Chapter Twenty-Four
Ella received the lab work back that confirmed the girl in Exam 2 did have mono. She was preparing her discharge notes when Mrs. Graham approached the admit counter pulling Mr. Graham from behind. He was holding his stomach.
Trudy gestured for them to sit and began asking questions. Mr. Graham was gray and could barely answer. Ella tried not to play the game, but something felt dangerously off. She sensed a buzz, a tingling at the base of her neck.
“He’s been this way since this morning. He hasn’t eaten anything, but his stomach is kind of hard. I searched on WebMD,” Mrs. Graham continued as Trudy took his blood pressure and glanced over her shoulder.
Ella checked the digital display. His pressure was low, crazy low. Trudy continued with her questions as Ella moved closer.
“Mr. Graham,” she said, putting her hand on Trudy’s shoulder. “Pain on a scale of one to ten?”
He held up both hands to indicate ten and then wrapped his arms back around his midsection.
“Do you think it’s the flu, Doc? Maybe something he ate?”
“I do not think it is the flu, Mrs. Graham.” Ella tried not to sound too stern, but she truly hated WebMD. “Trudy is going to take your husband into Exam 3 and we’re going to take a closer look. Things will move quickly for a little bit, but I promise to explain as soon as we know more.”
Mrs. Graham’s eyes went wide and then pooled with tears Ella didn’t have time to tend to because she needed to save this man’s life. She needed blood and a way to get him somewhere other than Petaluma Valley, and she needed all of it fast.
“Bri,” she called, eyes still on the friendly face of the hardware store man she’d first met in line at Sift with his granddaughter. He had a granddaughter and two grandsons if she remembered correctly.
“Did you call me?” Her friend and best nurse was at her back. Ella had been out of the game for a while, but this was something.
“I need you to find Dr. Pierce.”
“The ass—”
“Bri, please. I know he’s in the hospital today because I saw the sign for one of his keynotes when I came in this morning. Find him, now.”
She was gone without another word.
Ella went into Exam 3, where Trudy and two other nurses already had an IV going and one unit of blood was nearly gone. They were waiting for Ella to give them further instructions.
“Get him something for pain.” Ella took his blood pressure again herself.
“On the way.” Trudy noted his pressure in the computer.
“Mr. Graham, we’re going to try to make you more comfortable.”
“Good luck. I feel like my insides are ripping.”
She tried not to flinch. She knew the pain he was describing, not personally, but she’d had patients with this and worse before. A flush of calm she had not experienced in years ran through her.
“Mr. Graham, do you have a history of aneurysms that you are aware of? Family maybe?”
He grunted a response Ella didn’t understand.
It didn’t matter that Trudy hung another unit, which would make it three in the last fifteen minutes—his pressure was still low. Ella knew what was wrong and she’d almost figured out the best way to proceed.
“Trudy, call down to radiology now and get Mr. Graham in for a C-scan.”
“Excuse me, Doctor. Can I come in and sit with George?” Mrs. Graham appeared in the door. “Is that blood?”
Ella wanted to grab the man, wheel him into radiology, and do the scan herself. She didn’t have time for chitchat or the limitations of this hospital.
Instead, she explained to Mrs. Graham what was going to happen next. The small elderly woman held her white pocketbook with both hands. Ella wanted to put her at ease, but the truth was her husband was in trouble and as luck would have it, the answer to his prayers was somewhere in the building speaking way over everyone’s head in that self-absorbed way he’d mastered.
“They can take him now,” Trudy said.
Ella’s eyes briefly left Mr. Graham and found the nurse’s nervous but determined face.
“They’ll be here in two minutes,” she added.
Ella thanked her just as the radiology tech arrived with a wheelchair. Marc was right behind him.
After settling Mrs. Graham back in the waiting area, Ella turned and walked to the back of the nurses’ station.
“He has an aneurysm. Triple A, I’m sure of it.”
“The guy in the wheelchair?”
She nodded, recapped the symptoms, and then watched in amazement as the polished facade of Marc Pierce melted away and the brilliant doctor emerged. Engaged and more than a little curious, he asked where they were taking him and with little more information, he was gone.
