Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ellie

I leave for the hospital as soon as the delivery men are done setting up my mom's bed. Regardless of what she says, I want to be there when she returns to her room.

After parking my car, I stop off in the cafeteria and get my mom a chocolate donut and myself an apple fritter. Then I take the elevator up to the second floor. The receptionist is a girl I went to high school with. "Hey, Jen. I'm here to see my mom."

She stands up and walks around the desk to give me a hug. "I was going to call you when I saw that Elaine was a patient. How is she doing? How are you doing?"

Ignoring the question about me, I tell her, "Mom had more tests this morning so I'm hoping for an update."

That's when a man wearing scrubs turns around and asks, "Are you Elaine's daughter?" I nod my head. "I'm her nurse, Jake. They just brought her back to her room, if you want to follow me."

I wave to Jen before hurrying after Jake. "Is she okay?" I ask him. "Is it a brain bleed? "

"I don't know," he says. "The doctor is still with her so you can ask him." He opens the door and leads the way.

My eyes immediately search out my mom. She's lying on the bed looking so small I almost don't believe it's her. "Mom." I approach her while asking, "How are you doing?"

She forces a pained smile. "I'm so tired, honey. All I want to do is sleep."

The doctor, who's on the other side of the bed, looks up at me from the chart in his hands. "I'm Ellie, Elaine's daughter," I tell him.

He nods his head once. "Your mom has a small hemorrhage in her brain due to her fall."

The panic I feel is nearly overwhelming. "Does that mean she'll need surgery?"

"I don't think so," he says reassuringly. "But we still want to monitor it for a couple more days."

"What if it doesn't stop?"

"Then we'll have to operate to alleviate the pressure. But from what I can see on the imaging, I'm optimistic the bleeding will stop on its own."

I have a million questions, but I don't want to worry my mom. Glancing at her, I see that her eyes are closed, so I quietly ask the doctor, "Is she going to be okay?"

"That's the plan."

"What can I do to help?"

"You can let her rest so her body will get to work healing itself."

"Okay," I tell him. "I'll just sit here with her."

My mom opens her eyes long enough to say, "Go home, Ellie. I'm fine."

"I'm not going to leave you here alone, Mom."

She closes her eyes again. "I'm not going to get better until you do."

"Mom …" I'm about to tell her that's a horrible thing to say. I need to be with her, if not for her sake, then for my own .

But before I can do so, the doctor interrupts. "Patients often feel stress from their loved ones, and it keeps them from resting. Go home and I promise someone will call you the minute your mom's situation changes."

Leaving goes against every instinct I have, but my mom's the one telling me to go. After several moments, I finally agree, "Fine, but I'm going to call in regularly."

"Not if I call you first," Jake says comfortingly. "I'll keep you updated on any changes."

Reluctantly, I lean down and kiss my mom on the cheek before heading toward the elevator. Luckily, Jen is chatting with someone else. I feel like I'm a breath away from bursting into tears and stopping to talk would definitely push me over the edge.

Walking out of the hospital feels wrong. It would be easier if I were teaching today or was expected at Kelly's, but I've got nothing. I'm going home to an empty house where I'll probably just sit and worry.

On the way home, I stop at the market and pick up ingredients to make homemade caramel. Candy making will force me to focus all my attention on the thermometer, so I don't burn it. Hopefully, that will be the perfect distraction.

After putting cream, corn syrup, and five pounds of sugar in my basket, I add Granny Smith apples and a bag of toasted chopped macadamia nuts. I only make caramel apples once a year and it looks like today is going to be that day.

I'm not surprised Zach's car isn't in the drive when I get home, but I'm still disappointed. I have no idea when he'll get back because he has a couple of press conferences and then a thing at the lodge with the team.

After unloading the groceries, I tie on an apron before pulling the stock pot out of the cabinet. I put it on the largest front burner before adding corn syrup, sugar, milk, and heavy cream. Then I start stirring it over a medium heat for what I know will feel like forever .

Yet today, the mixture almost hypnotizes me as it graduates from a pale ivory color to a thicker golden blend. When the candy thermometer hits two hundred and thirty-four degrees, I slowly add the remaining milk and cream and then repeat the stirring process until it reaches two hundred and forty-four degrees. Turning the flame off, I mix in the vanilla extract.

While the caramel cools slightly, I wash and dry the apples before laying them on a sheet of parchment on the counter. Then I pour the nuts into a bowl.

Looking at the clock, I realize a full hour has passed since I started, and I haven't worried about my mom once. Ah, the power of homemade candy. Unfortunately, once I have that realization, I start to fret again.

