Chapter 11

By the time Micah made it back to his truck, a savage beast fought the barriers of his control. He nearly pulled the door off to get in and then slammed it shut. He reached forward to put the key in the ignition when he stopped. His gloved hand fell, striking against the stick shift and shooting pain along his wrist. It did nothing to subdue this wild thing inside him.

The horror on Savannah’s face proved she’d never made the connection. How could she have not known? Maybe he hadn’t told her the baby’s name, but couldn’t she have put two and two together when she saw the ladybug pillow? Micah shuddered. The cold air seeped into the truck’s interior and chilled his outer extremities. He should put on the heat but was reluctant to do so. Maybe if he suffered from hypothermia he could get rid of this agony in the center of his chest.

The fact that she never saw the connection pointed to one thing he hadn’t wanted to admit. Their relationship had been completely one-sided. His head jerked sideways as if he’d been slapped by an invisible hand. Savannah boasted of a supposed bond she could feel between them but it couldn’t be one.

He started the truck and headed out of the parking lot. Without a clear direction in mind and the weather doing its best to thwart passengers from going about their day with the appearance of another fall of snow, he forced himself to navigate the road. Before long, the road gave way to salted tracks and without being conscious of it, Micah found himself on the road to Tawas.

The first time that he met Savannah had been in the emergency room four years ago. On a winter day, similar to the current one, in New York. Finishing up a six-month residency at one of the hospitals, he also was on call for another local medical facility for emergency cases. He’d initially done this as a way to gain more skill with serious cases. But in the short few months he’d been there, when patients heard there was a plastic surgeon on staff, more often than not, he was called to fix minor lacerations that were hardly a threat to anyone’s life. He tended to defer to the emergency doctors in cases like those.

That day, the attending ER doctor had fought to keep her composure right along with Micah as a sixteen-year-old girl whined because she had a cut to her forehead from some sort of physical altercation at school. Her mother was insistent Micah attend to the wound due to the ‘devastation’ it would cause to her child’s life to have her face ‘permanently scarred’.

Micah, biting back a cutting remark that would have put the mother and child in their place, assessed the ‘wound’ and then told the woman in no uncertain terms the attending ER doctor was more than capable of handling the procedure with minimal damage.

“You’re a plastic surgeon!” the woman hollered at him. “You’re supposed to be able to—”

“What I am is a complex wound and burn specialist. There’s nothing about a half inch cut near the hairline of the forehead that requires my attention.”

“But you’re a plastic surgeon! I want you to take care of this.”

“Okay then,” Micah had said. “I’m going to prescribe bacitracin, neomycin, and polymyxin B applied directly to the surface, and an adhesive restraint.” He could tell from the mollified look on the woman’s face she’d been adequately satisfied.

The ER doctor and he shared a look of suppressed mirth and he pulled the curtain back to see the most beautiful woman who ever existed standing before him with extraordinary gemstone eyes.

Micah’s lungs stopped working as time seemed to stand still for a split second. The peculiar empty feeling he hadn’t been conscious of until that moment disappeared. The sensation of coming home after a long time away swept over him. In such a brief moment, he’d known he wanted this woman to be his wife. Just like that, without even knowing her name.

“Did you just prescribe Neosporin and a Band-aid to that awful woman?”

My cure, he thought feverishly in his stunned brain. My cure to everything.

At the quizzical look entering the woman’s eyes, Micah’s lungs expanded to let in much-needed air and then he cleared his throat. “Well, the best doctors in the world often use it,” he said as he walked toward her. His heart thumped with each step. In the middle of the busy intersection of the ER unit, the black of the woman’s hair was striking against her alabaster skin.

“And by the best doctors, you mean moms, don’t you?”

Micah laughed. “You would be correct.”

When he came to stand before her, a light floral scent wafted to his nose. “Can I help you with anything?” He asked, hoping she’d say yes.

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m just leaving. One of my friends fell during the show and sprained her ankle. They asked me to bring her belongings so she’ll have them.”

“The show?” He didn’t want to let her go yet. If he could just get her name...

“We were modeling Darian Temple’s new line for next year when it happened.”

Even a recluse like him knew who Darian Temple was. One of the biggest names in women’s fashion. Rumor had it the man swore only the most beautiful women wore his designs. If this woman was a testament to that fact, then the man would be right.

“I see. Well, don’t let me keep you.” How was he going to find out her name? He couldn’t come right out and ask for it. Then she’d know—

“Savannah!”

They both turned to see a dark-skinned woman racing towards them, her dreadlocks pulled up into a bun. When she stopped by them, she panted out, “Hey Savvy, you forgot the keys.”

Savannah? It floated over his brain like a caress.

“Thanks, Tish. We wouldn’t have gotten far without them, right?” She took the keys.

“Who’s your friend?” Tisha asked with a nod in his direction.

“You know, I didn’t get your name.” When Savannah turned the full force of her two-toned eyes on him, he almost drowned in their depths.

