Time to Say Goodbye (Michigan Sweet Romance)

by Parker J Cole

  “Lyme Literate Medical Doctor,” came the response from an avatar in the form of a stick of chalk.

  “There’s a difference?”

  “Some doctors say they know about Lyme but they don’t know jack. You need to find someone who knows more about Lyme than what they find online.”

  A knot of tension coiled in her stomach. She thought of Dr. Manchester, who’d been the first to determine Dev had Lyme. But was that enough? They’d started him on with antibiotics and it seemed to do the trick. Yet the physical therapy wasn’t working, so there had to be more.

  “How do you mean?”

  “Look, a real LLMD deals specifically with Lyme disease and keeps up with the ever-developing research on the disease, diagnoses, and treatments. It’s the difference between knowing how to treat a burn wound or putting a Band-Aid on it. Most MDs only know how to put on a Band-Aid. They prescribe antibiotics and think that’s all that needs to be done.”

  Gargi sat back from the computer and stared out at the calm waters of the bay. Its serenity eluded her. Had Dev been given a Band-Aid by Dr. Manchester?

  A frosty wind flowed through the window and she got up to stand in front of it. The air brushed against her cheeks, cooling the hot feeling, and the tang of it enriched the experience.

  “It’s my opinion we do something rather than nothing.” Dr. Manchester’s voice echoed in her brain. Was that truly medical advice she should have adhered herself to?

  Gargi dragged her fingers down her face. But what could she have done back then? Desperation and fear had motivated her actions.

  Was it her fault Dev wasn’t getting any better?

  A harsh sob escaped her mouth. Images from her childhood, the ones she’d censored over the years, roared to life. Her mother smiling at her from the porch in their old home in the upper-class suburb of West Bloomfield on the outskirts of Detroit. Mama’s long hair braided down her back, dressed in a flowy mint-green sari. Her hand on Papa’s arm. Those large brown eyes gazed at Papa with such love. So much love that Gargi gasped at the depth of it.

  How strange to remember her mother with such clarity, when all that surged with the memory was self-loathing. Gargi stuffed her fist in her mouth. The same intensity of feeling her mother had for Papa had been the same for Dev and herself.

  A violent tremble wracked her limbs. She couldn’t be responsible for someone else’s death. Not again.

  The deal she and Dev had made with the state had brought them to this point. Would this decision do more than put his life in danger? Would he lose it instead?

  “Dear Jesus, please, please, please…”

  Please, what? a voice she fought to silence every day roared. Please heal your brother? See how much good it did you before.

  She covered her ears as if the words came from an external source, but they came from within. The same source that wondered why bad things happened to good people. The place she locked her darkest thoughts and emotions.

  The pit where the memory of her mother’s dead body lay.

  Gargi bent over in pain. Not a physical sense of agony but one that was real nonetheless. Falling to her knees and clutching her middle, she whispered, “D-don’t t-think about it. Don’t think a-about it.” She rocked back and forth, repeating the words like a mantra. Forcing herself to subdue the distant images which fought for light.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. No use in going there. What’s done was done. She breathed deeply and then slowly straightened up again. Focusing on the past would do absolutely nothing. Just bury it and move on.

  A slight tremor took over her hand as she gripped the ledge of the window sill and pulled herself up. Her jaw clenched hard, her teeth grinding against each other, but she went and sat back at the computer. The only person that mattered was Dev. Keeping the thought firmly at the forefront of her mind, she tapped the keyboard and the bright light of the monitor came back on again.

  She read through the forum for another hour, copying and pasting notes into her document. Then she searched the Web for yet another hour in order to find an LLMD. One of good standing finally showed up in Detroit. Taking down the contact information, she decided to take Dev with her for a long drive.

  A glimpse at the clock showed the time to be half past midnight. She yawned and got ready for bed.

  When she finally laid down on the crisp sheets she’d washed earlier that day, Leon’s face floated behind her eyelids. Truth be told, had she not overheard their distasteful conversation between the men, his enjoyment of her food would have sent her flying high.

