Chapter 28
The next morning, Scarlett stretched and yawned as Ty brought her a cup of coffee.
“Oh, it smells amazing. What did you do? Did you fly the beans in from Colombia?” she asked, sitting up.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” she cried, her hand searched for a place to set her cup down.
Ty stopped her. “I tried waking you twice. The drugs did their job. Sledge woke and gave his statement to the cops. They’re going with Leo and Saint to arrest Jeremy.”
Scarlett ran her hand through her hair. “Thank goodness. Since they plan to arrest him, I can visit Sledge,” she said hopefully.
“Leo called this morning and wants you to stay put until they have him in custody. He doesn’t sound convinced Jeremy will go easily. He said if you gave me any shit, he’ll sic Ragu and one of his new men on your ass. He’ll know every time you fart.”
Scarlett scowled and sipped the hot beverage. “What am I supposed to do cooped up in a house all day?” she grumbled.
“I can think of a few enjoyable things we can do,” he suggested, his voice dropping low. “My mother will arrive in an hour. Drink your coffee, and I'll put your bag in my bathroom with your clothes. How’s the pain?” he asked, gently prodding her neck.
“It’s bearable. I’m sure I feel better than Sledge,” she said, wincing.
“I’ll get you two acetaminophens. Follow the wall on your right to my bathroom.
I placed towels on the right side of the shower for you.
I placed your soap, shampoo, and conditioner on the left in the order you listed.
You’ll find your arm sleeves on the left side of the sink.
When you’re dressed, I’ll be in the kitchen,” he instructed.
“Thank you,” she said, taking her last sip of caffeine. “I need to take Ice outside first.”
Ty took her mug. “He’s already taken his morning break and eaten his breakfast. He’s waiting at the end of the bed for you.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said, removing the covers and standing. Ty kissed her forehead before leaving her to her own devices.
He entered the kitchen and chopped the spinach, green onions, ham, and shredded the cheese. Ty listened for Scarlett, wanting to give her time to do everything on her own. Turning the oven on to preheat, he beat the eggs and added the ham and onion to the crust, then placed the quiche in the oven.
The second oven beeped, and he took out the lemon cake. He sliced the fresh tomatoes and mozzarella and then washed the basil. Ty made the caprese salad, seasoned it with salt and olive oil, and drizzled it with a balsamic glaze.
Moving to the fridge, he placed three small, marinated steaks on the counter. Ty boiled potatoes and diced the meat into squares. His mom loved his beef tips with gravy, and he wanted to make enough food to send home with her.
“Your house smells incredible. What did you make?” Scarlett asked, using her cane and Ice to find her way to the kitchen.
“I made quiche, a caprese salad, and beef tips with gravy over mashed potatoes. For dessert, I made a lemon cake and a chocolate lava cake.”
“You made all of this for three people?” she exclaimed.
“I always send Mom home with leftovers. She’ll insist she can fend for herself, but she gets tired easily, and it’s one less thing she’ll have to do,” he explained.
“Ahhh, you can insist you’re not a mama’s boy, but you’ve got a mighty big soft spot for her,” she teased.
Ty walked around the island and pulled out a chair for her. “I guess I do. But I love finding your sweet spot, too.”
She blushed and smiled. “Sledge’s wife, Kim, called me. Rocker gave her your number. The man took a bullet for me, and he asked her to see if I’m all right,” she said, shaking her head. “He told me to keep my ass here.”
“It sounds good to me,” Ty agreed. “Rocker texted me. He flew out this morning. I have no doubt he’ll show up at the hospital and demand your whereabouts.”
Scarlett sighed. “Can I help you with anything?”
“You can check the potatoes on the stove. I have some homemade limoncello and a bottle of wine in the cellar.”
Ty went down the hall to fetch the bottles. When he returned, Scarlett stood by the stove, hesitating.
“Have the potatoes softened?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll get burned,” she whispered. “The way around the problem hasn’t occurred to me yet.”
Ty stepped behind her. “Have you tried cooking since the attack?”
She grunted. “No.”
Placing a clean pan on the burner, Ty moved her to the counter beside the stove. He set a bowl in front of her and handed her four eggs and helped her put on a glove to cover her wounded hand. “Let’s start simple. Make some scrambled eggs.”
“Uh, Mr. Chef. You never make anything simple. My lame eggs will probably paralyze your taste buds,” she said nervously.
“They’ll be the tastiest ones to ever to grace my kitchen. I’ll eat them with relish. Use the rim of the bowl to crack it and add it to the bowl,” he encouraged.
