Healing Kiss, page 1
Healing
Kiss
AWARD WINNING AUTHOR
AMANDA UHL
This is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Published in the United States by Amanda Uhl, LLC.
Healing Kiss. Copyright © 2023 by Amanda Uhl
www.amandauhl.com
Ebook: 978-1-952581-06-9
Paperback: 978-1-952581-07-6
Cover by Christian Betulan
www.coversbychristian.com
Interior formatting by 100 Covers.
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Author’s Note
Other Books by Amanda Uhl
Praise for Award-Winning Author Amanda Uhl
A Word About the Author...
To those who heal or are in need of healing…
this one is for you.
Chapter One
Lillian Milano clutched her younger sister’s clammy hand between her palms. Hannah was only twenty-two. Too young to die. Lillian fought the panic pushing into her lungs, pressing on her chest like a weighted blanket. She dropped her head on the hospital bed rail.
Deep breaths. Keep calm.
Not the time to hyperventilate. Not the time to feel faint. Not the time for strong emotion. Strong emotion only weakened her healing ability. And without her life-saving gift, Hannah wouldn’t survive the night.
“Did anyone see you?” Her dad sat on the opposite side of the bed, his glasses crooked and his hair going every which way, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. God, how she’d missed him. The past two years had been the loneliest of her life.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“You’re taking a big risk coming to Cleveland. You should have stayed in Boston, where you’d be safe.” His nostrils flared, but Lillian knew he wasn’t angry. He held back tears. “I’ve already lost your mother. And now Hannah has this virus. I can’t bear to lose either one of you girls.”
“You’re not going to. I promise.”
“The healing has to work.”
“It will. Hannah’s gonna beat this.” Lillian moved her chair until her knees touched the bed and squeezed Hannah’s hand. “C’mon, Sis. Stay with me now. You don’t have to do anything. Just rest.”
Hannah didn’t stir. The steady drip-drip of the IV, the beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor, and her sister’s raspy breaths were the only sounds interrupting the tense silence. She looks so weak. Too weak. Oh God, I hope I’m not too late.
Lillian closed her eyes, focusing on Hannah. A dark shape formed behind her eyelids. Hannah’s shape. Soft orange light wrapped around her sister’s body like a warm shawl.
Deep breath in. The orange light pulsed and glowed.
Deep breath out, careful not to disturb the orange light.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Again. Again. Again.
Each of Lillian’s breaths radiated healing light and power—energy she absorbed from others as easily as a tree absorbs sunlight. In the case of minor illness, the energy she released would have been enough to heal and comfort a patient. But this was no minor illness. And Hannah was no ordinary patient.
Orange light faded into the dark shape as Hannah’s body absorbed the healing energy. Lillian opened her eyes to see Hannah’s flutter, then open. Her gaze looked unfocused and feverish.
She squeezed Hannah’s hand and released it. If she held it longer, the heat and light would transfer back to her, negating any positive effect on Hannah.
Breathe. Calm.
She stood and swiped a trembling hand across her damp forehead. Healing even a minor sickness sapped her strength. Tackling a severe illness like Hannah’s could kill Lillian if she wasn’t careful.
“Did that help her, Lou-Lou?”
She met her dad’s gaze across the bed. The pet name almost had her falling apart. When had she last heard him say it? And in that scratchy timbre? She curled her toes to keep from crying.
“Yes,” she said, projecting a confidence she didn’t feel and pulling air into her starved lungs. “But it’s not enough.”
She turned toward Hannah. “It’s going to be all right, Sis. I promise. I’ll keep trying until you’re better. You’ve got to hang in there.”
Her sister nodded and coughed. Fear filled her coppery brown eyes. The hand Lillian had clasped never moved. Not good. Her sister’s normally lustrous dark hair lay thin and limp, plastered against her sweat-slicked forehead.
Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome. The flu-like symptoms can be fatal.
Fatal.
The word rattled around in Lillian’s head. As a nurse, she understood the seriousness of the virus Hannah had contracted. But as her older sister, the knowledge ripped through her mind with the stunning force of a tornado.
Breathe.
“Excuse me.”
Lillian jerked her head toward the door at the masculine voice, bunching her muscles and straining toward the opening. She turned, fisting her hands at her sides. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears; fight or flight adrenaline took over.
“I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m Dr. Beyton. Are you family?” He stood waiting in blue scrubs, a “this-woman-might-be-unstable” look on his face.
She expelled her breath in a rush, reaching a hand toward the bed to steady herself. Only a doctor. Hannah’s doctor, not Kinetica, the dangerous underground organization who wanted Lillian as their lab rat.