  It just added one more good thing about him. He liked her cooking.

  She rolled onto her side. Maybe some part of her found him attractive. No, he had no resemblance to her ex-fiancé, Rahul. No man ever would, not even her brother. But Leon Reckley was appealing on his own.

  Was it the beard? Or the dark, golden eyes reminding her of a prowling animal? Could it be the patient way he worked with Dev day after day, no matter how much he disliked her brother? Was it the obvious love for his mother?

  Gargi didn’t know. What she did know was Leon occupied her thoughts more and more. She had no idea what to do about it.

  The ding-dong of the doorbell ringing drove Leon out of sleep. He snatched the covers off his head and squinted at the red numbers of the clock on the nightstand. Four-thirty?

  “Who in the Sam Hill is at my door at this time in the morning?”

  The bell rang again and he dragged himself out the bed. He had no neighbors he spoke to on a regular basis in this small town. The nature of the deal with Sunstone had him keep a low profile while he treated Kapoor.

  Was it Gargi?

  He slid his slippers on and scratched at his chest. “It couldn’t be her,” he said aloud. He’d never told her where he stayed so there was no way she was at the door. It would have been nice, though. More than nice, but even at four-thirty in the morning on a Friday, Gargi being at his place better have a good excuse.

  But who could it be?

  The third time it rang, he hollered, “I’m coming and somebody better be dead!”

  Flicking on the light switch near the door, he opened it. “Krause.”’

  The outside light flooded Krause’s face. At this hour of the day, his friend’s blue eyes shone with alertness.

  Krause clamped a giant hand on his bare shoulder. “Hey, boy! How ya doin’?”

  The heat drained out of him. “Is it Mama? Did somethin’ happen to Mama?”

  His friend scowled. “Naw, Leon. How stupid do ya think I am?”

  Leon released a pent-up breath. “Then what you doin’ here?”

  “Can I come in first? I don’t like talkin’ to a man wearin’ his boxers in front of the whole neighborhood.”

  He stepped back to allow his friend in and shut the door. “Yeah, well—wait a minute. If you up here, who watchin’ Mama? And what the Sam Hill are you doin’ here anyway?”

  Krause lifted a tackle box he hadn’t noticed before. “We goin’ fishin’.”

  “Fishin’? Dadblast it, what the devil do ya mean we goin’ fishin’?”

  A blonde eyebrow arched. “Is there something of dat you didn’t understand?”

  Leon opened his mouth to say something, but a yawn overtook him. “Boy, you out yer mind. I ain’t goin’ fishin’.”

  “Ya gotta take care of that Kapoor fella today?”

  “Naw, but—”

  “Then we goin’ fishin’.”

  Leon gripped his hair with agitated fingers. “Krause, who’s watchin’ my mama?”

  “You ‘memba that doorknob, Bonnie Blue Smith?”

  It took a moment of Leon to even think about what a doorknob was. “You mean the one ev’rybody had a turn with?”

  “Except you,” Krause sniffed.

  “And you while you crackin’ jokes,” Leon muttered.

  “Well,” Krause went on as he set the tackle box on the floor. “She come by your place when she heard Mama Reckley wasn’t doin
’ too good. Been there a couple of times now, offerin’ to help out. So, when I mention to Mama Reckley I wanted to come up here, she called Bonnie Blue and that be that.”

  “How she find out where I live?”

  Krause shrugged. “I told her.”

  Leon thumped Krause on the head. “Why you do that?”

  “I was tryin’ to get a turn.”

  “I woulda thought that’s one door that woulda came off the hinges by now.” Leon mumbled as another yawn over took him.

  Krause chuckled. “I figure ya need some time to yerself, so that’s why I’m here. Got some steelhead runnin’ ‘round there this time of year.”

  “I done told you I ain’t goin’ fishin’.”

  “Yeah, you is. Mama Reckley told me to make sure I take her boy fishin’ today so that’s what I’m doin’. Plus, I’m already up here.”

  “Mama?”