Scarlett bit her lip. She tapped the egg gently and used her fingers to separate it. It burst open, covering her hands. “Shit.”
Ty covered them with a paper towel and led her the short distance to the sink. When she washed her hand and the glove, he sent her back to the counter. “Try again.”
Sighing, she tapped it a bit harder, and the shell came apart, dropping her prize into the dish.
She grinned. Ty passed her another one. Concentrating, she did it again.
Some of the shells fell on the counter, and she muttered while she searched for the missing pieces.
When she discovered it, she held it out.
“You’ll find my garbage can under the sink,” he explained.
She nodded, catching on to Ty’s plan. She used her hand to guide herself back to the sink, and she threw away the shell. Returning to the bowl, she cracked the last egg.
“I left the whisk on your left side,” Ty said.
She beat them and waited for his following command.
“You’re doing beautifully, Scarlett. I’ll have to reward you later for all your hard work,” Ty assured her.
“I haven’t cooked them yet. It’s only right I give you fair warning. Even when I had my vision, my cooking consisted of pancakes and brownies from a box,” she blurted.
Ty chuckled. “The knobs for the burners are at your waist. I added the pan to the right burner, closest to you. I left you a spatula for stirring. I don’t expect perfection. We’re working to solve your problem.”
“How will I know when the pan gets hot without burning myself?” she asked.
“You can wave your hand above the skillet and gauge the heat or give it a few minutes and consider it done,” he explained.
Scarlett waved her hand, took the bowl, and poured the mixture into the pan. She reached for the spatula, waited a few minutes, and then started stirring.
“Feel the texture? At first it feels watery, then you feel the cooked section and when you don’t feel any more liquid, you’re done,” he coaxed.
She stirred and lifted the pan from the burner. Hearing Ty take down a plate and set it beside her, she tilted and scraped her masterpiece on it. She turned off the stove and placed the pan on the burner behind it.
Ty handed her a fork. “Taste your first dish.”
She pierced the eggs and brought them to her mouth. They tasted bland, but they evoked a sense of victory.
“Hello,” an older woman called as she opened the door, letting herself in.
“Hi, Mom. We have about fifteen minutes. Scarlett and I are having a cooking lesson. Scarlett, meet my mom, Cherise.”
Cherise approached her and took her good hand. “It’s nice to meet you finally. It seems the entire town has not stopped talking about you.”
“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too. Do you visit Serenity often?” Scarlett asked.
“I live halfway between here and Seattle. I usually spend my time in the city. I occasionally bring my friends down to brag about my son’s cooking skills. Tell me about you,” Cherise encouraged.
“There’s not much to tell. I’m a patient at the Winters Foundation,” she admitted.
“Oh, honey. I know all that. Where did you grow up?” she asked. “Ty, fix us a refreshment while we chat, please, dear,” Cherise called as she led Scarlett into the living room.
“I grew up on a farm in Indiana. My dad, brother, and I served in the military. My mom’s a retired schoolteacher,” she said.
“Thank you for your service. My Ty served, and I can say I’m grateful he came home. From a mother’s point of view, I’m happy you’re here with us.”
Scarlett smiled. “I see where Ty gets his attitude from.”
Ty joined them in the living room, handing them a mocktail. Scarlett sipped it, enjoying the citrus and mint flavors. “Thank you. This tastes as good as the last one you made me.”
“I’m glad you like it. Take these for the pain,” he said, handing her two tablets. “Kassie said one drink won’t hurt you, but I made this to tide you over until brunch in case you want something later.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, feeling a bit embarrassed by his attention in front of his mother. “Let me set the table,” Scarlett said, wanting to feel useful.
“I set the plates on the island along with the silverware and napkins, at the far end. If you continue from the bar, you’ll run into the table. Windows surround it with a view of the mountains,” he informed her.
Ice went to her side, and she picked up the plates, moving unsteadily toward the area Ty described. When he noticed her close to it, he called out, “The table’s round. You can place the dishes at three o’clock, six, and nine.”
Following them, Cherise picked up the silverware. “My son appears to think we’re his kitchen helpers today. Next, he’ll have us doing his dishes,” she teased.
“I don’t mind. He’s helping me practice everyday skills. The therapists at the hospital have taught me practical applications, but Ty’s given me a chance to feel independent,” Scarlett explained, hoping his mother didn’t consider him demanding.
“He reminds me of his father when he worked with my sister-in-law,” Cherise said, her voice conveying her pride in her son.