He wondered what she was thinking about. The doctor had asked to speak to her in private before they’d hooked her up. When she’d come back, Miracle had said it was just lab results, nothing to be concerned about. Only he was. She was a little bit too casual about it.
In his pocket, Hardy’s phone vibrated. He fished it out, glancing at the caller ID.
“It’s your mom. She’s late for her check-in.”
Kelly called shortly after each appointment began, making sure they’d arrived and there were no problems. The fact that she was late made Hardy think she’d probably talked to the doctor, too, which was why he wanted to talk to her out of Miracle’s hearing.
Extricating himself from Miracle’s limbs, Hardy slid off the bed. As he pressed the talk button, he motioned to Miracle that he was going to get something to drink. She smiled and nodded, settling into the hospital bed. It always made Hardy’s heart hurt to see her lying in one.
“Everything okay?” Kelly said before he could even speak.
“Yep, we’re here. She’s doing fine.”
“All right. I was just checking in…”
Hardy cleared his throat. “Um, can I ask you something?”
Although it was barely perceptible, Hardy noticed Kelly’s pause. “Sure. What’s up?”
“Tell me the truth. Is something wrong?”
“I’m sure Miracle has told you everything—”
“No, Miracle tells me what she thinks I can handle, what she wants me to know, but I think she’s hiding something important from me.”
Kelly sighed. “Well, if she is, that’s her prerogative. You know that.”
“I know it’s her decision, but you know how I feel about her. If things are getting worse or if something’s going wrong, I want to know.” Hardy paused, his throat constricting. “I need to know.”
Miracle’s mother didn’t say anything for an alarm-inspiring amount of time. Hardy’s pulse had picked up and he could feel fear clawing at his stomach.
“Tell me. Please,” he prompted.
“They’ve moved her up on the transplant list. Her labs aren’t looking good,” Kelly said, her voice cracking at the end.
“But isn’t that a good thing? I mean, she’ll get a new kidney sooner, right?”
“In theory, yes. But Miracle has a rare blood type, which you knew. On top of that, they’re also having trouble matching her tissue type.”
“So what are you saying?”
When Kelly burst into tears, Hardy felt like his heart stopped beating. “If they don’t find her a match soon, she won’t be able to last much longer with just the dialysis.”
The hallway tilted and Hardy leaned against the wall, sliding down until he was slumped in the floor. Even if he’d known what to say, he didn’t think he could speak right then.
“Oh, God, how I wish me or Mila had her blood type!” she cried.
“And her- her father?” Hardy managed, knowing Kelly had been trying to reach him.
“He still won’t return my calls.” The heartbreak of knowing he might be able to help, but was apparently unwilling, was plain in her voice. Her sobs grew louder.
When her weeping had dwindled to sniffles, Kelly spoke again. “Please don’t tell her I told you. I know how much you love her, Hardy, and I know the reason she didn’t want you to know is because she loves you, too. I’ve never seen two people your age feel so deeply about each other. I understand you needing to know, but she would never forgive me if she knew I told you.”
“I won’t say anything,” he whispered, the world and everything in it suddenly seeming bleak and hopeless. “I have to get back.”
“Okay. Go. Tell her I love her,” she said, starting to cry afresh.
“I will.”
Hardy sat in the hallway for several long minutes after he’d hung up. He prayed and begged God for His mercy, all the while searching for some kind of solution, something the doctors had somehow overlooked, even though he knew deep down his search was futile.
Then something occurred to him. It was a long shot, but Hardy was willing to grasp at any and every straw that presented itself. Pushing himself to his feet, Hardy went in search of Miracle’s doctor.
********
The next day, Hardy and Miracle rounded the corner onto the hall where her locker was located. When he saw the group of people surrounding Cheyenne, his steps slowed and his stomach filled with dread.
