Back to Your Love Page 6

  Xavier placed a couple of calls while he had the quiet on his side: one to the electric company to ask again if they’d consider giving the center a discounted rate, and another to a local warehouse club to negotiate whatever savings he could on food. The warehouse club was happy to give the center an upgraded membership at no charge, as well as a revolving line of credit. The electric company rep was much less helpful; all they could promise was that someone from regional management would get back to him within ten business days.

  He’d just hung up with the warehouse club when Tori Gray strolled in. Tori, an education major at Shaw University, was one of the two paid part-time staffers. The petite blond, known for the sky-blue streaks in her hair, came in toting an armload of textbooks. “Hey, Mr. Whitted.”

  “Hey, Tori.” He greeted her while making a note of his phone calls and the results inside the center’s ledger.

  “What’s wrong with you? Your face is looking sorta long.” Tori ducked into her cubicle to set down her books and purse, then came to stand by his desk.

  “No luck with the electric company. They’re still putting me off. But the warehouse club worked with me.”

  Tori nodded. “You’re a magician, Mr. Whitted. I tried with them last week, and they wouldn’t give me anything.”

  “Must be my natural charm and charisma.”

  Chuckling, Tori started walking toward the hallway. “I’m going to get the snacks set up for the rug rats. They’ll be here pretty soon.”

  He looked at his wristwatch and saw that it was ten after two. “You’re right. Any volunteers here yet?”

  “Yeah. Rick and JoJo are already in the cafeteria.” She glided out of the room.

  Xavier sat back in his chair for a moment, to savor the few remaining minutes of silence.

  Half an hour later, he stood at the front door of the center, holding it open and welcoming the kids inside.

  Xavier spotted Trent Holmes, one of the kids he kept an especially close eye on. Trent wore his usual baggy jeans and blue sneakers. He also wore a black Wu-Tang Clan sweatshirt, with the hood drawn up to obscure his downcast face. With a gentle tug, Xavier pulled Trent out of line and off to the side, to keep him from clogging up incoming traffic. The thirteen-year-old frowned but knew better than to make a fuss. Trent stood by the door, basically pouting, until everyone was inside and the doors closed.

  Xavier turned to his young charge. “What’s up, T? Why did you come in here with your face dragging the ground?”

  Trent pursed his lips and groaned. “Come on, Mr. W. Why you sweatin’ me?”

  Tugging the dark hood away from the youngster’s face, Xavier shook his head. “I’m not sweating you, Trent. But I will if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  Trent’s eyes darted around, as if he were looking for an escape. Seeing none, he sighed. “Can we at least go upstairs, so everybody don’t have to know my business?”

  “Fair enough.” Xavier crossed the common area and climbed the old cement stairs, with Trent close behind.

  On the second floor, Xavier escorted Trent into a vacant classroom often used by the center counselors. It was equipped with a few armchairs and a desk. Xavier sat behind the desk while Trent took an armchair facing him.

  Xavier rested his elbows on the desk and tented his fingertips. “What’s up, Trent?”

  Trent’s eyes were downcast. Studying his lap, he spoke quietly. “Man, I was by my locker, right? And Moms had gave me her EBT card this morning, so I could go by the store when I leave here and get some bread and stuff.”

  Xavier nodded, listening intently for the problem.

  “Anyway, I was talking to some dudes between classes by my locker. Reached in my pocket to loan a dude a pencil, and the damn—”

  Xavier cut him a look.

  “I mean the dang EBT card falls out of my pocket and hits the floor. Next thing you know, dudes is clowning me because my moms gets food stamps and sh—I mean stuff.”

  “So your friends tried to clown you, and you don’t like it. I get it. Did you cuff anybody?”

  He shook his head. “No, I didn’t start no brawl. But I wanted to throat punch one of them dudes, man. I mean, I wanted to real bad.”

  Xavier watched the way Trent’s expression gave away his hurt and frustration, and he sympathized with the boy. He’d experienced his share of lean years as a child as well. “I don’t know if this helps, but I really respect and admire you, Trent.”

  The boy’s eyebrows knit, and he looked in Xavier’s direction. “Why, Mr. W? I just stood there and let them make a fool of me.”

  “No, you didn’t. You were mature enough to manage your anger without knocking a dude out. I know it wasn’t easy, but it does make you worthy of respect.”

  Trent straightened up in the chair, and some of the negative emotions in his features seemed to drain away. “Really? That’s real nice of you, Mr. W.”

  “It’s the truth. I know grown men sitting in jail right now because they didn’t have enough self-control to squash it before things got out of hand. I’m proud of you, Trent.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  “No problem. And remember this: you shouldn’t be ashamed that your mother is getting food stamps. Everybody goes through hard times now and then. Your mother is just doing what she has to do to take care of you.”

  A crooked half smile spread across Trent’s face. “I guess you’re right.”

  Xavier chuckled. “I’m always right. Now go on downstairs and grab your snack.”

