A Healing Love

by Shara Azod

  A Healing Love

  By

  Shara Azod

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  © 2013 Shara Azod

  Editor: Stephanie Parent

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

  Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  Contents

  Prologue. 4

  Chapter One. 9

  Chapter Two. 16

  Chapter Three. 23

  Chapter Four. 28

  Chapter Five. 35

  Chapter Five. 42

  Chapter Six. 49

  Epilogue. 57

  Prologue

  December was the most wonderful month of the year. The cold didn’t bother Mica, not when the snow covered the landscape in a blanket of pristine, glistening white. Unlike the stuff that quickly turns gray and muddy in the city, in the Northern Alaskan wilderness, the bright green of the trees and hills and the granite of the mountains peeked through the layers of alabaster to create a true winter wonderland. Sure the days were short, the dark stretching for hours, but sometimes the sky would light up in an electric rainbow of colors, like nature’s own fireworks without the loud booms that rocked the night.

  Mica’s parents only came to what they referred to as the cabin twice a year; once during the Christmas break and once during the summer, when the sky never really got dark at all. Mica loved the contrast of seasons; it was so very different from the perpetual summer/spring of Southern California, where they lived. Mica had lots of freedom here too. Daddy was busy studying the sky because he was an astronomer, and Mommy, a wildlife biologist, studied the animals and the effect of climate change on their natural habitat. That just left her and Megan, her nanny, to explore her wonderland. Well, within certain boundaries.

  Megan really didn’t like Alaska, and disliked the large stone home the Richards family lovingly called a cabin. According to Megan it was too far from the Eskimo town, in the middle of nowhere, with not another soul anywhere around. And Megan detested the short days.

  “It’s unnatural,” Megan often muttered. “Probably why so many of the locals are batshit.”

  Mica had no idea what batshit was, but the way Megan frowned, it must’ve been really bad. That tone along with the fierce frown always meant something was bad.

  “But Megan, now we’re closer to Santa’s village, aren’t we?” Mica hated to see the people she loved unhappy. She wasn’t really sure she still believed in Santa, but the adults in her life all seemed so adamant about it, she decided she would go along with it. Just in case.

  Mentioning Santa’s village must’ve made Megan reconsider because the young woman laughed, swinging Mica up in her arms and twirling her around.

  “Well since we’re so close, we better make sure you’re in bed on time every night before Christmas.” Megan suggested with a kind chuckle.

  That wasn’t exactly the message Mica was trying to get across, but as long as Megan was happier, well, the eight o’clock deadline would just have to be dealt with. Keeping that in mind, Mica obediently bathed, brushed her teeth and was tucked into her bed no later than eight fifteen that very night. There was a week till Christmas, plenty of time to get it right so Santa would leave her and Megan really good presents. But then, he always did; Mica was convinced this year would be no different. Sometimes the presents were so good they made Megan cry. Mica really didn’t get that, but adults were weird in general. Megan wasn’t as adult as her parents, but she was close enough.

  Now, if only she could fall asleep! Through the open door that led to Megan’s room she could hear gentle snores that announced Megan was out like a light. Above her where her parent’s room was, footsteps and muffled voices had long since faded. Lying there, Mica tried making up stories in her head to make herself sleepy, then she tried counting imaginary sheep—nothing worked. For some reason she just felt restless. Like there was something very wrong, something she needed to fix. But that was silly. She was seven years old—what could she possibly fix?

  Not knowing what else to do, Mica climbed out of bed and pushed the chair Megan used to read her stories over to the window. Climbing up was easy, but pushing open the window took all the strength her seven-year-old arms could muster. Finally the thing opened, letting in a blast of frigid air with it. But that didn’t bother her. Not when she could hear something far more troubling.

  Crying.

  Someone was crying just beyond the line of trees bordering the backyard. Mica’s mother was one of the very best wildlife biologists there was; Mica had grown up around animals of all kinds. Although some animals could sound a lot like people that was no animal she was hearing. That was a kid crying, maybe a kid like her. And that was a hurt/scared cry. Mica had sounded like that enough to know the sound when she heard it. Like the time her boogie board had taken off on her and her belly had rubbed against the sand at the beach, hard. Or the time she forgot how to stop her bike and was about to run into a wall.

  Running into the other room, she tried to wake Megan, but no amount of shaking worked. Her parents’ room was just upstairs, but the crying was getting worse; and yep, that was definitely pain she was hearing. She just had to do something.

  Even though she knew she shouldn’t, Mica put one her snow boots and coat over her pajamas and snuck out the back door, grabbing a flashlight and kitchen knife on the way. There was a lot of snow on the ground, making it hard to make her way to the trees. The closer she got, the louder the crying became. Right around the edge of the yard the forest wasn't so dense. Daddy set a lot of traps so wolves and other predators didn’t get too close to the house.