If Ella was right, and she knew she was, Mr. Graham would not be staying at Petaluma Valley for longer than it took to find him transport. She would wait to hear from Marc first, but she was certain they’d Air Evac him out as soon as possible and Mr. Graham would be in surgery soon after.
Marc returned less than an hour later and finished coordinating efforts to have Mr. Graham sent to Zuckerberg Memorial. The aneurysm was close to three inches. Unstable, but not ruptured. Air Evac would arrive within thirty minutes.
“I’ve called ahead. They’re ready for him.”
“You’re not going with him?”
“El, Hamm just got out of surgery and if he can’t take it, Anderson will. He’ll be in good hands.”
“I want him in your hands. He’s lived here his whole life, raised kids and grandkids. Do you see the woman in the waiting area? They’ve been married for almost fifty years. He owns the hardware store right around the corner from my house.” Ella knew she sounded insane, but she was suddenly filled with such a rush of connection that it was spilling out of her. “You are the best, Marc, and Mr. Graham deserves nothing less.”
He sighed, ego firmly aglow, and she knew she’d secured arguably one of the best surgeons in the country for what should be an uneventful procedure now that the aneurysm had been found. She also knew that this world-class medical care came because of Marc’s sick need to win her back. To make the grand gesture in a bid to rekindle the enamored glow she’d once had around him. Before it all went to hell, and like her parents and the bad necklace, he turned her neck green.
Ella knew all of these things as she squeezed Mrs. Graham’s hand and explained that the helicopter was more noise than anything else. As she watched them fly off toward San Francisco, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter why he was going to save Mr. Graham’s life. All that mattered was that come next year’s Butter and Egg Days, Mr. Graham was outside his shop handing out those egg-shaped measuring tapes.
“Where is he?” Ella asked as her eyes adjusted to the shaded light of the Tap House.
Patrick raised a brow, and Cade pointed to the back like a kid used to tattling.
“He’s coming up with his autumn recipe. It’s commune with nature week. He’s out back. Probably not a good idea to bother him.”
“Thanks.” Walking past them, she didn’t care if it was a good time or not. She had something to say. After she got the call that Mr. Graham was resting comfortably in recovery, Ella decided she’d held back long enough.
Pushing through the creak of the large metal back door, she didn’t see him at first. Nothing but a couple of storage sheds, a huge overarching tree, and the river’s edge. Her eyes followed a rusted railing that separated the back of the brewery from a railroad track long out of use, and off in the far corner on a tree stump sat Boyd with a notebook open on another stump in front of him. He was smelling something in his left hand and tapping a pencil with the other.
Cade was right, he appeared to be in full contemplation. She was about to blow that Zen wide open when Boyd started walking away toward what she now knew was his office. Her feet wouldn’t move. The love and fear that propelled her to that spot somehow ran dry at the sight of him solitary and deep in thought. He didn’t see her before disappearing into the maze of buildings that was Foghorn Brewery.
Ella turned to leave right as Patrick opened the door.
“You’re leaving?”
“He seems busy.”
“He’s not. He is like a Boy Scout working toward his next badge. Come into my office and I’ll show you busy.”
She laughed.
“I came out here hoping for a front-row seat. From your entrance, I thought we’d be able to hear the fight from inside.”
She sat on the bench outside the door and was surprised when Patrick pulled at the legs of his crisp khakis and joined her.
“I get it now,” he said. She looked at him and recognized pieces of Boyd. She knew all about genetics, but as with most things learned in a book, it was different when it sat living and real right next to her.
“Get what?” she asked.
“You’re not mad at him. You love him.”
She would not have been more shocked if Patrick had stood up and dropped his pants. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but she had not expected someone so seemingly together and smooth to be a mind reader too. The wind blew across her face and she felt a strange sense of relief that someone had uttered the words at last.
“You’re good.”
“I know.”
She laughed.
“So, why are you sitting here? He’s in his office making a big deal out of something that should take him half the day. It’s what he does. Christ, I hate nature week almost as much as deadline week. Believe me, you’re not bothering him.”
