“We wanted you to know what was going to happen in case you get some phone calls,” she concluded.
O’Hanlon had listened intently and now he nodded. “You’re going to keep to the sidewalk? Not block any entrances or exits?”
“That’s the plan,” she replied.
“I’d like to avoid having to arrest my wife and lock her up in a cell,” Cesar said.
Elena shot him an annoyed look. “You better not arrest me or anyone else.”
The chief tapped the notes with his fingertip. “Protests with pickets have been known to get out of hand. Emotions can run high when it comes to money.”
“I can’t think why this one would. We’re not angry with anyone. But we do believe that cutting the salaries of people who are vital to the health and well-being of this community is a bad idea.”
“Our own officers end up at the hospital more often than we’d like,” Cesar pointed out. “Like when McGruff got tangled up in the middle of a domestic dispute last year and was beaned with a frying pan. It’s smart to keep the doctors and nurses happy and not cross them.”
“I agree,” the chief said, tilting back in his chair. “I’ll assign a patrol car to keep track of the protest and make sure it’s peaceful and that there’s no blocking of public access to the hospital.”
The chief’s response satisfied Elena. She trusted him—and his officers—to keep the peace.
As long as no counterprotesters showed up—and she couldn’t think why they would—there shouldn’t be a problem.
The New Year’s Eve celebration at the Bell house was a subdued one, which matched James’s mood. All of his life he’d set goals for himself and generally achieved them. Now he couldn’t see the future clearly. Or perhaps he didn’t want to. So much depended on Fern’s health and their financial situation. Would he be able to remodel the downstairs to add a more accessible bedroom for her? Or should he be thinking about moving them into a one-story house somewhere? Perhaps even changing his job?
Where would they be next New Year’s Eve?
For once the future seemed opaque, and he was blind to what came next.
Gideon had walked to a friend’s house down the street to celebrate New Year’s Eve, promising to be home by one o’clock.
Fern rested on the recliner in the family room, Sapphire curled up in her lap, James sitting nearby. Nelson lay sprawled on the floor while they all watched It’s a Wonderful Life. The lights on the Christmas tree in the living room reflected back from the picture window and framed a powdery snowfall outside. Tomorrow James would take down the tree, and they’d put this holiday season behind them and hope for a better one next year.
Fern had lost weight in the past few weeks. Every day her speech was becoming more slurred. Often, her legs wouldn’t hold her upright at all. Fear for her deteriorating health gnawed at James’s awareness day and night.
He didn’t want to lose her.
He wanted her back like she was when they met, a bright star in the firmament that had called to his heart.
But that wasn’t one of the choices.
“Sweetheart, I think you need to see Dr. Chopra next week,” he whispered. “The new meds aren’t working for you. There must be something else she can try.”
Fern didn’t respond. Her head heavy on her chest, her shallow breathing barely audible, her eyes closed in sleep.
Squeezing his eyes closed didn’t prevent a few tears from escaping. Please, God…
James waited until the movie ended. He gave Sapphire a nudge. At the signal that it was time for bed, she jumped down to the floor.
James carried his sleeping wife upstairs to bed, his heart heavy with worry and grief.
Chapter Sixteen
YOU CAN’T TAKE SARGE TO CHURCH!”
It was Monday evening, and Anabelle was determined to support her co-workers no matter what Cameron said.
“Of course I can.” She latched the wiggly puppy’s harness in place and attached his leash. “And we aren’t going to church. We’re going to the social room at church to create our picket signs for the public demonstration.” She’d dressed warmly in a sweater and slacks, belatedly realizing that she hadn’t yet purchased a sweater for Sarge. She’d have to wrap him in a blanket.
“What if the little fellow has an accident? He’s not exactly housebroken yet.”
“Dear, I’ve cleaned up more bedpans than I care to remember. I think I can manage a little puppy accident.” Although Sarge was no longer a “little” puppy, as he had put on noticeable weight since she’d brought him home, consuming huge quantities of puppy chow.
