TIME TO SAY GOODBYE

A MICHIGAN SWEET ROMANCE

By: Parker J. Cole

Copyright © 2017 Parker J. Cole

Cover Art by Cover Design by James, GoOnWrite.com

All rights reserved.

First Edition: October 2017

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

Table of Contents

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT

CHAPTER ONE

GLOSSARY

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

JOIN PARKER’S BODACIOUS READERS

WORKS BY PARKER J COLE

To Raylee Hofacer.

Without her help, this book would not have been written. 

To Elizabeth Chalker.

Without her, I would not know what true strength is.  

Writing about a culture that’s different from your own can be challenging. Thankfully, I had more than just an online site or Wikipedia to fall back on. I had friends.

Rabiya K. -She’s the first Indian woman I ever met, and I met her when I was eighteen years old. I hope one day I can see her again and give her a copy of this book.

Kiran K.  -She’s a woman I highly respect. She had insights into Western culture vs Eastern culture that I believe are reflected in this book. 

Phillip S. -He was the first Indian I met who was a Christian. He helped me to understand certain aspects of Indian culture as it related to faith and the various belief systems.

Naveen S. -My hubby’s friend. I met him when hubby and I first started dating. He’s a wonderful man who I admire for his business acumen and friendship, and is also a character in this book.

Pooja S. -Naveen’s wife. Truly one of the most beautiful women I know. My husband had the honor of participating in her wedding. The memories of that day are immortalized in this book.

Ajit M. -A wonderful photographer whose rather calm demeanor but iron will is captured in the character of his namesake. 

Anita Azeem -A very smart woman with two books under her belt, she provided one of the characters for this story. I couldn’t have done it without her.

Nathan K. -He’s been a huge supporter of mine for a long time. As an apologist, he let me pick his brain time and time again. 

Swati K. -Nathan’s wife. She spent an amazing amount of time helping me understand the various names used in this book and some of their meanings. I even changed them because of her advice.

Asha -She gave me insight into the generational differences from her generation to her children’s generation. 

A special acknowledgement goes to Shruti A., Naveen’s cousin. I met her several years ago when Naveen got married. She reached out to me on social media and we’ve been friends ever since. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sent her major chunks of this book and asked her to look at it to see if the Hindi words were accurate, if a scene worked, etc. I’m not sure why she didn’t run away screaming. And, of course, I made her a character in this book. 

More acknowledgements go to:

Brandon L., for his help with the physical therapy sessions of this book. 

Elizabeth Chalker - She was the first person to educate me about Lyme disease. I’d read her book, Raw Faith: Hanging on the Scratch Marks My Nails Left Behind. It was open heart surgery for the soul. Over time, her strength in the midst of debilitating illness is the stuff of inspiration. Much of the thoughts in this book are from her and her original research into Lyme disease. I can’t tell you how often I sent portions of this manuscript to her to verify that I accurately portrayed this disease on just the basic level. If you want to know more about Elizabeth and her journey with Lyme disease, please visit her website at www.helpelizabeth.net. 

With the help and experiences of so many people, chances are I’m bound to make a mistake. Every single one of them are mine alone. 

The strike of the gavel against the wood block began the nightmare. Every time Gargi entered the prison, the memory of that falling mallet resurfaced with the flare-up of a chronic disease. Three years had passed since then. Four more to go.

Thursday afternoon sunlight warmed her as she walked the short path to the prison entrance. Once indoors, the coolness enveloped her and sent goosebumps along her arms. The officer greeted her as she placed her belongings in the green basket. She passed through the beige-and-brown metal detector and then stood still while a female officer used a flat black wand to swipe over her person. 

Gargi subjected herself to the search and gazed over the dingy white cement walls with the iron gray stripe in the center. Paint chips littered the crevices on the floor. A mix of antiseptic cleanser and dankness filled the air. Her nose wrinkled at the combination.

She’d experienced it all before and yet, each time she came she underwent the same procedure all over again. 

It won’t always be like this. One day, this will all be over. 

The Michigan Court of Appeals received their appeal months ago. Each passing month forced her brother to stay in this forsaken place longer. She only hoped the appeal would work its magic and allow their attorney to argue their case against the state.

Eventually, they’ll prove her brother’s innocence. She knew it. 

Body search completed, Gargi followed the officer down the linoleum hallway to the doors separating the free from the convicted. The ID badge given to her by the guard protected her from suspicion of being anything other than a law-abiding citizen. It lay against her chest like a slab of stone. 

She had to keep fighting for her brother’s freedom with every breath in her body.

The officer led her to the visitors’ room and over to the wall of segregated partitions; thick panes of glass and a burgundy phone on either side for conversation. Circular, metal stools protruded from under the base of the narrow counter space. The room buzzed with noise as loved ones visited each other, but the depressed air hung above them like a rain cloud.

On the other side of the hazy glass, she saw the guard enter with Dev. The khaki uniform swallowed his lean, muscle-trimmed physique. A memory surfaced of her brother clad in an asphalt gray Nehru suit accentuated by a blood-red handkerchief in the left breast pocket.

How debonair he’d looked back then! The color had heightened the dark almond of his skin and played up his luxuriant curly black hair. With a wide grin, he’d shown her the magazine article labeling Devansh Kapoor as one of the top ten sexiest businessmen in Michigan. The article had paid special attention to his eyes. They had made the ladies of high society in Detroit and surrounding suburbs swoon.

They had spent a much-needed evening on the town, away from everything. Cameras and reporters tailed them. Pride over being on her brother’s arm and caught up in his high-profile life left her flushed and excited. 

How happy they’d been then.

Gargi turned off the faucet of memories and pasted on a wide smile. One day, they’d do it again. 

The instant Gargi sat on the cool metal seat across from her brother, she knew something was wrong.

She lifted the phone off the receiver and placed it to her ear. She tracked Dev’s lethargic movements as he did the same on the other side of the glass pane.

“Dev, what’s wrong?”

A labored breath came through the earpiece. “I’m not any better,” he wheezed. “I’m getting sicker.”

Gargi placed her hand on the narrow window between them. Three years had passed since the last time she’d touched her brother. She longed to give him the comfort of a hug. “I thought the doctor treated you for the flu.”

Dev’s chest heaved under the khaki uniform. “I don’t think this is the flu. I can’t remember the flu feeling like this.”

His skin had a wan, waxy appearance. White lines of stress surrounded his lips. A sprinkle of sweat lined his forehead. The thick lashes, which had once made him a financial heart-throb, lined his dull, listless, chestnut-brown eyes. 

What was wrong with him? “Tell me how you’re feeling.”

“I’ve got a headache. I’m hot, tired, and I feel sore all over.” He dropped his head to the table, his unruly black curls matted down by moisture. The guard placed a large hand on Dev’s shoulder and jerked him upright again. 

“Can’t you see he’s sick?” Gargi stood and stabbed a finger in the direction of the attendant guard. “He needs to see the doctor immediately.”

The guard said nothing. 

She tore her gaze from the disinterested silent man, and sat again. “Dev, listen to me. I’m going to hang up so you can go back and see the doctor. You need to go to a hospital.”

A derisive smile lifted the corners of his strained mouth. “Okay, chhotee bahan. I’ll do that.”

Dev’s skin took on an ashen hue. Was he getting worse by the minute? “I mean it, Dev. Go right now and see the doctor.” 

“I will,” he responded. “Maybe they’ll give me another Tylenol.”

“Don’t joke!” Gargi clutched the handset tighter. “I love you.”

Was her brother not receiving proper treatment because he was labeled as a criminal? She bit the inside of her cheek and winced at the resultant sting. Her heart hammered inside her chest and she breathed through her nostrils in an effort to calm down. These people and their lies had done this to him. 

She hung up the phone in a slow, deliberate manner and waited for Dev to do the same. He stretched to hang up, when his arm suddenly dropped like a brick. The phone clattered to the surface of the table.

“Dev? Dev!” Gargi leapt up and hit the glass with a balled fist. “What’s wrong?”