  “Yeah. Mama Reckley said you needed a break from everything. She wanted me to come up here an’ take you fishin.’ I got all the equipment. We goin’ to Foote Dam for the day.”

  Leon drew his hand through his hair. Maybe he should just go. He hadn’t been to Foote Dam in a while, nor had he been fishing. It would be a good way to relax and get his mind together about everything.

  “All right, Krause. We’ll go.”

  Krause snorted. “I done tol’ ya that already. Now where’s yer other bedroom so I can get some shut-eye?”

  Leon blinked. “Bedroom. What you talkin’ about?”

  “I’m ’bout to go to sleep. I been drivin’ since one o’clock.” Krause’s eyes widened. “Boy, ya wasn’t thinkin’ we was ‘bout to go fishin’ now, was you?”

  “Well, what the devil was I ‘pose to think with you showin’ up here at four in the mornin’?”

  Krause pursed his lips in thought. “Dang. I ain’t think about it from that point of view.”

  Leon threw his hands up in the air. “You almost as smart as people say you think you are.”

  A wide smile creased Krause’s face. “Why, thank you, boy. That’s real nice of you.”

  Leon slapped his forehead. At times, his best friend exhibited the IQ of a fence post.

  Several hours later, the steady roar of the water at the edge of Foote Dam along the Au Sable river failed to drown his thoughts of Gargi and her brother. Hip-deep in the water with a fishing rod bent as he fought to reel in a steelhead, his attention was split between the thrashing fish and the possibility of Kapoor’s innocence.

  The very idea he could be wrong shook to the core. All the evidence had pointed to him as the culprit. But innocent men had been made guilty by evidence, whether by its lack or its abundance. Kapoor insisted there were others involved, but he was left to take the fall.

  “Ya almost got ‘im, boy!” Krause hooted as he plodded against the flow of water toward the place where the fish struggled against the line. The water continued to flow past them along the rocky banks.

  The rod bent further and Leon allowed the line to play out before he reeled it back. Who were the others involved in the scheme? There had to be some way to find out. But how could he do that when Kapoor, though he was vocal enough about there being others, still remained tight-lipped about who those people were?

  “Dat boy gotta be gettin’ tired now.” Krause waded over to the bank to pick up the net.

  “I’ll say. He ain’t goin’ down without a fight, now is he?”

  Krause grinned. “Wouldna be all dat fun if he did, now would it?”

  A brisk wind carried the scent of the river. The fish writhed at the end of the line. Was the line about to break?

  Was Kapoor innocent?

  A syndicate connection, perhaps? Michigan was no Chicago or New York, but it had its own prevalence of Mafia families even to this day. Could one of those be involved?

  “Careful now, Leon. Let the line out.”

  He let the line release again. A mob family connection would have been instantly recognized by the FBI. They would have gone for them probably before investigating Kapoor.

  But what about the phone taps? Could these people who Kapoor claimed left him to take the rap fake his voice on the phone? Perhaps. Audio editing software, even a cheap brand, could achieve the desired results. The state called in an audio engineer to testify if the calls were falsified, and the woman had made it clear they weren’t.

  The rod almost jumped out of his hand.

  “Boy, pay attention. Don’t let ‘im go yet. Reel it in!”

  Leon did as instructed, pulling the fish thrashing around for its life. Round and round the vicious cycle went. For every piece of evidence Leon tried to refute in his mind, he remembered a move from the state to counteract it. They had done a thorough job in their prosecution of Kapoor.

  So where did that leave him?

  “Back at square one,” he muttered. That Kapoor was guilty as sin.

  Suddenly the line broke, and the rod snapped back as the tension released.

  “Looks like ya lost ‘im,” Krause responded unnecessarily.

  “I can see that from the frickin’ empty line I just pulled on!” Leon shouted.

  Krause arched an eyebrow. “Poke yer lip out any further and a bird’s gonna come along and—”

  “Shut up, Krause!”

  “Boy, what’s wrong witcha?”

  Leon sighed and waded back to the bank. Wasn’t worth getting upset with his best friend because his own head had gotten screwed on backwards.