  The crying came from one of those traps. Only it was neither a wolf nor a child crying. It was a tiger. Which was weird because there were no tigers in Alaska. At least, Mica had never heard of tigers in Alaska. Her mother said they were in Eastern Asia and parts of Far Eastern Europe. And this tiger was white, without stripes. Mica had never seen anything like that in the zoo or her books. And it was just a little cub. Okay, not very little, but a cub nonetheless. The poor little thing was obviously hurt, bright red blood staining his poor little paw.

  Running, Mica reached the cub and used the knife to pry the trap open. Once she managed to lift the paw gently out of the trap, she packed the wound with snow and attempted to gather the cub in her arms to take it to her mother. Only the little tiger squirmed his way out of her hands, biting her in the process. The bite stung a little, but it wasn’t too painful. What Mica really didn't understand was why everything suddenly was so fuzzy. And she felt hot; so very hot.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bite you. I had to get down to shift. I’m Luka, by the way. I know your name is Mica, right?”

  No. No, that couldn’t be right. Right in front of her wide eyes the little tiger became a boy! A big boy—ten, maybe even twelve years old! Mica opened her mouth to ask him where he came from, what happened to the tiger cub, and why was he out in the snow with no clothes on? But only a little squeak came out. Was that her? Why wasn’t the frigid Alaskan night cooling her off? It was just so hot!

  “Hey, little girl? Did I scare you? I probably shouldn’t ha
ve shifted in front of you, but I had to heal my paw, and to do that I had to shift. Hey, thank you for saving me. I could’ve been in big trouble if my parents found out. Sorry I bit you, I really didn’t mean to.”

  The boy was beautiful. His hair was all golden, with the brightest blue-green eyes Mica had ever seen. Wait, no, she had never seen blue-green eyes at all. He was talking, but Mica couldn’t really make out what he was saying. He did have a beautiful accent though. Man, she really didn't feel good at all.

  The boy, Luka, sighed. “Come on, I’ll carry you back to your den. That’s where I was going anyway, to watch you sleep through your window.” He frowned as he picked Mica up like she didn't weigh anything at all. He certainly was a strong boy. “That sounded creepy, didn’t it? I didn't mean it like that. You’re just pretty, like a dark fairy or something. I like looking at you, but I don't want to kiss or anything. That would be sick because I am way older than you. You’re just a kid.”

  The voice was really nice, even if she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Her ears were ringing like she just got off an airplane or something. So she just snuggled against his chest, which made her feel a lot better. She even stopped burning up. In fact, she felt perfectly fine, even if she couldn’t seem to keep her eyes open.

  “You didn’t scare me or hurt me really,” Mica managed in a sleepy sigh. “You just surprised me. And you need a coat or something or you’re going to get sick.”

  “Tiger shifters don’t get sick,” the boy retorted indignantly.

  “That’s because they don’t exist, silly.” Mica liked this boy. She just wished she could’ve taken the cub to see her mother. “I can find you something at the cabin. And I can make warm milk. I just need a nap.”

  “Sleep, little one. Just sleep.” The boy sounded concerned, which was funny, but Mica was just too tired to ask him why. Besides, being carried to bed was the best. She was just too tired to walk.

  Mica woke late in the morning, much later than usual. But she was all tucked into bed, her boots and coat right where they should have been. Even the window was closed and the chair back in its rightful place. It must have all been a dream; a fantastical story she made up just as she was finally drifting off to sleep.

  But the illness was all too real. Mica was never really well again.

  Chapter One

  It was probably morbid to return to die in the place where her illness began, but Mica was determined to spend her last Christmas in the place that had meant so much to her as a child. Her only regret was that her parents wouldn’t be here to share it with her. At least she still had Megan.

  “Why you want to come back here, I’ll never know,” Megan groused as they climbed out of the Jeep in front of the large stone house Mica knew as the cabin in her youth. The pace was huge, actually. Why she had ever thought of it as a cozy little place, she’d never know. “If you ask me,” Megan continued to complain, “This place is cursed.”

  When Megan pursed her lips like that, she looked far, far older than a woman in her early forties. It saddened Mica to think of the life Megan could’ve had. The woman had been a brilliant student at the university where Mica’s parents taught. It’d been part of the reason Megan had been hired as Mica’s nanny so long ago. But the Christmas break twenty years past when Mica had been struck with her illness no one could name, much less cure, had changed Megan. It had changed them all, but Megan went so far as to change her major to become a Nurse Practitioner just to help Michelle and Tanner Richards take care of their only child. Sometimes Mica felt so guilty that everyone had given up so much in an attempt to make her well. Especially when she would never be well again.

  There was no cure, no specialist to put a name on whatever was attacking her body. Mica’s parents had died in pursuit of anything to make their only child well. Doctors, scientists, faith healers, mystics, it didn’t matter what part of the world they had to travel to; as long as there was hope, Michelle and Tanner went there. They’d been killed in the Himalayans attempting to reach a monk who was said to know every disease that affected mankind and at least how to treat it, if not cure it outright. Only the monk had been in the village located at the base of the mountains where Mica and Mica waited. Oddly, Mica had run into him there. It was the monk who had suggested Mica return here to Alaska. Not in so many words, but the message had been unmistakable.