  “Yes, sir.” Trent, never one who needed to be offered food twice, got up from the chair. Slinging his book bag over his shoulder, he disappeared from the room.

  Xavier remained behind the desk for a few moments, thinking about the conversation they’d just had. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but he was particularly fond of Trent. The teen was a talented sketch artist and smart as a whip, though he often hid his intelligence to fit in with his peers. Still, there was no doubt in Xavier’s mind that Trent would grow up to do great things.

  And Xavier was proud to be a part of helping Trent, and all the other kids at the center, grow into a bright and productive future.

  * * *

  Imani sat at her desk Thursday morning, an open copy of News and Observer spread out before her. The wall clock displayed fifteen minutes to nine, and she didn’t have any appointments until ten thirty that day. She’d come in early out of habit, and in case any walk-in patients showed up before that time. Even if no patients arrived, she’d have a little time to tie up yesterday’s loose ends and start her day out on the right foot. Maya was already at the reception desk, as she was every morning by eight. She could hear her cousin typing on the computer, likely surfing the Internet. She took a sip from her mug of sugar-sweetened black coffee and began reading an article in the local section about the city council race.

  According to the article, the incumbent, Givens, was a fine, upstanding man, with a faithful wife and two perfect adult children. He’d served three terms on the council, had a degree in political science from North Carolina State University, and had championed lowering local taxes. She could see how that might make him popular with the citizens of his district.

  Xavier, however, was portrayed as an upstart who had little chance of unseating the older man. He was single, which was apparently a detriment, and had no previous political experience. Xavier had helped build homes with Habitat for Humanity, operated a local youth center, and participated in food drives and fund-raisers all over the city. Despite his extensive and continual work with the poor and underprivileged population, local political analysts didn’t place much stock in Xavier’s chance of winning. Reading the article made her want to chuckle.

  She wouldn’t allow her past to ruin Xavier’s chances of winning the election. She had no doubts that if he won, the city would be better of
f.

  As she moved on to another article about possible rate hikes for customers of a local power company, she heard footsteps in the tiled hallway leading to her office. Looking up, she saw Maya stick her head in the door.

  “Imani, you’ve got a walk-in,” she announced, brushing a strand of her long, wavy, brown hair out of her face. “Are you up for it?”

  Imani nodded. “Put them in exam room one. I’ll be there in a second.”

  As Maya walked away, Imani stood. Grabbing her white lab coat embroidered with the words Dr. Imani Grant, MD, FAAD, she slipped it on over her navy-blue pencil skirt and powder-blue blouse. Then she took the clipboard she kept new patient notes on from her desk, and left the office and eased down the hall to the examination room.

  She knocked softly on the closed door, then took the patient intake form from the plastic holder and attached it to her clipboard.

  A soft female voice called, “Come in.”

  Imani opened the door and stepped inside.

  The room, with its lavender walls and close-up photos of Maya’s violet orchids, seemed to close in on her as she saw the face of her patient.

  Glancing at the chart to see the name written on it, she felt her pulse quicken. What the hell is Cassidy Lyons doing here? They hadn’t seen each other in years, but she would never forget the face of her old coworker. Cassidy had worked as a secretary at the same firm Imani had, the place where Imani had experienced that…unfortunate encounter. The place she still strove to forget. Drawing a deep breath to compose herself, she spoke. “Ms. Lyons. What brings you here?”

  “Hey, girl,” the woman said, a wide smile on her face. “No need for that Ms. Lyons stuff. Just call me Cassidy.”

  “If you insist.” Imani closed the door behind her and plopped down on the swivel stool next to the exam chair. Her mind raced as she tried to think of a way out of the situation she was in. Now that Cassidy had already been checked in, though, it would be unprofessional to kick her out because of a personal issue. She thought the best course of action was to keep things professional, so she looked over the intake form again. “I see that you’re having some problems with rough skin?”

  Cassidy’s green eyes filled with a mixture of humor and understanding. “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” She flipped her long, straight, brown hair over her tan shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to make waves.”

  Imani sighed. Cassidy Lyons had all the features of a beautiful woman: glossy hair, a petite figure, and impeccable taste in clothing. Back when they’d worked together, Cassidy had always been friendly. Still, seeing her brought back memories of a time Imani would rather forget. Lowering her voice, she admitted, “No one here knows about my days at Doyle and Callahan, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  She nodded. “Like I said, I’m not here to make trouble for you. I really am here about my skin.” She turned slightly and pulled up the hem of her orange sweater. “See?”

  Imani inspected the thick, scaly patches circling Cassidy’s small waist above the band of her dark denim jeans. The layer of dry, cracked skin was certainly cause for concern. A measure of relief spread through her as she scooted her stool closer. “Let me take a closer look at that.” She moved away long enough to don a pair of gloves, then gently inspected the area with her fingers.

  “What do I have, Doc?” Cassidy’s question broke through her thoughts.

  She tossed the gloves. “Looks like mild to moderate plaque psoriasis. It’s pretty common, and I can prescribe you a corticosteroid cream to treat it. If that doesn’t provide enough relief, we can try adding a topical vitamin D.”

