A Lowcountry Bride by Preslaysa Williams

“Where am I?” Maya’s eyes fluttered open. The sound of a steady beep caught her attention, and she tilted her head to the right. A heart rate machine. She was in the hospital.

Someone must’ve seen her fall in the middle of the street and called the ambulance. Maya didn’t remember any of it. Man, she must’ve been out cold. She couldn’t stay in this hospital for long, though. Maya had an important work conference call tonight. She couldn’t be laid up in bed.

Maya shifted her body and sat upright. A throbbing pain sizzled down the right side of her neck. She groaned but ignored the feeling. Maya needed to figure out when she’d be discharged. Hopefully it was today.

A creak at the door alerted her attention. A man in a white hospital coat with a stethoscope at his neck stood at the door and checked his clipboard. “Maya Jackson?”

“That’s me.”

“I’m Dr. Nguyen. Pleased to meet you, but in unfortunate circumstances. You had quite a fall. How are you feeling?”

Horrible.“I’m fine. I really am feeling better.”

He looked at Maya, a clinical curiosity etched into his features. “I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Jackson. We ran some X-rays and did some minor blood work. You have sickle cell, correct?”

“That’s correct.”

The doctor scribbled something on his clipboard. “Have you had a transfusion recently?”

“Yes. I have one every month.”

“Good to hear, Ms. Jackson. To play it on the safe side, we’ll have you stay in the hospital overnight. Make sure you don’t have anything more serious that can arise later on.”

Maya’s heart rate revved. She didn’t need another hiccup in an already complicated work relationship. “Overnight? I can’t stay here overnight. I just fell. Not a big deal. What time is it anyway? I have to be on a call soon.”

“It’s seven fifteen in the morning,” Dr. Nguyen said.

A whole day had passed, and she’d missed that conference call. That wasn’t good. As head designer, she needed to be on top of everything. Laura would side-eye her for days. “Morning?” Maya groaned. “I missed an important call for work.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that. I’ll figure it out somehow.” She glanced around the sterile hospital room. “My purse. I had my purse with me, and it had an important form in it. Where’s my purse?”

“I’m pretty sure that the staff put it in a locker for safekeeping.”

“Pretty sure but not certain,” Maya said. “Can you check?”

He paused and then nodded once. “Will do.”

“Thank you.” She twirled a lock of hair around and around, thinking about that paper she needed to sign to confirm her position at Laura Whitcomb Inc. Since Maya missed that conference call, would Laura rescind her offer? It was possible. Very possible. Maya needed to sign that form and return it quickly, just in case Laura changed her mind.

Maya had stuck the HR paper in her purse, folded it very carefully so that it wouldn’t crinkle. Now she had to take the word of this doctor that it was still there.

And she missed the conference call. Did she mention that?

“Now that you’re conscious, I want to ask you a few questions about your health history.” He flipped through the paper on his clipboard. “Besides sickle cell anemia, do you have any significant chronic issues?”

She hated this part. “No. I take care of myself. I’m mindful of how to manage my sickle cell. This fall doesn’t make any sense.”

The doc scribbled something else in his notes. “I believe you. Are there any other stressors in your life that could’ve caused the fainting?”

Too many. Like her boss who wanted to take all of her creative work right out from under her, but Dr. Nguyen was a medical doctor, not a therapist. What would he care? “Oh, you know. The typical work stressors.” She gave a half-smile, not wanting to get into it.

“Work stressors can be tough.”

Maya blinked a lot, because if she said anything now, she’d probably burst into tears.

“Let me ask you one question. Have you done anything for fun?”

“Yes. I’ve worked. Work is very . . . fun . . .” Maya shook her head. “Work hasn’t been fun at all. I didn’t know my new position at my job would cost me my designs.”

“And your health,” Dr. Nguyen added.

“What do you mean my health? I’ve always had issues with my health. I have sickle cell.”

“Having sickle cell means that you need to be extra gentle with yourself. Especially emotionally. You should focus on work that gives you joy. Your body is saying the same thing. Any extra stressors could shorten your life even more than the sickle cell does. Try to slow down. Your life depends on it.”

Her life depended on it. Those words hit hard. Those words hit home.

“I’m going to make my rounds. The nurse will be here in an hour or so, but I want you to take care of yourself. Listen to your gut. If you’re feeling pressured in any way, step back and slow down. Self-care should be your priority above anything else.”

After he left, Maya rested her head on the pillow. Self-care, huh? Whenever anyone mentioned “self-care,” Maya envisioned spending money she didn’t have on fancy spa retreats, massages, and facials. Was it really as simple as listening to her instincts, stepping back, and slowing down?

Perhaps it was that simple, but it definitely wouldn’t be easy. If Maya made her personal sense of peace a priority above all else, then that would mean removing the biggest source of stress in her life: Laura Whitcomb and her stupid ultimatums.

All this time Maya figured that becoming head designer would somehow make her better in every way. Yet here she was, lying in the hospital and hurting.

This sucked. Working with Laura under the conditions she’d placed on Maya would only make things worse. Yet walking away from this position would mean she was letting herself and her mother down.

Maya closed her eyes and exhaled. Her mother wouldn’t want to see her in the hospital, though. Pops was right when he’d said she’d want to see Maya happy, not stressed out and suffering.

Maya bit her lower lip, and sadness shrouded her. She’d have to let this head designer position go. Maya would have to believe in herself, in the value of her work, in her ability to make good on her work. Could she do it? Was she strong enough? Was she brave enough to walk away from this One Big Dream?

She recalled Derek’s encouragement and his unwavering belief in her designs, his unwavering belief in her. A sense of excitement welled up inside of Maya. She had never given herself permission to branch out on her own, but now she had. Maya could be an independent bridal gown designer. It would be scary, but also deeply fulfilling. Building a business would take time, but this would be time well spent.

Low chatter outside of her hospital room interplayed with her thoughts. Her life was more important than being head designer. Her creative gifts were more important than having them taken by the Laura Whitcomb brand.

Maya would have to do this.

Excitement bounced around in her spirit, awaiting her decision. Just then, a nurse’s aide walked in and held out her purse. “The doc said you were looking for this.”

Maya’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Oh yes, I was.”

The nurse’s aide set the purse on her bedside table and left. Maya reached over and grabbed her cell phone to scroll for any new messages. There were missed calls from Laura and Derek. She made a mental note to contact them and her father after she recuperated a bit more. She still felt a little dizzy, and she needed to figure out this job thing.

Maya riffled through the contents of her purse. Everything was there, including the HR paperwork that showed her new salary and stuff. The paper she was supposed to sign. The one she risked her relationship with Derek and risked her health over. Seemed like this fancy promotion wasn’t even worth it now.

Maya put the paper away. She wasn’t going to sign it.

Instead, Maya would take this little window of time she had left on the planet and live for herself. She’d stand up for her creative worth.

And she’d stand up for love.