend.”
They sat in the garden for a while