Mikayla

The morning ritual began when she heard her door unlock from the outside. He never knocked this early because she was most likely still asleep, so she called for him through the door. “Nolan, can you come in here?”

He cautiously opened it and stood back as if he didn’t trust her to try to whack him with whatever she found to warrant an escape. When he saw her tucked under all the warm blankets, he hurried toward her, “Ah, Mikayla, sweetness, you look awful.” He dropped to his knees, clutching her hand and taking his lips to her forehead, just as her mother had done for years.

As always, her body shuddered at the thought of his double meaning for calling her sweetness. Feeling desired created a warmth in her body that then competed against the better half of her that warned this man was bad and had no place in her life.

Sitting down next to her, he watched as she coughed, turning away from him. The sheer proximity of him made her body warm. Before she could pull away, he felt her cheeks.

“Mikayla, your face is as red as a beet, sweetness, and you feel warm. Let me get you some Tylenol.”

Now that he mentioned it, she had felt a little under the weather.

Returning from the bathroom, Nolan settled on the small space where he’d been sitting previously. With a small smile, Nolan began, “I was going to talk to you today about your situation at home. I want to help you realize what is going on isn’t healthy.”

Yanking her head back as he concocted a teaspoon of different medicines, she replied, “Because you stealing me from my family is a much better and healthier option?”

“Point taken, smartass.” Nolan laughed, putting the spoon to her mouth. “Open up.” With her lips closed, he continued, “Mikayla, it’s medicine. I promise. Look.” Grabbing the different bottles he kept in what looked like an old doctor’s satchel, he showed her each one, explaining what they were. “Now open up, sweetness. Believe me, I will protect you. Taking you was for that very reason.”

She somehow, without the ability to understand fully herself, knew he was taking care of her. She finally opened, taking in the whole spoonful of medicine.

“I want to go home. I will get help, and I will make sure he does too.”

“Not right now, Mikayla. I don’t think you realize how much danger you are in,” he said as he walked to the door. “I’ll be back with more medicine. I also have antibiotics just in case they are needed.”

She picked up the book she had been reading and tossed it at him. “You are a bastard; you’re never going to let me go.”

Turning around, he rubbed his head where she had clocked him with yet another book, and his teeth reminded her of the Big Bad Wolf. As his anger grew, he bared his teeth. Standing with a wide stance, he deepened his tone, but somehow, she trusted he wouldn’t physically lash out. “Fuck, you and books have got to stop hurting me. And, Mikayla, that is simply not true. I’ll release you, I promise. I care for you; I care for you more than I should.”

“As a doctor, you have to be aware that you are transferring your feelings for Evangeline to me. That can’t be healthy,” she said as she started coughing violently but could still find her voice. “You can’t comfort me when you are the reason for my pain.”

From afar, he looked at her with tears in his eyes. “No, Mikayla, I’m trying to save you.” As he walked away, she knew he was correct in plucking her from the life she’d known, and that scared her more than it should have.

* * *

A couple of hours later, he entered her room as she was beginning to stir. Opening her eyes, she locked her gaze on his when Nolan spoke softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t have permission. But I didn’t want to wake you. Just needed to check your temperature.”

He held out a thermometer, and she instinctively knew what to do. She opened her mouth and said, “Ahh.” Looking intently at the numbers, they both watched her temperature climb, and she saw fear claiming his eyes.

After the thermometer beeped, his eyebrows raised as he searched her face for more signs of illness. “You are due more Tylenol in an hour, but your temperature is certainly higher than I want. Let me get you some Advil for now. We can alternate them. But let me look at your throat.”

Obeying him, she opened her mouth again. After his intense lollygagging, he looked at her and said, “I can’t be certain without a good throat swab, but it sure looks like you have strep throat. I have some antibiotics with me for this reason.”

Sitting up, she felt light-headed but also curious. “I have a question for you,” she said.

“Okay,” he replied, cleaning the thermometer with an alcohol swab and rummaging through what she could only assume was his medical bag.

“We have fresh eggs and bacon, milk, and items like OJ and medicine. When do you get it?”

“I have my ways.”

“Is this your way of saying you won’t tell me?” Mikayla’s reply was curt, lacking finesse in the tone it was delivered. That last time she felt that way toward him, she threw a book at his head.

“You are perceptive,” he replied, leaning down and feeling her head with the back of his hand. “Are you allergic to penicillin?”