“He seems fine on his own. Happy.”
“First, there’s a big difference between fine and happy. As I’m sure you already know, Boyd makes do with what he’s given. It’s really one of the noble things about him. He pushes through and pushes on. Mason makes his life joyful, fulfilling, but you, Dr. Ella Walters, you are his happy.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I think we’ve already established that I’m good.”
She wondered how any woman or man for that matter was safe around the McNaughton brothers. They were each an element on their own, but good God, together they were a force. No wonder Foghorn Brewery beat the odds and was thriving. They were unstoppable.
“I’m fairly new at connecting.”
It was Patrick’s turn to laugh.
“Now that I’ve calmed down, I think I’ll wait for him to say it first,” she said.
“Bad idea?” He leaned forward. “He loves deeper than anyone I know, but words are not exactly his strong suit.”
She closed her eyes. It should feel awkward talking to a man she barely knew about a man she loved, but it didn’t. Nothing had gone as expected since Boyd walked into the ER, and there was no indication things were going to change.
Ella stood and brushed off her scrubs. She should have changed before she left. She used to hate it when doctors went to the grocery store or some school event for their kids in their scrubs. Germs, hello? She wanted to scream and now here she was, an emotional germ spreader.
“My nephew tells me you are the ‘girl expert.’”
Ella laughed. “If only I were the man expert, huh?”
“You’re a doctor. You’ll figure it out. The heart seems pretty important.”
“That’s almost poetic, Patrick.”
He stood holding up his finger to his lips in a childlike “shh” and then slipped back into the Tap House.
After a deep breath, Ella took in the beauty of the river, and for the second time in a few months, went to tell Boyd she had a feeling.
Boyd decided to fix the lid on one of his tanks. It wasn’t sealing right, and he needed a break from coming up with the autumn recipe. He was thinking of turning on some music when Ella walked onto the brewery floor in her scrubs. Her hair was wild, barely a ponytail at the back of her head, and Boyd remembered the first time she walked into that hospital room and into his life. His chest warmed, but as she came closer, she seemed determined or pissed. From a distance, he couldn’t tell the difference. Closing the lid on the tank, he braced himself as he walked down the metal stairs.
“Why do I feel like I’m in trouble?”
She marched right in front of him, clogs squeaking, and put her arms around his neck. “Because you are. We both are,” she said, a little out of breath, and then she kissed him.
When she’d kissed him within an inch of his life there in broad daylight, Boyd questioned if they worked too much because it felt like some great times went down at the brewery or the hospital. Opposites, he thought at first, but then realized both places healed in a way. The mass of ingredients and worries swirling through his mind came to a screeching halt when she pulled back from the kiss and said, “Are you in love with me?”
His grip tightened at the back of her shirt, as if he could somehow hold her and not answer at the same time. “I’m trying,” came out of his mouth before his brain engaged.
“Trying to love me?” Ella went to step back, but he held her in place.
He needed her to understand and at the same time had no words to explain.
He shook his head. “Trying not to. I’m trying not to love you.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to feel all of this. I don’t want to fall in love.”
“Okay. Well, good luck with that because I’m already there and I’m not chickening out.”
“Nice chicken reference.” He raised his brow, hoping to redirect a conversation he was trying desperately not to have.
She took her face in his hands, and Boyd felt like he was falling. Out of a plane, a moving car, it didn’t matter. He was going down.
“I love you, Boyd.” Ella let out a breath that whispered across his face, and he closed his eyes as if he could capture her. “That inopportune smiling and thinking about you thing has already set in for me.”
“See? Who the hell wants to feel like that?”
Her face lit up with warmth and a serenity he’d never seen in her before. “I do. I’ll take it all if it means I get you. Get to wake up every morning next to you. If it means making a life and being around Mase more. If saying I love you leads me anywhere close to a family with you and Mase, then I’m done holding back.”
Boyd’s eyes welled with tears that he promptly wiped away. “I… Christ, what do I say to that. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I was beginning to wonder if I would ever love someone. It’s nice to be alive.”