Dev’s mouth moved but she couldn’t hear anything. She snatched the phone off the hook. Her voice trembled. “P-pick up the phone. Tell me what’s w-wrong.”

Dev blinked owlishly. Gargi placed her palm on the window again. “Dev, speak to me. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

The guard bent down and said something to her brother. His eyes closed as if in pain, and with his other hand he reached for the phone and lugged it to his ear.

“I can’t feel my right arm. I can’t move it.”

The strength drained out of her hand as it slid down the window, leaving five streaks of residue from the sudden sweat coating her fingers. The flu didn’t cause paralysis. Something else was going on. 

Gargi gripped the phone with both hands. “You listen to me, bhaaii. Tell that idiot guard next to you to get the doctor now.” 

“They’re not going to so don’t waste your time.” He inhaled a deep breath and opened his eyes. Glassy like polished marbles. 

Had his voice weakened? 

She swallowed to moisten her parched mouth. Her gut roiled and knotted, eaten from the inside by the gnawing thought her brother’s life was in danger. 

“Y-yes, they will. Just give the phone to—”

Dev let out a slight moan and then slumped back. The phone slipped out of his hand and dangled from the metal cord like a condemned man. Gargi screamed as Dev’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. The guard tried to capture his body as he fell backward.

“Dev! What’s going on?” Gargi slammed the glass with the palm of her hand. Her funny bone vibrated achingly along the length of her arm, but she ignored the tingling discomfort as she shouted at the guard. “Get the doctor!”

Two more guards rushed over and hefted Dev’s body up. She could hear their voices as they called his name. Her heart nearly exploded in her chest as she gaped at the unresponsive form of her brother. “Dev!”

Shouldn’t Mama be out of surgery by now? 

Leon glanced at the clock. The small hand crawled at a snail’s pace. Two minutes had passed since the last time he checked.

He leapt up from the padded chair and walked over to the window. A brilliant blue sky with puffy white clouds formed the backdrop of a summer day. Manicured trees lined the sidewalk leading to the front entrance of the hospital. Monday’s nice weather crooked its finger to lure him outside. He almost assented to its tease but reluctantly turned away from the sight.

He had no reason to worry about Alma’s surgery. Dr. Munaco had the most skillful hands in the entire state. He just wanted to remain close by in case...

In case what? The belligerent thought paused the downward spiral of doubt. Hip replacement surgeries happened all the time. If a patient kept to the doctor’s instructions, they went on to lead full active lives. 

Leon sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Though he’d assisted patients on the recovery side of the surgery, he hadn’t experienced the pre-operative side where waiting and praying was an occupation in and of itself.

Dear God, let her be okay.

He cracked his knuckles and made the decision to do something more constructive. Like eat a snack. Meandering over to the vending machine around the corner from the waiting room, he ogled the contents and then pouted like a little boy. 

“Ah, man. No more barbeque Cheetos.”

The reflection of a uniformed nurse passing by caught his eye. He whirled around. “Excuse me, is there another vending machine?”

She gave directions to a dispenser near the emergency room. The automatic doors swung open as he approached. People dashed in and out. A peep inside showed an assortment of individuals in hospital uniforms, patient gowns, or street clothes. He turned his gaze away from the sight and collided with the petite figure of an Indian woman. 

The woman apologized in a distracted, half-hearted way. “Sorry.” 

Before he could reciprocate his own apology, the woman rounded him. Her long, wavy black hair swished in a wide arc. She click-clacked through the ever-narrowing space seconds before the metal doors shut. 

Leon shrugged and started again for the vending machines. After two steps, he stopped midstride.

“She looks familiar,” he said to no one in particular. 

His forehead wrinkled. Did he know her from somewhere? Maybe from work?

No, not from there. And he didn’t know too many Indian people outside of a professional capacity.

Who does she remind me of? 

The answer slipped his memory like a floundering fish. Leon mentally shrugged and continued forward, salivating at the thought of biting down into the spicy flavor of a crunchy barbeque Cheeto. Spying the snack, he started to insert the coins when an image of the woman flashed in his mind. 

In a blindingly, brilliant moment of crystal clarity and recognition, he knew exactly who the Indian woman was.

Kapoor’s sister! 

He recalled the news report on television. It replayed in his head like an old-fashioned news reel from classic movies. She sat behind that dirty, rotten piece of...trash in the court-room. Before and during the trial, the government had frozen all of Kapoor’s assets. Various reports detailed Kapoor’s sister funded her brother’s legal representation.

What is she doing here?

Bitten by the beast of curiosity, Leon pivoted on his feet and headed back to the emergency doors. They opened, and he slipped through. Carefully, he surveyed the area for a head of long, wavy black hair. When he reached the end of the cordoned-off quarters, he rounded the corner.

Halfway down the hall, the click of Kapoor’s sister’s shoes against the tile floor gave away her position. He pursued the sound to a curtained-off section dinned with sounds of frantic voices, beeping machines, and squeaky trolleys.

He almost peeked inside but a doctor appeared from around the corner at the far end of the hall. The doctor strode in his direction at a brisk pace, head bent over a tablet in her hand. Leon gulped, his throat dry. What should he do? If he got caught snooping, he’d get thrown out. 

A second later, the doctor entered the partitioned area where Kapoor’s sister had gone.

Leon gulped again and crept closer. What was going on?

A narrow slit in the yellow and orange checked curtains gave access to the inner goings on. A man lay in the hospital bed, bare chested and weak. When Leon’s gaze landed on the man’s face, tension seized his body with a powerful grasp. 

Devansh Kapoor, you low-down, worthless scum of the earth! 

His lip curled. From his vantage point he could see illness had taken a toll on Kapoor’s body. The man’s chest heaved erratically. Sweat sheathed Kapoor in a layer of beaded moisture. Leon’s contempt ebbed away. He released a deep, gratifying sigh. Good.

Wait, Kapoor was a convict. Where was the guard? Leon scanned the vicinity in vain for a uniformed sentry. What was going on? 

He returned his attention back to the scene unfolding before him. Kapoor’s sister stood next to the bed. Her hair blocked her face from his view. Her slender brown hand reached out to clasp Kapoor’s. The doctor stood on the other side of the bed, next to a monitor.

“Did you run the blood work?” The blonde-haired woman inclined her head to an unseen person.

“Yes,” a man’s voice answered. “The results haven’t come in yet.”

“We need that blood work.” An impatient sigh escaped the woman’s lips. 

“Dr. Manchester, thank you for coming.” Kapoor’s sister placed the limp hand of her brother against her cheek. Leon suppressed an urge to gag. The man didn’t deserve affection of any kind. 

The doctor retrieved the computer tablet from a table off to the side. “Don’t mention it.” She punched on the surface. 

“What will the blood work tell us?”

Leon took a furtive glance behind him to make sure the coast stayed clear. Certain he had yet to be discovered eavesdropping, he turned back to the conversation. He was all ears.

“We’re performing serological blood tests to see if there are antibodies in his blood.”

Leon arched his brow. Antibodies? Some type of infection?

“And if you do find them?” Kapoor’s sister gently laid her brother’s hand back to his side.

Dr. Manchester set the tablet down and went around the bed. “I need to show you this.”

Leon huddled closer to the curtain, making sure his body didn’t brush against it. The doctor lifted the arm Kapoor’s sister had just placed there and pointed to a spot. “Do you see this?”

“Yes. It’s a rash.”

“The rash resembles a bull’s eye target. Notice the dark red center and the surrounding area circling it? This is indicative of Lyme disease.”

Leon’s mouth dropped. How in the world did Kapoor get that?

“How—?”

“The disease is caused by a tick bite. Certain ticks carry bacteria that transmit the disease. The blood work will verify my diagnosis.”

Kapoor’s sister’s shoulders quaked. Through her teary voice, Leon made out the words, “Why didn’t the prison doctor—?”

“Miss Kapoor, Lyme disease is often misdiagnosed because it imitates other diseases. Think about it. The doctor, even your brother, believed he had the flu.”

