“We all love you, Fern. There’s nothing the boys and I, and your parents, wouldn’t do for you.”
By ten o’clock, Dr. Chopra had checked Fern out, asked her to call in daily and released her.
As James helped Fern dress in her street clothes, he could already tell her strength and stability had improved. Thank the good Lord. He prayed the improvements would continue, although he knew Fern would never entirely regain her health. That wasn’t how MS worked. Not until they found a true cure.
“Knock, knock.” Wearing her kelly green volunteer jacket, Phyllis Getty pushed a wheelchair into the room.
“I’ve come to help you make your escape,” she announced in a surprisingly deep voice for such a small woman who was years past her eightieth birthday. “I’ve got the warden tied up in his office and the guards are all asleep. Let’s get this show rolling before they wake up.”
Fern laughed and so did James.
“We’re ready.” James took control of the wheelchair and helped Fern ease herself into it.
“Now don’t you start thinking you’re going to wheel your wife out of here because you’re a nurse, James Bell. No, sir, this is my job and that’s why I get paid the big bucks.”
“Maybe you ought to trade jobs with her, James,” Fern teased.
“I just might do that.”
“Maybe not.” Phyllis shouldered him away from the chair. “But I admit, we volunteers can have a lot of fun and speak our minds without getting fired.”
Hoping Phyllis didn’t have any inside information about his employment status, James picked up Fern’s sack of meds and personal items.
Pushing Fern, Phyllis started down the hallway but they didn’t get far.
Anabelle stopped their progress to give Fern a hug. “You take care of yourself, you hear? We love having you drop in to visit, but don’t feel you have to get sick just so you can make a social call.”
Next in line, Candace gave Fern another hug and much the same message.
“Where’d this traffic jam come from?” Phyllis complained. “I can’t get my work done if folks are always jumping in the way.” She pushed ahead, nearly running over Candace.
Bringing up the rear, James shrugged and grinned. Phyllis was a hospital institution he had no intention of crossing.
The elevator responded to Phyllis’s call and the doors swept open.
“Wait!” Elena came running down the hallway. “Fern can’t leave until I give her a hug.”
Phyllis rolled her eyes and huffed in mock protest while Elena wished Fern good health.
Finally in the elevator, Fern glanced up at James. “You have some very nice friends here.”
“I know. Hope Haven is a great place to work because of the people.”
“I do hope I’m counted among your friends and fellow co-workers,” Phyllis said.
“Absolutely,” James said.
Fern reached behind her to pat Phyllis’s hand holding the wheelchair. “Hope Haven wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
USING GIDEON’S COMPUTER, JAMES SPENT THE better part of Monday writing his statement for city council, taking frequent breaks to be sure Fern was okay.
She seemed stronger than she had in a long while. She even had enough energy to get on her laptop to check in with her MS friends in the online support group. James suspected she was warning them to always double-check their meds.
James wished someone had reminded him more frequently.
After several false starts, he finished the draft statement, printed it out in large type and took it downstairs to Fern.
“Take a look at this, will you? Tell me if it’s totally the wrong approach, and I’ll do it over.”
She took the two sheets of paper from him. “You’re going to read this at the council meeting?”
“No, I’m just giving copies to the council and the mayor will read my statement.”
She gave him a curious look before turning her attention to what he’d written.
On bad days, her MS caused Fern to experience blurred vision. Today she seemed to be reading better than usual, which was another positive sign that the corrected dosage of her medicine was working.
After a few minutes, she looked up. Tears shone in her eyes.
A discouraged knot formed in his stomach. “It’s that bad, huh?”
“It’s beautiful, honey. You have a wonderful way with words and this is…” She hesitated. “Touching. And very personal.”
He relaxed a little. “You don’t think it’s too much? I mean I didn’t put any facts in there about how the pay cut will affect individual employees.”
“No, but you’ve told them how the cut will affect the community. For the city council, that should be even more important than individual stories.”
James hoped she was right. Besides, he was still counting on Varner to make a presentation, which presumably would be filled with all the statistics anyone could possibly want.
On Tuesday night, James wore his dark blue suit to make his presentation to the city council. Fern had made him buy the suit years ago when her sister Beth asked them to be Kim and Andrew’s godparents.
The suit was probably out of style now, assuming suits changed style, and it had smelled a little musty when he’d dragged it out of the closet. In the past few years, he’d only worn the suit a handful of times, mostly to funerals. He didn’t suppose the deceased cared about the style.
As he entered city hall with the copies of his statement in hand, he ran his finger around inside his collar and straightened his tie. He would have felt a lot more comfortable in a nice pair of slacks and a sweater, but Fern had vetoed that idea.
“You’re going to be speaking to important people in the community, who will all be wearing suits,” she said. “You need to look like you’re just as important as they are if you’re going to persuade them a pay cut is a false economy for the hospital and will impact everyone, not just the employees.”
He countered with, “Maybe if I wore my old jeans with holes in them, the council would take pity on us poor underpaid hospital employees.”
