Love M.D. (21 page)

I’m beyond overwhelmed. Right now, too
many things occupy my thoughts. Right now, I’m not sure which thought causes my
tears.

“Zoë, it’s going to be okay.”
Barney sits beside me and holds my hand.

“Losing my brother was bad enough,
now I feel like I’m losing myself, too. I really want to believe it will all be
okay, but it’s difficult to see right now.”

“I know what that kind of loss
feels like, but I promise you will get past this. You’ll always miss your
brother, but the pain lessens over time.”

“I wish that was all. Barney, I’m
so scared that whoever attacked me will try again. There’s so much uncertainty
in my life right now. I don’t know how to move forward.”

“You may not be certain about much,
but of this you can be certain: I will always be here for you, and I think you
can expect the same from Morgan, too. There’s a lot going on in both your lives
right now. Give it time, and I’m sure whatever it is going on between you two
will work itself out. We’re your family now.”

I chuckle at his comment. “You’ve
only known me for a month…”

“Irrelevant. You care about my son
and me. You took the time to sit and talk to me and listen when no one else
would. You’re caring, and you have a good heart. That’s all I really need to
know.”

His words make me smile through my
tears, and I feel better after hearing them. He puts his arm around my
shoulder, gives me a tight squeeze, and kisses my head. Although I remember
very little about how it feels to have a dad, something about this moment seems
familiar.

“Thanks, Barney. I needed that.”

 “I’ll give you your privacy. But I’m
only a phone call away.”

Nodding, I curl up between the sheets
and drift with my sad thoughts.

A repetitive thump
on the door wakes me. The door
inches open. Jada comes in.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She
hugs me gently.

“Better, I suppose,” I look at the
window and notice it’s dark outside. My watch reads eight. “Wow, I slept the
entire afternoon.”

“Yes. Johnny came to see Morgan, so
I thought I’d come see how you were.”

I smile at her but don’t really
respond. “How’s Jordan?”

“He’s great. He’s with Grandma
Caroline now,” she says, sitting next to me on the bed. “How are you
really
doing?
I’ve been in your shoes remember.”

“I’m scared, and I feel like I’m
losing my mind. I don’t even know who to trust anymore.”

“You can trust me… and Johnny… and Morgan.”

“Thank you,” I say, holding her
hand. “I have no idea who is behind this or why.”

“You don’t think it’s Todd?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand
why he’d wait all this time if it were him.”

“Let the police handle this. Try
not to think about it for a while. We’re going to go to Cabo the week of Thanksgiving.
You and Morgan should come. We can all use a break. It will be fun.”

“Jada, Morgan and I don’t exist
anymore.”

“Why? He’s in love with you and—”

My cell phone rings, cutting her
off. After apologizing, I answer.

“Zoë Jenkins?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m calling from Beltek Security.
We just got a signal that your alarm has gone off. Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know. I’m not at the house.
No one should be there. Can you please send the police over, and I’ll try to get
there as soon as I can.”

As I wrap up with the security
company, Jada calls out to Morgan and Jonathan. Moments later, they are in the
room.

“They said the alarm at the house
went off. Someone tried to break in through my office door downstairs. I told them
I’d be there as soon as possible. They’re sending the police over.”

“No. You stay here,” says Morgan. “I’ll
go check.”

Jonathan chimes in. “I’ll go with
you.”

“Lock the doors and stay inside. The
guards are outside. I’ll talk to Lucas before I leave.”

Before I have time to comment, Jada
and Jonathan are down the stairs. I might have insisted that I go, but in my
physical state, I am really not in any position to protest. Morgan turns to
leave.

“Morgan,” I shout as he heads out
the door. I can’t stop the queasy sensation in my stomach. He stops and then
turns to me. “Please, please be careful.”

He quickly returns to me, kisses me
gently on the cheek, and heads out the door.

Through the window, I look on and
see him talking to one of the guards. I think he’s Lucas, the one in charge. He’s
probably in his early fifties, African American, well built with a bald head. He
smiles politely when he sees me in the distance, but we haven’t spoken.

A while later, Jada returns
upstairs, accompanied by Peaches and Pixie. We sit in the living room and
nervously wait.

I have a horrible sick feeling
building inside me.
He
must have found out where I live and came back to
finish the job. I need to walk around, but right now, my injuries won’t allow
me to do so.

I switch on the TV, grip the remote
with my sweaty palms and go through the channels. Then I rise to my feet.

“Would you like some coffee?” I
ask.

“Sure. You want some help?”