“Oh, dear God!”

Footsteps and voices sounded behind him. Leon’s heart catapulted into his throat. He didn’t want to miss the good part, but for now—

The voices faded away along with the footsteps. Leon sighed and the pressure in his neck eased. He picked up the threads of the conversation.

“...extremely fortunate. Only forty percent of people have a bull’s eye rash. It can take weeks for the rash to appear. This at least tells me he contracted the disease through a tick bite.”

Kapoor’s sister sniffed. Dr. Manchester motioned to the unseen man in the room, who held out a box of Kleenex. 

Leon’s face scrunched in a scowl. Why were these people trying to help someone like this crook? Medical obligation or not, Kapoor wasn’t worth the effort they put into him. 

“Then why didn’t that idiot doctor try to discover what was really wrong with Dev when he wasn’t getting any better?”

The doctor’s small white hand rested on Kapoor’s sister’s shoulder. “Let’s face facts, Miss Kapoor. Your brother is a prisoner. Why should anyone care?”

You got that right! 

A muscle ticked along his jawline. Why should anyone give a plumb nickel about a man who had no remorse for the hundreds of people he’d hurt? 

Kapoor’s sister’s tiny hand fisted and shook with whatever emotion held her captive. “Those people were paid to lie about what my brother did. He didn’t do those awful things they said he did.” 

Leon rolled his eyes.

Dr. Manchester took the box of Kleenex from the unseen man and held it out. “Regardless of innocence or guilt, once you’re in prison you’re labeled as a convict. And some folks don’t really care for them. Don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Kapoor, but someone else had to die. If it wasn’t for the recent story about inmates dying in prison due to lack of adequate medical treatment, your brother wouldn’t be here.” 

Kapoor’s sister retrieved more tissues and blew her nose. “Don’t I know it? It took two days and a threat to the media before the prison officials transferred Dev here without a guard.”

“The state is shying away from any more news coverage. A guard here would definitely draw attention.”

So, that’s the reason. Leon pursed his lips. No wonder the media hadn’t shown up. This would have definitely made the news had they known. But what would it mean for Kapoor if the state wished to keep things hush-hush?

Kapoor’s sister took a final swipe at her nose. “What do we do now?” 

“Once I get the results and confirm my diagnosis, I’m going to start him on a round of antibiotics. However, I need to caution you they may not work.”

“What?” 

Dr. Manchester pushed her blonde hair behind her ears. “There currently aren’t any fool-proof, effective ways to combat Lyme disease when it’s incubated this long. Your brother complained about the symptoms for three weeks. Had we gotten to him sooner, a single dose of doxycycline may have been able to treat the infection.”

“So, what’s going to happen to him?”

“We’ll run the course of antibiotics for a few days and see how it affects him.”

“But, Dr. Manchester, if the medicine—”

“It’s my opinion we do something rather than nothing.”

Leon glanced at his watch. Was Alma’s surgery over yet? 

Kapoor’s sister sighed. “All right, Dr. Manchester. Do what you can.”

The doctor nodded and headed for the exit. “I’m going to steal Malcolm for a few moments, but he’ll be back.”

Leon dashed to an empty bed across the way and shut the curtains. Through the sliver of material, the doctor, and presumably the nurse, walked past his hiding place without stopping. He pulled the curtain back with a minimal amount of noise and then went over again to where Kapoor lay fighting for his worthless life.

Kapoor’s sister dropped to her knees and bowed her head. Praying. 

Stunned by her actions, Leon froze on the spot. He’d never thought of a religious aspect to the Kapoors but, then, maybe he should have. 

Keep your prayers. Your brother doesn’t deserve any mercy from the Almighty.

“I hope you rot.”

He wasn’t aware he’d spoken out loud until Kapoor’s sister jumped to her feet and whirled around. Eyes wide like saucers, she asked, “What did you just say?”

Though tears blurred Gargi’s sight, they could not mask the massive form as it stood outside the curtains. Hastily she wiped at her eyes. “What did you just say?” she repeated.

The man, hidden somewhat behind the yellow and orange checkered drapes, shoved them aside and stepped into the secluded space. His physical presence gave the distinct impression of causing the room to shrink in response to his girth.

“I said I hope he rots.” The unmistakable note of unadulterated sincerity scraped at her frayed nerve endings.

Maybe in other circumstances, at some other time and place, Gargi would have been alarmed to see a strange man peeking at their misery. Yet the last couple of days had taken their toll on her. Dev’s condition threatened his survival. If he lived—

If he lived...

The idea, the thought of ‘if,’ wrenched a sob from her.

Dear Jesus, please let my brother live. Don’t take him from me.

“Get out of here!” she screeched. “I don’t know who you are and I don’t care. Just go!”

The man took another step toward her. She felt his intrusion into her personal space like a palpable insertion. He topped Dev by several inches, with broad shoulders, a wide chest straining the dark green T-shirt, and long arms with meaty hands. His dark golden eyes meshed unexpectedly with the red gold of his hair. A well-groomed beard framed the lower half of his jawline.

“I’m going to go.” The man’s voice had a gruff drawl to it. “You don’t have to know my name, but I will tell you someone else’s name. Alma Bertha Reckley. She may not mean a thing to you and that piece of trash lying there, but she means the world to me.”

He pointed a long, thick finger at Dev’s prone figure. “That worthless scum stole my mama’s life savings. So, I’ll say it again. I hope he rots.”

Heat flushed the surface of her skin like lava-flow. A fine trembling wracked her limbs. This man, whoever he was, had no idea what he was talking about.

“My brother,” she gritted out, “did not steal anything from anyone. He was set up. There were four others involved in this scheme and they implicated him.”

“Baloney,” the man scoffed. His thin brows arched. “If he was set up, then where are these so-called conspirators? Nowhere to be found.”

Gargi stomped over to the man, barely conscious of her actions. All she knew was that she wanted to shut him up.

“Perhaps you don’t understand English well. My brother is innocent. He gave everything of himself to others. Orphanages, charities, churches, the list goes on.” Her arms flung wildly into the air. “How can he be the type to steal from anyone?”

The man snorted. “People who don’t work for their money tend to part with it faster than those who do. Else, why spend a million dollars on a sports car?”

A red haze obscured her vision. She snarled like a wild animal. “Get out! You have no right to be here!” 

The man lifted an arrogant eyebrow. It made the heat scorching her skin reach new depths of intensity. Could he see the steam coming out of her ears? Why wasn’t he running away from the violent urges she fought to contain?

“I think I have every right.” His gruff drawl flattened to a rough tone of scorn. “I want to see him either rot or do the time the good people of the U. S. of A.’s justice system ordered him to do.”

Every muscle in her face hardened like stone. “Get out of here now before I call security.”

He shrugged. “Go right ahead.”

“I mean it. Go!”

The man stared at her and she held his gaze. She wouldn’t be the one to back down. Her family had nothing to hide from. Nothing to be ashamed of. No matter what this...person tried to make her feel otherwise. His dark golden eyes roved over her in a languid, insolent way. Predatory eyes, but she was hardly the prey!

After an indefinite amount of time the man spun on his right foot, thrust the cheery, dreadful curtains aside, and strode away. The metal rings in the tracks overhead rang in the wake of his departure.

Gargi released a breath she hadn’t known she held. Her knees wobbled and she collapsed into a chair beside the bed. She willed her heartbeat to stop its rapid pace. 

Why had she responded so violently? She’d heard horrible, unkind things from the ‘victims’ of her brother’s ‘fraudulent’ activities. Things worse than what this interloper had said.

So why did she lose her Kapoor pride, and react? Papa taught her their pride would be the only thing to keep them together during the entire nightmare of their trials. 

“Never let people know they have the ability to affect you. Keep your head high and your mind focused.” Her father had drilled the mantra into both her and her brother since childhood, when they had attended their mother’s funeral. 

