Sometimes the nursing staff didn’t have time to sit and make sure he ate everything on the plate. They told her that at the stage in his illness, they wouldn’t be forcing him to eat. Comfort was their main concern for him. As long as he was hydrated and not suffering, they assured her.
Sometimes the patients experienced a sharp decrease in appetite, something about part of the dying process. She flinched at the whole idea. Still, Emma wanted to do whatever she could. It was more for her than anything else, she guiltily admitted. She wouldn’t know what to expect each morning she did visit her beloved Gramps.
She briefly glanced down at her watch, it was a little before seven o’clock in the morning. She smiled at the security guard as she walked into the elevator. He nodded in return.
“Keep that beautiful smile,” he said as he waved to her.
“Thanks,” she responded with a flush as she boarded the elevator going up to the seventh floor long-term and palliative care unit.
Mr. H happened to be sitting in his wheelchair in the elevator with a cup of coffee from Starbucks. He obviously had been down to the lower level food court at the hospital. When she hopped on from the main floor he smiled to her.
“You know, it’s not everyone who waves and smiles at the security guard or the man sweeping the street. That old man raised you well, didn’t he?” he chuckled.
“Oh, Mr. H!” Emma blushed. She really had to get used to accepting a compliment graciously, that was something she really didn’t do to well. She always fobbed it off or downplayed her actions. “It’s no big deal. Everyone deserves a nice hello. Every job’s important. So is everybody.”
Mr. H smiled and eyed her with his own sense of pride as he tilted his head.
“So, how is your daughter and new son-in-law? Have they left on their honeymoon yet?” Emma asked.
“Oh, yes. They’re leaving for Jamaica today. Sandals resort, I believe.” He glowed when he spoke of them. The wedding was only two days ago, but it seemed so fresh as it if just happened that instant.
“Marriage is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” He took a sip of his coffee, and without missing a beat, he turned his attention back to Emma. “So, where are you and your groom going on your honeymoon?”
Emma almost choked on her coffee. She hadn’t been prepared for that. Though it was silly really. That should be at the forefront of her mind. She almost forgot that she was getting married next week and that Mr. H would, of course, be one of her guests.
“Um. Well, we hadn’t really thought about that yet. We decided to take it one step at a time. You know, this whole short notice business.”
Which was partly true, though guilt was a poor appetizer, wasn't it? Suddenly, Emma didn’t feel too much like eating, and swallowing coffee seemed like an arduous chore at that point. She could taste the bitterness of deceit. The aftertaste was nothing to be admired. Guilt tore at her. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so wonderful. Why did she lie? How could she keep up this charade? And the whole fake business. She had to clarify with Evan that this was for real. A real chaplain from the hospital would be performing the honors. There would be real guests. Real flowers. Real vows. Real…heartbreak if this didn't go through as planned. She could barely look Mr. H in the eyes after that. She hoped, prayed he wouldn’t see the look of guilt and deceit spread across her face.
Suddenly, the seventh floor couldn’t come soon enough. It seemed forever to reach that level. When the ding sound of the elevator alerted them to the appropriate floor, relief that she no longer had to continue the conversation washed over her. She smiled and waved to Mr. H as he wheeled himself by pushing his feet along the ground towards the lounge. He had firmly declined when she offered to wheel him to his room or to where wherever it was he wanted to go. He felt strong today and independence was something he was not about to give up any time soon. When Emma saw that he was okay, she walked down the hospital unit’s long corridor, noticing the nurses were all in the report room for shift change. The unit smelled of fresh pine. The floors had apparently been recently polished. She saw a few hospital support staff in scrubs cleaning up. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who was who. Not all the nurses on that unit had their stethoscopes slung over their necks and some of the support staff wore scrubs. She sort of missed the earlier days when nurses wore white. It was obvious who was who when she needed assistance. Once, when she had visited her grandfather, when he started to vomit, she erroneously asked a support staff to get something to make him stop and asked what meds he ingested that day. Her scattered thoughts vanished when she at last reached the room number where her grandfather was situated.
Horror struck her when she arrived at his room. She dropped her drink on the floor and rushed in.
Evan leaned back in his executive chair in his office peering out the window.
He enjoyed soaking up the beautiful view from his corner office window overlooking one of Texas's beautiful lakes. The small town of Mercy Springs had it good where location was concerned. The blueness of the water seemed to glisten in the early spring morn. It was seven o’clock in the morning. Evan loved to get an early start to the day before anyone reached the office. This gave him a chance to clear his mind and prepare for the day ahead.
He already had an early run to get his cardio done for the day and showered in the executive showers in the gym on the ground floor of the facilities. He deliberately chose the newly built glass building with a plush restaurant, health club, and other offices on its premises for its perks.