  Seemingly satisfied, Cassidy let her sweater fall back into place. “Sounds good. You know, I never imagined I’d find myself in North Carolina.” She emphasized the last two words, as if she preferred to be elsewhere.

  Imani slid back to the desk and extracted the prescription pad from her coat pocket. “How did you end up here?” She hadn’t seen Cassidy since her days at Spelman.

  Cassidy shrugged. “I’m seeing someone, and he moved me up here recently.”

  “Hopefully our little city will grow on you. Besides, this man must be pretty serious about you to pay your moving expenses.”

  “Nah. He’s serious about having me close by when he wants me.” Sadness entered Cassidy’s dark eyes as she spoke, but in a second, it was gone.

  In response, Imani gave only a brief nod of understanding. She knew the implications of Cassidy’s words, but she also knew it was not her place to sit in judgment of another woman’s choices. “Are there any other places where the scales have flared up?”

  “Yes. On my arms.” This time Cassidy rolled up her sleeves.

  “I see.” Imani noted that her forearms were dappled with the same irritated patches of skin. Knowing the best drug for the case, she reached into an inner pocket of her medical coat for a pen. Imani scribbled the prescription onto the top sheet, then tore it from the pad and handed it to her. “While you’re here, is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Cassidy shook her head. “I’ve been looking for someone to take a look at my skin for a couple of weeks. When I saw the advertisement in the paper last Sunday with your picture, I decided to come here.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Imani stood. “Fill the prescription as soon as you can, and use it for a couple of weeks. If you don’t see any improvement, make sure you schedule a follow-up with me, okay?” She smiled and held out her hand.

  Cassidy stood too, but instead of shaking her hand, she grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug.

  Surprised, Imani returned the gesture.

  “You did really well for yourself.” Cassidy’s voice was an emotional whisper. “I’m glad to see you doing so well.”

  As they moved apart, Imani said genuinely, “Thank you.”

  With a teary smile, Cassidy slipped from the room, leaving Imani alone.

  In the silence that followed, Imani reflected on the two very different paths their lives had taken. Cassidy was a lovely, intelligent, witty woman, but it was obvious she was unhappy with her current situation.

  Imani tucked her prescription pad back into her lab coat and gathered her clipboard. As she left the room, a favorite quote of her late grandmother, Helene, entered her mind.

  There but for the grace of God, go I.

  Chapter 5

  Arms laden with goodies, Xavier shifted his load around until he had a free hand. Hauling three oddly shaped cardboard boxes while wearing a business suit wasn’t the easiest of tasks, but he had a mission. It was the second Monday since her practice had opened, and he planned on brightening her day. Grabbing the metal handle of the glass-paneled door, he entered Grant Dermatology with a smile on his face.

  Seated behind the reception desk was Imani’s cousin, Maya. He knew her well, having hung out with her back in the day, when he and Imani were high school sweethearts. Over the years, he’d often crossed paths with Maya at Alma’s house, and she’d always been pleasant.

  Maya stood and smiled when she saw him come in. “Xavier. How have you been? Haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “Good morning, Maya. I’ve been well, and you?” He moved toward the desk, careful to keep a tight grip on his boxes.

  “Can’t complain. Let me help you with that.” She walked over to him and took the wide, flat box from him. “Carson’s Bakery? Is this what I think it is?”

  “It’s two dozen specialty doughnuts,” he answered, lifting the other two boxes, “and a couple gallons of coffee.” Carson’s, a family owned operation, was famous in the city for their handmade cupcakes and doughnuts, which were considered the best in town.

  Maya placed the box on the lip of the reception desk and took a peek inside. Inhaling the fragrance of the freshly made doughnuts, she groaned. “Thank you, Xavier. You’re now officially my
best friend.”

  The remark made him chuckle. “I hope you and the staff enjoy them. Where do you want me to put the coffee?”

  “Come on. We’ll set this up in the break room.” Picking up the box of doughnuts, she led him into the corridor and to the break room. Once they’d placed the food on the counter, they returned to the reception area.

  Leaning against the reception desk while Maya took her seat, Xavier spoke. “I don’t want to cause any interruptions to the office, but I was wondering if—”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Imani emerged from the corridor. She was dressed in a blue dress, covered by her white lab coat. Her hair was wound up in a bun at the back of her head, revealing the lines of her soft features. Heels the same shade as her dress capped her long legs, and her attention was focused on a clipboard in her hand. “Maya, have you heard from the medical supply company yet?”

  Maya, wearing an amused smirk, shook her head. “Not yet, Imani. But if you bothered to look up from your notes, you’d see you have a visitor.”

  Imani raised her eyes, looking first at Maya before her gaze swung to Xavier.

  He stuck up his hand in a wave. “Good morning, Imani.”

  For a moment, she let her surprise show, then a slight smile graced her cherry-red lips. “Morning, Xavier. What are you doing here?”