The Cure (A Michigan Sweet Romance #1) Page 7

  “It’s been that rough?”

  Micah swallowed. “Seeing her again is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  Micah tapped the table with his forefinger. “I know I don’t love her anymore, but I can’t help remembering how we used to be together. We had something special back then, or so I thought. Even though we’re not together anymore, I still feel us together.”

  He glanced up at his friend. “Does that make sense?”

  Donald clasped hishands together like a steeple. “You were going to marry the woman. You both had started to build a life together. Then Nascha did her thing and ruined it.”

  Micah’s eyes narrowed. “Savannah was upset because I didn’t go to the funeral. She let me have it when we saw each other again.”

  “I did tell you to go.” Donald said with a narrowed eye.

  He huffed. “I wasn’t going to waste a plane ticket to go see a woman who almost made me lose my license, and attempted to destroy my credibility. I’m not going to lie in a church of God and pretend all of that was water under the bridge.”

  Even thinking it made him angry. His fingers curled into fists.

  “Do you have any idea what it was like to see that woman lie over and over again, crying crocodile tears? She went out of her way and those people nearly believed her.”

  “But Micah, she died before the inquest was finished. Shouldn’t that be enough?”

  “No, it’s not enough.” Micah dragged a hand through his hair and clenched at the strands hard enough to make his scalp tingle. “It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough to know I escaped by an inch.”

  An inch was too close. Micah almost snarled. When the accusations of medical malpractice had surfaced, he had no idea where those allegations had come from. He’d simply received a letter in the mail, detailing he was being sued. It had never happened before. After all, he had dozens and dozens of patients over the years and not one of them had complained. It was rare for that to happen in the industry, especially with those who fancied cosmetic procedures like somepeopledid an addiction. Yet, he’d always been frank about their expectations and his limits. He knew by the grace of God, his reputation preceded him as an honest, competent surgeon.

  “I’ll never forget when I saw you on YouTube and that reporter kept trying to shove that microphone in your mouth,” Donald reminisced.

  “I can remember it all too clear.”

  The reporters had buzzed around him like a horde of mosquitos, their microphones and recorders pointed at him like bloodsuckers. He’d never been exposed to that type of negative publicity. Some of their eyes had been feverish, wide and twitching with an expression of hunger.

  “Dr. Reddington, is it true you purposely injected—?”

  “Have you seen Ms. Dubois—?”

  “What do you have to say about—?”

  Questions came at him left and right. Absurd questions that had made absolutely no sense to him. He had no idea how to answer them. Thankfully, his team of lawyers took over and fielded inquires for him, but that was the first of many more incidents.

  “Micah, don’t go there.”

  He returned to the present to see Donald staring at him. He sighed. “It’s hard not to go there. Every time I think about it, I—”

  The waiter came back with their soft drinks. Micah gratefully grabbed the glass and slurped the bubbly stuff. The inquest had gone on for two months as the lawyers went back and forth. Strangely, during all that time, he’d only seen Nascha once at the hearing. The look she sent him had chilled his blood. It was a look of triumph to let him know she was doing this thing to ruin his reputation. She desired to hurt him where it would have the most impact.

  His work and his woman.

  Though she hadn’t succeeded with his work, she’d had whopping success with his woman.

  “Think of it this way, Micah. Even though you and Savannah may have broken up, at least you still have your career. You didn’t have to dealwiththe loss of that as well.”

  “It’s a very small comfort, Don.” Micah pushed the glass away.

  Donald said nothing more, knowing he wasn’t going to get past his anger.

  How could his friend understand what it meant to have your life almost ripped to shreds by a vindictive woman? And the one woman who should have been in his corner, his fiancée, had deserted him in his time of need. The one woman who had agreed to marry him for better or for worse, had left him to be pulled apart by the vicious animal of public scrutiny. Who, even after he was found innocent, still believed him guilty?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Snow flurries danced outside her window under the diamond sheen of the moon. Savannah watched the flakes whirl around, much like the thoughts in her head. They banged off each other, colliding and flying in every direction. The moonlight cast long shadows and muted the vibrant color of the ladybug patches on the ceiling in Liliana’s room. Her niece’s bed was too small but she needed to feel close to her. Kneeling by the bed, Savannah picked up the plushy ladybug pillow the child liked and squeezed it to her chest.