  “My brother is innocent,” Gargi had spoken over and over again. Could she be right? Despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary, what if Kapoor was innocent? And if he was free and clear of doubt, what would that mean for this growing attraction he tried to stamp out for Gargi?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Gargi logged into her online bank account and then stared at the screen.

  “What is this?”

  She leaned forward, not sure if she was seeing things correctly.

  “This can’t be right. I must have logged into the wrong account somehow.”

  Although she knew she hadn’t, Gargi logged out and back in again. The screen hadn’t changed. Underneath her regular banking account was a new, never seen before investment account with a balance of two hundred fifty thousand dollars.

  “Whoa,” Gargi murmured. “Obviously someone at the bank got their accounts mixed up.”

  She clicked on the Live Chat feature her bank offered and spent the next half hour going back and forth with the representative. By the time she ended the chat, her head buzzed.

  It wasn’t an error on the bank’s part. She really did have two hundred grand – all of which belonged to her.

  Gargi fell back in the chair and gazed at the window. The bay’s boisterous waters matched the bubbles running through her veins.

  It wouldn’t make a dent in the restitution Dev was ordered to pay back, but every little bit helped.

  “Thank you, Jesus!” She did a happy dance. She’d be able to take half the money and pay it towards Dev’s restitution. Every donation she gave chipped away at the monstrous thing. The rest she’d use for his care.

  She raced down the stairs and knocked on Dev’s door.

  “Bhaii, you’ll never believe—”

  “Gargi,” Dev panted. Beads of sweat lined his ashen forehead like crystals. “Call 911. Now.”

  A cold shower of fear drenched her body. For a split second, she couldn’t even move. Time seemed to stand still as flashes of her mother’s body appeared before her eyes.

  Not again. Not again.

  The drive to the hospital seemed to last for an eternity, although she got there thirty seconds after the ambulance. She didn’t remember calling her father, but the text message stating he was on his way must have meant she had.

  Dr. Manchester had already arrived by the time Gargi rushed into the ER. Dev had been taken into a private room.

  “Miss Kapoor.” She gave a brief nod in greeting.

  “What’s
wrong with him? He had trouble breathing at home.”

  An uncertain look came over the doctor’s face. Gargi felt her entire body flush with another icy wave of fear.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on, Miss Kapoor,” Dr. Manchester stated bluntly. “The antibiotics should be working. There’s no known reason why your brother should be having respiratory problems.”

  Gargi’s heart plummet to the soles of her feet. Looking into the blue eyes of the doctor before her, one question glared in her mind in giant, bold, red letters.

  Was Dev going to die?

  The air rushed out of her at the very idea. She stumbled into one of the chairs outside of Dev’s room. The blood pounded in her ears.

  What was this Lyme disease that it could destroy a man at the prime of his life? What was this insidious parasite to—to—

  A sob wrenched from her throat. Dr. Manchester came to sit next to her.

  “Miss Kapoor, please don’t panic.”

  Gargi barely heard her. She’d been reading and reading but she still didn’t know much about it. She had no desire to be one of those people who learned all they could about a disease and promoted advocacy after the fact of a loved one’s death. What good would it be to be on TV with a foundation in her brother’s name if he wasn’t there to appreciate it?

  Swallowing to bring some moisture her dry mouth, she asked, “What’s being done for him now?”

  “He’s on a ventilator right now.”

  Her eyes closed. Agony riddled her body. It was Mama all over again “Why is he—”

  “His body seems to be shutting down. We’ve stabilized him now, but we don’t know how long that is going to help.”

  The memory of the post in the forum came up in her like a ‘Danger’ sign. “Some doctors say they know about Lyme but they don’t know jack. You need to find someone who knows more about Lyme than what they find online.”

  “Dr. Manchester, I want to call in a specialist.” The words came out of her mouth before she thought to rein them in. Then she realized she had no desire to.

  The woman drew back a little from her. “What do you mean?”

  Gargi opened her eyes. “I want to contact someone who is more knowledgeable about Lyme Disease than you are.”