“Not family, a friend.” Over the past two years, she’d become accustomed to lying. And wearing a disguise.
She ran a hand over the straight, long blonde wig made from real human hair she’d paid a whopping sum for at a specialty shop. She scanned the doctor’s body, connecting their energy fields, checking to see if she could use his energy to heal Hannah.
Insubstantial. She swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth. It wasn’t the doctor’s fault he had no more energy than anyone else she’d come in contact with today.
“How’s our patient faring?” He flashed a brief smile and moved into the room without waiting for an answer. He strode to Hannah, studying her charts and the machine monitoring her vitals.
“I have medical experience,” Lillian said. “I’ve seen worse than Hannah. She’s going to beat this,” she added for Hannah’s benefit.
“Well, we’re certainly doing everything we can for her. Can I speak to you for a moment?” He gestured to her father. “Let’s step out in the hall.”
“I’d like…Zoey to come with me.” Her dad used her alias.
“Okay,” the doctor nodded.
Lillian and her dad followed Dr. Beyton into a small room with an examination table and a couple of chairs.
He closed the door and turned to her dad, his expression serious. “We’re going to need to intubate your daughter to help her breathe. Her lungs are full of fluid, which makes it a struggle to take in oxygen. Her body can’t focus on healing.”
“Intubation?” her father questioned.
“He means they’ll put her on a ventilator,” Lillian said. “The ventilator will breathe for her.” About one in three patients never recover.
“That’s exactly right,” the doctor spoke. “Your daughter needs time to fight the infection in her system.”
“Is this like life support? Will she get better?” her father asked.
“That’s our goal.” The doctor sounded chipper.
Despite his optimism, Lillian knew there were no guarantees, especially for someone with extrasensory abilities. Hannah, a strong empath, held the grief, anxiety, and feelings of others in her heart and lungs. She’s dying.
A wave of nausea flooded Lillian’s system. She made a beeline for the nearest chair, which happened to be next to her dad, and sat.
“Can we stay with her?” her dad asked, leaning a hand against Lillian’s chair.
“Not while we intubate. You can wait in the family room. We’ll come get you in a few minutes.”
Lillian nodded. They would put a tube down Hannah’s throat. A harsh procedure for her dad to witness.
Lillian took a slow breath. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m tired, not sick.” She shrugged, careful to keep her tone light. “She’ll be okay. Let’s head to the waiting room.”
Not thirty minutes later, a nurse, who introduced herself as Dani, came to fetch them, and they returned to Hannah’s bedside. A clear plastic accordion tube snaked into Hannah’s mouth, feeding air and oxygen into her lungs. A large machine next to her bed beeped as it monitored her heart, respiratory rate, and blood pressure.
“She’s a trooper,” Dani said. “But the procedure’s worn her out. She’s been given a mild sedative to help her relax, and she’s sleeping. Might be a good time for you to grab a bite and get some rest. I’ve got the evening shift. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on her.”
Lillian couldn’t think of eating or sleeping, but a deep breath in revealed her father’s vitality was low…too low. Neither one of them had eaten lunch. And he’d been at the hospital since yesterday. He needed a break from his worry and constant vigilance. “Let me take you home. You’re exhausted and need to rest.”
Her father took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt. “You’re right. I’m beat. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes.” She attempted a smile but knew it was weak. She wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been okay for years now.
She drove her father’s Cadillac, the glow of the headlights dim through the dank, gray fog. The damp weather seemed to infiltrate her body, blurring her thoughts until they all led to the same desperate conclusion. If she didn’t heal Hannah tonight, her sister would die.
She parked the car in the driveway and turned to her father; his head lolled against the seat.
“Dad, wake up.”
Her father startled and opened his eyes, his dazed look gradually clearing. “I’m sorry, I must have drifted off.”
She peered around as far as she could see through the mist. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she could never be too careful. Although it had been two years since she’d left, Kinetica could still be watching. “It’s okay, Dad. Looks like the coast is clear. C’mon.”
She shivered as she zipped her jacket and grabbed her purse. Her mother had warned that unless Kinetica believed Lillian was dead, they would never stop searching for her. If they were watching the house, they’d find Lillian and kill her dad if he got in the way.
She got out of the car and stayed alert to any sudden movement, but when nothing disturbed the silence, she let out the breath she held and followed her dad through the side door and into the kitchen. She sniffed the air, swallowing a pang. “Hmmm…it smells like coffee and waffles in here. Two of my favorite smells.”
“It’s good to have you home, Lillian, even if it has to be under such terrible circumstances. Are you hungry?”
“A little.” The pang intensified into a physical ache when she spied the painted white cabinets and bright-yellow-flowered wallpaper she and Hannah had helped their mom pick out when they were little girls. She swiped at the sudden moisture in her eyes. Not much had changed over the years.
