The woman in the picture was twice the size of Irena seated next to him.
“No matter how hard I worked out, the pounds kept piling. I had no idea my digestive system couldn’t handle it. Pain in my upper abdomen bothered me for days, but it was manageable, at first. Then I collapsed in the karate class.” She plucked the picture from his hand so fast the corner caused him a paper cut. “Forget you ever saw this. Ella was six years old. Poor thing, she was so scared she’d lose me. Since then she kept me on track. Always reminding me that I should watch what I’m eating. I know she’s sacrificing food she loves not to tempt me.”
After some uncomfortable silence, Irena continued, “I’m afraid your cooking will be wasted on me. God, Dario, this is not how I imagined I’d come back to you, damaged and tired. I’m amazed you still want me.”
“You’re talking nonsense again. If I didn’t want you, I would’ve settled with someone else years ago.” Dario took her hand and brushed her knuckles on his lips. His insides melted. Not only that she had to deal with Fred, but she also pushed through scary time with the support of their daughter. Small wonders Ella acted older than her peers. He too had taken care of ill parents, dealt with the ugliness of disease no child should ever see. Stuff like that would force any kid to grow up fast and take responsibility. “If eating less fat is all you require that’s doable. God knows I could eat healthier. Many nights I reached for food I shouldn’t, and paid the price.”
Irena smiled. “Thank you for understanding. Many thought I put this into my head.”
“Dad,” Ella called over her shoulder, panic rising in her voice. “Everything’s sticking to the pan.”
Dario pulled away from Irena and rushed to his daughter. “Add more oil and lower the heat.”
Smoke billowed from the stovetop. Ella’s fingers fumbling with the knobs. The flame under the frying pan burst out. Ella shrieked and dropped the pan from her hand. “Oh, God, it’s ruined.”
“No love. There was oil on the bottom of the pan. But your omelets are still salvageable. Let me.” He grabbed the pan’s long handle and removed the metal container from the heat source, then scraped away the burnt egg mixture stuck to the bottom. “We’ll just use another pan and I’ll let this one soak in soapy water.”
“I wanted to surprise you. It’s not my best work.” Ella wrung a tea towel in her hands.
“Don’t worry, love. Nothing’s ruined.” He kissed her and pulled another frying pan out of the same drawer. “The first time it’s always the hardest. Here,” he said, his hand hovering over the pan until the surface reached the right temperature, then stepped away. “Take a deep breath and try again.”
“Thanks, Dad, you’re the best.” Ella took over, pouring the thick mixture onto the pan. The sweet smells of rosemary and oregano filled up the kitchen. He stayed close by in case he needed to prevent another disaster, but she had calmed down and seemed to have it under control.
In a few moments she turned to him, a perfect golden omelet next to the egg white one for her mother,
on the plate and a beaming face. “The brunch is served.”
“Good, I’m starving.” Irena already set the table and was pouring orange juice into tall glasses.
“Did you guys eat yet? I meant to tell you to help yourselves with anything you find.” In the rush to get to his restaurant, he’d totally forgotten about their breakfast. How stupid of him.
“Your neighbor, Stan, brought some sweets and coffee while we trained. He stayed to watch and even attempted a few moves.” Irena chuckled, awkwardly chopping air with her hands. “It was fun watching him.”
“I’ll have to thank him for his generosity.” Dario shoved a forkful of food into his mouth. “This is fantastic, sweetheart. Who taught you to cook?”
“I did. But she took it to another level.” Irena drowned her portion in ketchup. She shrugged at his appalled look. “Got hooked on the stuff.”
“That’s an insult to the chef.” Her second half shrug and goofy smile made him chuckle. He turned to Ella. “Have you thought of becoming a chef?”
Her smile vanished and she shook her head, twirling the fork between her fingers. “I haven’t given my career any thought.”
How stupid of him to ask her about her future, knowing it seemed grim. No certainty that they’d come out of the predicament as winners, but they would not go down without a fight. “If you want to become a chef, I can help.”
“I’m more inclined toward nutrition, I’m thinking a dietitian. You know, help people eat healthy like those with special dietary needs.” Her glance directed at
Irena. Ella’s enthusiasm brought a smile to his face. The need to help others was also his trait and Irena’s. Perhaps coming from both parents, the desire was doubled in Ella.
He washed the last mouthful down with a big gulp of juice, cleared his throat and slid the empty plate away from him. “You’re right. People would eat healthier if the health food was more appealing. Thank you for the lunch. I haven’t had anyone cook for me in a long time. Now it’s my turn to treat you. What can I do for my girls?”
“I’m tired, and Ella must be too. We were all up early and need to rest.” The chair scraped the floor at Irena’s push and she got to her feet.
“But, Mom—” Ella stretched the syllable.
“Maybe later when it gets dark. I know you’re dying to see the city.” Irena gave Ella a stern look, closing the subject for further discussion.
“Don’t worry about the dishes. You cooked, I’ll clean. Go get your rest. I too can use a nap.” Dario kissed Ella’s head, then watched her dragging her feet up the stairs to her room. Could this sudden sternness be Irena’s way of not wanting to venture outside due to her fear? He could use the quiet time to make a few phone calls and inquire about her father.