A long, weary sigh caved in her chest. Gargi dragged her hair away from her forehead and observed her brother’s bed-ridden form. Illness wracked his body, causing his chest to rise and fall unsteadily in sleep. 

The prison representatives had made them sign non-disclosure agreements and other legal paperwork ensured to keep their mouths shut. Miguel Santiago, their attorney, had advised against it, but she’d had no other choice. Dev had gotten worse in those agonizingly long two days it took to get him the help he needed.

She had no idea of all the problems this Lyme disease would cause, but she knew it had to be pretty bad.

The big man’s image rose in her mind and her fist balled.

People like that man had caused this disease to afflict her innocent brother. If they had not lied and fabricated evidence he would not be here in this place, in this moment, fighting for his life.

The toughest part was still to come. One act she dreaded but it had to be done. The silver lining in this nightmare stemmed from the fact her brother was being treated in a hospital and not a prison infirmary.

She wiped the salty remnants of tears from her cheeks and then got up to stand in the hallway. The man had long gone but she inexplicably felt his presence, as if he stood next to her. She shook off the strange notion and retrieved her phone from her purse. She tapped on an app which allowed her to make international calls, and dialed a number.

It rang, and a moment later she heard a deep, familiar voice answer on the other end.

“Namaste, beti.”

“Papa, I have some bad news.”

Leon had enough time to buy a bag of barbeque Cheetos from the vending machine and head back to the waiting room. Five minutes later, the surgeon came to brief him on his mother’s operation.

“The operation went well,” Dr. Munaco stated. “We had some bleeding, but not much. She’ll be in recovery for about an hour and then moved to the surgical ward.”

A small knot of pressure eased in the center of his chest. Alma had gone through the surgery fine. The doctor finished his debriefing and Leon settled in the chair until his mother regained consciousness. Ripping open the bag of the spicy snack, he chewed while he kept going over the encounter he’d had with Kapoor’s sister.

The woman really believed her brother had been wrongfully accused. Witnesses, financial records, phone taps—what did she do with all that evidence? Shut her eyes to it? 

He shook his head. How gullible could one person be?

Nevertheless, a spark of admiration flared inside him. Her dark eyes shone with defiance. Those smooth, chocolate malt cheeks ruddy with temper. The stubborn chin quivered in defense of her brother. Before the encounter, he believed all the Kapoors had been involved in the scam in some way. Kapoor’s sister’s reaction had shown him they weren’t all complicit in the man’s crimes.

He tapped his mustache. What’s more, from her response, family loyalty meant something to her. He understood it well. Though his parents had lived their lives as uneducated ‘trailer trash,’ he still took care of them. Still loved them, faults and all. 

“You don’ abandon yer family unless you got a good reason for it.” His dad’s words reverberated in his head. “The only ones that’s gonna stand with you besides the good Lord Hisself is family. We take care of each other because dem folks out there will have a field day chewin’ out yer behind.” 

A brief swell of sorrow rose in him at the old man’s memory. He was the best father a man could have. 

Leon sighed and ate a few more Cheetos. For what it was worth, not that it would matter to her, he respected Kapoor’s sister for her dedication—even in the midst of the lies. 

“Mr. Reckley?”

The voice interrupted his musings. He stood as the nurse came forward. “That’s me.”

“Your mother’s awake and is asking for you.”

Leon threw the empty bag into a nearby trash can and dusted his hands off on his pants.  He followed the woman to his mother’s location. One thought blared in his mind. How would Alma react when she heard the man who had swindled her out of her life savings was laid up in the same hospital as she was?

“Gargi?”

She jerked awake, regretting it when her neck cracked audibly in the hush of the room. She gave Dev a tender smile as she leaned over the bed. “I’m here, bhaaii,” she responded in Hindi.

Dev’s eyes scanned the room. “Main mar gaya, aur svarg mein chale gae hain?”

Gargi let loose a watery laugh. Compared to prison, a clean hospital room with a view of the parking lot had to be paradise. “Nahin, bhaaii. You haven’t died and gone to heaven. If heaven looks like a hospital, then I’d rather stay on earth.”

He returned her smile, and then grimaced. “It’s like I got hit by a bus. My right arm’s numb.” He stretched and then winced. “What day is it?”

“It’s Tuesday afternoon.”

“Feels longer.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Dev, I’ve some things I need to tell you. It was touch and go for a day or so but Dr. Manchester stabilized you.”

“What do you mean? What’s going on, chhotee bahan?”

She took his hand and raised it to her lips. “Bhaaii, there’s no other way to say this than straight out. You have a condition called Lyme disease.”

“Huh?” His eyebrows squished together. “What are you talking about?”

As she related everything Dr. Manchester had told her, his brown eyes dampened with unshed moisture. The surrounding atmosphere thickened with a tangible sense of horror. She sensed Dev withdraw from her, although he hadn’t moved a muscle.

“I—I—can’t—” Words failed him. 

“Mujhe pata hai,” Gargi whispered as she kissed his hand again. “I know,” she repeated.

The past four and a half years had been the roughest of their lives. Now this. “We had to go through hell just to get me in here.” Dev’s voice broke. “Now this? The state’s not going to want to do anything about this!”

Tears threatened but Gargi blinked them back. “We’ll worry about one thing at a time.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Are—are the antibiotics working? Can we beat this thing? Tell me something good.”

Gargi fiddled with the tips of Dev’s fingers. “So far we have to play it by ear.”

The powerful antibiotics coursing through his system could negatively affect his own body. But it was a risk they’d have to take to fight the infection. She held on to that belief even while doubts nibbled their tiny mouths into her consciousness. Had she made the wrong decision? She couldn’t bear it if she’d caused further complications in Dev’s life.

“Does Papa know?”

“Haan. I called him two days ago. He’s on his way back from Shruti’s wedding.”

Dev sighed and shifted on the bed. Misery stamped his features but he cleared his throat and gave her a slight smile. “I wouldn’t want him to miss that. He rarely gets a chance to go back home.”

She nodded in agreement. “He sent a few pictures to me. Would you like to see them?”

Gargi pulled up the images her father had sent her over the phone.

“See? Doesn’t Shruti look so pretty?” She thumbed through more images, each one a happy one. Their cousin was dressed in a red wedding sari, highly ornate, with gold threading. The tikka caught the flash of the camera and sparkled like the sun in the center of her forehead. Four groomsmen, outfitted in white kurta pajamas accessorized with red scarves and turbans, carried her cousin on their shoulders into the temple on the dholi they shared among them.

“Haan,” Dev agreed, his eyes intent on the picture. “I fell in love with her when she came here as a kid. If I could have, I would have made her my patni the second I became a man.”

“Really? You and Shruti?” She never thought of her brother having any romantic inclinations. “Well, it’s not as if she’s a close cousin, Dev. You could have made her your wife if her parents agreed to it.”

His gaze still lingered on the picture of their cousin. “I asked Papa once to make an offer for her on my behalf. He said no, and to never ask again.”

Gargi gaped at her brother in shock. He’d always seemed so focused on helping the less fortunate. Putting others above himself. Holy, even. It was disconcerting to realize her brother had a man’s heart housing affection for a woman.

Dev coughed and looked away. “Enough of me and my silly thoughts. These pictures should be of you, Gargi,” her brother whispered in a mournful tone. “Mujhe maaf kijiye.”

“Forgive you? There’s nothing to forgive you for, Dev.” She sniffed. “And we’re not going to talk about that. I don’t regret anything at all, and neither should you.” Her voice flattened. The past, particularly that painful event, was never to be spoken of again. 

“If it hadn’t been for all of this—”

“Chup.” She held her hand up to silence him. “I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve got enough problems on our plate without having to go back to yesterday.”

The ache beat fresh in her heart. The memories of unfulfilled childish dreams surfaced again. It hurt to think of the promises of long ago when she had naïvely believed her life was set for her, just as it was for a lot of Indian women when they were ready to marry.

Foolishly, stupidly, it had not been the case. 