  “Go back to where it began,” he’d said cryptically. “There you will find the cure you seek. Only there can you fulfill your destiny.”

  Those words only confirmed what Mica already knew; there was no cure for her. It was best to make peace with the time she’d had and enjoy the time she had left. That was why she’d decided to come back here this Christmas. To end her life in peace, back where it all began for her.

  She’d never told anyone about the chance meeting with the old monk, not even Megan. No one would’ve understood. She had lost so much in her twenty-seven years, she just wanted a few weeks of happiness, tranquility, and perhaps even acceptance of what she knew was coming. It wasn’t that she believed she’d be miraculously healed or anything, but this place gave her hope that there was something more. How could anyone look across these mountains, see the wild untamed beauty of nature, and not be at peace with all things natural? And death was the ultimate equalizer; it came to all. Not many had the chance that she did, to die on their own terms, in the place of their choosing.

  The need to see this place burned deep in her gut. To breathe the crisp, clean air one more time, to feel the sting of the wind against her cheek, to catch a snowflake on her tongue, to witness the snow covering the trees and mountains—these things would always remind her of happier times. Of her parents doing what they loved. She’d spent the best times of her life here.

  What a perfect place to slip off into the next great adventure. Surrounded by the majesty of mountains, wild rushing rivers and lakes that appeared to be made of glass. Even though Mica felt her body shutting down slowly, she felt alive just being amongst such a vivid picture of life. These days when every breath hurt, every muscle in her body screamed in pain, there was something about this place that offered a relief she’d never found in a painkiller. At least she could take in air a little easier, move a little freer.

  “You called to have the place cleaned and aired out, right? And someone from that sorry excuse of a town is bringing in supplies?”

  “Yes, Megan.” Mica hid a smile. It seemed that Megan had gone from trusted friend and companion to mother hen these days.

  Mica was still smiling as they stepped into the surprisingly warm house. Home. The place felt like coming home. There had been so much travel over the years, always searching for anything to make her better, she had forgotten what a real home felt like. Her parents had been tireless, but it had only made her more and more tired. Now, she could relax, let it all go. Literally.

  Everything was exactly as she remembered it. The wide open concept of the place made it seem even more enormous that it was. The space downstairs had huge, tempered glass windows to let in what light there was in the winter and could be darkened in summer when there was too much light. The huge fireplace was crackling with a fire, and just beyond was the biggest natural Christmas tree Mica had ever seen.

  Perfect!

  It was exactly like she had asked for when making arrangements to come back. Oh, Megan may bellyache about decorating it, but it was the kind of tree Mica had always wanted. It had been a very long time since they’d had an actual tree. There were even thick blankets randomly placed on the soft leather furniture strewn about the living room. Everything was exactly as she wanted it.

  Okay, maybe not the very large, very rough looking older man standing next to the Christmas tree, work gloves in his hands. Man, he really was insanely tall, with a thick mop of silver curls on top of his head. Ignoring Megan’s gasp, Mica stepped forward, a genuine smile on her face. He looked so familiar, even though she couldn’t place a name. But those eyes! Such a bright bluish-g
reen. Not many people had eyes that color. There was something about them that seemed very important in some way.

  Whoever he was, he obviously knew who she was. Or at least guessed. She hadn’t been back to Alaska since she was seven, but this man was looking at her as if he knew her. No, that wasn't quite right. He was staring at her as if she were a ghost. There was a mixture of shock and...and something Mica couldn’t name.

  “Hi, I’m Mica Richards,” she offered brightly, holding out her hand. “You must be from the general store in town? Mr. Teegr?”

  The man looked at her hand as if it were something strange, then looked at her face, then back down at her hand. His nostrils flared before he took a deep, shuddering breath, then took a half step backwards. Mica could’ve sworn there were unshed tears in his eyes.

  Well, alrighty then.

  Couldn’t be she reminded this man of her parents. She didn't really look like either of them, though she was the spitting image of her paternal grandmother. So, what was this man’s deal? Honestly, he looked like he was either going to cry, or go all mountain man crazy and kill her. It was such a weird reaction, Mica awkwardly dropped her hand and lost her smile. Just a split second before the man let out a whoop loud enough to rattle the walls and swooped her up in a bear hug.

  “Welcome back, little one! We were so scared—so very scared! We didn't think you would ever return, that you’d— No, never mind that now. I’m so very happy you’re home!”

  From strange to downright crazy, that about summed up this meeting. Not really the reaction she’d expected, but then again, it was wonderful to meet someone who’d known her before the mystery affliction made her life a series of test and doctors. No one had hugged her like this in years. The years of living with careful touching, of people treating her like she was made of the most fragile porcelain, had been isolating.