Almost forty-five minutes of waiting he was transferred to yet another person and he had to explain all over again who he was and which patient he was inquiring about. He got put on hold again. Damn it, enough was enough. He pressed the end talk button and groaned. Irena and Ella still slept, but he couldn’t settle down. The car keys on the counter beckoned him. He scribbled a note for Irena, grabbed the keys and headed out.
Pulling in front of the hospital parking lot entrance, an idling taxi blocked his way. He tapped the steering wheel. An elderly woman leaned heavily on the walker and approached the passenger’s side. His eyes widened at the sight of Anna following behind. The woman was none other than Mrs. Novak. He barely recognized her out of her faded housecoat and slippers. But what was Anna doing here? She helped Mrs. Novak into the cab, slipped some bills to the driver and waved to the woman at the back seat.
He honked his horn, gaining Ana’s attention, then rolled his window down at her approach. “What are you doing here?”
She bent, lowering her face to level with his. “I can ask you the same.”
“I asked first.”
“I was helping Mrs. Novak visit her husband since her daughter is hiding behind your back.” Ana’s accusatory tone grew louder and turned to yelling by the end. A sign she was under pressure.
Dario wrapped his hands tighter around the steering wheel. “Fred put you up to this, didn’t he?”
“So what? Her husband wants to help. She’s delusional, stares and talks for hours at some amulet. She’s mentally ill, Dario. What are you doing with a psycho?”
Ana’s words infuriated him. If anyone was ill, it was Fred. The slithering snake was spreading lies about his wife to discredit her. “And what are you doing with a married man?”
“And what are you doing with a married woman?” Ana crossed her arms over her chest and twitched one eyebrow.
He clamped his mouth tight. Ana was right, damn it. The intent to ask Irena about her marital status slipped off his mind. Whenever the topic came about, she referred to her marriage as her obligation. “It doesn’t change the fact that Fred is dangerous, but you’re blinded by his money. Ana, he cannot be trusted alone with young boys. Where’s your son?”
For a split second, panic flashed in her pale blue eyes he’d once mistook for Irena’s and made a big blunder. She snorted. “That’s preposterous. Fred wouldn’t hurt anyone. He’s like a brother to Nicky. The two played an Xbox game when I left his house. Fred bought the system just for Nick.”
Dario’s stomach dropped. “You left your child with a pedophile. God, Ana! Get in.”
“But my car is parked here.” She pointed in the general direction of the parking lot. “And Fred wants me to see a plastic surgeon—”
“For Christ’s sake, Ana, you can come back for your car. First, make sure your son is safe.” He pushed the passenger’s door open. “What plastic surgeon? Don’t fall for that crap.”
She skirted around the hood and almost threw her body into the passenger seat. “Nicky is at Fred’s house in White Hill. Drive and don’t spare the gas. I’ll get a good laugh out of this when I prove you wrong.”
He floored the gas pedal, springing the small car into a jerky start. White Hill, on the outskirts of the city, meant at least half hour’s drive from the hospital, providing the traffic stayed light. People jumped out of his way. Some uttered loud curses or flipped him the bird, but he didn’t care.
For a stretch of several minutes, Ana chewed her fingernail. “Can you go faster?”
He glanced at the speedometer, already doing twenty over the speed limit. “Not unless you want me to get pulled over.”
“Oh God, what have I done? I’ll never forgive myself if anything happens to Nick. Shit, his dad will kill me first, then Fred if he touched Nicky in a wrong way.” Ana’s voice trembled. She couldn’t steady her hands to unclasp her purse buckle and pulled out her cell phone. “I hope you’re wrong and make a big ass of yourself when you find out nothing’s happened.” She pressed the phone to her ear. Several long tones, her face paled. “Shit, Fred’s not answering his phone.”
“I’d rather end up looking like an ass than be right.” Dario focused on the road ahead. The light at the intersection changed to red and he stepped on the brake. At least the seriousness of the situation seeped into her head, still, her nervousness made him wish his car would fly. Maybe a slight change of subject would ease her mind until their destination. “What did you find out about Irena’s dad?”
Ana shook her head slowly. “His doctor told Mrs. Novak her husband will be fine, but his patient is gray and can barely breathe.” She grabbed the handle above the window and faced him. “Funny, the nursing home sent him to the hospital without any medical records. Mrs. Novak was appalled that the doc didn’t know her husband was asthmatic.” Metal bracelets on her wrist clunked as she pointed. “Turn left here. This is the street.”
Perhaps Irena had seen death’s shadow hanging over her father. Had Fred anything to do with sending
Mr. Novak to the hospital without medical history? Possible, the snake had paid everyone to play his dirty game. Dario made a sharp left turn, almost missing the street Ana pointed.
Ana indicated the house, but it wasn’t hard to guess which one belonged to Fred. The biggest three-story surrounded by a low red brick fence. Dario brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the mansion. The curtain on the second-floor window moved then fell back into place. “I’ll wait for you here.”
Her chest heaved with her loud breaths. She stared at the black front door. “Please come in with me?”