Page 41 of Breaking the Ice

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.

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