“No thanks, I can handle it,” I
say, staggering over to the mini bar. “How did you do it, Jada? How did you
continue to live your life when these people were after you?”

“It was hard, but the circumstances
were different. At least with me, the perpetrators kept in contact with me and,
in the end, that contact is what gave the FBI clues. We also knew there was a
connection to Richard’s death.

With you, you have no idea and that
poses great difficulty. I can only imagine what it must be like to be in your
shoes. I had Bobby and Charles, and then Johnny and his family became my
support network. Sweetie, you won’t be able to do this alone. Trust me. Accept
the help. Stick with the people you know you can trust. I limited my movement,
worked from home. You might have to trust Leo to handle things for a while. Work
from behind the scenes.”

“I miss Zach so much. I used to
think I was so independent. Now he’s gone, and I realize he was the anchor in
my life. He was my greatest support, and he’s not here at a time when I’m going
through the biggest hurdle in my life.”

“I’d be out of my mind if anything
ever happened to Bobby. I’m going to say something, whether you like hearing it
or not. I don’t know what’s going on with you and Morgan, but that man loves
you or he wouldn’t be the one at your house right now, and you wouldn’t be here
under his roof. Whatever this issue you two have—work it out.”

“I tried. He told me anything I
think
I feel is because of our heightened, stressful situation. According
to him, it’s a mechanism we humans use to cope. I suppose that’s doctor talk.”

“Is that true?”

“No. It’s not.”

“Then find a way to make him see
that. Look, I know why you’re angry. Megan told me. Zach is the one you’re
really mad at not Morgan. He was only doing what Zach wanted.”

“That’s true. But something about
Zach’s death bothers me.”

“Sweetie, you have to find a way to
put that behind you. Morgan has been there for you, from day one, and no matter
what was going on between you two, he never left your side. He was devastated
when he called me to tell me about the fire. That man sat by your bedside for
two days straight in scrubs. He refused to leave you. Even when Johnny and I
offered to stay with you and told him to go home to get some rest, he refused.
If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“Maybe we just need time.”

“The two of you need to get over
yourselves and move past this. Life is too short to let something like this get
in the way of two people who obviously have very deep feelings for each other.
Eventually, it will work itself out. You may not see an end, but this will
pass.”

For another hour, I bite my fingers.
I am relieved when I hear Morgan and Jonathan’s voices come through the front
door.

I stand on my crutches at the top
of the stairs and watch as they ascend. They’re both covered in soot, “What
happened?”

Morgan has a dreadful look in his
eyes.

“By the time
we got there, the house was on fire,” Jonathan
says.

“What do you mean?”

They both look at me shaking their
heads.

“What? It’s gone?”

“I’m sorry, Zoë,” Morgan continues.

“What?” I am astounded. My hands
shiver, and as I stare at them, completely speechless, Morgan pulls me in his
arms. My heart pounds heavily. I’m sure he feels it, too. “Everything? Even my
piano?”

“The great room is non-existent.
Your car, the kitchen and I’m sure the guest bedrooms upstairs are gone, too.”

 “Did they find anyone?” Jada asks.

“No,” Jonathan replies. “Zoë, I’m
really sorry about this, but I think we’re going to need to go through the last
few months, revisit every client, every transaction, every interaction you and
Zach had so we can try to figure out who’s doing this.”

“I just lost Zach. Now so many of
the memories I had with him are gone, too. What could I have done to deserve this?
What if they find out I’m here?”

“That’s why the guards are here, and
there are a couple of officers in a squad car outside to ensure that does not
happen,” Morgan replies.

“Who knows you’re here?” Jonathan
asks.

“Just my family,” Morgan responds.
“Unless you’ve told anyone else?” He looks at me.

“I haven’t.”

“Keep it that way,” Jonathan says.
“Tomorrow, Detective Bradshaw and I will come by and comb through the last few
months of your life to figure out who is behind this.”

“Sure,” I murmur.

“Morgan, we’ll talk tomorrow,”
Jonathan says to him in a brief embrace.

“Thanks for everything. Let me walk
you guys out,” Morgan says.

Jada comes over and hugs me. “Je
suis tellement désolé ma chérie. Stay strong. I’ll come by with Johnny tomorrow.”

“Merci,” I whisper. Jonathan kisses
me gently on the cheek and Morgan escorts them down the stairs.

My stomach twists and turns and a nasty
taste develops in my mouth. I hobble to the bathroom just in time to make it to
the sink and throw up the little I ate today. I hover over the sink while balancing
my weight on the crutches. Peaches follows me into the bathroom and looks on, softly
whining.