  The majority of her thoughts centered on Liliana and her condition. When she reluctantly left the hospital for the day, the child seemed a little more subdued than she did earlier. But then, was anything normal in this situation? Markita’s presence added some vitality to her niece’s demeanor for most of the day as they talked back and forth.

  Savannah sank her face into the pillow and inhaled the aroma of the scented sheets. She’d just washed them the night before Liliana had gotten hurt. It had been a nice evening, too. Who knew the next day calamity would strike?

  Sleep had evaded her for the last hour and she knew it wasn’t going to come to her any time soon. Sighing, she got up and went downstairs to the kitchen. The timer on the stove showed it was half past midnight. Was Liliana doing okay? Did she sleep all right despite her injuries or was she still—?

  She shut down that train of thought. No, she wouldn’t go into panic mode. She sent up another prayer for healing and protection for her niece, one of dozens in the past four days. Keep her safe, Lord. Heal her body. Help me not to go insane with worry. Help me to trust you even when I don’t understand.

  Savannah opened the refrigerator and pulled out a carton of chocolate milk and a plastic container of chocolate chip cookies. She could almost hear her mother making a quip about her choices of midnight snacks. After she poured the milk into a glass and warmed two cookies in the microwave, she sat at the kitchen table and sank her teeth into the chewy, chocolatey goodness.

  A sugar high went to her head and she groaned in ecstasy. Nothing like a sweet chocolate chip cookie to send a euphoric buzz through her system. She wondered if her blood sugar went through the roof. Savannah shrugged and took another bite. Who cared? Sometimes you had to throw away the celery for the cookie.

  She sipped the chocolate milk and then licked her lips of the excess with a gluttonous pleasure. When she worked as a model, this kind of stuff would have never been anywhere near her. She avoided like it Superman avoided Kryptonite. Nascha had been adamant about her diet, ensuring she ate wholesome, nutritious foods in order to maintain her petite weight.

  Nascha.

  The very thought of her friend chased away the temporary jolt the cookie had given her and she set the rest of it down on the plate.

  Nascha’s beauty had graced countless magazines with the regularity of the rising sun. She could transform a cardboard box into a fashion statement. The modeling world called her ‘Venus’ at one point because she had the looks of a mythical goddess. World renowned designers crawled on their hands and knees for her to model their creations.

  Savannah pushed the cookies and milk away and rested her chin on her balled fists.

  Or they used to.

  On the last day Savannah saw her best friend alive, tears, snot, and dried mucus bathed her face. The once-ethereal beauty had been marred forever by the cartoonish, ballooned li
ps from an injection gone horribly wrong.

  “Savvy,” Nascha had cried into the tissues she’d pressed gently against her macabre lips. “How could they find him innocent? Look what he did to me.”

  Nascha wailed into that Kleenex, tattered and torn by the maelstrom of tears. Savannah had gripped her close, her heart breaking in two.

  “Micah hasn’t been found innocent or guilty of anything yet.”

  Nascha gave a watery scoff. “Do you think that matters? I know for a fact they’re going to declare him innocent. Do you think I can continue my career? My life is ruined.”

  Savannah had floundered around for some source of hope.

  “Maybe you can get your lips fixed. Surely other surgeons are capable—”

  Nascha had drawn back in terror. “I can’t go back to a surgeon! Never again! Look at what Micah did to me!” She pointed at her bulbous mouth, its appearance red and swollen.

  “He ruined my life!”

  “Nascha, your life isn’t—”

  “Yes, it is!” she’d screeched A kind of madness exuded from the dark marble depths. “Do you think Darian Temple wants me to model his collection now? Do you think Epic Cosmetics wants to splash berry red delicious on this mouth?” She gulped. “He ruined my life. How is that possible? How can they see my face and think I’m lying?”

