Dare to Dream - Donna Hill Mills & Boon Kimani Arabesque

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bedside.

       Rachel slowly backed out of the room, covering her mouth to contain her sobs as she watched the surreal scene unfolding in front of her.

       Out in the hallway she leaned against the wall and shut her eyes. If anyone knew how important Desiree’s work was, it was she. She’d watched her struggle to build her career from nothing to opening her own small shop, spending hours toiling over the perfect combination of colors and form, teaching an art class to poor inner-city kids on weekends to help make ends meet. She was at a major turning point in her career, and now this. Everything she’d worked for up in flames. Gone forever.

       “She’s resting now.”

       Rachel opened her eyes to look into Dr. Bernard’s. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

       He put his hand on her shoulder. “Your friend will be okay. The emotional shock is much more devastating than any of her physical problems. That will take time. I understand that she lost everything, even a place to live. Is there somewhere she can stay when she’s released?”

       “Of course. She can stay with me.”

       “Good. She’ll need a friend. It may be best for her to get away for a while.”

       Rachel nodded her head. “When do you think she can go home—I mean be released?”

       “Depending on her progress, a day or two.”

       “I’ll be here.”

       “Good night. Try to get some rest.”

       Rachel watched as the doctor walked away, made a stop at the nurses’ station, then continued down the hallway. Taking a deep breath of resolve, she headed toward the elevator just as Cynthia got off.

       “Oh, Rachel. Hi.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “How is she?”

       Rachel smiled. “She woke up.”

       Cynthia grabbed Rachel in a bear hug and they both giggled and jumped up and down. When Cynthia stepped back, there were tears in her ocean-blue eyes.

       “Thank goodness,” she murmured, pressing her hand to her chest. “But what are the doctors saying? Is she…really okay?”

       Rachel recapped what Dr. Bernard said.

       The delighted expression on Cynthia’s face slowly diminished by degrees. “Yeah, I guess that’s to be expected. That studio, her work…” She looked Rachel in the eye. “They meant everything to her. And now…”

       “I know. But Desi is tough. She will get through this and she’ll be even stronger when she comes out on the other side. She just needs some time to pull herself together.”

       Cynthia nodded, then her eyes widened in alarm. “What is going to happen with the exhibit? It’s barely two months away. All the preparation…the money.” She pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead and clenched her teeth. “And Carl Hampton…he’s going to go ballistic if he hasn’t already. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised he’s not all over the place like a rash, throwing his weight and his money around.” She gave an exaggerated shiver. “He just rubs me the wrong way.”

       “Well, Desi certainly doesn’t need to be annoyed by Carl right now. Maybe it’s best that he does stay away, at least for the time being.” She checked her watch. “Listen, I’ve gotta run. They gave her a sedative, she got a little upset, so I’m not sure if she is awake. But why don’t you go on in?”

       “Thanks. I just want her to know I’m here.”

       “Okay. Take care.” She stepped onto the elevator just before the doors slid shut.

      Chapter 3

      “You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to, girl,” Rachel said as she put Desiree’s belongings in the guest bedroom. “And as soon as you get your strength back we’ll go on a shopping spree like we used to do back at Howard.” She laughed lightly at the college memory, but got no response from Desiree.

       Desiree wandered over to the canopy bed, sat down on the side and stared out the window. The world didn’t look any different than it had only days ago, she thought. People still moved along as if nothing at all had changed, as if her life and all that she’d lived for hadn’t been destroyed. Couples still walked hand in hand, children still laughed and played, police still wailed their sirens, the sun still rose and set. It was all unreal to her. A part of her mind could not handle the information, because she knew differently. She knew that nothing was the same and never would be again. All she had left were the borrowed clothes on her back and a new toothbrush for all her years of struggle and sacrifice. A tear of desolation slid down her cheek. She covered her face as the sudden onslaught of sobs shook her body.

       “Desi…” Rachel was immediately at her side, gathering her in her arms. “It’s going to be all right. I swear it will. All that stuff is replaceable. I know you’re aching inside, but imagine the world without you in it.” She hugged her tighter.

       “I…I haven’t felt this kind of emptiness since…Lincoln.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed hard. “After him, all I had was my work. I poured all the love I had for Lincoln into building my shop, painting, and…my first show.” She stifled a sob. “Now I have nothing.” She turned to look into the eyes of her friend. “Nothing, Rae.”

       Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she pulled Desiree against her shoulder. Her own heart ached for her friend. All she could do was try to help her through this crisis. Desiree was a strong woman, resilient. All she needed was time to get her feet back under her, and Rachel promised herself that she would do whatever was necessary to make sure she did.

       Desiree wandered around Rachel’s apartment like a ghost for the next week, barely speaking or eating. She refused to see Carl at all and when Cynthia came to visit she hardly acknowledged her presence.

      * * *

       “She doesn’t seem to be getting any better,” Cynthia said as she sat in the kitchen with Rachel sipping on a cup of herbal tea. “Maybe she needs to…you know…see someone.”

       Rachel frowned. “You mean a shrink?”

       “Yes. Maybe it would help. She certainly can’t stay like this. It’s not healthy.”

       “Desiree doesn’t need a shrink, she needs to get her spirit back. I’ve seen her go through this before. She’s healing, in her own way, and when she’s ready she will come out of it. I know Desi, nothing will move her until she’s ready to move.”

       “Well, not to change subjects, but she needs to really start thinking about her business, the show, finding a way to repay Carl. I can only hold him off for so long.”

       Rachel took a deep breath and nodded her head. “She will when she’s ready.”

       Cynthia stood. “It really needs to be soon.” She picked up her purse from the oak table. “Take care. And thanks for the tea.”

       Rachel didn’t bother to walk her to the door. To tell the truth she was glad she was leaving. Cynthia might very well have Desiree’s best interests at heart, but Rachel had never really cared for Cynthia. She simply tolerated her because of Desiree, who swore she couldn’t run things without her, that she was indispensable. What Rachel really believed was that Cynthia was a no-talent artist who happened to fall into Desiree’s lap at a very vulnerable time in her life and decided to latch on to Desi’s coattails. Maybe the real truth was that she was a bit jealous of Desi and Cynthia’s relationship, she grudgingly admitted. Cynthia had been there for Desiree when she really needed someone—that someone should have been Rachel. But she’d been dealing with her own issues at the time. Building her accessory-design business had taken her out of New York for months on end. She was virtually living in Europe when the fiasco with Lincoln had taken place, not to mention her affair with her Italian lover Claudio, and her on-again off-again relationship with Lucas Scott, which almost consumed her.

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