Gripping the leash with one hand, she managed to tug a knit cap over her head. “Besides, Diana was very clear about the importance of Sarge being socialized with people and other dogs.” Sarge wound the leash around Anabelle’s legs. She tried to untwist him.
Mumbling something under his breath, Cameron went to the coat closet and pulled out his winter jacket.
“You don’t have to go with me, Cam. I’m perfectly capable of driving to church on my own.”
“The roads are icy. I’ll take you.” He shrugged into his jacket and stared at Sarge. “You can hold the dog in your lap.”
Anabelle had had no idea one little puppy would create so much strain between her and her husband. She’d been certain Cam would take to having a dog as quickly as she had.
Apparently she was wrong.
There were several cars in the parking lot when Cam and Anabelle reached Church of the Good Shepherd.
Sarge tugged Anabelle along the path to the brightly lit social room behind the main sanctuary, zigzagging his way in order to mark the piles of snow that had been shoveled to clear the sidewalk.
Anabelle hoped that would take care of any possible accidents.
Inside, long tables the church used for potluck dinners and wedding receptions had been set up. Several hospital employees were already at work with marking pens creating their own special slogans. She spotted Nelson Bell stapling finished signs to the wood landscaping sticks Cameron used to prop up plants and had donated to the cause.
James came over to greet her and Cameron. “Glad you could both come.” He shook hands with Cam. “I see you brought the new addition to the family along.”
He knelt to pet Sarge, who tried to jump on James’s legs.
“Sit,” Cam ordered.
To Anabelle’s amazement, Sarge sat, and Cameron offered the puppy a treat, which he’d had in his pants pocket. “Good dog,” he said.
She looked at Cam suspiciously. It seemed that Cam had been having more interaction with Sarge than he’d led her to believe.
Candace’s daughter Brooke came over to visit Sarge. A sweet child with long, blonde curls and blue eyes, she smiled up at Cameron. “Can I pet your puppy?”
“Sure, go ahead,” Cam said. “Don’t let him jump on you though. We don’t want him to get into bad habits.”
She squatted down beside Sarge, his tail whipping the air in excitement. “What a pretty boy you are,” she crooned, letting him nuzzle her neck and lick her chin. “I wish we had a dog, but we can’t afford one.”
Anabelle met James’s gaze. While the pay cut would hurt Candace more than most because of her single-parent and bread-winner status, a dog wasn’t all that expensive to own. Except when they ran up veterinarian bills, of course.
“Is your little brother here?” Anabelle asked.
“No, Howie’s got a cold. He stayed home with Grammy. Mommy let me help letter her sign.”
“Good for you. I hope your brother feels better soon.” Anabelle glanced around the room, spotting several employees she knew including Candace, who was lettering her sign at a table with Heath Carlson. Now that would make for an interesting match, Anabelle mused.
“Brooke, would you like to walk Sarge around and introduce him to everyone?” she asked.
The child’s eyes widened. “Can I?”
“Of course. Just don’t let go of his leash, and
if he starts sniffing around, try taking him outside so he won’t have any accidents in here.”
Sarge went trotting off with Brooke, no doubt feeling he had found the best of all worlds: an energetic human to adore him.
Anabelle could hardly wait until Ainslee’s baby would be old enough to play with Sarge.
“Come on over to the table, Anabelle,” James said. “I’ll get you started with your picket sign. Do you want to make a sign too?” he asked Cameron.
“Might as well. I don’t want Annie to have all the fun.”
Anabelle cocked her head. Cameron had decided to march in the picket line? She didn’t know when he’d decided that, but his support of the cause and her friends touched her heart and warmed her spirits.
Supplies were arranged on one long table: a stack of poster boards, a shoebox full of colorful markers and several yardsticks and rulers to help keep the words in a straight line.
As Anabelle started work on her poster, she kept an eye on Brooke and Sarge. The girl had stopped to talk with Nelson, and from their respective expressions, Anabelle concluded the conversation was serious. She wondered what the youngsters were talking about. They weren’t the type to get into mischief, but one never knew about teenagers.