It was all about convenience. He loved the place. In a funny way, work had always been his sanctuary, his escape from what, well, he didn’t know. All he knew was that with the frustration and disappointment he’d dealt with, it was the one place where, oddly enough, he felt he had more control. No doubt about it, he excelled at what he did and his office wall was decorated with many prestigious ad industry awards he’d won alongside his agency.
He leaned forward in his chair and took another swig of his latte before immersing himself in a brochure he’d been working on for another client. Though he felt, actually almost knew, in his gut that he’d won the Weddings R Us account, he wasn’t going to break out the bubbly just yet, and he was definitely not going to put his other accounts and contracts in second gear. Every client would receive the same star treatment.
As he analysed the ad for a women’s magazine, he could not help but flicker his thoughts back to Emma. What was going through his mind? He could not believe the events that unfolded last night. The promise he’d made to Emma. Had it been a spur of the moment decision affected by his victory performance at the new client pitch? Or was it something else? No question about it. Fascination with Emma gripped him and wouldn’t untether him..
He was in love with her. He couldn’t explain it. He thought he should be as far away from her as possible. But now he was going to be walking down the aisle, albeit improvised in a hospital ward, with her.
Next week!
Had he gone stark mad? Or madly in love that he’d do anything, seize any opportunity to play married with her. Heck, it was better than the real thing. Was this what love did to a person? Numb a person’s reserve of common sense?
Only time would tell.
Emma rushed over to her grandfather in his hospital room and kneeled down to his side. She cast her handbag on the floor out of the way. He sat crouched low at his bedside, his spectacles on the ground. “Gramps! Are you alright?”
At first, her grandfather seemed a little disoriented. He seemed unharmed. His glazed, startled look caused Emma’s heart to palpitate until he finally recognised her and a grin perched on his lips. “Oh, yes. Fine, pumpkin. How are you doing?” He let out a little nervous chuckle. Or was that embarrassment?
Emma allowed a deep sigh of relief to escape. “Gramps, did you fall?” she asked, panic rising again in her chest. She did not wait for him to answer but held him with one hand while she reached over with the other to push the nurse call bell cord hanging of
f the bed rail. She dared not leave him unattended until she knew he was fine.
“Oh. No, no, dear. You see, I just wanted to grab that piece of paper on the counter over there. It has all the numbers on it.”
“The numbers? What numbers, Gramps?” She began to wonder if he were getting confused.
“The numbers,” he sighed heavily. “You know, for the wedding list. I still have more people to invite. To call. We only have next week, you know.”
Emma gulped. Her eyes darted to the newly cleaned hospital floor. The weight of guilt sure made for heavy eyelids. “Right. Of course.” This was real, wasn’t it? She really did have to go through with this. Oh, what had she done?
“Yes, can I help you? Oh, no!” The nurse rushed to Mr. Wiggins's side. “Mr. Wiggins, are you alright? What happened?” The nurse then turned to Emma.
After Emma explained what had transpired—or what she did or did not see, the nurse called for assistance.
The doctor also came in. They spoke to her grandfather and assessed him for evidence of a fall. His vitals were taken and recorded and he was deemed stable for his condition. The nurse spoke of entering in an incident report. They seemed satisfied with his explanation that he got weak when he got up and simply sat down on the floor, too powerless to climb back into bed. The custodian also came to clean up the coffee spill from Emma’s own incident when she first arrived on the scene.
After they ate and laughed at a few of her grandfather’s jokes, Emma was relieved that the episode wasn’t serious. She glanced at her watch and realised that time fleeted too quickly. She called the office and told Lucinda to pass on the message that she’d be a little late coming in since she was held up at the hospital. Work was vital. Crucial. Everything to her. But more and more she realised how important her grandfather was and how she longed for him to be happy during his final days.
She really wanted to pull off this wedding thing, since it was the last thing she could do. She only wished, longed for it to be the real deal. But maybe, that was asking too much. Of course it was, she corrected herself. Who asks their boss to marry them out of the blue?
It was ten after nine o’clock when Emma finally made it into the office.
She knew or at least hoped Evan wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t as if she were slacking off, after all. She’d put in a whole lot of overtime for no extra pay on her client work in addition to working on the big pitch for Weddings R Us.
When she arrived at reception, her heart almost stopped.
Evan stood there in his suit, an angry look plastered over his face with his hands crossed over his chest. Lucinda, the receptionist, the graphic designer, and copywriter all had serious looks on their faces. More like stony, icy looks targeted at her.
Had she done something wrong? What was with everyone? She really didn’t need this. She’d already had one scare this morning. No, another one could not be on tap for the day.
Her heart thumped hard and loud in her chest, she was sure they could auscultate the beats from where they stood.
She swallowed with more animation than necessary, racking her brain for what could have caused her to be the recipient of everyone’s displeasure this morning.
She approached cautiously as she came through the glass double door to the reception area where everyone stood, apparently waiting for her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked slowly, her eyebrows wrinkled, a puzzled look spread on her face. She gaped around at everyone’s faces for perhaps support, answers, friendliness. Anything? Nothing.