Dev cleared his throat. “Well, at any rate, I’m glad now. I wouldn’t want Shruti to see me like this.” He gazed off into the distance. A bitter expression marred his features. Gargi blinked. She’d never seen such a look on her brother before. 

“Don’t be that way.” She shut off the phone. “You’re going to be fine.” Easier to pour hope into her brother than accept it for herself. After all, he’d been the one maligned by liars.

The face of the big man taunted her. His dark golden eyes had lit with gratification to see her brother feeble and possibly on his deathbed. Her lips pressed into a line. When Dev’s innocence became public knowledge, she’d give everything to see that man eat his words. In fact, she’d be the first to climb on top of his mammoth chest and stuff the accusations back down his throat until he choked on them.

The violent nature of her mental tirade startled her. What was wrong with her? 

The sudden thought of why a day and a half later he still caused such a reaction perplexed her. What did it stem from?

She toyed with the outer phone casing. Maybe because he was a spectator. The big man had witnessed the Kapoor siblings at their weakest. He’d been privy to the awful pain reserved for family. He’d seen the Kapoor pride bleached from her psyche. Perhaps that’s why his presence remained in her brain like a splinter in flesh.

“Gargi?”

Jolted out of her thoughts, she looked down to see a quizzical look on Dev’s face. “What did you say?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Gargi smoothed her hands over her pants. She hadn’t told him about the visit from the big man. What would have been the point? “Nothing. Just...nothing.”

The ringtone on her phone cut into their conversation. She peeked at the number and felt her heart leap. “It’s Miguel.”

A hopeful light appeared in Dev’s eyes. He angled his body toward her. “Do you think...maybe...?”

“Let’s find out.” She gripped his hand in her own and then pressed the speaker icon.

Switching to English she said, “I’ve got you on speaker so Dev can hear. Miguel, please tell me—”

“Lo siento, Gargi.”

Those accented three words weighed on her shoulders like bricks. Her fingers loosened their grip on the phone as the vitality seeped out of them. It couldn’t be possible. 

“Are you sure, Miguel?”

“Sì. I received notice today the appeal has been dismissed.”

She exhaled a long breath. Why was this happening? Hadn’t they been through enough?

“Can we appeal again?”

“There’s no hope for another appeal.”

Gargi’s head tilted to the side while a note of disbelief huffed out of her. “What?”

“Look, Gargi, Dev. We’ve appealed once. I don’t think another one is going to make much of a difference. There’s nothing substantial or significant we can use to start the process over again. It’s taken nearly a year to hear back from the court of appeals.”

A roar filled the space between her ears. That man’s face loomed in her mind, mocking her with a knowing look in his eyes. 

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Gargi, I believe in Dev’s innocence as much as you do. But we’ve tried everything we can possibly think of. Comprendè? Unless you’ve got something concrete for me to use, and your brother agrees to it, we can’t do this again. Go on with your lives.”

“Go on with our lives?” she squeaked. “Our lives ended four years ago.” Gargi looked past Dev, to distant memories which stung as if she’d experienced them yesterday. The polished surface of the gavel. Her brother led away in cuffs by the bailiffs. The exultant cry of the ‘victims’ in the courtroom. 

That man’s words: “I hope you rot.”

No, she refused to let any of them win. She clutched the edges of the phone tighter. Least of all him. 

“I’m going to get my brother out of jail no matter what I have to do.”

Dev reached out for her. “Gargi, you’ve done all you can.”

“He’s right, Gargi.” 

Dev’s agreement to Miguel’s words ignited a sudden, rampant fire in her veins. “Miguel, can you apply for another appeal or not?”

Something on the other end of the phone thumped. “Sì. Let me warn you: just like the first time, it’s not cheap. I’ve been more than generous when it comes to collecting payment from you. I know you don’t have the money to continue to pay for my fees. I’m not the kind of man to keep milking you for a lost cause.”

Gargi’s jaw clenched. “My brother is not a lost cause, Miguel.”

“Stop twisting my words, Gargi. You know exactly what I mean.”

“I want to appeal. Again.”

Miguel snorted in her ear like an angry bull. “Estas loco? I advised you both not to sign those non-disclosures, but you did anyway. Now he’s got a condition insurance companies won’t touch with a ten-foot pole. You think the state’s going to do anything about it?”

“What were we supposed to do, Miguel? Let him rot in there?” She flinched at the word that caused her so much grief.

“Gone to the media. I hate those sanguijuela, too, but at least those bloodsuckers would have given your case attention.”

“How long would we have waited, Miguel? A week? Two weeks? I don’t believe he had that kind of time. Plus, he’s been imprisoned for a crime he did not commit. Would we have really gained public sympathy?”

“It was a risk you should have taken. Especially after that guy died.”

“I will not risk my brother’s life for anything, Miguel. What’s done is done.”

The attorney sighed. “Sì. Look, you have to give me something to appeal with then. If your brother agrees to it then I’ll try again, but I am going to need a deposit up front.”

“How much?”

“Gargi listen to me—” 

She tuned out Miguel’s argument as she stood and sauntered over to the window. The waning afternoon light splayed over the cars in the parking lot. A figure strutted among them. Red-gold hair and wide shoulders encased in a gray hoodie caught her attention. Her heartbeat tap-danced inside her ribcage. That man. 

Miguel still droned on in her ear but she’d had enough. “I said, how much?” 

From the abrupt silence on the phone and Dev’s gasp behind her, she knew she’d crossed a line of respect and propriety with the attorney. But, for just this moment, she didn’t care. Her eyes followed that head of red-gold as it made its way to a black pickup truck. The man paused, presumably to unlock the door. She watched as he got in and the vehicle bounced in reaction to the man’s heavy weight. 

Miguel’s next words cut through her concentration. “Ten thousand dollars.” 

Gargi dragged her gaze from the window and looked back at her brother. He’d gone ashen underneath the almond brown of his skin. 

“Dev, if you or your sister find any kind of evidence that’s going to allow for an appeal, shall I proceed with it?”

Dev’s panic reached out and touched her with its tentacles. His Adam’s apple dipped nervously. Gargi went back over to his bed and held his gaze. Though she paid the fees, it was her brother’s decision to approve of Miguel’s course of action.  After a brief silence, Dev spoke. “Yes, Miguel.”

“All right.” The attorney sounded weary. “You get me something and then we’ll make it official. And remember, I require the deposit up front.”

“Gracias, Miguel.” Gargi pressed the button on the phone to end the call. The silence screamed loud and harsh. There had to be evidence to prove her brother innocent. There had to be something, something she could use. One stone unturned, one door unopened. All it took was a little bit of patience.

She thrust out her chin. She would find a way to free Dev. 

“Don’t you worry, bhaaii.” Gargi clutched brother’s hands. “I’ll get you out of here. No matter what it takes.”

Gargi pushed the plate of unremarkable hospital food aside and placed the laptop on the small table. Through the closed door, she still heard activity make its way through the barrier. Names being paged over the intercom, the continual beeping of monitors, and people walking back and forth. Gargi wished she could make them all stop in their tracks so she could focus on her research.

But the world did not stop for anyone, no matter how stuck in the trenches they were, so she had to buckle down and do what needed to be done. 

She massaged her eye sockets with her thumb and forefinger. The better part of an hour had been spent on searching the Net for any hint of evidence they could use to apply again for an appeal. Though she hadn’t found it yet, she knew it would show itself. Now, it was time to learn more about her brother’s condition.

Clicking on the search results, Gargi found a forum for those affected by Lyme disease. Until Dev’s diagnosis, she hadn’t even heard of this thing. Now, she found herself thrust into the turmoil of a disease she had to hurry and get knowledgeable about in order to help her brother.

The link led her to a little video giving a concise commentary about the disease and where it came from. Dr. Manchester had stated she had knowledge about Dev’s condition, but Gargi had to know about it herself. She couldn’t leave Dev’s health solely in the hands of doctors. 