“Micah Reddington.” His breath had escaped him.

“We were just talking for a few moments. You ready to go, Tish?”

“Sure. Nice to meet you, Dr. Reddington.”

They had gone away, and Micah had spent another few hours in the ER before heading back to his apartment for some rest. But he dreamed about Savannah that night. When he woke up, he searched for her on the Internet and learned where her next showing would be. A brief bio showed she also grew up in Tawas, Michigan, which had blown his mind. Tawas was a small town but he’d never seen her. Perhaps the age difference had been the cause of that. Her next showing was already booked up by attendees so there was no way he could buy a ticket and happen to show up. But he knew Savannah was going to be his wife. He had to find a way to get to know her better. Frustrated, he decided to go for a jog in a park near his apartment. On the trail in the early morning hours, he came face to face with Savannah jogging herself. When she lifted her head from the trail, she smiled. The brilliant action lit up her whole face.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” A muffled voice pulled Micah from his thoughts. He found himself looking out the window of his truck to a see a man, dressed in the trappings of an ice fisherman, peering at him through slits of his face mask. Micah found himself parked in front of the frozen bay, having come to the place where he had asked Savannah to start a family. He shook his head to rid the cobwebs of his past and then rolled down the window. “Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Anything biting?” He asked the question to be polite, not because he cared.

“Naw, I just come out here to drink the beer and get away from the wife.”

Micah laughed appropriately but the burn of envy couldn’t be suppressed as he watched from the side view mirror to see the man get back in his car to presumably go back to the wife.

“At least you have a wife to go home to,” he muttered.

Did the ice fisherman have no clue what he had? All Micah had ever wanted since the moment he met Savannah was to be with her. He made a comfortable living. He had a certain prestige in his industry. Yet, nothing validated him more than being with his woman. Savannah had chased away the gray spots in his heart. When they started seeing each other, the instant rapport they had resonated with him. They both worked hard. Savannah was sometimes gone for weeks at a time, but she always came back to him to visit, even if for a day. Whenever she was doing a shoot in New York, she’d make time for him. Her chosen profession had not changed the woman on the inside. She was just as nice as nice could be.

His hands squeezed the wheel. Was the ice fisherman, for all his talk about getting away from the wife, eager for her presence? Did he look forward to coming home out of the cold to be greeted by a kiss and maybe a kid or two? A pet? Sitting down and turning on the TV to look at the news report? Or maybe, to give the youngest a bath while his wife went out with the girls for some time to herself?

It was a simple and old-fashioned dream, but his nonetheless. Was it so wrong to want that? Not that he wanted Savannah barefoot and pregnant. If she continued to work, or go back to school, or start a business, whatever, he would have been fully supportive of that. Just as he knew she would have been if he wanted to become a stay-at-home dad and grow tulips. The most important thing was they were together.

“Why did you do this to me, Nascha?” he asked aloud, the sudden inept rage making him snarl.

As quickly as the surge of anger came, it dissipated once more. He could only be upset with Nascha so much. At the end of the day, the woman he had desired above anyone else had not cared for him. The bond she referred to must have been something to say to placate him. That was the true reason why she had stopped kissing him. You couldn’t kiss someone you didn’t care about.

Is that really the case? A stubborn, unwanted thought presented itself. Micah stiffened at its intrusion. Unbidden, the image of her face right before they had been interrupted by their folks came to mind. It was said the eyes were the gateway to the soul. And he fancied he knew Savannah’s soul better than most. Those eyes of hers had projected a desire that matched his own. Besides that, there had been a spark of desperation in their depths, too. As if she wanted that kiss just as much or more than he did.

You’re fooling yourself. It’s an illusion. The human mind is capable of seeing things that aren’t there. But the soul is truthful, the stubborn thought said once more. The soul cannot lie about itself. It’s the core of us all.

Micah knifed his head sideways. No, he would not hold on to such a flimsy idea. Savannah could not have ever loved him. It would not have been so easy for her to fall for Nascha’s lies. She could not have cared about him when she sided with her friend against him. There was no way a bond could exist when she walked away after he’d left his pride bound and gagged in the corner of his mind and begged her to stay.

If she had ever thought something could have existed, she would have instantly recognized that by naming Liliana, he’d passed on his dream to Fiona and Bart. In such a way, even then, he was trying to reach her. And she never even guessed.

Micah’s head bowed. He’d been fooling himself. At the end of the day, he couldn’t blame Nascha for the disintegration of his relationship. He could only blame himself for falling for the sweet, honeyed lies of love and affection from Savannah’s lips. When he looked at it in that light, was it any wonder she had deserted him when he needed her the most?

Savannah curled up on the small cot the hospital had provided to her. She went back and forth the first few days of Liliana’s convalescence but now it was prudent she stay. Her father and mother had gone back to the house to get her laptop and paperwork with a couple changes of clothes.