“No,” she answered quickly.

“Okay, I have Augmentin here. I want you to take it now, but I’m bringing you yogurt. You need to eat a lot of it or you will get a … umm...”

She understood what he was about to say, and she waved him off. “You mean a yeast infection? Yeah, I’m a girl, I know.” Smiling at his uneasiness, she laid back, bringing the covers over her.

“You’re right. Anyway, I want you to try to eat as much as you can, and I will see if I can get you something in case you get that sort of infection.”

“For crying out loud, you are a doctor. It’s yeast; you bake with it.” She paused for a moment and smirked. “Well, hopefully not with that kind of yeast, anyway.”

The comment made him laugh too, and the next thing they knew, the two of them were both in hysterics on the bed. He reached over, touching her briefly, and for once, she didn’t move away. She stared at him for a moment as he stood. “Thanks for the laugh. I will be back in a second, okay?”

She just simply replied, “All right.” After he left, she thought about what just conspired between them and wondered why he stirred such emotions in her.

Her mind wandered to the night when Nolan took her. The drug cocktail wiped a lot of her recent memories away, but it couldn’t erase the horrible fight he and she had.

Her stomach clutched thinking about it. He showed up out of the blue, which wasn’t abnormal for him. He always seemed to track her down. They were rather close until they weren’t, and that only went on for a couple of hours until he apologized, and Mikayla forgave his most recent physical outburst.

He’d had a terrible two years, and she took the brunt of his grief. In the end, she was the one to convince him to study physical rehab.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone?” Ah, shit, he was annoyed.

“I do have the right to keep things quiet. Anyway, it was new, and I didn’t want anyone getting attached until I became attached.”

“Bullshit, Mikayla. I need to protect you.” There he went again, pulling that crap on her, but she knew it was his way to control her.

She learned early on to seek his permission—as he called it—but it was now over. She wouldn’t live this way, not one more second.

“Control freak, it isn’t always about you. He’s my boyfriend. When I’m ready, he’s going to meet you all. Mom is going to meet him tomorrow.”

“Mikayla, you are pathetic. You know that?” This was how he got the upper hand with her by putting her down and then saying she wasn’t responsible enough, old enough, pretty enough, or any of the ten other insults he’d used over the years.

“What is with your obsessive need to control my life? You are acting like a stalker. What is wrong with you?”

This was where he laid it on thick. “If I don’t protect you, no one will. I love you, Mikayla. And don’t ever make it sound sick or weird or call me a stalker. There will be consequences for that next time.”

“When will you understand that my life is my life? Stay out of it, you hear,” she said, slamming open the car door. He grabbed her arms, pushing her against the hard steel of her vehicle. His threats had gotten out of hand for months now along with the insults that at one time did offer his control of her life. But it had to stop. After he left, she sat in her car crying. Though he was wrong, he’d always been a staple of her life, but he was a miserable, controlling jackass. She wasn’t sure how to get him to stop. After she wiped away her tears, she decided to head into the library anyway, considering she gave up a night with Ethan to study.

Soon enough, Nolan was back in the room with warm tea for her throat and yogurt. She took a small bite of the yogurt but stopped in pain. “The coldness hurts my throat.”

“The antibiotic should work soon, and within a day, pain relievers should help your throat feel better enough to eat.”

“Nolan,” she started, “I understand what you are saying. I was thinking of him, and it’s not a good relationship. I’ll get help, and I swear I won’t tell the cops anything that will aid in their search for you. Not even your name.”

“Sweetness, you need this time away. I know it’s forced, but please, try here. It’s not comforting because it was not your choice, but let me take care of you.”

Her eyes followed his. “You are a nice guy, but let me go. Dump me in a town and I will make it to the closest US embassy.”

“Six months, Mikayla. Let’s talk about this again in six months, but I want you to be open about him.”

From the flush of her skin to the sweat pooling on her forehead, her anger was evident. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

He smiled at her. Why did he have to have such a wonderful smile? He had misguided intentions, but he was still a nice guy. “I can’t promise in six months my offer to let you go without filing charges will still stand,” she said, pouting like a four-year-old. He gave her a thoughtful smile and walked out without another word.