Employees drifted into the social hall in ones and twos, each person warmly greeted by their co-workers. Excitement and enthusiasm electrified the air. Their mission was a good one, the potential for success exhilarating. Their mood fervent.
Her fellow employees’ passion for the cause fired Anabelle’s enthusiasm as well. Protesting for a cause was as American as standing for the national anthem. Or eating apple pie.
Suddenly the lively conversations and friendly joshing back and forth came to a halt. The sudden silence shrouded the room.
Sarge started barking.
Anabelle looked up. Sarge had gotten away from Brooke. His leash dragging behind him, Anabelle’s adorable puppy had raced across the room and was barking and dancing around the newest arrival—
Mr. Albert Varner.
Heat raced to Anabelle’s cheeks, her heart sank to her midsection and she prayed for a lightning strike to blow out the power and darken the room so she could escape without being noticed.
“You better go get your dog,” Cam said under his breath.
James recovered from the shock of seeing Mr. Varner at the sign-making meeting faster than Anabelle. He strode across the room and extended his hand, his presence somehow more imposing than when he exercised his nursing skills. Which were quite impressive in themselves.
“Good evening, Mr. Varner. Can I help you?”
Anabelle hurried after James to snag Sarge’s leash. “I’m so sorry, Albert.” She pulled Sarge away from the hospital CEO. “Sit, Sarge. Sit.” He half obeyed then lost the moment and tried to dart off in a new direction. The leash thwarted his efforts.
“No harm done.” Albert waved off Anabelle’s apology, then turned to James. “I’d like to make a sign for the demonstration on Wednesday.”
Surprise shot through Anabelle. “You’re going to march with us?” Instead of his usual suit and tie, Albert wore wool slacks, a warm sweater and a heavy winter jacket.
“Of course,” he said. “Without the skill and caring of Hope Haven employees, the hospital can’t exist. I’m not sure the board of directors understand that, but I do. Where do I get started?”
Candace left the sign-making party earlier than most. While she’d enjoyed working next to Heath, and Brooke had had a great time with Anabelle’s puppy, she needed to be home for Howie. He’d been running a low-grade temperature when she left. Her mother was perfectly capable of taking care of a sick child, but that didn’t lessen Candace’s instinctive worry about her son.
She wondered if mothers ever stopped worrying about their children.
Based on her own mother’s example, probably not.
She drove her car into the garage and parked. “Thanks for coming with me, Brooke. Glad you got to play with Anabelle’s puppy.”
Brooke popped the passenger door open. “It was fun.” She hopped out of the car and went inside.
Candace followed more slowly.
She found her mother sitting on the couch in the family room watching TV. Howie was asleep, his head in her mother’s lap. Candace remembered doing the same as a child and feeling comforted by her mother’s presence.
“Hi, Mom. Is he still running a fever?” Wanting to know for herself, Candace touched the back of her hand to Howie’s forehead.
“It’s come down, I think,” Janet said.
“Good. I’ll carry him up to bed. Hopefully he’ll feel better in the morning.”
Just as she started to pick Howie up, the overhead light went off. She looked at the bank of fluorescent lights overhead. Had both bulbs burned out at once? The TV was still running, the volume low, so there hadn’t been a power failure.
The light over the stairs to the main floor of the split-level house snapped off, leaving the central core of the house pitch black.
“What on earth—” A shiver of unease slid down Candace’s spine. “Brooke, is that you? Did you turn off the lights?”
“Only the ones we aren’t using,” Brooke answered.
Relieved it wasn’t an intruder plunging them into darkness, Candace shifted her concern to the fear that a member of her family was likely to break their neck trying to get around in the dark.
Brooke appeared as a shadow at the top of the stairs. “I’m going up to get ready for bed. Good night.”
Still hunched over in the process of picking up Howie, Candace tried to process what had just happened. Her daughter was turning off lights all over the house? Ones they weren’t using?