The animated video showed a spiral-shaped bacterium called borrelia burgdorfei, part of a larger family of bacteria known as borrelia. These bacteria were known as spirochetes due to their long, thin, twisted shape and their spinning motion. They lived in small animals like mice, lizards, and birds, which acted as reservoirs for them. 

Once she heard that, Gargi made a decision to never own a pet. 

A groan from the bed made her shut the lid of the computer. “Dev?”

“Gargi?” his voice croaked.

She hurried to the side of the bed. “Shubh prabhaat, bhaaii.” Gargi smoothed away a curly lock of hair from his forehead. It was wonderful to touch him in comforting ways like this. A week ago, she’d been wishing for this kind of contact. In prison, there had been no opportunity for these small brushes of sibling affection. As long as she lived, she’d never again take for granted the necessity of human touch.

“Good morning to you, too, little—”

The answering smile on his face died away. Her hand stilled. “What is it, Dev?”

He didn’t speak, just fixed his wide, chestnut-brown gaze on her. “Something’s wrong,” he gushed out after a moment.

Gargi frowned. “What do you mean?”

His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “I can’t feel anything.”

An ice-cold brick settled in the place where her heart lay. Bile burned the back of her throat. “Is it your arm?”

“It’s not just my arm. I can’t feel my body!” Dev shouted, the whites of his eyes pearl orbs against his dark, but increasingly pallid, skin. “I can’t move.” 

Blindly, and as if of their own volition, Gargi's numb fingers reached for the nurse call button and pressed it. “I’m s-sure there’s a logical explanation, Dev.” Her voice wobbled and she swallowed to clear it. “Perhaps it’s just t-temporary from the treatment Dr. Manchester administered.”

“Don’t feed me that—”

“Yes, Mr. Kapoor?” the nurse responding to the call light crackled through the speaker.

Gargi lifted the call phone to her mouth and spoke into it. “My brother is saying he can’t move or feel his body. I need someone in here now.” A fine trembling took over her limbs. This could not be happening.

“We’ll be right there.”

She replaced the intercom and grabbed Dev’s hand. Unconsciously, she expected him to clench it back but it remained limp within her grasp. Sweat broke out over her body. 

Oh no! Dear God, please, please...

She couldn’t finish the prayer. Wasn’t sure if she should finish it. Had God answered her prayer when she begged for her brother to be found innocent? 

The nurse padded into the room. “Mr. Kapoor, tell me exactly what you’re feeling.”

“Nothing! That’s why you’re here!” 

“I understand you’re upset, sir,” the nurse cooed in a patient, soft voice. It had a soothing effect on Gargi’s ragged nerves. “However, I need to know how you feel, so when Dr. Manchester arrives I can give her as much of a detailed report as possible.”

“I feel rubbery.” 

Gargi gulped. She couldn’t even begin to quite understand what exactly he meant.

The nurse stepped closer. “Rubbery?”

Dev’s eyebrows knitted together. “Like...when I fall asleep on my arm sometimes and the blood doesn’t circulate? That’s how I feel. Or, when I have a nightmare and I’m trying to move and I can’t. That’s it, too.”

The nurse made a notation in the clipboard she’d brought with her. “I’m going to check the medication rounds we’ve been giving you to see if maybe there’s a side effect associated with it. But Dr. Manchester will be here and she’ll be able to give you more detail.”

“How long will it be before she gets here?” Gargi wanted the woman there now.

“As soon as she arrives, I’ll let you know. Now, I’m going to take some vitals right now.”

Gargi hugged herself. Dev lay still, unnaturally still in the bed. He was able to turn his neck, but that seemed about all. His glassy eyes met hers, and Gargi longed to succumb to the wails clamoring for an exit. 

She rolled her shoulders. Unclenching her midsection, she raised her chin. Someone had to keep their head on straight in the midst of all of this. She didn’t want the brunt of all this...stuff...to be on her shoulders. But there wasn’t anyone else. 

The image of the man from three days ago rose in her mind once more. “I hope you rot.” 

Whoever you are, it’s not going to work. I won’t let your words harm my brother.

Leon glared at the vending machine at work, resisting the urge to kick it. Where was a bag of barbeque Cheetos when you needed one? Scowling, he went over to the coffee pot and helped himself. Some kind soul had bought the staff several boxes of donuts, and he grabbed one filled with strawberry jelly. Placing it on a paper plate, he went over to the breakroom table and straddled a chair. Anticipating the sugary sweet, he raised it to his mouth when he heard someone say, “How’s it going there?”

Leon glanced up to see the short, gray-haired man standing in the doorway of the breakroom.

“It’s going fine, Mr. Cresswell.” What was the director of Sunstone Healthcare doing here? To his knowledge, the man only came around when he showed off the facility to potential investors. “What can I do for you today?”

“Got a special project I’m going to send you on.” Mr. Cresswell stepped further into the drab gray and brown breakroom. 

Leon stifled a sigh and set down the donut. He’d just finished a few cases this morning and had several more to go through before his day ended. What did the director want?

“Allyson Carter says you’ve a proven track record for helping some of the more difficult cases with rehabilitation. You’re perfect for this role.”

“I do the best I can, Mr. Cresswell.” Leon felt a strange tightening around his neck. Had an invisible noose been thrown around it?

“Good. Good.” The man nodded. “We were contacted by the representatives from the state regarding rehabilitating an inmate. The inmate is a total assist, as complications from both Lyme disease and the antibiotics used to combat it have left the inmate completely paralyzed.”

Leon felt the noose around his neck almost strangle him, though his face didn’t reveal his inner turmoil. This could not be happening. It wasn’t what he thought it was.

“The state has allowed the inmate to receive this treatment in Tawas City, along with a caregiver. You’ll be re-located to Tawas for the foreseeable future so you can work with this individual.”

“Mr. Cresswell, my mother is—”  

“Ah, yes. Your mother is recovering from hip replacement surgery, correct?”

The man wouldn’t expect him to leave his mother all alone, would he?

“Well, we’d be happy to provide in-home care for her while you’re away, as well as continue the physical therapy sessions regularly.”

Leon jumped through the loophole. “I’m sorry, Mr. Cresswell. I can’t afford—”

“Sunstone will take care of the additional expenses for you, Leon. No need to worry.” Mr. Cresswell gave him an indulgent smile intended to encourage. Yet, the collar of Leon’s polo shirt constricted even more. This wasn’t a request. It was an order.

“What’s in this for you?” The question popped out of his mouth before he had a chance to reel it in. 

A shrewd look appeared in Mr. Cresswell’s eyes as he pursed his lips. “I’ll put it to you like this: the state can’t afford to have any more bad publicity right now. No one knows this fella is even out of prison. They need to keep this quiet as possible. The state is willing to employ Sunstone Healthcare for more of these types of cases when it comes to acute care for inmates.”

Understanding dawned on Leon at those words. Money and secrets. 

“What about me? Am I going to be held responsible if anything goes wrong?”

Mr. Cresswell patted him on the shoulder like a co-conspirator. “Not at all. I insisted that none of my workers will be held liable for anything.” 

“I take it I’ll have to sign some paperwork.” Why did he have a bad feeling about this?

“Yes, we do have documents. Allyson will be getting those for you.”

“What’s the name of the inmate?” Leon nodded, already thinking of the next question he had to ask. He braced himself for the name he was sure to hear.

“It’s an Indian man. I can’t pronounce his name, but he was in the news a few years ago for facilitating a Ponzi scheme. No Bernie Madoff, but he was found guilty of securities and wire fraud. I believe the last name is Kapoor, but I’ll have the file sent to you.”

Leon went still. God wouldn’t be this cruel to him, would he?

“Your lodgings and accommodations will be taken care of as well.”

Not pulling any punches, are you? 

“To be frank, Leon, I don’t know how successful a treatment plan with this inmate will be. But we at least want to be able to get the man moving in a wheelchair, you know what I mean? We’re not here to make the lame walk again, if you catch my meaning.”

Leon shifted in his chair. In other words, do the bare minimum.