Hardy glanced down at Miracle. She looked uneasy, but she turned her face up to his and smiled brightly, tugging him forward. He knew she had likely drawn the same conclusion he had—it had something to do with her—but that didn’t stop her. She walked on toward them, back straight and head held high. Hardy thought again that she was probably the bravest person he knew.
As they slowed in front of Miracle’s locker, Cheyenne turned toward them. “Good, you’re both here for the big reveal,” she said, not even trying to hide her anticipation.
“What are you revealing?” Hardy asked sharply.
“You’ll see,” she answered coyly, her eyes flashing with menace.
“Cheyenne, I’m warning you…”
Her glossy pink lips curved into a malicious smile. “And I warned you.”
Hardy wanted to grab Miracle and run, to save her from what was ahead, whatever it was. As if sensing the direction his thoughts had taken, Miracle squeezed his fingers reassuringly. Hardy thought it odd that she was the one giving him encouragement. Again.
“All right, everybody, gather round,” Cheyenne said, holding her iPhone out so the people at her sides and behind her could see. Hardy and Miracle stood fast. “Tada!”
Mouths dropped open and everyone except Cheyenne looked embarrassed and flustered. Like the strike of a snake, Hardy reached out and snatched the phone from Cheyenne’s fingers. When he held up the screen to look at it, he felt his jaw drop open. Her viciousness knew no bounds.
Someone had evidently taken a picture on their cell phone of Miracle in a bikini that day at the beach. The humiliation on her face was plain, as was the angry scar that lined her abdomen. Cheyenne had superimposed the photo onto a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition background.
Hardy’s blood caught fire and he growled in fury. Drawing back his arm, he threw the black rectangle across the hall as hard as he could. It smashed against the lockers and fell to the ground. Hardy was trembling in anger. If Cheyenne had been a guy, Hardy would’ve throttled her.
“You’re gonna buy me a new phone, you ass—” Cheyenne began indignantly before Hardy cut her off.
“So help me God,” Hardy hissed between gritted teeth, releasing Miracle’s hand to wrap his fingers tightly around Cheyenne’s upper arms. “If you so much as breathe in her direction ever again, you will regret the day you met me, Cheyenne. And please, please test me. I’m begging you.”
Hardy fumed as he stared down into Cheyenne’s face. When she looked adequately terrified, Hardy unhanded her and turned back to Miracle. Only she was no longer standing behind him. She had walked across the hall to pick up Cheyenne’s phone.
“Miracle, don’t!” Hardy managed, but he was too late.
Hardy held his breath when she looked at the phone’s screen. He prayed it was blank, that he’d broken it and the picture was gone. But when he saw the color drain from Miracle’s face, he knew it wasn’t. Rage against Cheyenne and agony for Miracle’s pain warred within him.
The hall was absolutely silent as everyone awaited Miracle’s reaction. No one said a word, breathed a breath or moved a muscle.
Finally, Miracle cleared her throat and walked back to Hardy’s side. Carefully, she handed the phone back to Cheyenne. “You know what. Cheyenne? I have neither the time nor the inclination to hate you. But I do have a favor to ask. The next time you Photoshop pictures of me in a bikini, give me bigger boobs.”
There was a short pause before snickering broke out all around them. Miracle turned to Hardy and said, “Come on. I don’t need my books today. I’ll just take good notes.” With that, she took his hand and led him back the way they’d come, head held even higher than when they’d arrived.
Hardy was certain he’d never loved her more.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Come on. I have a surprise for you,” Hardy said as he sat in his car trying to get Miracle to put on a blindfold.
“You’re not going to get us arrested are you? Because I look terrible in orange and I’m allergic to metal bars.”
“How do you know you’re allergic to metal bars?”
“Women’s intuition,” she answered, her expression all too serious.
Hardy grinned. “Just put it on. I promise, you’re gonna like this surprise.”
Miracle raised one brow suggestively. “Reeeeally?”
Hardy smiled smugly, watching Miracle’s eyes sparkle in anticipation and her smile widen in excitement. “Really really.”