“I’ll be okay, Peaches.”

Her ears drop down. She lays her
head between her paws, her big droopy eyes still gazing at me.

I’m not sure what to think about or
focus on. Furniture is replaceable, but the memories of the last two years are
gone: birthday cards from Zach, my piano, photos of us, gifts Zach gave me. Important
documents and paperwork, all gone.

First, my office then my house and
vehicle. What’s next? I lean against the bathroom wall and squeeze my eyes shut
so the tears won’t fall, but they come through.

“Zoë, are you okay?”

As I hear Morgan approaching, I
push the bathroom door so he doesn’t see the messy sink. “I’ll be out in a
sec,” I answer.

“I’m sorry, Zoë. I’m so sorry I
couldn’t do more.”

As he speaks, he sounds closer than
I thought and when I look, the door is slightly ajar and his head pokes
through.

He has such sadness in his eyes,
and as I look at him, my quiet tears fall. He pushes the door open, walks to me
and encircles his arms around my shoulders from behind.

“You can’t. I made a mess in here.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ve seen
far worse. I promise you, things will get better. Everything’s going to be
okay.”

“I just don’t even know when or how
to start to put the pieces together to move on.”

“Get healthy first. Everything else
will sort itself out.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to
salvage anything?”

“Very little… it was dark. We could
always hope that it looks better in the light of day.”

“Do you think there is even a small
chance that my piano made it?”

“I’m sorry. No.”

“What if they come after you?”

“I don’t want you to worry about
that.”

“How could I not? I’ve already lost
everything. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

He smiles sadly.

Then it occurs to me that I did
lose him. He doesn’t respond to my comment, he doesn’t correct me, and I
realize the number of days he’ll be left in my life are numbered, too.

Slowly pulling away from him, I
look into his beautiful hazel eyes through his reflection in the mirror. I
regret so much. I want him in my life more than anything I’ve ever wanted in a
long time. Right now may not be the right time to tell him.

“Thank you for everything,” I
eventually say. “I need to clean up and lie down. I’m a little tired.”

“I’ll help you.”

“No, thanks, I’ll be fine. I can
handle it. I just want to be alone.”

“Are you sure? I should get you
something to eat before you go to bed.”

“I’m not hungry. I’ll be okay.”

“Did you remember to take your
meds?”

“I did.”

“I’m going to take a shower then do
some work in the library. If you need anything, call me, okay?”

I nod. He walks away, stopping
twice to look back at me.

I’m emotionally exhausted. I don’t
want to think about any of this—not Zach’s death, not my issues with Morgan, and
most definitely not the fact that tonight I lost everything I own. I clean the
sink and take a shower. After throwing some sleeping pills down my throat, I climb
into bed.

What a day
it’s been. After finding out my patient’s
death was questionable, it sent my head spinning. I wanted to make sure that,
legally, I follow the right procedure. That’s why I needed to speak with
Jonathan. However, just after telling him what the findings were, we got the
call and a bad day turned worse.

I know how much Zoë loved that
house. It was hard to watch it go up in flames. The longer this goes on without
an arrest made, the harder it becomes for me to let her go.

I try to get comfortable in the library
and begin reading through Catherine Modene’s medical charts, making a note of
anything that seems even slightly off, of everyone that attended to her. She
was my patient. I have a responsibility to her and her family, and that is my
first priority.

I try to focus, but the sadness in
Zoë’s eyes tonight preoccupies my thoughts. I’m worried about her, and I’m frustrated
that there is not much I can do to make this situation better. I’m not sure
what I can do to ease her pain or make up for what she lost—the things that had
sentimental value like that piano, the things given to her by Zach.

I am emotionally, physically, and
mentally drained. I check in with the guards and police outside before
activating the alarm and heading upstairs.

A beam of light glows under Zoë’s
bedroom door. I knock gently and wait for a response but hear nothing. Gingerly
pushing the door open, I walk close and notice her tear-soaked pillow and the
dried tracks that run down her cheeks. She’s fast asleep.

My chest tightens at the sight of
her. I sit at the edge of the bed and run my fingers through the curly locks
that partially cover her face. It’s heartbreaking seeing her like this, and for
a while, I forget what’s been going on between us. I feel the urge to pull her
into my arms.

Suddenly, she mumbles, “I can’t
breathe,” and pulls at her t-shirt that circles her neck. “Stop!” She rips her
shirt away from her neck.

I know that no matter how much of a
dream this may be, the feelings for her in this state are very real, and I know
I have to wake her.

“Zoë, wake up,” I gently try to rouse
her, but the more I do, the bigger her fight.

