Page 56 of Unknown

Surely that was not too much to fight for? It was a battle she was ready to take on.

***

Four hours later, in the dark of early evening, she and Gabe arrived at the hospital. Her father was with them, in the car's back seat. A cold, blowing rain was falling.

Cora felt tense inside and she didn't know what to say. The drive there had been silent. She could feel her father was on a knife's edge of tension and worry.

There were no words that could comfort him. What words were there at a time like this?

Gabe stopped right outside the hospital’s entrance.

"You go on in," he said. "I'll go around and park the car and meet you upstairs."

Cora's father climbed out of the back seat and she and he walked in together.

They headed upstairs. The hospital felt chilly, and at this hour it was quieter than it had been last time.

"I came here this morning and she was asleep. The doctor wasn't available so I couldn't ask him anything," her dad said, as they walked down the corridor together.

"How did she look?" Cora asked.

"She didn't look so good. But she was asleep. I guess nobody looks their best when they're asleep and in the hospital," her dad admitted.

Cora swallowed. She could hear the tension in his voice, and could feel it inside her, too. He'd put on a suit jacket to come here. Was that in expectation of the worst? She didn't know. She feared that the worst case scenario would be playing out, right there in this ward, when they walked in.

She pushed the door open and went up to the reception point.

"We're here to see Mrs. Shields."

"Mrs. Shields. Oh, okay. She's unfortunately not here. She got moved." The head nurse consulted a list.

Moved, from ICU? Cora swallowed. Was her mother back on life support? This wasn't sounding good.

"Moved to where?" Cora asked, her heart sinking, automatically glancing in the direction of where she knew the ICU was.

The head nurse consulted her list. "To a room on the third floor. Top floor. Room three twenty-five."

Room three twenty-five. Cora turned away and hustled there, messaging Gabe on the way to tell him where they were going. Her father strode beside her, his face looking as anxious as she was feeling inside. Up a flight of stairs. Along a corridor. Checking out the numbers on the doors. There was number three twenty-five ahead.

And there, audible from even outside the door, her mother's voice.

"I've always preferred using chicken stock for gravy myself. There's something about it that's richer, you know. It’s not just the flavor, it’s also the look of it. Nice and light and creamy."

Cora stopped in her tracks, stunned, as she entered the room.

Her mother was sitting up, supported by pillows, in deep conversation with the woman in the next door bed.

She turned when she heard their footsteps.

"Oh, what a lovely surprise. Janet, this is my husband. And my daughter, Cora."

Her dad crossed the room in three giant strides and took hold of her mom's hands, squeezing tightly. No life support. Just one drip. And the color was back in her face.

"Mom," Cora said, feeling relief and thankfulness rush through her. "You feeling better?"

"Yes, honey, after a little blip in the radar. I developed an allergy to the previous medication," she explained to her new friend Janet. "It set me back, but they said it was a blessing in disguise, as this medication, which is more seldom used, is actually having a better result. I think they said that I'll be cleared to go home tomorrow."

Cora stood by the bed, watching her dad's face, alight with relief. Her mother was back to her usual gossipy, chatty self. She was swapping cooking tips. There could be no better sign.

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