They sat staring into each other’s eyes for a moment longer, sexual tension crackling in the air around them, before Miracle reached forward and grabbed Hardy’s wrists, pulling them toward her face. “In that case…” she said, urging him to blindfold her.
Hardy tied the thick piece of black material around her head and then started the engine. Less than ten minutes later, he was guiding Miracle across the grass at school.
“I hope you’re not leading me to a pagan sacrifice where I’m the…you know, sacrifice,” Miracle teased, reaching up to adjust the blindfold.
“No peeking!” Hardy warned, urging her slowly yet steadily forward.
“I wasn’t peeking. I was just adjusting.” After several steps, he heard her sniff. “Something stinks. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean it literally. Did you poot?”
Hardy laughed. She smelled the manure from the horticulture building. “No, I didn’t poot.”
“Did you shower?” she teased.
“Yes, I showered.”
“Is it me? Is that the big secret? That I smell like crap and no one has ever bothered to tell me?”
Hardy sighed loudly, dramatically. “No, the big secret is that you talk too much. Now you’ve ruined the intervention we’ve been staging. Happy?”
“Do I really talk—”
“No, Miracle. I was just joking. Now hush. We’re almost there. Be patient.”
Hardy brought her to a stop right outside the conservatory door. He pulled it open and the hinges creaked loudly, making Hardy grimace. He saw Miracle’s brow wrinkle and wondered if she knew where they were, if the sound had given it away. Not that it mattered; he’d be taking her blindfold off any minute now anyway.
“Mmm, it smells much better in here,” she observed. Hardy smiled. He’d made sure all the candles were lit before going to pick up Miracle. They’d heated the greenhouse and accentuated the aroma of the orchids, filling the entire room with their sweet scent.
Hardy led her down the narrow aisle between all the “normal” plants, as she called them, to the bend that would lead them to the orchids. He stopped and turned her around so that she was facing away from them.
Taking a deep breath, Hardy began, “I brought you here to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“Your mom agreed to let me tell you.”
Hardy paused, knowing it would drive her crazy. He was also smiling so broadly, he knew she would be able to hear it in his voice, so he waited.
“What?”
He waited still.
“What?”
And he waited still more.
“What? You’re killing me.”
“She heard back from the doctor.”
“And?” she prompted, practically vibrating with anticipation.
“They found a donor match, Miracle.”
Hardy hadn’t known what kind of reaction to expect, but he liked the one he got. Miracle squealed and threw herself into his arms. She half laughed and half cried as he swung her around and around. When he set her back on her feet, she squeezed him tightly and then leaned back, still smiling widely. “Can I take this off now?” she asked, raising a hand to the blindfold.
“In a second,” Hardy said. “Stick out your hands and cup them for me.”
Without question, Miracle stepped back and did as he directed. Hardy bent and grabbed the small pot from a shelf to his left and placed it in Miracle’s hands. Carefully, he removed her blindfold. As he watched her face, he tried to see his gift through her eyes, praying she would like it.
The violet and lilac-hued blossom of the orchid hung heavily from its delicate stem. Its oval leaves were tucked back, baring the colorful interior for only a few evening hours before closing up again to hide their beauty from prying eyes. A heavenly scent drifted from the petals, teasing Hardy’s nose.
He knew Miracle loved the flower. Her expression was perfectly discernible, even in the soft candle light. His eyes flickered from Miracle to the orchid and back again. Although the bloom was breathtaking, to Hardy, it paled in comparison to the magnificence of Miracle.
“What is it?” she asked, resting the pot in one hand so she could cup the blossom with the other.
“It’s an orchid, silly.”
Miracle was too amazed to take the bait. “But what kind of orchid?”
Hardy was hoping she’d ask that very question, because the answer was the best part. “It’s called a ‘Miracle Orchid’.”
“A ‘Miracle Orchid’?” she asked. “Are you serious?”