I find long wooden skewers in the pantry and insert them into the bottom of each apple. Once that task is completed, I take turns dipping the fruit into the caramel to cover the whole thing. When I pull them out, I gently twirl the stick to let the excess caramel fall off. Finally, I dip the apples into the chopped nuts before putting them back on the parchment to cool.

Once I'm finished with all twelve, I pour the remaining mixture into a small, buttered cake pan. I'll cut it and wrap it in individual portions after it cools completely. Turning my attention back to the finished product, I admire my handy work. It looks like a picture in a magazine.

I'm about to start cleaning up when my phone rings. I hurriedly pick it up. "Hello?"

"Ellie, it's Jake from the hospital."

A chill of dread starts at the base of my spine and rapidly shoots toward my head. "Is my mom okay?" I demand. "Is the bleeding worse?"

"Your mom is fine," he tells me. "I told you I'd call regularly, and I will until my shift ends at seven. I just wanted to let you know that you probably won't hear from the night nurse because your mom will be sleeping. "

"Oh, okay," I tell him. "But she's good now?"

"She's great. She's resting."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"I'll be back at seven in the morning," he says. "I'll ring you as soon as I get your mom's vitals." I thank him before hanging up.

After cleaning up the kitchen, I go into my mom's room and lie down on her new bed. I play with the remote, raising the mattress up and down like I'm a kid with a new toy. I can't wait to show her how easy it will be for her to get in and out of bed.

Somewhere along the line, I close my eyes and fall asleep for two whole hours, which is not something I normally do. I dream about Zach. I dream that he and I fall in love and get married before having enough boys to fill a hockey team of our own.

I'm not one to fantasize about outrageous things like marrying a billionaire, but now that Zach is in town and he's not the villain I thought he was, a part of me can't help but wonder if there's a fairytale ending to my story.

Looking at the clock, I discover it's already four thirty. I get out of my mom's bed and cross the room to the mirror to assess the damage to my hair. It's not as bad as it could be, yet I still run a brush through it and pinch my cheeks for color.

Walking down the hallway, I look out the picture window in the living room in hopes of discovering Zach's car. It's there, but being that I don't know how long he'll be home, I head to the kitchen and wrap a caramel apple for him in a sheet of cellophane. I tie the base with a raffia bow before walking down the path with my offering. The closer I get to Zach's cottage, the more excited I feel. It's freeing to not feel anger when I think about him. Yet, it's equally anxiety-inducing that I'm starting to feel something more.

I knock on his door but there's no answer, so I wait a few beats before repeating the action. Still, nothing. Why isn't he answering? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little worried, especially after what just happened with my mom. Turning the knob, I discover the door is unlocked so I walk in. "Zach?" I call loudly. "Where are you? "

Moments later, he comes running out into the living room with a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist. "Ellie, are you okay? Is it your mom?"

I stare at him in what can only be described as complete awe. The man is an Adonis. "I … um ... fine …" My mouth dries up to the point where I can barely speak.

Zach hurries to my side and demands, "What's wrong?"

Shaking my head, I tell him, "Nothing. I … just …" I hold up the caramel apple between us, "brought you a treat."

Zach's eyes shift from concern to something else entirely. "A treat, huh?" The way he says that makes it clear he's not talking about the proffered apple.

My face heats up to the point where I'm pretty sure I'm about to spontaneously combust. Looking away, I tell him, "I made it myself."

"You made the caramel?" He sounds as impressed as he should. Making caramel isn't hard, but it is tedious.

"I did." I force myself to breathe so I don't wind up in a heap at his feet. There's only so much fainting—real or otherwise—I can do in his presence without looking like an invalid.

"What are you doing for dinner?" Zach suddenly asks.

"They're keeping my mom in the hospital for a couple more days so I'm on my own."

"Why don't I cook for us?" he asks. "It's the least I can do after you went to all the trouble of making dessert." Once again, I sense he's not talking about the apple and my face flushes hotly.

"What are you cooking?" I don't know why I bother asking because I'd say yes even if he were making mud pies.

"How about steak and potatoes? That's my specialty."

"You have to get dressed first," I say, sounding like a prissy schoolmarm out of the Old West.

Zach tightens the towel at his waist. With a smile, he says, "I'll be right back."

As soon as he leaves the room, I collapse onto the sofa in a heap. Holy cow, I just saw Zach without his clothes on and now he's going to cook for me. This is not what I expected when I came down here, but I'm sure as heck not going to complain.

Once again, I can't help but wonder if something might actually happen between me and Troy's hunky billionaire brother?