He awoke to his alarm going off. He had just over an hour to get packed and off to catch his plane. He hated New York. It reminded him to much of his ex-wife, and the bitterness he felt towards her. He never understood how she could not take more interest in their daughter. She preferred the lights and glitz, while he preferred the beauty and perfection that was his daughter's gymnastics. This house in Florida was his refuge from the dog eat dog world of advertising, and some how kept him above all the fighting that occurred in New York. His staff remained in New York, but in this day of electronics, it was not a concern. His hope was three days and he would seal yet another large contract, and then he and Beth could focus on getting her well.
He peeked in on Beth, and saw she was fast asleep. She was still in her robe from last night. She looked so peaceful sleeping; it tugged at his heart that he would have to be away from her while she was still so vulnerable. He went to his shower and quickly washed and shaved. He selected a dark blue Armani suit to wear, and two others to take with him. A quick call to his pilot to let him know he would soon be on his way, and he was set.
The guard at the gate of the secluded community called and said there was a young woman that was here to see him, and he instructed the guard to let her in. He stood on the front step of the house as she pulled into the drive. "Ms. Frazier I presume?" he asked. The young woman got out of the compact car and walked up to the front door. She was taller than he expected and had short brown hair with eyes that matched. She walked with confidence and extended her hand.
"Mr. Blackford? Nice to finally meet you sir. I am Amy Brock." Her handshake was firm, and she maintained eye contact with him while she spoke. He liked her instantly. He asked her to brief him on her plans for therapy for Beth. In 15 minutes she had covered her plan, and he agreed with all of it.
"I think you will find everything you need to work with her right here. The gym is out back, and anything you need can be delivered to you. I ask only that you allow no one in here. Beth knows who is allowed here. There are a couple of vehicles in the garage, but I do not anticipate you needing to use them. I have a calling service screening calls. IF you need me day or night I have left my number on this phone. Call me on it." He handed her a new IPhone.
"Thank you sir, but aren't you going to miss your flight?' Amy asked.
"It's my plane. They will wait. Now are there any questions?"
"No sir. I can handle it," she answered firmly.
"Ok. Have a look around. Beth is sleeping right now so make yourself at home. You can stay in a room here in the house or there is a guest quarters off the gym in back. Whichever you feel more comfortable with is fine," he said. With that he got into the Lexus SUV parked in the driveway and was gone.
Amy walked through the front door and could not believe her eyes. She knew that there had to be money to live in such a gated community, but by the looks of this place Dan Blackford was very well to do. She walked through the house admiring the décor. From the professional kitchen to the pool that connected the gym to the house it was all topnotch. The gym was better equipped than the health club she belonged too, and it looked like the beach was private. It was a life she could only imagine.
Wandering back into the house, she heard stirring down the hall. "Ms. Blackford? Is that you?" she called out.
"Yes, down here. I think I missed saying goodbye to daddy," a voice answered.
Amy opened a door at the end of the hallway, and stepped in to the room. She had watched Beth in the Olympics, and had seen the footage of her injury, but was amazed at how pretty she was in person. The cameras did not do justice to her. She was simply beautiful. "Your dad just left, and he said to tell you he will call when he gets in. Oh, and that he loves you," Amy said.
Beth smiled a dazzling smile. "That sounds like him. I take it you are here to watch over me for a few days."
"I am Amy. I guess I forgot my manners."
"I'm Beth and I am starving and probably need to dress. I had a good shower last night so I think I am good to go," Beth said with a giggle. "I might need a little help with the dressing, but not as much as daddy thinks I do. The closet is over there. Sweat pants and a sweatshirt would be great if you could grab them for me."
Amy went over to the closet, and was shocked at the clothes in it. It was a walk in closet with more shelves than she had ever seen. The closet seemed about the size of her apartment, and she was pretty sure she had never owned this many clothes in her whole life. She grabbed the sweats and brought them to Beth.
Beth stood and removed her robe. She could feel dried cum from her father the night before, and she quickly looked down to see if there was anything visible. Not seeing anything, she asked Amy to help her pull the shirt on. Amy gently pulled the shirt over the injured arm, and then the good arm. She could not believe how good of shape this young girl was in. The gymnastics had her in such good shape that every muscle was defined against the soft skin of Beth.
Beth sat back down on the bed as Amy pull on her pants. "I feel like a little kid needing you to help me with this stuff," Beth said.
"You are no little kid, and we will have you doing it by yourself soon enough," Amy replied. "Now let's see what we can find to eat,"
She placed Beth in the wheelchair and headed for the kitchen. It appeared that someone had prepared several meals and the refrigerator was well stocked. "Well, I guess there is all sorts of stuff in here. What are you hungry for?" Amy asked.
"Just a couple of scrambled eggs with toast and orange juice works for me," Beth replied.
Together they managed to make the breakfast which they ate out on the patio. The sea breeze was refreshing and enjoyable. As they ate Amy talked about the therapy over the next few days. Beth nodded in agreement. She was ready to get back to some sort of workout no matter how limited. "Ready when you are," Beth said.
