Love M.D. (18 page)

I miss you, too.

Peering into his eyes, I feel torn between
what my mind is telling me to do and what my heart so desperately wants.
Leaning over, he’s almost touching my lips, and I find myself meeting him the
rest of the way, sinking my fingers in his hair as we kiss. Then I remember…

“I’m sorry, Morgan. I just can’t.”

“Zoë, I know you want this. I feel
it.”

“I… I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Either way, it makes no
difference. I don’t want or need you in my life.”

As the words leave my lips, I see
the hurt in his eyes. He takes a step back.

“I’ve tried with you Zoë, I really
have. I’ve apologized. I’ve tried to prove to you that I love and care about
you. Beyond that, I don’t know what else I can do. I won’t bother you anymore,
but I will always be here for you—and I mean that. If you ever need me, you
have my numbers.”

And just like that, he leaves me
standing alone.

I can’t seem
to get Zoë or that conversation we had
this afternoon out of my head. As I cut through the pool’s waters, someone
calling my name disturbs my thoughts. I look up to see my dad standing at the
pool’s edge.

“Hey, son. What did that pool ever do
to you?”

I stop my strokes. “Dad, what are
you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” he
chuckles. “You invited me over to dinner, remember?”

“Shoot. I forgot,” I reply, propelling
my body out of the pool.

“You seem distracted. What’s
wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Dad. I just had a
rough day.”

“I can go pick up some dinner down
the street. Will Zoë be joining us?”

I still at the sound of her name. I
could prolong this, but I see no point. Zoë made it abundantly clear that she
did not
need
me in her life—twice. “Zoë and I aren’t seeing each other
anymore Dad.”

“But why? She’s a kind and
beautiful girl.”

I wrap my towel around my hips and
head into the kitchen. Dad follows.

“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s
just not going to work out between us.”

“Zoë seems like a sensible young
woman. I’m sure if you two tried to talk this through, you would be able to
settle whatever this is going on between you.”

“Well that’s a little hard when she
doesn’t believe in me as a person or trust me in my professional career.”

“What would make you say that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it
anymore. The thought of what we might have been was great. But that’s all it
will ever be—a thought. I can’t be in a relationship with someone who has such
monumental distrust in me.”

“But—”

“Dad, I don’t want to discuss this
anymore. I’ll always be there for Zoë if she needs me. I care for her deeply,
but that’s where it ends.”

“Morgan, I think you’re making a
huge mis—”

“I don’t want to talk about this,”
I say curtly. “Can you please respect that.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, taking a
step back with his palms up. “Go get dressed. Let your old man treat you to
dinner and a beer.”

I look over at him and think to
rebut, but right now, getting out with him might be what I need.

A day later
, after a conference call with the
designers in Greece, I start thinking about my return. I need to finish what I
started. And if I’m being honest, I’m eager for a change of scenery. I need a
huge distraction.

 It’s late evening. Lisa, Leo and
Sheila say goodbye, leaving me alone in the office. Trevor is out at one of the
two houses Zach was working on.

The retail space downstairs my
office has become available, and I’m floating with the idea of opening a retail
store and selling home décor accessories.

I decide what I need to move on is
a project. Just thinking of all the different aspects that will go into making
this a reality, I realize it will keep me preoccupied and keep my mind off all
the other things that haunt me.

I am looking at stock at a
wholesaler online when I hear a thump coming from the lobby outside my office
door. I wonder what it is and open the door. The moment I step out, a masked
man holds me by my neck and shoves me against the wall.

The man pins
my body high up on the wall. My feet dangle
off the floor. He squeezes my neck so tightly, I can barely breathe. I try to pull
his hands from my neck, I try to kick him so he’ll let go of me, but he’s big
and tall and my efforts are futile.

Soon, blackness comes…

Crackling sounds wake
me. I can’t stop coughing. When
I open my eyes, I realize I’m lying in my office on the floor and bright orange
flames engulf the windows in front me.

“Help!” I scream, struggling to my
feet. I run to the door, but it’s burning hot. Smoke seeps under the gap of the
door. I’m surrounded by fire and smoke so thick it hampers my vision. I feel
around on my desk and eventually locate my phone. It’s hot to the touch. I
quickly dial 9-1-1, while pulling my blazer over my nose and mouth. It isn’t
long before I can’t breathe anymore…

I’m scrubbing up
after surgery at the clinic, when
our office assistant rushes in.

“Doctor Drake, I have a Doctor Maria
Lopez from SMFC on the line for you. She says it’s urgent.”

“What line is she on?”

“Three.”

“Thanks, Sandra.” I lift the
nearest receiver and press three. “Hi Maria, what’s up?”

“I just attended to a patient. I
think she’s your friend from the party a few weeks ago.”

“Zoë?”

“The designer, right?”

“Yes.”

“She was brought in with smoke inhalation
and second degree burns.”

“Is she conscious?”