“I’ll be right back, Mom. I’m going to find out what’s going on.”
Moving carefully for fear of stepping on a giant Lego or a dump truck, Candace reached the stairs. She flicked the family room light on, walked through the living-dining area and up the next set of stairs.
The only light on up there was the small table lamp next to Brooke’s bed.
“Brooke, why are you turning off all the lights?”
She pulled her sweater off over her head and tugged her nightgown on. “I’m saving electricity.”
Maybe Brooke’s science teacher was doing a unit on ecology? “You left Grammy and me in the dark, sweetie. We could’ve hurt ourselves or fallen on the stairs.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. But we have to save electricity. Water and gas too.”
Definitely, an ecology unit that was being taken too much to heart.
Candace sat down on Brooke’s bed and patted the spot beside her. “Come tell me why it’s so important to save electricity.”
Brooke sat down next to her. “Well, see, when we were at the church making posters for the demonstration, Nelson Bell told me electricity costs money; and we need to save money. He and his brother are turning off lights they’re not using and unplugging stuff that sucks lots of electricity out of the wall even when it’s not turned on. They’re going to save megabucks every month. I wanted to do the same.”
Ah, a small light of insight showed itself in Candace’s brain. “Why are you so troubled about money, sweetie?”
Worry lines pleated Brooke’s forehead. “’Cause I heard you and Grammy talking about how the hospital is taking away your money and we’re going to go broke. And that’s why everybody was making those signs tonight, so the hospital would give them back their money.”
Awed by the way her child’s mind worked, Candace ventured a little deeper. “When did you hear Grammy and me talking about money?”
Brooke shrugged. “I don’t know. Before Christmas, I guess.”
“Was that about the time your nightmares started?”
“Maybe.” Another lift of her shoulders.
“And that’s about the time you didn’t want me to buy you a new Christmas outfit?”
“I didn’t need one.”
Candace’s heart sank for the burd
en of worry her daughter had been carrying. All because of a conversation she’d overheard and hadn’t fully understood.
“Oh, sweetie…” She pulled Brooke into her arms. “You shouldn’t be worrying about money. That’s a job for grown-ups, for me and your Grammy.”
“But I want to help. Daddy’s not here, so somebody has to help you. I could maybe even get a job. Nelson and Gideon are shoveling snow for their neighbors.”
“You don’t have to get a job.” Candace’s throat tightened on a flood of tears she didn’t want to shed. “It’s true that the hospital may cut everyone’s salary. We’re all hoping they won’t, but it may happen anyway.”
She stroked her hand over her daughter’s hair. “Your daddy did plan ahead in case something awful happened to him. He had an insurance policy that helped us. I’m trying hard to save that money and let it grow so it’ll be there when you and Howie go to college. Even with the cut in pay, we won’t be destitute.”
“But we still ought to save money if we can, right?”
“Save, yes. Turning off lights we don’t need is a good idea. Turning off too many lights might cause someone to have an accident.”
Brooke seemed to be weighing Candace’s words.
“Tell you what, sweetie. Why don’t you let me decide what we can afford? We won’t have to make huge sacrifices, and we’ll still be all right. Like if you need a new dress, that would be fine as long as it’s not the most expensive designer dress in town.”
Slowly, Brooke nodded. “What about jeans? Ellen Radcliff got a pair of really awesome jeans for Christmas. I like them a lot.”
Awesome being a positive attribute, Candace gathered. She chuckled and smiled. “Since you didn’t get a new Christmas dress, I think we can include jeans in our budget.”
Brooke’s smile widened. “I know, when I say my prayers tonight, I’ll pray you don’t have your pay cut and maybe I can have a pair of jeans and a new dress.”
Pulling Brooke into her arms again, Candace said a silent prayer. Thank You, Lord, for giving me such a sweet, sensitive child. Ease the burdens she’s been carrying, and help me to be a better mother. Amen.
She kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Sleep tight, sweetie, and no more bad dreams.”
Strength in Numbers Page 14
