Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

"Bear with it, okay?"

Sherilyn was at a loss for words but patiently cooled the spoonful, "Here, this should be cool enough now."

"Okay." Gilbert opened his mouth to take a bite.

It wasn't hot anymore, but he was still dissatisfied, "This tastes terrible."

Sherilyn fought the urge to roll her eyes, "Just eat a little, will you? It's getting late and you haven't even started your morning treatment."

Gilbert stayed silent, just looking at her.

Sherilyn felt helpless, "What do you want to eat?"

"I want your homemade baked apples," Gilbert mumbled, pouting slightly.

"Alright," Sherilyn gave in like pacifying a child, "Finish your oatmeal, and I'll make you some this afternoon."

"Okay, fine."

Gilbert seemed finally content. After he finished eating and the nurse had administered his IV, Sherilyn prepared to head back to Golden Oak Manor.

It looked like she'd be spending a few days staying over at the hospital.

Even with a caregiver around, Gilbert only wanted her for every little thing, from fetching a glass of water to making tea.

When she mentioned leaving, Charles immediately offered to drive her.

Sherilyn understood his concern; he was worried she might not come back. "I appreciate it, then."

As they left, Gilbert had fallen asleep from the medication.

On the way back to Golden Oak Manor, Sherilyn called the part-time help, "It's me. Could you buy some apples? Yes... bake some apples."

Arriving at Golden Oak Manor, the help was already busy with the task.

After getting her things together, Sherilyn left, taking with her the baked apples Mr. Johnson specifically asked for.

Back at the hospital, Gilbert had just woken up, the nurse finishing up with his IV needle.

He was visibly restless for not finding Sherilyn around, but before his irritation could escalate, Sherilyn walked in, carrying a tote bag.

"Sherilyn!"

"Awake, are we?" While she was talking, Sherilyn hung up her coat and came back quickly. She walked over to the bed and checked Gilbert's forehead. "Still a bit warm, but better than this morning." 

Given the surgery and injury, a post-operative fever was expected, lasting a couple of days. Sherilyn stood to pour him a glass of water, "Drink up, the doctor mentioned staying hydrated." "Okay." Gilbert leaned against the headboard, sipping water from her hand.

"Oh, right."

Sherilyn set down the glass, asking, "Hungry now? The baked apples are ready, want some?" His eyes lit up, lips curving into a smile, "Yes, of course."

"Hold on." Sherilyn returned with the baked apples, placing them before him, "Here, still warm."

"Great."

Gilbert lifted the top off the apple, his expression shifting subtly.

But he didn't voice his concern, instead scooping a spoonful into his mouth, confirming his doubts.

Frowning, he looked at Sherilyn, "This isn't your recipe, is it?"

"What's wrong?"

Seeing his distaste, Sherilyn peered into the bowl and spotted the issue.

"Ah, that's a bit too much honey, but it's okay."

Okay? How could it possibly be okay?This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

A wave of disappointment crashed over Gilbert. Was it the baked apple he was craving, or was it her care and attention in making it?

He had specifically mentioned wanting her baked apple.

Flinging the spoon aside and pushing the bowl away, he fixed Sherilyn with a stern gaze, "Are you trying to fob me off with this?"