“No, and it’s not looking very
good.”

“Maria, promise me you’ll do
everything you can. I’m on my way… Is her airway open?”

“Slightly.”

“What’s she on right now?”

“We’re taking a look with the fiber
optics camera as we speak.”

“Okay. Get back to her. You’re on Hyde
Street right?”

“Yes, 1990 Lyde. I’ll tell security
to expect you.”

I rush to my office, snatch my keys
and wallet off my desk, and head for my car.

What in reality is a twenty-minute
drive feels like an hour. The last time I was this nervous was when I got the
call saying a car hit Mom. I rush through the driveway and leave the car with
the valet. I stop at the desk and get directions to the burn unit. A few cops
and fire fighters lurk around.

I make my way through the crowd and
eventually see Maria.

“Any news?”

“I’m afraid I have some bad news. It
looks like this whole thing is an attempt on her life. Someone tried to kill
her.”

I’m so shocked by her words, I collapse
into a nearby bench and bury my face in my palms.

She continues, “There are strangulation
marks on her neck, and some of the firefighters say they detected a strong gasoline
odor at the site.”

“Who would do that? Can I please see
her?”

“You can, but the police want to
talk to you. We found out that her next of kin is deceased, and like you, I don’t
think they have any idea who’s responsible for this.”

“Her brother was her next of kin;
he died after surgery a few days after the party. He was her only family.”

“Oh gosh.”

“I need to see her please,” I say,
rising to my feet. “Is she going to make it?”

“We’re doing everything we can. We
managed to get a tube down her windpipe, and she’s on a ventilator for now. We’ll
need to get her into the hyperbaric chamber soon. Follow me, she’s right over
here.”

“What about the physical burns?”

“Those are the least of my concern.
They’ll be fine, mostly confined to her feet and a few where it looks like
plastic melted on her hand.”

As I enter the room, a chill runs
through my body at the sight of her. The scene is not foreign to me, but for
the first time, I feel what the families of my patients feel when family
members are unconscious and one machine keeps them alive. This isn’t a patient—it’s
Zoë. The charcoal smell is not from
a patient’s
burned skin—it’s Zoë’s
burned skin, and worse of all, that ventilator is not there to keep
any
patient
alive, it’s keeping Zoë, a woman whom I’ve grown to love, alive.

“I’ll leave you alone with her for
a few minutes while the hyperbaric chamber is prepared.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

The sight of her lifeless body
lying there instills a fear that runs deep through my bones. I love her. I’m
scared of losing her, regardless of knowing that there is no longer a relationship
between us, despite the fact that just a day ago she told me she didn’t want or
need me in her life.

I feel like an ass for walking away
from her. I should have been there for her. I should have kept on trying. Now,
as I see the bruising around her neck, I wonder who could possibly want to hurt
her. Why? For what purpose? Anger permeates through every vessel in my body at
the sight of the marks around her neck. I try to think of who could be
responsible for this. The only person who comes to mind is her fucking
ex-husband.

A knock on the door disturbs my
thoughts. A middle-aged man dressed in a suit approaches me, followed by Maria.

“This is Detective Bradshaw,” Maria
says. “He’d like to talk to you. We have to take her to the chamber now. I’ll
be here all evening. Have one of the nurses page me if you need me.”

I watch helplessly as they wheel
her away.

“Thanks, Maria. Detective Bradshaw,”
I say, shaking his hand.

“Doctor Drake. I have so many questions,
and right now you may be the only person who can answer any of them.”

“I was hoping you might be able to
answer some for me. I don’t even know where this happened.”

“At her downtown office. Can you
tell me anything that might be helpful? Anyone who may want to harm her? Any
altercations she may have had recently?”

I think back to my party and her
exchange with Jodi, but Todd is the one whom I suspect is responsible for this.

“Actually, I do. About a month ago,
we were at dinner and her ex-husband and I had a bit of an exchange. Things
didn’t get physical, but she told me about their nasty divorce two-and-a-half-years
ago and a subsequent lawsuit. He pays her a settlement every month, but I
remember her telling me he vowed to get back at her one day.”

“Was she afraid of him? Do you know
why they got divorced?”

“Zoë’s not afraid of anybody. You
should see the secluded area where she lives. He cheated on her with a mutual
friend. Zoë and that very woman—the mutual friend—had an exchange a few weeks
ago at a party at my house, but it was nothing much, and no one made any
threats. She did tell me her ex threatened her, and in my presence, she
received a threatening phone call from him a few weeks ago.”

“Did you hear the conversation?”

“Just her side of it. She told me
he said he’d make both her and me pay for embarrassing him. She hung up on him,
and he called back a second time. I took the phone and told him to stay away
from her. That was the last I heard. If he contacted her since then, she didn’t
tell me about it.”

“How and when did you two meet?”

“We met about two months ago. I
hired her to redesign the interior of my house and soon after, we started
seeing each other.”