She lifted one eyebrow in censure, a trick she could do only when her medications were doing a good job of controlling her MS symptoms. James had celebrated the moment.
“Mr. Bell! Mr. Bell!” A wiry little woman with snow white hair, and standing no taller than five feet, came charging toward him. “I’m Jacqui Jackson, Government Relations Coordinator for Peaceful Valley Retirement Community. I wanted you to know we’re here to support you and all the employees at Hope Haven.” She stuck out her hand.
Taken by surprise, James accepted her handshake, discovering she had an amazingly strong grip. “That’s very nice of you, Ms. Jackson.”
“We came in two vans. Could’ve been more of us except Maddie and Elsworth Token have the croup. Terrible coughs, don’t you know.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He looked around for an avenue of escape.
She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It’s possible that Elsworth wanted to stay home to watch basketball on television and fibbed about how sick he was.”
James nodded as if he understood the situation. Which he supposed he did.
“We were all at your demonstration last week, even Elsworth, probably because there aren’t any basketball games on in the morning,” she announced. “Jolly good fun that was.”
Ah, the van loads of seniors who showed up unexpectedly. “The employees really appreciated your support,” he said.
“Yes, I know. My granddaughter works in the lab. She thought it was great fun too.” She glanced around at the people streaming into the assembly room, some of whom James recognized from the hospital. “Best get yourself a seat. We’ll be rooting for you.”
Amazed by the elderly woman’s high energy level, James entered the assembly room.
Across the front of the room, seats for the seven members of the city council were arranged behind long tables on
a raised dais. Members of the audience were seated on interlocking folding chairs with a center aisle down the middle of the room.
He spotted Elena standing in one of the front rows, and she waved him down the aisle to the seat she and Anabelle had saved for him. As he walked to the front, hospital employees greeted him with encouraging words.
“Tell ’em how it is, James.”
“We’ll be cheering for you.”
By the time he reached his seat, James’s stomach had turned into a bundle of nerves. All he had to do was present his statement and sit down. Anybody could do that. No need to break into a sweat. Other than handing someone copies of the written statement, he didn’t have to actually speak.
Mayor Donald Armstrong, a former government teacher at Lincoln High School, walked out onto the dais followed by his fellow council members. The crowd quieted down, and a cute little Girl Scout in her green uniform led the flag salute. That was followed by the invocation.
Once everyone was seated again, the mayor called the meeting to order.
“Good evening, everyone. Nice to see such a big crowd here tonight.” Smiling, he scanned the room, which was almost full. Although the mayor used a microphone, he had the kind of teacher’s voice that could carry to the farthest corner of any room. “I know many of you are here regarding a Hope Haven issue, so with the permission of my colleagues, we’re going to take that item out of order on the agenda and start with that.”
There seemed to be general agreement both among the council members and the audience to proceed.
“I regret,” the mayor continued, “that Mr. Albert Varner, the CEO of Hope Haven Hospital, has a conflict this evening and will not be able to speak to us.”
James’s heart sank somewhere down around his ankles. He’d been counting on Varner to interpret the situation objectively and support the employees’ position, as he had during the protest. Clearly, the board of directors had ordered him not to participate.
“Fortunately, we have with us tonight James Bell, a nurse at the hospital and an individual who was in a leadership position organizing the recent public awareness campaign.”
“I didn’t do it all by myself,” James said under his breath to Anabelle, who was sitting next to him.
“I believe Mr. Bell has a presentation for us, and then we’ll open the microphone for comments from others who may wish to speak to the issue. Mr. Bell?”
James sat paralyzed in his seat. The speaker’s podium at the front of the room where he was supposed to stand loomed like Mt. Everest. A shiver shook James’s body.
Anabelle nudged James with her elbow. “You’re up, James. Everybody’s waiting.”
Her admonition prodded James to his feet. Feeling as unsteady as Fern so often was, he made his way to the podium. He opened the manila folder that held copies of his statement.
“H-honorable Mayor and m-members of city council.” His tongue expanded to fill his mouth. His throat contracted, barely allowing sound to escape, and his lips had developed a mind of their own. “I’m pleased to present my statement to you.”
He leaned forward to pass the statement to the city clerk, who sat in front of the dais along with the secretary recording the meeting. The clerk handed a copy to each member of the council.
“Go ahead and read your statement, Mr. Bell,” the mayor said. “The audience is anxious to hear what you’ve got to say.”
James swallowed painfully and sweat crept down the side of his neck. It’d been a long time since he’d felt this nervous…so nervous he felt sick…
“Is there something wrong, Mr. Bell?” The mayor’s tone was one of concern, not censure.
“I, ah…” James looked down at the remaining copy of his statement. His vision blurred.
Behind him, the audience stirred impatiently.
Panic threatening to overwhelm him, James glanced over his shoulder at Anabelle. “I can’t—” His voice sounded more like a croak than human speech.
Anabelle sensed the problem. She slipped out of her seat and came to the podium. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head and pointed to his throat.
