Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer Read Free Page A

and smiled, shoulder-length reddish dreadlocks moving around her flawless gold-brown face with the motion. She knew Hope’s doctor wanted to suppress her ovulation for an extended period to curtail endometrial tissue growing around her ovaries, colon, bladder, or fallopian tubes.
    â€œHe’s right, you know. I like his advice for you to go home and have a baby. Damn, Hope, you’re thirty-eight years old. What are you waiting for? A change of life baby?”
    â€œI’d like to get married first, thank you.”
    â€œWhat’s up with you and Kendall?”
    Lana mentioning Kendall’s name reminded Hope that he had proposed marriage twelve hours before. She took another sip of the fragrant rose hip tea, peering at her friend over the rim of the cup. “Last night he asked me to marry him.”
    â€œHot diggity damn! Of course you told him yes.”
    Hope stared at a trio of Japanese mimosa trees shading the backyard patio and flower garden of the Harlem brownstone. Lana and her physician husband, Jonathan, had bought the abandoned property five years before. They’d renovated the building, installed an elevator, and used the first floor for Jonathan’s private practice, the street level for Lana’s herbal enterprise, and the second and third floor for their living quarters.
    Sighing, she shook her head. “I didn’t give him an answer one way or the other.”
    â€œAre you crazy? You’ve dated the same man for three years and you can’t give him a simple yes or no?” Lana rolled her eyes. “You’re no different than the people who write to you about not being able to commit.”
    A flicker of annoyance crossed Hope’s features. “It has nothing to do with my not wanting to commit.”
    â€œThen what is it?”
    â€œI’ve been offered a position with an Atlanta talk radio station. The station’s program manager is coming to New York to meet with me at the end of the month.”
    Lana’s jaw dropped. “Oh, shit! That does change a lot of things.”
    Hope smiled for the first time since leaving her doctor’s office. “You’ve got that right.”
    â€œDoes it mean you would have to relocate?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do with Kendall? And if you accept the position, when would you leave?”
    â€œIf I decide to accept the offer, and if all goes well with my health, then I’ll move in late fall.” It was easier to answer Lana’s second question than the first. She did not know what was going to happen between her and KC.
    â€œWhat about Kendall?”
    Hope glared at Lana. She was as tenacious as a dog with a bone. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I suppose we could marry and he or I can take turns commuting between here and Atlanta for the next year. He still has another year before he can opt out his share of his company’s partnership.”
    â€œI suggest you marry Kendall, accept the station’s offer, then move into one of those fabulous upscale communities with the rest of the bougie black power couples. In that order, of course.”
    â€œYou’re a fine one to talk. You and your husband are the epitome of bourgeoisification. Not only have your home and practices been profiled in Essence but that layout in Architectural Digest was the cherry on the cake. So, back it up, girlfriend, when you talk about bougie black folks.”
    Lana threw back her head and laughed. Sobering, she said, “I have some herbal options for your condition. I’m going to give you printouts of several recipes. They’re premenstrual and postmenstrual roots and herbs. You’re also going to have to change your lifestyle. That means watching what you eat and drink. Limit the amount of coffee and alcohol you drink. Lighten up on red meat. Lowering your intake of animal protein and animal fat can decrease harmful levels of