Catherine Lanigan - Sophie's Path

Sophie understood that even though he’d have a full physical recovery, Jack’s world would be forever altered.

She placed his shoes on the floor, turning them so he could slip his feet in more easily. Even this simple thing would be hard for the next little while.

It was her way of trying to say she was sorry about Aleah without admitting any guilt. The hospital was not at fault. Dr. Hill and Dr. Barzonni had both told her that no one was.

But Sophie knew that some part of Jack would always believe she had committed the gravest of errors.

He met her eyes as she straightened up. There was no spark, no hint of the flirtation she often found with men. There was only anger and blame.

“If you have no one to take you home, I’ll drive you,” she said.

“I’ll get a cab,” he huffed.

She ground her jaw and could feel her heels digging into the linoleum. “I’ll drive you home and I will make sure you are inside the door safe and sound.”

“Forget it,” he said.

“Fine. Then I’ll tell the staff you’ll be staying here through the rest of the weekend.”

“You can’t do that!”

“I can do anything I feel I need to do for the well-being of my patient,” she retorted.

Jack snorted and punched the bed. “Fine. But I’ll dress myself.”

“Absolutely,” she chimed in. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that made you uncomfortable.” She went to the curtains and pulled them around the track to give him privacy.

As she walked out, she heard Jack growl, “After this, I hope I never lay eyes on you again.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“THIS IS WHERE you live?” Sophie peered through her windshield at the white three-story condo building tucked into a mass of oak, pine and maple trees on the northwest shore of Indian Lake. “I didn’t know these were here. Looks like only four units,” she mused, thinking how much she’d love to live by the water. Wouldn’t everybody? She leaned over the steering wheel to see the second-floor deck. Instead of a typical railing, twisted steel designed to resemble nautical ropes ran between white posts. “When you said the condos on the lake, I thought you meant those ugly brown monstrosities that look like a federal penitentiary. This is absolutely beautiful.”

“Thanks. Cate Sullivan found it and worked the deal for me.”

“Wow,” Sophie gushed, inspecting the private outdoor staircase that led down to the beach, a drive-in first-floor garage. The second story obviously held the main living space and on the third story were the bedrooms. She’d seen these floor plans all over the south end of Lake Michigan. She smiled as she saw a chimney wall, which could only mean a wood-burning fireplace.

She heard the seat belt alarm ping as Jack undid his belt.

“Well, thanks for the ride,” he said with a perfunctory nod.

Sophie spun to face him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leaving,” he replied, his tone so brittle she snapped her head back.

“Not without me.”

He glared at her. “I think I can make it on my own.”

She gave him a daring look. “Think so? Go for it.”

Jack snickered, got out and slammed the door. He stood perfectly still for a long moment and then leaned against the car.

Sophie had already unhooked her seat belt and opened her door in the time it took him to shut his. Before he could say a word, she raced over and wrapped her arm around his waist.

“I’ve got this,” he said.

“I see that.”

She walked him up to the garage door and he punched in his security code.

“Am I having a second concussion?” he asked.

“You’ve barely eaten since the accident. You’re fine. Nothing that chicken parmesan and spaghetti wouldn’t cure.”

Jack opened the door and wrestled away from Sophie’s grasp. “I can make it.”

She glanced up the stairs. “Let me be the judge.”

Jack clung to the railing, but he managed to take the stairs at an almost normal pace.

Sophie followed him to the first-floor living area. It was completely open. Living, dining, kitchen and a small study co-existed under a high-pitched, beamed ceiling. A massive river rock fireplace filled the left wall. The wall facing the lake was entirely glass, and the view was stunning.

Sophie was struck by the emptiness of the place. There was hardly any furniture. In the study alcove was a desk, chair and computer. A printer and a small television set. There were no sofas, chairs, tables or lamps in the living room and no dining table. Just bar stools. The condo’s kitchen was a cook’s dream, with a six-burner gas stove, double convection ovens, dishwasher, a double-wide Sub-Zero refrigerator, a six-foot-tall wine cooler with glass doors and yards of granite countertop. However, except for an espresso machine and a commercial-grade juicer, there was nothing on the counters. No knickknacks, no canisters. It was as if he’d just moved in, but she didn’t see packing boxes anywhere.

Obviously, Jack put all his energy into his business and his employees. He hadn’t done much for himself at all. In that way, they were very much alike.

Jack lumbered over to one of the bar stools and sat down. He rubbed his injured ankle and then put his elbows on the tortoiseshell granite countertop. “So. I’m good. You can leave.”

Sophie stuck her hand on her hip. “I’m going as soon as you eat something.”

He shook his head. “Will this nightmare never end?”

Sophie went to the stainless steel Sub-Zero refrigerator and opened the door. The shelves were filled with carrots, turnips, kale, spinach, tomatoes, cucumbers, lemons, limes, apricots, peaches and berries. She saw almond milk, coconut milk, protein powder, protein shakes and an entire shelf of vitamins.

“You keep your vitamins in the fridge?”

He slid his arms across the counter and laid his head on them. “Just give me one of my power drinks.”

Sophie clucked her tongue as she pulled out a vanilla shake and popped the pull tab. She handed it to him. “There’s no garlic in that refrigerator.”

“I don’t like garlic,” he said, taking the drink and chugging it.

“What kind of guy doesn’t like garlic? Every Italian dish my grandmother taught me has garlic. It’s a food group all its own.”

He slammed the can down on the counter. “I don’t like Italian food, either.”

Sophie cleared her throat. “I can see you’ll be okay. Get some rest and don’t forget your appointments on Monday.” She took her car keys out of her pocket and headed for the staircase.

Just as she reached the newel post, she looked back. He was staring at the counter and not at her. “Jack. I’m sorry about Aleah.”

Jack’s face contorted with pain, anger and sorrow. “Please, Sophie. Just leave.”

She rushed down the stairs and out of the garage. As she started her car, she realized she was crying. Her tears flowed like a dam that had burst. From the moment the accident victims had been brought into the ER, Sophie had checked her emotions. She’d kept her mind on her work and the duties she needed to perform in the moment. She and the other team members lived in a bubble during events like that. There was no past and no future. Only the instant. A tiny fraction of time where souls were suspended between the life on earth and the world after this one. The decisions she made had been critical. And everlasting.

Was Jack right?

Had she made the wrong choice about Aleah? If she’d stayed with her, if they’d done tests or performed the thoracentesis sooner, would that have made a difference? Would they have gained another five or ten minutes that might have allowed the defibrillator to do its job?

Was Nate correct that Aleah was likely anorexic? Were her electrolytes to blame for her heart attack? Was it true that she’d never had a chance in the first place?