“You sit.” She pointed to a chair at the small kitchen table. “I’ll whip us up a late lunch.”
Her father did as she asked. She’d never been much of a cook, but she made grilled cheese sandwiches and heated soup from a can she found in the cupboard, then cleaned up the dishes.
“Thanks, sweetheart. A little crispy, but it hit the spot.”
Her father was being kind. She was so preoccupied worrying about Hannah and Kinetica, she burned the dang sandwiches.
He wiped his lips with a napkin, pushed his chair from the table, and stood with a small smile. “I see some things never change.”
Pressure built behind her eyelids. How she’d missed her dad’s familiar teasing.
“I’m going to bed for a little while.” He wrapped her in a hug, the familiar smell of coffee and Old Spice aftershave enveloping her. “You should, too. You’re safe here, and you need to rest.”
“I can’t stay, Dad. You know that. If Kinetica has any idea I’m still alive, this is the first place they’ll look for me. It’s not worth the risk. I’ll stay at the hospital. Hannah needs me. I have to keep trying to heal her.”
Her father touched her arm, fear and concern reflected in his dark-brown eyes. “I’m worried about you. But I’m not going to tell you what to do. Somehow, you’ve managed to stay safe these past couple of years without us. It’s nearly killed me.” His voice cracked. “Be careful, Lou-Lou. I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you.”
“Hey, I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” Lillian kept her voice light. “Don’t worry, Dad. Nothing’s going to happen, I promise.” Lillian hugged her father and swallowed past the hard lump in her throat. She tightened her hand around the keys to his car. “Get some rest. I’ll call you if anything changes.”
Her dad nodded, then turned and shuffled to his bedroom, while she forced her shaky legs to move toward the kitchen table where she’d left her purse. She couldn’t remain here and risk her dad’s safety. That was true two years ago. It was still true today. And despite the ache in her heart for home and the people who loved her, it would still be true tomorrow.
She parted the curtains and peeked out the kitchen window. Thunder clouds lined the March sky, the fog blanketing her dad’s car. She tugged on her lower lip. If Kinetica were watching the house, the fog provided cover. But would Kinetica still be searching for her after all this time? As far as she knew, they believed her dead. And they wouldn’t come after Hannah since she hadn’t inherited the healing gene, and Kinetica either didn’t know or didn’t care about her sister’s other talent. If Lillian stayed hidden, she and her family would be safe.
She opened the garage door. Nothing moved, not even a tree branch. The silence seemed to lie in wait like a big cat ready to pounce. She hunched into her jacket and hurried to the car, careful to lock the doors as soon as she was safe inside. She grabbed the wheel with both hands to stop them from trembling.
What if I’m wrong? What if Kinetica knows I’m still alive and is waiting for me at the hospital?
The thought kept her heart racing during the thirty-minute drive. It didn’t let up when she pulled into the visitor’s parking lot and hurried toward the glass doors. They opened when she stepped in front of them at the same moment a tall man did.
“Oh.” She gasped and stumbled out of the stranger’s reach.
“After you.” The stranger paused, gesturing for her to go in front of him, his deep voice causing her heartbeat to accelerate even more.
She hesitated, but he made no move to grab her, so she slipped by him. His height made it easy for her to bend her head and avoid meeting his gaze. Still, she caught a glimpse of a firm jawline, dark hair, and a black computer bag strung over one shoulder as she passed.
She continued moving toward the infectious disease wing where Hannah was staying, the beat of her heart matching the tap-tap-tap of her shoes against the floor. The man followed behind. No one else was nearby, so she could hear the soft tread of his shoes. She quickened her pace, her breath coming faster now. Her stomach did a flip, and her throat tightened, preparing her to flee or scream if the situation demanded it.
She reached Hannah’s room. Bile rose in her throat when she realized the man’s footsteps stopped when she stopped.
She grabbed the doorknob and glanced to the side. The man was no longer there. She let her breath out in a rush and leaned her forehead against the door to recover her equilibrium. Get a hold of yourself, Lillian. Not every strange guy was one of Kinetica’s men, looking to grab her. She’d been so panicked, she hadn’t even taken the time to check the man’s vitality.
She pushed the door to Hannah’s room open, closing it behind her. Her sister lay unmoving in the hospital bed, the ventilator huffing as it breathed for her. Is she okay? Fear squeezed Lillian’s lungs, and she rushed forward, leaning over the bed, studying the still shape, drawing on her talent. Although she couldn’t see anything with her eyes, in her mind, a thin, translucent wisp of white vapor escaped Hannah’s lips.