Should he tell Mr. Cresswell about his own involvement with Devansh Kapoor? He was sure if he did, the director would find someone else to handle the convict’s rehabilitation. Every time he thought about the scam, it raised all the hounds of hell inside of him. 

Though he’d tried to distance himself from his upbringing, every so often he wished he could execute old-fashioned trailer-trash justice.

Shame carved a distinct tattoo on him. He knew better than to think like that, though. It wasn’t up to him to get vengeance on Kapoor. That was the Lord’s doing, and he needed to leave it up to Him. The best thing to do was tell Mr. Cresswell why he couldn’t complete the rehabilitation on Kapoor. It was better that way. Leon opened his mouth to tell him just that, when he remembered something.

“Mr. Cresswell, do you know who the caregiver is for this case?” he asked in a nonchalant tone. “A mother or father? Someone sent by the state?”

Mr. Cresswell pressed his lips in thought. “I believe it’s a family member. The patient’s younger sister, but when you receive the file you’ll be able to go over the notes.”

Leon took a bite of his doughnut. Flecks of the donut glaze dotted the front of his burgundy uniform shirt. Leon brushed them away. The sweet taste of strawberry jelly along with the sugary bread sent a peculiar buzz zinging through his veins. Did the satisfaction he received come from the gooey filling, or from the idea he’d see the sister again? 

He recalled the spark in her dark eyes as she stood almost to his elbow and berated him like some pint-sized bouncer. He’d been unable to forget the episode, although two weeks had passed since their encounter. Yet, every time it popped up in his head he slammed it back down like a mental whack-a-mole game. 

If he took this case, he’d see her again.

He set the rest of the donut down on the paper plate and rubbed his hands off on his pants. Why the thought should speed up the beat of his heart made no sense to him. He didn’t even know her name. 

“We have a timetable of ten weeks. The state will self-assess with periodic evaluations.”

In other words, the state was only going to pay for ten weeks of services with Sunstone. Mr. Cresswell sought to gain more contracts with the government. On the heel of that thought came another one. If he worked hard to make Kapoor mobile again, the man would be able to continue his sentence under his own strength. 

A fiery resolve burned through him. Leon would do everything he could to make sure Kapoor would pay for his crimes. He’d use every trick up his sleeve so the scum could run, skip, and hop back into prison.

“All right, Mr. Cresswell.” Leon stood and shook the man’s hand. “I’ll do what I can.”

“What the Sam Hill are you talking ‘bout, boy?” Krause Tanker spit out, and a spray of cola and saliva soaked Leon’s face.

“Dadblast it, Krause!” Leon jumped up from the wooden table and rushed over to the kitchen sink. Twisting the hot water on, he cupped his hands to capture it, and splashed it on his face. Spluttering, Leon did it twice more and then turned off the faucet. “I told you about that Abbot and Costello routine. It ain’t funny.”

“Aww, c’mon boy!” Krause’s blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he wiped the dark droplets of cola from his long, blond beard and took another gulp from the can. “It’s still funny as a hoot.”

Leon almost picked up the heavy oak chair and bashed Krause’s blond head, but he curbed the urge.  He wasn’t trailer trash anymore. He could handle this like civilized, educated people. Plus, Krause had been his best friend since kindergarten.

“Naw, it ain’t, Krause.” Leon took the dry dish towel and wiped away the excess water from his face.

“Now, you tell me this here thing again. You gonna be nursin’ that low-life—”

“I done told you already, Krause. The director told me I had to. Quit actin’ like ya hard of hearing.” He went back over to the kitchen table, grabbed his open bag of barbeque Cheetos, and devoured the rest of the contents.

“Boy, you ‘bout as dumb as a head of cabbage.” Krause belched as Leon tossed the empty bag into a nearby waste basket. “The only thing I’da been doin’ was seeing if I could break that fool’s leg an’ wondering if he could feel it.”

“And be in jail right ‘long side him.” Leon slapped his pants to rid his hands of the remaining red powder from the Cheetos. 

“It’s ‘bout the stupidest thing I done heard, too, Krause.”

Leon glanced up to see Alma make her way toward them with her walker. She winced and he raced over to her. “Mama, the doctor says ya need to take it easy now. He did all that fancy work on your hip and I don’t want you messin’ it up.”

She shooed away his concern. “I ain’t messin’ up the good man’s work. I just need to move around. Cain’t stand sitting long.” 

“Krause, get your useless carcass out dat chair so Mama can sit.”

His friend jumped up. “Mama Reckley, why don’t you go an’ adopt me as yer son? This fool here done lost his mind.”

Leon motioned with his head, and Krause came to Alma’s other side. 

She took their arms. “It’s like I’m standin’ between two trees. When ya’ll get so big?” 

Leon wondered when his proud mother had become so small and frail. The long, flowy blue shirt and loose pants she wore engulfed her petite frame. The thick mass of auburn hair was now streaked with gray. Her plump skin had withered away into thin elasticity. Still, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Krause grinned and pressed a kiss to Alma’s check. “It’s all that good cookin’ you do, Mama Reckley.”

Together, he and Krause led her to the chair. Gently, like a glass doll, they helped her sit. She sent a smile toward Krause.

“Ya already my boy. Been my boy since yer poor mama passed away when you was ten. Look at’cha here, gonna take care of me instead of being on the road making money for a few weeks.”

Krause bent down on one knee and winked. “Dat’s cuz when I asked ya’ to marry me, ya said naw.”

Mama laughed and smacked Krause on the side of his face. “Go wit’ cha.”

Leon felt an unconscious tension leave him. Mama was going to be all right. 

Krause loved her as much as he did. He planned to compensate Krause’s lost income during these ten weeks. He had enough saved up in the bank over the years. It wouldn’t be a hardship. 

“I know ya’ll both think I’m out of my mind—”

“All that book learnin’ done pushed out the common sense most us ignorant folks have,” Krause muttered in a dark tone as he picked up his can of cola. 

“But I gotta do this,” Leon went on as if Krause hadn’t spoken. “I’m doin’ this to make sure that piece of scum can get as well as possible. Mr. Cresswell made it clear I ain’t got to ‘heal him. Just got to see how mobile we can get him.”

Krause burped again. “Seems to me Mr. Cresswell...ain’t well.”

Leon rolled his eyes as his friend chortled like he’d told the joke of the century. “Just don’t you wreck my house while I’m gone, Krause.”

“Trailer trash like me know how to be civilized in ritzy places like yours.” Krause lifted his pinky on the hand holding the cola can. “See, I even know how to drink properly.” He batted his eyelashes coquettishly.

Leon snorted derisively. “Ain’t that the same pinky you lick off after you clean out your ear?” 

Krause blinked in genuine confusion. “What’s yer point?”

“Ya’ll stop all dat, now.” Alma nibbled on her inner lip, wrinkles lining her forehead. “Part of me don’ like this at all. Ya can’t trust dat man at all.” She looked up at him. “Ya see what happened to me when I trusted ‘im.”

“This ain’t ‘bout trust, Mama.” He squatted down next to her. “It’s about doing my job an’ makin’ sure he pays for what he did to you.”

Alma patted his cheek, her dark brown eyes full of worry. “I know ya mean well. I just don’ think this is gonna work out the way ya plan, Leon.”

On Monday morning, Alma’s words haunted Leon as he parked the vehicle outside the condominium village. On the other side of the block of condominiums, the distinct sound of waves lapping against the shore of Tawas Bay met his ears. He turned off the engine and clutched the steering wheel. 

“Dear God, how am I supposed to do this?” The question hung in the hush of the interior. Now that he was here in front of the house, the enormity of what was expected of him pierced the center of his chest.

How did he legitimately think he could help a man he despised back to health?

Well, he couldn’t back out of it now. He’d agreed to the assignment and he’d perform it. Put everything else to the side and do what needed to be done.

Leon let out a harsh laugh. Yeah, fat chance of that.

Retrieving the gray folder lying on the passenger seat, he opened it and scanned the profile sheet until his gaze landed on a line reading: “Caregiver: G. Kapoor.”