He shook his head as she smiled up at him. No agenda, no need for the perfect response from him. She was just bursting with love and needed to tell him. Boyd was officially the luckiest man on the planet and the biggest idiot all rolled into one.
“You’re insane.”
“Oh, now you’re tuning in.”
“So, you love me.” He was trying to catch a full breath and formulate something that wasn’t asinine.
She nodded. “I do.”
“How are you so comfortable with this? Aren’t you supposed to be all angsty and in denial? I thought you had a hard time connecting with people?”
“Practice and patience.” She smiled and stepped back from his arms. “Mr. Graham has an aneurysm. Well, doesn’t anymore because Marc took him to San Francisco, but he had one earlier today.”
“Marc, Marc? He’s still here?” Boyd leaned against his work table and crossed his arms.
“No. He just got out of surgery in the city.”
Ella filled him in on the details, which made for an unbelievable story, but he kept circling back to the three words she said before Mr. Graham came into the conversation. And why he was unable to say them back to her.
“I used to see people struggle and lose all the time in my job, but now the whole connection thing is in full force. I can’t be sure what’s changed, but I feel everything these days. My heart is in charge. I want to kiss you right through breakfast every time I see you. I’m happy. I think I’m your happy too. That’s why I’m here… in my clogs.” She tapped her shoes and blew a stray hair from her face.
Boyd had never seen anyone so free, so open and armor down. It was stunning.
“Holy shit.”
She smiled, slow and deliberate. Maybe she wasn’t exactly enjoying watching him squirm, but she knew she had the upper hand. Did she also know he loved her back? Did he need to say it right then or were her words enough for both of them?
“I need to go. Book club meeting tonight.” She kissed him one more time, and Boyd wanted to give her the answer written in every romance. He wanted to tell her she’d saved him and he’d imagined all the things she’d said and more. He wanted so much it felt like his chest was going to cave in, but as his father often said, “Wanting isn’t enough. You have to put in the work.” In that moment, Boyd couldn’t find the words.
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Did you just walk right out of saving a man’s life to blow me away?”
“Is that what I did?”
He nodded and felt the lump firmly back in his throat.
“Then yes, yes I did. I’ll see you later?”
“You will.”
She spun like a child at Christmas, and Boyd knew it was a privilege to see this side of Ella. She was almost to the door when his brain started to kick in.
“Ella?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Loving me.”
“Anytime. In fact, it’s my pleasure.”
“Mason’s at my parents’ house tonight. You could stop by after book club.”
“The meeting is at their house. I’ll get to see him.”
“And then you could come and see me.”
She walked back and leaned into him. “What exactly are you offering, beer man? I’ve had a long day and”—she stepped away and rolled her shoulders slowly, her eyes never leaving him—“I might not have the energy.”
“You need to get out of here now before I haul you into that closet.” Boyd laughed and felt them return to a familiar space.
“Promises, promises.” She huffed. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
She kissed him quickly and then she was gone.
Boyd sat at his work table and ran a hand over his face. She deserved to be loved in return and he’d blown it. Again.
He was still unsure how to be that guy. He was thirty-seven and he’d been raising a son most of his adult life. The fantasy where he meets the love of his life, like his parents had, wasn’t his reality. While he loved Mason more than anything in the world, he had given things up. Every choice left something behind. Boyd didn’t know how to be the guy who sweeps a woman like Ella off her feet and the guy with reusable grocery bags in the back of his truck. He doubted they could exist together in the same person.
His phone vibrated. Certain it was Ella with one last word, he ran his thumb across the screen and nearly dropped the phone when he saw Claire’s name.
I’ve moved some things around and I’ll be at Mason’s graduation. Can you pick me up at the airport next week?
Boyd closed his eyes. Happy for Mason that his mom would see him graduate eighth grade and confused as hell by what this meant for him. Was it another sign? A beautiful, brilliant woman capable of telling if a man was going to bleed to death simply because he had stomach pain had all but danced over to him and declared her love. Expecting nothing in return. She adored his son and Mason worshipped her right back, so why was he suddenly struggling to find a place for all these pieces?
For now, he needed to keep things simple and focus on what was most important. He texted Claire back, and minutes later, she sent her flight information.