  After that outburst, Nascha became inconsolable. Shrieking, crying, and incoherent, she wrenched herself away from Savannah’s grasp and stumbled wildly about. Finally, she collapsed on the floor.

  Savannah’s throat clenched. How could Micah have done such a thing? He’d not only destroyed her friend’s livelihood, but he made her out to be a liar. On the floor, as she’d held Nascha’s crumbled figure in her arms, she knew she couldn’t marry Micah. In good conscious, she could not stand by a man who had decimated a woman’s life to salvage his reputation.

  With Nascha’sshuddering body against hers, Savannah prayed for a miracle.She prayed that somehow, her friend’s lips would go back to normal. That somehow, this nightmare would end and she’d be back in the realm of reality where she and Micah continued to plan for their wedding. That somehow, she wouldn’t have to make the choice between love and honorable duty.

  Yet, a month later Nascha had taken her own life.

  Savannah swiped at the moisture on her cheeks. First Nascha, then Fiona and Bart, and now Liliana. Life had been woven with a thread of misfortune these few years. Was life meant to be a bitter endeavor of ache and agony? Couldn’t she get a break?

  She grabbed the glass of chocolate milk and downed it in a few smooth gulps. The buzz of sugar zinged right through her. It set the hairs on her arms erect but it did nothing to quell the misgivings.

  Nascha’s botched procedure had peeled away the magic of her and Micah’s relationship like the skin of ripened fruit. Suddenly, the perfect man had shown his true colors – a grasping, egotistical professional who would let nothing or no one stop his reputation from being soured, even if he was at fault.

  If he’s so reprehensible, a tiny voice whispered, why is he here?

  Savannah dragged her fingers through her hair. It kept coming back to that question. If he had botched Nascha’s procedure, surely he wasn’t trustworthy to aid her with Snuffy’s circumstances. And if that was the case, she should have never called him in the first place.

  So why did she?

  In the darkness of the kitchen, Savannah allowed the answer she avoided to acknowledge have its say.

  Deep down in her heart, despite everything, a dime-size doubt existed. That possibly, just possibly, something else had caused the end of Nascha’s career other than Micah’s negligence.

  Doubt and disloyalty warred with each other in the cavity of her mind. How could she believe such a thing when the evidence of Micah’s carelessness had been made public? She only needed to remember how the tabloid surprised Nascha while she’d been buying personal toiletries. The paparazzi snapped a picture of her bloated lips to the ruthless inspection of the public eye. Devastated by the intrusion, Nascha refused to leave the house in the last month of her life.

  So yes, she knew what Micah had done.

  Yet, the uncertainty still remained.

  Why did she cling to it? Why hold onto that miniscule thing like a lifeline?

  Because she wanted to. And there was no logical explanation as to why.

  Weary of her chaotic thoughts, Savannah rose from the kitchen table and trudged up the stairs like an old, arthritic-ridden woman. Tomorrow, she’d return to the hospital and Micah would be there. His knowledge and experience acted as balm to her frayed nerves. His presence made everything a little bit more bearable despite the turmoil of their past.

  She may not love him anymore, but she needed him.

  ***

  Micah headed to the entryway of the hospital for the fourth day, fighting against the tyrannical force of the icy wind. It chapped and slapped at his exposed cheeks. It blew against his squinted eyes and robbed them of moisture. He dipped his head and moved on. Soon, the snow-slicked groundgave way to salted concrete.

  Entering the facility, he took a moment to stomp off the excess snow. In a few minutes, he’d be able to see Savannah again.

  “Get it together,” he muttered to himself. He ripped his gloves off and stuffed them into his coat pockets. He squashed the fuzzy warmth in the center of his chest. No more of that. He was here in a professional capacity. That was all.

