“She was so beautiful when we first met,” he continues, a memory in his head. “Hell, she still is. I wanted to give her the world, and we had plans to do it all. Together.” He sighs and runs his hand over his short silver hair.
“I always knew the farm would be mine, but I never thought it would happen so soon.” History had it, our grandfather died while my dad was overseas enjoying himself, and he had to make a choice. Mum made one, too. She followed our father to the Scott farm. “I thank my lucky stars every day she came with me. But where are her lucky stars? How could this happen to her again?”
He places a hand over his eyes and pinches them shut. Stunned into silence myself, I watch as Karyn wraps an arm over our father’s shoulders. She’s a great nurse.
“I wanted the farm to go to you or Gavin. Selfishly, I hoped it would be sooner rather than later so I could give her all I promised. I was afraid I would die young like my father and never have the chance. I never imagined she would be the one to go instead.”
“Dad,” Karyn says, both admonishing the thought and soothing them. “Mum’s strong. She’s a fighter, a survivor. She’ll weather this. It’s only pneumonia.” We all know it’s not that simple, though, and while Mum’s spirit is strong, her body is weak.
Dad snorts again.
“Make no mistake about it, I want her to be better, but another long hospital stay? I want to bring her home.” He huffs in frustration. “The insurance only covers so much, and we owe…” He trails off. I’m shocked. Their finances haven’t ever been my business. We weren’t rich—we never had been—but I never thought my parents truly lacked. I’d had all I ever needed from them. If I had less than others, I didn’t notice. I worked on the farm as a teen and held odd jobs to give myself spending money. It’s how I fell in love with the restaurant industry.
Is the farm in trouble?
“Dad.” I swallow. “I had no idea.”
My father looks up at me as if he’s forgotten I’m present.
“How would you?” The implication is clear. My dad believes I don’t think of anyone but myself.
“Dad,” Karyn cuts him off. “Not now.”
Dad ignores her. “Someday, someone’s going to come along and knock the wind out of your sails. If she suffers, you suffer. If she hurts, you hurt. But when she loves, there will be nothing like that feeling. Nothing.” He takes a deep breath. “You’ll think with your heart, not your head or your dick, Ethan, and it’s going to make all the difference.”
“Dad,” Karyn shrieks, but our father stands and walks away, leaving us both stunned by his speech.
+ + +
I decide to stay overnight at the hospital. Dad eventually returns to Mum’s room, and we sit in silence, waiting.
Crystal Bloomquist has discovered Mum’s in the hospital and came to see me, but I brushed her off. She’s not the woman I want near me. My thoughts drift to Ella. How desperate I was for her this morning. My fear that she’ll leave and never return. I’m overreacting a bit. Of course, she’ll be back, but for how long?
My phone buzzes.
How is your mom? How are you?
I read the text but don’t respond. I don’t know what to say.
“Was that Ella?” My mother’s rasping voice surprises me, and I quickly stand, coming to her side. I look over at my dad, resting in a chair on the other side of her bed.
“Don’t wake him,” she wheezes.
“You shouldn’t talk,” I tell her, squeezing her hand with mine.
My mother shakes her head slowly side to side. “Tell me more about Ella.” There’s so much in her statement.
“She went to New York today. I’m so proud of her. She made this incredible clothing line.” I’m not blowing smoke. Ella once explained to me how the clothing is meant for comfort but also for those who have suffered some tragedy. It’s meant to make them comfortable in their own skin, even if they are missing a limb, wearing a headscarf, or badly scarred somewhere. She explained all kinds of details like breathability and custom fit, and all I could do was smile and watch the excitement in her face. She might have been hiding, but she wanted to share something with others.
“I hope it all works out for her,” Mum rasps.
“Me too,” I say, and I mean it. I want her to achieve everything she wants to achieve. I want her to do whatever makes her feel whole again. I just wish there was a place for me in her plan.
“She’s very beautiful.” Mum weakly smiles.
“She is,” I agree.
“But so sad.” It’s a nice way of accepting that something happened to Ella.
“I think she’s getting better. The success of her clothing line will help.”
“And you.” Mum smiles, her eyes closing.
I snort. “Yeah, I don’t think so much.”
“You’re a good man, love. Don’t sell yourself short.”
My eyes drift to my dad, who’s holding himself too still, and I have a feeling he’s faking his sleep.
“Well, I don’t really think there’s a place for me in her future if she gets a fashion house to take her designs.”
“Why not?” Mum asks, rolling her head on the pillow.
“Mum, maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now.” My eyes shift to Dad again, his breathing no longer that of a sleeping man but of someone listening to this conversation.
“Only you can decide if you want a place in her life.”
“Not if she doesn’t want me,” I retort quietly.
“Did she say she didn’t?”
I don’t answer, glancing over at my phone on the chair where I set it.
“I think her moving to New York would make the statement pretty clear.”
Mum smiles to herself as though she knows something I don’t.
“It always works out as it should,” Mum states. Does she mean if Ella moves that’s as it should be? I don’t really like that explanation. Movement from my father distracts my thoughts. He leans forward with Mum’s words, lifts her hand for his lips, and kisses her knuckles. He closes his eyes, and she lightly chuckles, which turns into deep coughs. He stands as well, hovering over her.
“Don’t fuss,” she admonishes to my father, who’s asking in random succession if she needs water, medicine, a nurse, anything. Still holding his hand, she rolls her head on the pillow to me, and orders, “You, on the other hand, need to learn to fuss.”
Card 25: Chocolate
Bittersweet is best for baking
[Ella]
New York is everything I’d hoped it’d be yet not. The seasonal decorations bleed into the upcoming Christmas holiday décor already present in the stores as if skimming over Thanksgiving, the celebration in the middle. I window shop as I walk the streets and often wonder what Ethan would think of something I see. Would he enjoy the large shop specializing in cooking supplies? Would he enjoy a sample of baked goods from The Petite Bakery? Would he want to have a prix-fixe meal from a fancy restaurant?
As I continue my walk, I decide while Ethan might appreciate the experience of fine dining, he’d prefer something more wholesome, filling, and casual. The thought makes me smile as I stop before an art gallery.