That had to be the sister.

What does the ‘G’ stand for?

Swiftly, he tossed the folder onto the seat and leaned back to stare at the roof of the truck. It didn’t matter what the G stood for. He had a job to do. 

He sent a prayer upward and got out of the truck. Birds screeched overhead. A brisk wind blew off the bay and ruffled his hair. The smell of the bay permeated the air and a sense of tranquility hovered over the community. He wouldn’t mind living this close to the water. It had two private beaches with bright, white sand. Checking the address the GPS on his phone had led him to, he headed up the walkway. 

How much of his mother’s money had gone toward procuring this place?

Leon stopped midstride and shook his head. “Stop acting like a fool,” he told himself out loud. Devansh Kapoor was a patient. At least for the next ten weeks. He had a professional obligation to do whatever he could do to improve his patient’s quality of life. 

He knocked on the somber blue door and waited. Restless, he shifted his feet and wondered how long it would be before the sister opened the door. What would she think when she—

The door opened. Without a hint of surprise, he glanced down at the light purple clad mite-sized frame of Kapoor’s sister. The polite smile on her lips melted away. Her mouth dropped open like a fish. “What are you doing here?”

Gargi squeezed her eyes shut. The pressure building behind her closed eyelids obviously caused her to hallucinate. She opened the right eye and then the other.

The man still stood there, solid and real. 

She groaned. “What are you doing here?” she asked again. “How did you find us? Are you stalking us?” The questions flew out of her mouth in rapid succession. “Look, I don’t care how you found us. Just get out of here before I call the police.”

She went to shut the door but she couldn’t. Pushing again, she frowned and then looked down to see what prevented her from slamming the door in his face. His large gym shoe-clad foot. Her gaze drifted back up to see the glint in his dark golden eyes along with a hard edge to his features. 

Panic flooded her system. Would he try to force his way in? Try to hurt Dev in his vulnerable state? An instant later, a wave of fury burned away the panic. Her skin tightened over muscles bunched in readiness. No one, absolutely no one, would harm her brother. 

With a growl, she tore open the door. She’d push him down the steps. It would give her enough time to run back into the house, shut the door, and call the police. With the plan firmly in place, she launched every pound of herself at the man.

She collided into a cement wall padded by cotton, and scented with a distinct aroma of sun-warmed masculinity. The impact hurt her petite frame and she stumbled back. 

“What in the world is the matter with you?” The man took a step back, albeit not from her attack. Gargi had the idea not even a train could have tilted him. “What was that for?”

He gawked at her like she’d lost her mind. Maybe she had, but that didn’t matter. She wouldn’t allow him to hurt her brother. Gargi juggled her options. Plan A didn’t work. She’d have to go with plan B: Scream the neighborhood down.

Dev had once joked she could scream so horrifically people would think she was being sawed in half by a crazed killer. She intended to use this gift God gave her now. 

“Get away! Get away; don’t come any closer!” Her voice must have carried over the reverberation of the bay. Would the whole community come to her rescue?

“Wait! Wait!” He held his hands high, as if she held a gun. “There’s been a major misunderstanding.”

“The only misunderstanding is you didn’t leave when I told you to.” She opened her mouth to let out her best blood-curdling scream.

“I’m here to help your brother.”

The scream scampered back down her throat and lodged itself between her vocal cords. “What did you say?” she managed to croak out amidst the constriction.

“My name is Leon Reckley. I’ve been sent by Sunstone Health, on behalf of the State of Michigan, to assist in rehabilitative efforts to help Devansh Kapoor regain partial or full mobility so he can complete his sentencing.” 

The adrenaline rush siphoned out of her as shock sent a clammy chill through her body. “Come again?”

He held out a badge and handed it to her. Gargi gaped at the plastic-covered ID card. 

Leon Reckley. Next to his picture was a business logo giving validity to his claim. 

She examined him more closely, noticing for the first time the blue uniform polo and pants. He was the physical therapist the state had sent over?

“But it can’t be. I mean, how is that possible?” She had difficulty trying to make sense of it. After all, what were the odds the man who had laughed at the misfortune which had fallen on her family would be the one to lend them aid?

“Coincidence.” Leon’s hands fell to his sides. “Mere coincidence.”

Gargi closed her eyes and sighed. For the past two weeks life had thrown more than its share of surprises at her, the latest one being the visit from her papa this morning. 

The hairs on her arms bristled in remembrance. Her papa’s anger at her refusal to let him control her life had exploded. Not with a tantrum. Papa would never argue with a woman, be it wife or daughter. He’d made his displeasure known from the stern set of his jaw and the stiff formality with which he exited her home. 

How did Papa expect her to react to his idea? After he visited with Dev, she believed he desired some time alone with her so they could encourage each other through the hardships plaguing their family.

She’d had no idea he had come with the express intent of arranging a marriage for her. 

“Beti, it’s time for you to settle down and start a family,” her papa had begun the moment his backside landed in the chair. “You’re not getting any younger.”

She reasoned she hadn’t heard right. “What did you say?”

“It’s time for you to get married. You’ve been single long enough, taking care of your brother’s home. But now, we must see to it that you—”

“Papa, I’m not interested in getting married at all. I have to fight for Dev. We have to exonerate him of these charges.” How could her father focus on something other than Dev’s freedom?

Papa’s bushy black eyebrows had drawn together. “Beti, your brother is very sick now. We know God will heal him, but you cannot continue in this state.”

“Papa—”

“I’ve some prospective husbands for you. A total of five or so. All of them have agreed to meet with you.”

“Meet with me?” Her mouth had fallen open. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve invited them here when their schedules permit. I expect you to—”

This had to stop. The only relationship she fought for was the one with her brother. She loved him, and she had to do whatever she could to rescue him from this nightmare.

“Papa, I am not going to be meeting any prospects at all. I have other things to worry about.” 

“Beti—”

“Nahin, Papa. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Though she kept her tone respectful, she knew from the growing darkness in his face her father had taken umbrage to her objection. After all, he was the parent, she the child. Children obeyed their parents.

In this regard, Gargi had to stand her ground. When she hadn’t before, the results had been disastrous. The memory tried to play in her mind, but she forced it back. It hurt too much to think of what might have been. 

Now, on top of her father’s insane goal to marry her off to a good Indian man, an enemy stood within the doorway of her house.

“Can I have my badge back, please?”

Gargi opened her eyes and handed the badge back. “You can see how this is going to be impossible. You won’t be able to maintain any sort of objectivity when it comes to Dev.”

An arrogant eyebrow perched in his hair line. “Why do you think they sent me?”

Gargi drew back to peer up into his face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leon splayed his fingers apart. “Look, I wasn’t jumping up and down about coming here, either. I was ready to turn down the assignment. Then I realized something.”

She frowned. “You realized you could make your wish come true by helping my brother rot?”

A savage smile curved his mouth. “Even better.”

Gargi folded her arms. “What’s that?”

Leon bent swiftly till they were eye level. It took all her willpower not to flinch at the sudden movement. “I will do everything in my power to see he can push a wheelchair around.” His voice contained a heavy dose of rough satisfaction. “No one is more motivated than me. I want to see him back in jail where he belongs.”

A chill went through her despite the heat of the day. His dark golden eyes once again held the same rapacious flash from before. The set stance of his jaw and the resolve burning from his gaze cast her into a sea of uncertainty.

“Are you going to let me in?” he asked when she continued to stand there.

Something inside of her whispered. A small, dark thing without substance. It sat in the center of her being like a lump of bad food mixed with the queasy notion—or was it a warning? —she shouldn’t trust this man. 

Did any of that matter now? Her brother had to get well so he could have some independence when he was finally freed. 

Gargi moved aside to let Leon in and closed the door. The sense of everything shrinking due to his massive presence repeated itself, as it had the first time she’d met him. 

That was a preview of Time to Say Goodbye: A Clean Enemies to Lovers Romance (Michigan Sweet Romance). To read the rest purchase the book.

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