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“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.
One day she swore she’d run so far and so fast they’d never be able to catch her. But for now she just needed to get away. Run, Kelly, run.
“Are you okay?” David placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
Her head snapped up. Her eyes darted left then right. This wasn’t Mississippi. She wasn’t running through the fields, through the swamps. There was no one after her. She’d outrun them all.
Her heartbeat gradually slowed to its normal rhythm.
“Yeah, fine. Just daydreaming, I guess. Um, would you mind getting me a cup of water?”
“Sure.”
David walked the few feet toward the vending machine, stepping around a young man with a prosthetic leg who was slowly limping past him. Accident or casualty of war? He didn’t know. Either way it was a damned shame. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty. Sadder still were all the others who half walked, wheeled or hopped along in various stages of rehabilitation. The waiting area vibrated with the sounds of metal wheels clanging across the linoleum floors or the squeak of rubber-tipped crutches finding traction.
He dropped four quarters into the machine. A bag of corn chips dropped into the tray. He snorted at the irony. Life was all about the luck of the draw, getting the right combination, and praying that when you dropped your coins in the slot of life you got what you needed, what you’d paid your dues for.
David dug into his pocket, pulled out a dollar and put it in the machine. This time he got the water.
“Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She twisted off the top and took two long swallows. That was better. Her stomach muscles relaxed. “Did the nurse say how long?”
David checked his watch then stepped aside as an orderly pushed a wheelchair-bound woman down the hall. “Shouldn’t be any more than a few minutes.”
“Ms. Maxwell…”
“Yes?”
“The doctor will see you now. Treatment room seven. Straight down the hall.”
“See.” He helped her to her feet. David walked slowly beside her. “Ready?”
She nodded. “Let’s do this.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
Chapter 9
Alex stood when Kelly, followed by David, walked through the door.
“Ms. Maxwell.” Alex approached. He extended his hand then realized his faux pas. “I’m Dr. Hutchinson.” He was oddly transfixed by her and didn’t know why. Was it the look of uncertainty in her dark eyes or the cascade of ebony hair that brushed her slender shoulders, framing not a beautiful face by any standards but a rather plain one? Her face was a puzzle of exotic and very ordinary all mixed together.
“I’m David Livingston. Kelly’s coach.”
Alex focused on David. “Mr. Livingston.” He shook David’s hand.
“Call me David.”
Alex nodded but didn’t offer the same familiarity in return. Kelly had yet to speak.
She hopped over to the chair and sat down without a word, thinking that the fabulous Dr. Hutchinson was really the actor Blair Underwood in a lab coat. Dark, handsome, boyish good looks with a maturity that would never age and a subtle sex appeal that wafted around him like a good cologne.
Alex pressed his lips together and exhaled a short laugh. “Why don’t we get started? I’ve gone over your chart and your X-rays.” He perched on the edge of his desk. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Is that really necessary?” David interjected.
Alex turned his gaze toward David. “Whenever I work with a patient, I like to know as much about them as well as everything that led up to them having to see me.” The left corner of his mouth curved in an expression that was a challenge more than a grin.
“I was practicing,” Kelly suddenly said.
Both men turned toward her.
She cleared her throat. “I was getting ready for the trials…the Olympic trials.”
“Next summer, right?”
Kelly nodded her head in agreement.
Alex smiled. “Former track-and-field groupie.” He rested his arms on his thighs. “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked gently.
Kelly told him about that day on the track while David stood in the corner with a petulant scowl on his face and his arms folded.
“I have to be honest with you,” he began once Kelly finished. “The injury that you sustained is quite severe for someone with no previous breaks and for someone in good physical condition. You didn’t step on anything or remember twisting it in an odd way?”
“No. I was running the way I always do. When I made the final turn…” She winced at the memory.
Alex stood. “Okay. We’ll want to run a few tests before we get started and get some new MRIs of that ankle. How does it feel when you put pressure on it?”
“Not bad. More of an ache than a pain.”
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in.”
“Good morning.” Ruby looked from Kelly to David.
“This is my assistant, Ruby Rivers. You’ll be working with her during your rehab.”
“My understanding was that you would be Kelly’s physician, not an assistant,” David said. He said the last word like a curse.
Ruby arched a brow and her neck reflexively jerked back like in her days in the East New York projects.
“Ms. Rivers is a licensed and certified physical therapist. She is the one I’d go to should the need ever arise.” He stepped over to Kelly. “I’ll see you in about an hour after Ruby runs a few tests and takes some information.” He walked to the door and pulled it open. “Mr. Livingston, can I speak with you a moment?”
“I want to wait until Ms. Rivers is done. There may be some questions I can answer.”
Alex glanced in Kelly’s direction and caught the flash of panic that widened her eyes. “She’ll be fine with Ruby,” he said faltering a bit, caught off guard by the expression on Kelly’s face. He put his hand on David’s shoulder and ushered him out. “We can talk in the lounge.”
“I’ve been a fan of yours for a while,” Ruby said.
Kelly offered a faint smile.
“Must be tough being in the spotlight.”
Kelly didn’t respond.
“I’m going to take some blood.” She cleaned Kelly’s arm at the bend of her elbow, prepared the needle and drew two vials of blood.
Kelly looked away until Ruby was finished. Ruby bent Kelly’s arm toward her chest while pressing a sterile gauze at the site of the tiny puncture.
“Just hold that in place for a few minutes.” She put the vials on a tray and filled out two labels. “I really am quite good at what I do.” She turned to Kelly. “And Hutch is even better.” She smiled.
“Hutch?”
“Yes, Dr. Hutchinson. Everyone around here calls him Hutch.”
“Oh.” Kelly smiled, running the name and the image of the man around in her mind.
“He’s worked with some of the greats, from basketball stars to jockeys, and got them back out there,” she assured, hoping to ease the lines of tension that framed Kelly’s dark eyes.
Kelly released a long sigh. “Running is all I’ve ever known,” she said softly.
“One thing my mama always told me was never put all your eggs in one basket. I originally went to school for interior design. Thought I was the next great B. Smith.” She chuckled. “I struggled for about five years when I realized it wasn’t for me or I wasn’t for it.”
“So how did you decide on therapy?”
“My mom had a hip injury about ten years ago. And the doctors really botched it. I had to move back home to help her. I had to learn things just to help her get through her day. I got really interested in the recovery process and didn’t want to see anyone go through what my mother went through. So I went back to school. I actually studied under Hutch. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“How long do you think I’ll have to be here?”
“That all depends on how well you do during the rehab and the extent of your injury. We’ll work with the ankle and the whole body. You’ll be put on a specific exercise regime along with a diet.”
Her heart thumped. “Diet?”