Evan unclenched his arms, shoved his hands in his pocket, and held his chin up. “Actually, Emma…” he paused then tilted his head back down to stare directly into her eyes with an unreadable expression dressing his face.
Then slowly, the look of gravity, or was that disgust, seemed to fade from his face and dissolved into a pleasant…grin?
“Congratulations. You’ve done it! You—well, all of us, but especially your input into yesterday’s boardroom session, landed the Weddings R Us account.”
Everyone, including Emma and Evan, let out a celebratory cheer and relaxed their stoic expressions. They all went over to hug her.
“What? I don’t understand…”
“Well, Ms. Endo said it was the nice touch with the boardroom theme that clinched the deal. She said it was a close race. Neck in neck with the other ad agency. She loved us. Especially what we—you did-with the wedding theme, going the extra mile.” Evan walked over and hugged her shoulder. “Too early for champagne, but we’ll be having lunch at Brenna’s Restaurant to celebrate. Hope you didn’t bring lunch today.”
“Well, actually, no, I didn’t.”
“Good. We also need to chat later about you working senior on the account. Just as we discussed. The team is all for it. We can talk more later.”
“Um. Sure.” Emma felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
She was gobsmacked. She didn’t know how to react. She was stunned. Exhilarated, but stunned nevertheless. That Evan, she could pinch him. He really had her all worked up. She had to hand it to him, he really had her fooled. They all did.
Much later, Evan met with Emma in his office and they went over her taking on a bigger role with Weddings R Us. The sky outside was a blinding blue. Everything seemed so clear. Emma could feel the heat from the window from the beaming sunlight. Talk about a perfect spring day. The blueness of the lake in the backdrop was clearly visible through the window behind Evan as he sat leaned back in his chair while he spoke with her. He seemed so dreamy. He had on a shirt and tie since he was meeting with another client later in the day. The muscular physique was hard not to notice through his shirt sleeves. He certainly had biceps to die for. She wondered what it would be like to bury herself in his arms. Locked in a passionate embrace. She visualised him underneath his shirt. Without a shirt. Without anything on.
Okay, stop it, Emma. Focus on work.
She had to remind herself that he was still her employer—though next week, he would end up her pretend groom.
They had a conference call with the client to go over more details on the launch and the ad campaign and spoke about travelling to New York to begin work on the shoot.
Emma’s heart raced at the thought of travelling to New York with Evan. Alone. Just the two of them. She wondered if they would have a moment to discuss their impending wedding next week, speaking of Weddings R Us. She couldn’t help but think of the irony with getting married and launching a wedding account with a major client.
“Speaking of weddings,” Evan paused as he leaned back in his chair, a cute dimpled grin perched on his face. His striking facial features made Emma melt. He was gorgeous in every sense of the word. His rich, dark skin tone and dark, mysterious features, chiselled cheek bones, and deep, rich voice made her insides flutter. Thousands of tiny butterflies sprung wild in her belly. She tried to resist salivating over the man. God, she wished she were going to be his bride, for real.
“Yes?”
“Seems like quite a dramatic irony. The "Weddings" account, then you spring this wedding thing on me.” He smiled and Emma thought she saw a salacious look in his eyes. Seductive. Or was that wishing thinking?
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing. What a coincidence.” She gave a nervous chuckle. Okay, now was the time to tell him about the slight alteration in their upcoming "fake" wedding—which may not be so fake after all.
He flipped through his organiser on his desk. “What date was that wedding, again?” He furrowed his brow.
“Oh, my grandfather planned it for next Friday.” She felt sweat moisten her silk blouse and wondered if her top would cling to her skin.
He paused and leaned back, his hand touching his chin in thought. Pondering. Deciphering what to do next.
“Does that interfere with our trip to New York?” She secretly wished the answer would be no.
“Oh, no, we’ll be back by then.” When he spoke the words, Emma expunged a sigh of relief. She hadn’t realise
d she actually stopped breathing while she anticipated his answer.
“In fact—“
A knock on the door interrupted his sentence. It was Lucinda. Does she not believe in forwarding a call via telecommunication? Getting up from reception and walking over to Evan’s office seemed to be one of her favourite pastimes. Emma recalled when she worked at reception, she was never to leave her desk, unless it was for a bathroom break or another urgent matter. Couriers gladly came over for her to sign parcels. There was no need really. Except for the odd ergonomic stretch, of course.
Though it is an open space concept, Emma always thought if a visitor or client waltzes in, it would be ideal to have the receptionist, well, at the reception desk.
The office had a door chime and bell at the glass reception table. The area was quite plush with tall windows from ceiling to floor. When you walked in, you were treated to a breathtaking view of the outside, the lake, the busy roads, the city, the landscape. Then, of course, the reception desk appeared before you.
An Unexpected Bride Page 6