“Do you know any of her friends or
family? Employees?”

“Her brother was her best friend,
but he died after surgery a few weeks ago. She doesn’t have too many friends,
but Jada and Jonathan Kole might be her closest.”

“Ex D.A. Jonathan Kole and his
wife?”

“Yes. Zoë’s design assistant’s name
is Leo, but I don’t know his last name, and Lisa is the receptionist from her
office.”

“Anything else?”

“Not that I can remember now.”

“Where were you between four and
seven this evening?”

“In surgery. I saw three separate
patients at the RFD Medical Clinic. I had just finished when Doctor Lopez
called.”

“When was the last time you saw Miss
Jenkins?”

“Yesterday.”

 “Do you mind telling me what you
all spoke about?”

“Our relationship. We spoke a
little about her brother’s death and the results of his autopsy.”

“Is that it?”

“I also spoke to her a little about
her health, but that’s about it.”

“Is there anyone who can confirm
you were at that clinic this afternoon?”

“Sure. There are over twenty
employees there, not to mention the patients I attended to,” I say, handing him
my card.

He pulls his card and hands it to
me. “If you think of anything else, give me a call. How can I reach you?”

I gently take my card back and
scribble my number behind it, “That’s my cell number, but I won’t leave here
until Zoë gets better. Until then, you can find me here.”

 We shake hands. He leaves, and I
call Jada to let her know what happened. It isn’t long before she arrives at
the hospital. About an hour later, Jonathan joins us straight from the airport.

Four hours later, after pure oxygen
has been administered to her body, Zoë shows signs of improvement. She isn’t out
of danger, but she is making progress.

Maria has been in and out all night
long; and although I have surgical cases tomorrow, I can’t bring myself to
leave Zoë. She has no one, and whether she likes it or not, I intend to be
here. I make a few phone calls, and I am grateful that I’ve found two other
surgeons to fill in for me for the next few days. Until Zoë is awake and able
to talk to me, I refuse to leave her side.

I had hoped Jada would know more
about who might be responsible for this, but unfortunately, she knew as much as
I did. We can’t figure out why Zoë called Jonathan’s office and left a message
asking him to call her immediately upon his return. The only thing we can figure
is that she needed some sort of legal advice.

I wish that she had felt
comfortable enough to turn to me if she was in some sort of trouble.

The following morning, Jada pokes
her head in. Megan and Jonathan follow closely behind. They’ve all been
outfitted in sterile gowns and gloves, customary in burn units. In every way
that counts, all of us have become her family.

They spend the better part of the
morning but soon have to return to their daily lives. As they are about to head
out, Leo and three of her other staff members ask to come in. Jada and Leo
introduce me to the others, but at this moment, I’m suspicious of them all.
Only two are allowed for a minute as the others wait outside. Lisa and Leo are
in tears when they see her. They say a prayer at her bedside, and I realize how
much they love her.

Twenty-four hours later, Zoë is off
the ventilator. The sedation drugs will wear off soon. When she wakes, I want
to be there. Thankfully, she is making progress and is mostly out of danger. However,
after unexpectedly losing two patients in the last few weeks, I am fully aware
of how fragile life is and how quickly things change.

I sit at the edge of the bed and
stare at her beautiful face. This could have been so much worse, and I am grateful
the firefighters got her out in time. I am thankful her hair was not down that
day. If it was, I might not be sitting here with her now. After talking with
some of the firefighters, I found out her phone melted in her hand and the
wedges of her heels were on fire when they got into the room, hence the burns
on her hands and feet.

The fire department ruled it as arson.
The police department ruled it as an attempted homicide, and I am so eager for
her to wake because I want to know more. I want this person behind bars. I want
to find out why they’d want to hurt her.

Her eyes move slightly, and I
realize she’s about to wake. I call the nurse and ask her to get Maria. Her
eyes open, and after looking at me and smiling softly, her eyes travel around
the room. She looks down at her body.

“Hey. You’re in the hospital,” I murmur.
“You’re going to be okay.”

“You’re here,” she whispers so
softly that I barely hear the words as they leave her lips.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I
told you I’d always be here for you.”

She scrutinizes me. A tear runs
down the side of her face.

She is terribly hoarse. I know it
must be painful for her to talk. Maria enters the room.

“Hello, Zoë. I’m Doctor Lopez, and
I’ll be the one taking care of you while you’re here with us.”

“I remember you.” Zoë smiles
softly.

“I know you’re in pain. Your throat
will feel that way for some time. Do you remember what happened?”

She nods.

“You’re safe here,” I say to her.

“Yes, you are,” Maria concurs. “There’s
no need for you to worry.”

“My throat is sore.”

“It will be that way for two to
three weeks. We had to run a tube down your throat to help you breathe.”

“When can I go home?” she asks.

“It’s too early to discuss that. We
need to observe you. I’m going to give you something for the pain, but your body
needs some rest.”