“Laryngitis?”
He nodded and handed her the statement. “Could you?”
Looking unsettled, she addressed the mayor and council, first by introducing herself and her position at the hospital. “I’m afraid Mr. Bell has a bad case of laryngitis, Your Honor. He spent part of the weekend at a Boy Scout camp out in the snow. I’m afraid he may be coming down with something.”
James blessed Anabelle for coming up with an excuse so quickly to explain away his behavior.
“With your forbearance, Your Honor, he’s asked me to read his statement.”
“Yes, by all means. Please proceed, Mrs. Scott.”
Lifting an apologetic hand to the mayor, James bolted back to his place in the audience and scooted down in his chair, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him. He berated himself for the episode. He never should have agreed to present even a written statement. He should have let someone else make the case for the employees. There were plenty of qualified people who could handle that.
Why had he stuck his neck out?
Slipping on her glasses, Anabelle began to read. “Honorable Mayor and members of city council. Over the weekend, my wife—who suffers from multiple sclerosis—had a medical emergency while I was out of town. She was taken to Hope Haven Hospital by ambulance where she received the finest treatment available anywhere in the country.”
Anabelle glanced back at James and smiled. The audience murmured sympathetically.
“The Emergency Room staff and doctor saw to her care with all of the professionalism of a big-city hospital. Tests were ordered, from simple blood tests to a CAT scan. Her personal physician was notified of her condition.
“The staff did all of this, not because she is my wife. Or because I am a fellow hospital employee. They are that thorough, that conscientious, with every patient who enters the hospital. Even those who are unable to pay for their care.”
Anabelle paused, and a ripple of approval circulated through the room.
Holding his breath, James kept wondering if they understood what it meant, how critical it was, to have skilled, caring staff taking care of someone you love.
Anabelle continued. “It is the people of Hope Haven, the staff, from the lowest paid employee to the staff doctors, who are the heart of the hospital. The heart of our hospital. To cut their pay, as has been proposed, is like slicing a part of the hospital’s heart—its staff and the staff’s morale—away. It may not look serious on the surface, but even the smallest cut can fester and spread poison through an entire system.”
Again, Anabelle paused. Her hand trembled as she lifted the statement to better read the words.
“That’s what I don’t want to happen—to let a small cut fester and infect something as good as Hope Haven Hospital. And neither do any of the employees. We love our work, the lives we save, each of us making our own contribution to the health of the community. The last thing any of us want is to see a top-notch doctor leave in search of what he or she used to have right here in Deerford.”
James closed his eyes as Anabelle continued to read in a strong, persuasive voice filled with passion, experience and empathy for others.
“Your Honor, I hope that you and your fellow members of the city council will do whatever you can to locate the funds necessary so that the hospital can rescind the proposed pay cuts. Not because of me or my family. But for your sake and for the sake of this entire community. This community we love calling home.”
Anabelle removed her glasses and looked up at those sitting on the dais.
The room remained silent. Not a sound. James was sure he’d blown it. His statement hadn’t moved anyone. Hadn’t convinced a soul that the hospital was too important to risk losing the heart of the institution to a cost-cutting frenzy and the infection of lowered morale that would spread.
Just when James kne
w he’d failed, from the back of the room, someone began to clap. At first only one person. Then others joined in, the applause growing to a thunderclap of approval and validation. Finally, the entire audience stood and the council members stood as well, all of them applauding, and it turned into a standing ovation.
Anabelle turned around to face the crowd and beamed a smile at James.
“Beautiful! Congratulations,” James heard her say, and his heart soared once again with hope.
As the commotion died down, Mayor Armstrong called the room back to order.
“Mr. Bell. Mrs. Scott. You and your fellow employees can be justifiably proud of the work you do. Hope Haven Hospital has the highest reputation. As a community we owe you all a great debt of thanks.”
Several people in the audience applauded.
James got an uneasy feeling that raised the short hairs on his nape. From the mayor’s tone he heard a “but” coming.
“As you are well aware, unemployment in our community—our country—has risen. During that same period, the city has seen tax revenues drop; and we’ve had to respond by tightening our belts, just like our neighbors across the country have.”
The mayor glanced at his fellow council members, and James realized the city wouldn’t be able to provide more funding. A sense of hopelessness pressed his head down and he studied the tips of his dress shoes. Shoes that Fern had polished to a high sheen so he’d make a good impression.
“We have responded to this crisis,” the mayor continued, “by asking a sacrifice from many of our employees. Noncritical employees will be required to take two days of unpaid leave a month.”
A murmur of dismay hummed around the room.
“While we can sympathize with the difficulties Hope Haven is facing, it would be irresponsible of us as members of the city council to divert any of our limited resources when all of our employees are already facing reduced hours, and the community is affected by reduced services.
“I have spoken with several representatives at both the county and state level, all of which are facing similar financial challenges. The financial outlook for our city, in the near term anyway, is dim.”
Strength in Numbers Page 20