  He went to the elevator and waited along with others. His foot tapped the floor in an impatient staccato. What was taking so long? Finally, the doors parted and he went inside, pressing the floor button before anyone else could. A few people called out their desired destination and he sighed as he pressed them. Oh, great, they would be stopping at every floor in the building.

  At last he came to his level and he exited, his legs hurried down the corridor as if they had a will of their own. His heart thumped a bit in his chest. Moisture collected on his palms and he swiped them on his coat.

  When he made the turn to the reception area, he saw Savannah with her back to him standing at the front desk. Micah swallowed and compelled his feet to slow their stride. Take it easy.

  As he drew closer, he noted her shoulders sagged a bit. Her rumpled hair hung listless along her spine. An air of gloom emanated from her. His brow furrowed. Had something happened? She turned around, presenting him with sad gemstone eyes.

  “Savannah?”

  “Oh, Micah,” she moaned.

  His alarm grew. Her normal fresh cream skin had blanched to a chalky white. Bloodless lips compressed in a straight line.

  “What is it, Savannah?”

  “Dr. Yamaguchi’s worried about Snuffy.” Her two-tone eyes each sported blue crescent moons under them. The eyes shone with a wet sheen. He gripped her shoulders and made her look at him. “What happened?”

  “When I visited her this morning, I noticed Snuffy seemed more listless than usual. I saw sweat on her forehead and her face looked flush. When I buzzed the nurse, he came in, took one look at her, and paged Dr. Yamaguchi. She came right away. It looks like Snuffy has an infection.”

  Micah’s chest heaved in resignation. He thought it might be as much. “What are they doing now?

  “Dr. Yamaguchi said she wanted to ascertain where the infection is coming from. She asked me to wait out here.”

  The dejection of Savannah’s face eroded his reserve. It didn’t matter if she believed him guilty. All that was important was the fact she needed him at this moment. He wanted her to need him.

  “Let’s sit.”

  She eyed him for a space of few seconds, biting her lips nervously. The she nodded wearily and he led her to a nearby bench.

  No hostile words erupted between them. A tense silence wrapped its arms around them and squeezed, making their nerve endings heightened with awareness.

  What could he do for her?

  Slow down, Micah, a voice warned, don’t let yourself be dragged back to that pl
ace where she betrayed you.

  He ignored the well-meaning warning. The past didn’t matter, nor the future.

  “Micah?”

  “Yes, Savannah?”

  Vulnerable eyes lifted to his. “Can you-can you tell me what to expect?”

  “I don’t want to presuppose anything before Dr. Yamaguchi’s returns with her report.”

  Her cold, delicate fingers closed around his forearm. He stared down at the white hand, mesmerized by how much power she held over him.

  “Please. Just tell me your professional opinion.” Her even white teeth bit into the white, strained lips.

  He inhaled. “If Liliana does have an infection,then they’re going to introduce an antibiotic into her care to help combat it.”

  “Will it work?”

  “It depends on Liliana’s health. Right now, she’s lost a good portion of her outer epidermal tissue, which makes it more difficult to keep infections away. That’s why the nurses continue to change the bandages daily.”

  Savannah rested her head on his shoulder. He closed his eyes in an almost painful ecstasy. The sensation was like coming home.

  “I need her, Micah.” He just made out the words muffled against his clothes. “I need my ladybug. She’s all I have of Fiona and Bart. I don’t think I can deal with heartache right now. I don’t think I can take another blow.”

  Micah swallowed the lump in his throat at the wispy words. He’d been absent all this time, trying to protect himself from the memory of her. Yet, even though he had no reason to feel anything remotely resembling heartache for Nascha’s death, Savannah had lost her best friend. Then the death of her sister and brother-in-law followed. Now, this present agony with her niece.

  Could he have made a difference in Savannah’s life had he been there for her?

  No, he couldn’t. It made him sound as if by his mere presence he could thwart off danger like the superhero movies he loved. Carefully, he reached his hands around her and drew her into his body. He expected her to resist his embrace. After all, this was dangerous territory, being so close to her. Maybe not for her, but it was for him.