She shrugged. “A few times a month. We have twenty people on our Board of Directors. All of them work with Irene to create fundraisers inside their spheres of influence.”
He stared at her for several seconds before he said, “Love to go with you one time.”
“Sure.” She grabbed her phone off of the table and scrolled through her calendar. “There’s one the last Tuesday of this month. It isn’t a particular group. The restaurant contacted us about hosting it. The owner is contributing the food and staff. I’m really excited about that one. It’s a Haitian restaurant.”
Ken raised both eyebrows. “Bon Manje?”
Surprised, she asked, “How did you know that?”
He shrugged. “Friend of mine is the owner. She’s an amazing chef. You should have a big turnout.”
“I hope so. The money raised at this fundraiser is going to go to furnishing the house we’re building in September.”
“I’ll be there. So will my family.” His eyes lit up in excitement. “What about Thursday?”
She shook her head. “The second Thursday of every month is a board meeting. My grandfather always brings food in.”
The time had come for her to come clean. Her heart started pounding, and her mouth went completely dry. “Ken, I need to tell you something.” Just then, her phone rang. She pressed her lips together and picked it up to see the caller ID. “Papi?” she asked as a greeting.
“Daisy, I’m at the hospital. It’s your mother.”
She stood. Panic grayed out her peripheral vision. Sweat beaded her upper lip. She needed her purse. And keys. “What happened?”
Ken stood with her and put a hand on her shoulder. Immediately, she felt steadier and calmer. Her father said, “Her blood pressure went very high. They’re admitting her and giving her medicine through an IV.”
That didn’t sound too terrible, provided the medicine did its job. “Which hospital?”
“Atlanta community. She’s in room 603.”
She hung the phone up and looked at Ken with wide eyes. He put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed and rubbed. “Tell me where to drive you.”
Thankfully, Ken drove because she didn’t think she would have the focus to remember how to operate a car, much less how to get to the hospital. Ken asked her to buckle up, then he didn’t say another word. He didn’t ask any questions or try to make small talk. Even in his silence, she felt his presence, his strength. He silently soothed the turmoil in her mind. He drove safely and with precision. Within twenty minutes, they stood in the elevator.
Ken spoke for the first time since asking her to buckle her seat belt. “Has your mom ever had issues with blood pressure before?”
Daisy shook her head. “No. Nothing that I knew about.”
He nodded. “It’s one of those things you don’t know is bad until it gets really bad.”
She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his shoulder. He ran a hand up and down her back. “I don’t think I’m thinking very well right now. Thank you for driving.”
He used his finger to lift her chin, so she met his eyes. “If you ever need anything, I’m here for you. Even if it’s just giving you a ride to the hospital.”
Did I truly only reconnect with this man less than a week ago? How can I feel like he had always had a presence by my side? How can I feel like he has always stepped up to help me? Maybe because he’s never left my mind?
The elevator doors opened, and the sign on the wall told them the direction to her mother’s room number. There they found her dad helping to shift the pillow behind her mother’s head. He looked up as they came into the room. “Ola,” he greeted. He glanced at Ken and grinned with recognition. “Which one are you?”
Ken smiled and lifted his hand in a slight wave. “Ken. Good to see you, Marcus.”
“And you. It’s been a long time. Maybe eight years?” He looked down at his wife. “Better?”
“Yes.”
Daisy nervously stepped closer. “What happened, Mamá?”
Her mother replied in Spanish. “I just had such a bad headache. In the back, you know. And then I started seeing spots in front of my eyes, and I felt so nauseated. I tried to talk your dad out of taking me, but he insisted.”
“Beuna,” Daisy said. Good. Then she turned to Ken. “I’m sorry. I just realized that was all in Spanish.”