I climb into the bed and circle my
arms around her.

“Zoë, baby, wake up.” Three jolts
later, she’s awake—dazed, confused, but at least she’s awake. She seems
sedated, and the bottle of sleeping pills on the bedside table confirms my suspicions.
A few moments later, she falls asleep.

I wonder how many of those she
took…

I’m curious to know if this was the
first time. I hope it is, but looking at the bin beside the bed, I notice two
torn t-shirts in it.

When I wake
the following morning, Zoë is still in a
deep sleep in my arms. Her body draped over mine arouses me. And when her hand
brushes past my erection, I’m tempted. I’m so tempted to take things further,
but instead, I slip out of bed, careful not to wake her.

A swim, a cold shower and some
self-stimulation with sultry thoughts of her in mind quickly helps me to get
rid of any cravings I might have had.

 I let the pets out and make her
some breakfast. I have a patient to see this morning, so I will have to leave
her alone for a few hours. I will probably need to continue only heading in
when I have a procedure. Right now, especially after last night, I’m even more uncomfortable
being out of her presence for any period.

When I return to the bedroom with
Zoë’s breakfast, I’m surprised to find her walking carefully with a walking
stick, not crutches, along the line of windows that overlook the view.

“Hey, making progress I see.” I set
the tray on the bedside table. Her clothing has changed and the sight of her in
that short white dress… I know I shouldn’t be having those thoughts, but after
last night—the feel of her body against mine… holding her in my arms…

“A little bit. It still hurts. My
left foot is more painful, but I can put it down.”

“That’s great, but don’t overdo it.
Baby steps. Your body won’t recover overnight. I made you some breakfast.”

“Thanks. Can we eat out on the
patio? I need some fresh air.”

“Sure. You have to sit in the shade,
though.”

“I can do that.”

I have some coffee with her while
she eats.

“I want you to be honest with me
about something,” I say, looking into her eyes.”

“What is it?” she murmurs.

“How long have the nightmares been going
on?”

She hesitates, and I sense she does
not want to answer. Eventually she responds, “Every night since I left the
hospital.”

“Do you sleep?”

“Sometimes. When I take a sleeping
pill.”

“Do you sleep like you did before
Zach died?”

“No.”

“Try to cut caffeine out of your
diet, especially at night. And if it continues, I want you to tell me. Some
medications cause side effects, and after all you’ve been through the last few
months I don’t want constant nightmares entering the mix. The insomnia was bad
enough. If this continues, it might be a symptom of a much bigger issue.”

My cell phone rings, interrupting
our conversation. After a brief chat, I end the call.

“That was Jonathan. He and Detective
Bradshaw will be here at one today.”

“Okay.”

“I have to run into the clinic in a
while. I won’t be long.”

“Sure. Later today, when you get
back, can you please take me to my house?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I can only put my life on hold for
so long, Morgan. That house was my home. I need to see it. If you’re not
willing to take me, I’ll get Jada and Jonathan to go with me.”

“Fine,” I reply in resignation. I
don’t want to fight with her right now.

“Oh and they invited us to go to Cabo
the week of Thanksgiving. I know it’s not what you might do traditionally, but
it’s something to think about.”

“Jonathan told me. I’ll think about
it. I’m not sure if I can make it. That’s why I didn’t say anything. It may not
be possible for me to leave. And the truth of the matter is, if I’m not able to
go, I’m not so sure I’d want you to go either.”

“Why should that be your decision
to make?”

“It’s just a concern I have, more
so after last night. It’s obvious how determined these people are to hurt you,
and I’m not sure that desire ends just because you decide to cross the US border.”

She pauses, as if contemplating
what I just said. “Okay,” she replies quietly. I sense that she might be disappointed,
but I’ll have to leave it there for now.

I hate letting her down, but after
last night, the need to protect her has only amplified. This situation bothers
me; and although I have some very complicated feelings of hurt going on inside me
regarding Zoë, I care about her too much to let her go. Even though I’m so
angry at the mistrust she has for me, even though my mind might want to, I don’t
think my heart can let her go. I’m in too deep. I suppose it’s just a matter of
time before we sit and talk this out.

After I’m done getting ready, I
help Zoë with her bandages and head out for the rest of the morning. Five
patients and one procedure later, I return home in time to see Jonathan and
Jada exiting their vehicle.

Soon after, I change and help Zoë
downstairs. We get together with our guests and meet Detective Bradshaw in the
foyer.

“This shouldn’t take too long. It
doesn’t look like lists will be necessary,” Detective Bradshaw says.