Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(70)

When she felt brave enough, she stood, holding on to her nightstand with both hands. Once she was upright, she felt more confident. Taking baby steps she walked out of her bedroom and into the living room and saw Michael sprawled on her sofa. One arm was flung above his head and one leg draped over the edge, with his foot resting on the braided rug. Lovie and Peace were sleeping on his chest. Snowball lay on the back of the sofa, curled up in a fluffy white ball. Sammy was asleep, too, snoring softly next to the coffee table. The cats had apparently called a truce and permitted him to spend the night.

Lovie woke up first. On seeing Macy, she stood and stretched, arching her back and digging her nails into Michael's shirt. His eyes flew open and, when he saw Macy in her kitten shirt, he smiled.

"You shouldn't be up," he said.

"But I am."

He sat up awkwardly, displacing the two cats. "How do you feel?"

"Like I took a flying leap off my bicycle. How do I look?"

He grinned almost boyishly. "Like you took a flying leap off your bicycle."

Standing now, he ran his fingers through his already disheveled hair. "I could use some coffee."

"Me, too." It suddenly occurred to her that Michael had probably missed dinner on account of her. "When's the last time you ate?"

"I found something in your refrigerator."

Macy went still. "What did it taste like?"

"I don't know. I think it was leftover salmon casserole."

"It wasn't. That was cat food."

His expression was priceless. His eyes widened and he made jerky movements with his tongue against his lips, as though attempting to banish the taste from his mouth.

If it hadn't hurt so much to move, Macy would've laughed. Instead, she held up her hand. "I often make my own, so don't worry. You weren't eating processed cat food. Didn't you find it a bit blah?"

"Not really. It was good, but no wonder the cats were all over me."

When she moved toward the coffeemaker, Michael stopped her. "I'll make it."

"Thank you."

"Once it's finished brewing, I need to get home. After I have a cup, of course."

Macy nodded. "I don't know how to thank you."

He seemed eager to be on his way. The coffeepot was only half full when he grabbed mugs for each of them. He gulped his down, then started for the door.

He hesitated. "Promise you'll call me if you need anything," he said.

"Sure." She didn't want him to leave and yet she could hardly believe he'd been here at all.

"Harvey said he'd check on you later this morning."

Macy sat in a kitchen chair, cradling the mug between her hands. The cats were at her feet. Sammy, too. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm so...sorry to have been such a bother."

Michael cupped one side of her face. He looked down at her and for the briefest moment she thought he might kiss her again. That was what she wanted him to do. He didn't. "You were no bother, Macy. None whatsoever. I'm just grateful you weren't badly injured."

Then he walked through the living room to the front door, skirting paintings and piles of books and the laundry basket that now sat on the floor.

Fastidious Dr. Everett maneuvering through the chaos of her home. That one image epitomized the differences between them.

Macy's heart sank.

Chapter Twenty-Six

W hen I left Macy, I was convinced she'd be perfectly fine without me. She revealed no signs of having suffered a concussion, and she should recover fully in the next week, with a few scars to show for the experience. I insisted she take a couple of days off and not worry about completing the mural until she felt up to it.

I needed to get away--because I'd been tempted to kiss her...again. I couldn't understand it, and yet I was drawn to her. Several times during the night I'd stood and watched her sleep. Once I pressed my lips to her forehead in a chaste goodnight kiss, then quickly, guiltily, hurried away from her room.

From Macy's I went to a drive-through latte stand and ordered a double espresso. I sat in the car in a nearby parking lot, sipping my coffee. I needed the additional caffeine to kick me into gear. Sleeping on a sofa with two cats on my chest and one just above my head, not to mention a dog on the carpet beside me, wasn't the ideal condition for peaceful slumber. Besides, the dog snored.

A second sip of the espresso started to revive me. I closed my eyes and remembered how I'd reacted when I got the call that Macy had been injured. The hospital hadn't given me any details. I was well aware that the administration's policy was not to relay a patient's medical condition over the phone, yet I'd demanded to know the extent of her injuries. It didn't matter; they wouldn't tell me.

Except for a few occasions in Hannah's last months, I can't remember getting to the hospital faster in my ten years as a physician. My heart felt like it might explode by the time I made it to the E.R. In the beginning I was afraid Macy had been seriously hurt and then, when I learned the true extent of her injuries, I was so angry with her I could barely speak. Thankfully she'd been unable to ascertain my mood. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her for riding her bike in the crazy Seattle traffic, especially during rush hour. She should know better!

Shock, fear, anger, relief and finally acceptance. I felt each one of those emotions more powerfully than I'd felt anything since Hannah's death. These stages were classic reactions to the news of trauma, whether accident or illness. I'd often seen families shift from one stage to the next while dealing with some health crisis. I'd gone through it myself when Hannah was first diagnosed. I was unprepared and frankly unwilling to feel these same gutwrenching emotions for Macy...and yet I had.