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“I just need some air.” Before my dad can take the initiative to babysit me, I add, “Ellister can take me out front.”
Looking proud as a peacock for being chosen to be my guardian, Ellister puffs up his chest before getting behind the chair.
And just because I want to take him down a peg, I grin at my dad and lift the cane I’m holding across my lap. “Don’t worry. If Ellister does anything untoward, I’ll just hit him over the head with this.”
HANNAH
As soon as I’m wheeled outside, I feel better. The air has cooled off considerably, and the sun is setting behind the trees. Stars are starting to appear in the clear sky.
It’s a beautiful autumn evening.
I breathe in deeply as Ellister pushes me across the parking lot. Being wheeled over gravel isn’t the smoothest ride, but my parents and I don’t have plans to pave this area with asphalt until next year. It was expensive enough to do all the lanes around here.
“Where am I taking you?” Ellister asks as he weaves between a Jeep and a white sedan in the center row.
I point ahead to the gift shop where we have some café-style tables and casual seating out on the patio. “We can sit over there.”
After Ellister parks me next to a log that’s been carved into a bench, he lowers himself onto the wood. “There are so many automobiles. Is it always this busy?”
It would make sense that he’d want to gather information about the farm. After all, if he’s from the bank, they’ll want to know everything about the property to gauge its value.
“Depends on the day.” I shrug, conflicted about the loan. “Summer and fall are the busiest seasons because of all the outdoor activities we offer.”
“What sort of activities?”
“Anything. Everything. If it can be done, we do it. Apple picking, walking trails, horseback riding. Camping, arts and crafts, demonstrations on the process of making maple syrup. The orchards include trees with peaches, plums, and pears. From the fruit we grow, we make jams, pies, and juices. The apple cider is particularly popular. Then there’s the pumpkin patch and the Christmas trees. We might be called a maple farm, but that’s only because it’s how we started. Now, it’s so much more than that.”
I totally sound like I’m bragging, but I can’t help it. I’m just so damn proud of this business.
Ellister sways toward me, close enough that I can feel the heat from his body.
I welcome his nearness, which is why I don’t freak out when he leans over the armrest of my wheelchair and invades my personal space.
But then I notice him scrutinizing the area on my scalp where I’m experiencing the worst hair loss.
I discreetly smooth it down to make sure the bald spot is covered. “What?”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.”
“What are your symptoms?”
Sighing, I realize it doesn’t matter if I overshare. Besides, he’s obviously not going to stop pursuing this topic, so I might as well just give it to him straight.
“So, it started off looking like a stroke or a seizure. I blacked out, and my mom found me unconscious. Right over there, actually.” I motion past the Range Rover in front of us. “I wasn’t making much sense when I came to, so she called 9-1-1. But in the hospital, all my vitals and scans looked good. My blood pressure was a little low, and they thought I was dehydrated. They gave me fluids and sent me home.”
“Then what?”
I lift a shoulder. “It kept happening. The next day, I had two more episodes.”
“So you went back to the hospital?”
“Yeah, but everything checked out again. No brain tumors. No lesions or abnormalities to indicate multiple sclerosis or some other autoimmune disease that they suspected. And that’s what’s confusing—they can’t find the cause. The doctors can’t explain why my leg stopped working, or why my organs are failing. My liver is looking pretty grim, but if I don’t get a kidney transplant at some point soon, it won’t matter what my liver is doing.” I suck in a breath before I admit what I’ve been thinking for several days. “I’m—I’m not going to survive this, Ellister. I haven’t actually said that out loud before, but I know it’s true.”
“I thought this fundraiser is for the purpose of finding you a cure. That’s what your mother said while she was force-feeding me the syrup.”
His false claim about my mom makes me laugh. “Force-feeding? You looked more than willing to guzzle down half a bottle.”