* * *

Taylor

That very night, she opened the door carefully and quietly, trying to tiptoe her way up the stairs only two hours past curfew. As she let one foot loose on the step with that damn creak, she cringed. It didn’t matter because at that instant, her father turned on the light next to his armchair and looked as if he’d been up all night. “Can I help you?” her father asked.

“Ah, crap,” Taylor stammered. Her obsessive nature in the past two months had bordered on one that her parents couldn’t excuse anymore.

“Busted!” he said with a little laugh. “Taylor, how stupid do you think we are? We have all tried to sneak in after curfew, and just like you, our parents, who we thought were equally stupid, caught us. But do you know what we found out instead?”

“What is that, Dad?” She knew her dad was being calm, but this was truly the calm before the storm.

“With age comes wisdom. Now, sit down here and tell me what could have made you stay out past curfew.”

“Well, I guess you wouldn’t believe a flat tire?” she said with a grin that when she was younger could talk her way out of most any mess she got herself into. Her father gave her his “don’t toy with me, child” look, and she knew, at this moment, honesty was the only policy that would get her out of the heap of trouble she was in. “Okay, but don’t get mad?”

“Taylor Michelle Jennings, out with it already.”

She gave a smile, hoping this would tide him over, but he was not in the mood. She had messed with his sleep, and on a good day, her dad loved his sleep. “I’m convinced that this Miller missing person could be solved if I went back to the scene. I pulled out all the old newspaper clippings in hopes we could find something the police had not.”

She looked at her dad, and she’d dug herself a hole she’d likely not be able to climb out of for a while. When her dad sat there silently, with his mouth gaped open, she knew she’d shocked even the biggest rebel on the planet.

After what felt like ten minutes, her dad stood and said, “I hate to say this, kiddo. The stock I had in you not to do anything dangerous or stupid just plummeted. We will discuss your punishment tomorrow.” He turned, and she felt she had avoided the most dreadful words any parent could say to their child. However, that was too quick and too hopeful on her part. Then he eventually said, “I’m very disappointed in you, kiddo. I thought you had more smarts than that.” There, he’d said it, and Taylor’s resolve fell. She was upset with herself, and she hadn’t uncovered any clues. That was the most disheartening part.

* * *

Libby

She was a mother, but now, she was less of one minus a child. Lying on Mikayla’s bed, she surrounded herself with Mikayla’s things. Libby’s lucky number was three, and it always had been. She was one of three sisters. She finished her nursing degree in three years. She dated Adam for three years before they got married. She waited three years to have a baby, and there were three years between each of her kids. She and Adam had lived in three places in their entire life. Now that number didn’t seem so lucky to her.

Their long-time family dog, Tuck, of ten years had turned on Mikayla when she was only five. He had a bone, and when Mikayla walked past him, he feared she’d take it from him, and he snipped at her. Scared Libby to death and after much debate, Adam called SPCA and they came and took him away. Libby was too fearful to call and inquire about what happened to Tuck, and in her mind, she believed that they found a nice older couple without kids and lots of farmland to keep Tuck. As much as she knew they made the right decision with Tuck, she had to believe that the dog they all loved like a member of their family was running wild on a farm and loving every minute of it. Just like Tuck, she had to believe that Mikayla was happy somewhere, enjoying life on her own terms. In her dreams, she imagined Tuck and Mikayla roaming on a farm together. It was her own fantasy, so in it, Tuck would apologize with words for what he had done to her many years previously. It didn’t matter that Tuck was probably twenty-five years old by now; they were together, both alive and happy. Libby concocted this perfect image, and it was glorious.

She wondered as she read the nameplate that displayed the meaning of the name Mikayla how different her life would have been if Adam had won out with the name Stella. Would children have treated her differently? She really felt a name was indeed a life-changing event. Just by a name change, people would look at her different. Adam didn’t believe in this. He felt whether Stella or Mikayla, she’d make the same impact in life, and it would be at her control and not merely from a name. Adam fought tooth and nail for the name Jennifer. Libby hated the popularity of it at the time, but they agreed on Jennifer, deciding to call her Jenna. Blake was her maiden name, and there was never any discussion on what they would name a boy, and when Mikayla came along, Libby had a leg up on Adam after agreeing to Jennifer Rebekah, with the middle name used to honor his mother. Mikayla embodied her God-given name. Reading the meaning, she knew they chose right. Mikayla: Gift from God. She had always been one of the best gifts Libby would ever receive.