Chasing the Wind

by Patricia H. Rushford

  With clenched teeth, Elena quickly set the receiver back in its cradle.

  Oh, Lord, not now. She can’t just call and want to see Isabel. I can’t let her.

  A thought came unbidden from somewhere deep inside: Sarah is her mother.

  She quickly dismissed it. No. I am her mother. She’s my child.

  Then Elena felt her shoulders slump. She’s not my child…she’s my grandchild.

  Elena knew the voice—had always known it. Even though she’d walked away from her faith as a teenager and had only recently begun going to church again, she’d always believed in God. But how could God ask this of her?

  She’d held this worry in her heart all this time, knowing that Sarah would likely come back someday. Now that day was here.

  Panic gripped her. She hadn’t heard a word from the woman since Isabel’s birth. Elena was admittedly relieved when Sarah hadn’t wanted to marry Rafael. She hadn’t wanted her baby either. All she’d wanted was to return to the streets to buy drugs.

  Sarah would only bring heartbreak by coming back.

  I’m the only mother Isabel has ever known, and I plan to keep it that way.

  Still, she couldn’t help but worry. Sarah was twenty-three now, and Elena couldn’t blame her for wanting to be in Isabel’s life. She might even have a legal right to see Isabel.

  And what about Isabel in all this? Didn’t she deserve to know her mother? An image of Isabel’s face flashed through her mind, and Elena saw the pain in her granddaughter’s eyes, the pain she would experience if Sarah were to suddenly appear in her life only to disappear again just as quickly. No, this decision was about protecting Isabel.

  Maybe you won’t have anything to say about it—what if Sarah takes you to court?

  Elena blinked back tears and tucked the note in her pocket. It was amazing how quickly her heart had been thrown into such turmoil. Dabbing the corners of her eyes, she left the nurses’ station to answer a call light, trying to dismiss the intrusive and heartrending thoughts.

  Because of the storm, the counselor Candace’s mother had scheduled for her had called to postpone for Friday. Another trial bypassed, at least for the moment.

  Candace managed to lose herself in babies and new mothers at work. They now had four babies in their nursery. Candace rejoiced over the new bundles of joy. She brought the twins to their mother, who, having slept through a feeding, was more than ready for them.

  “Have you decided on names yet?” Candace adjusted the pillows so the new mom could feed both crying babies at once.

  “Mary and Margaret, for my grandmother who was Mary-Margaret.”

  “That’s a lovely combination.”

  And so her morning went. By lunchtime, Candace felt as though she’d worked several days without rest. The weariness from the code blue episode lingered and all the positive thoughts and all the babies and their mothers didn’t chase it away.

  Candace stopped in at the chapel before going to lunch. She found Anabelle kneeling at the altar. Candace eased into the back pew so she wouldn’t disturb her friend. She wasn’t surprised to see Anabelle here. In fact they met on occasion at the chapel to pray for patients or one another. Candace hadn’t mentioned her resistance to counseling. Nor had she talked about her persistent grief. Maybe it was time. She could use prayer about now.

  Candace watched Anabelle get to her feet and turn. Their gazes met and Anabelle smiled. “Are you all right?”

  Candace didn’t know what to say.

  Anabelle sat down beside her. “You don’t have to tell me. We can pray together, trusting that the Lord knows our needs.”

  “True, but I feel like I should tell you and the others what’s going on. I really could use some prayers. I’m not doing so well on my own.”

  “None of us do. As the Bible says, a cord of three strands is not easily broken. Don’t be afraid to talk with us.”

  “I’m not.” Candace gave her friend a wan smile. “Okay, maybe I am. I went to the code blue for Dr. Hamilton yesterday and…” She closed her eyes. “It hit me so hard. I had a flashback of Dean and…” Candace paused, not sure she could continue.

  “I’m so sorry.” Anabelle wrapped her arms around her.

  Candace leaned into her embrace. “I fell apart. I couldn’t do anything but sit there.”

  “Oh, honey. I wish I’d known. We could have been praying for you through all of this.”

  “Heath was there. He walked me through it and sat with me while I processed it. Only, I can’t seem to shake these feelings.”

  “Are you seeing a counselor?”

  There was that question again. Candace shook her head.

  “I didn’t think so.”

  Candace sighed. “My mother made an appointment for me, but the counselor had to cancel because of the storm. But I shouldn’t need to see anyone. I should be able to handle this with prayer. The Bible says, ‘I can do all things through God who strengthens me.’ I’ve been saying that verse over and over again.”

  Anabelle took hold of her hand. “Believe me, I know that feeling all too well. After Kirstie’s accident, I went through a terrible depression. Nothing I did seemed to work. I was failing at home, at work and couldn’t seem to hold it together. Like you, I was too proud to ask for help. My head nurse took me aside one day and made me go see a psychologist.”

  “You?”

  “Me. Depression and grief do not necessarily go away by thinking positively, though that doesn’t hurt. Sometimes, as in my case, we need something more to get us through the rougher spots, whether it’s counseling or medication or a combination of both.”

  “I suppose. It’s just…. I don’t know how I’ll be able to see a counselor. They’re expensive and there’s so little time with my kids as it is. And I can’t ask my mom to babysit more.”

  “I’m sure there are answers for all your questions and concerns. Could I pray with you?”

  Candace nodded. Anabelle bowed her head and squeezed her friend’s hand. “Lord, we know You love Candace and we know how important she is to You. Please heal her heart and set her on the path you would want her to take. Let her find the answers she needs with regard to her children. You know her needs and we ask that You meet those needs. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Thanks, Anabelle.” Candace wished she had talked to her sooner.

  “You’re welcome. Now let’s go have lunch before our half hour is over.”

  They entered the cafeteria together and Candace picked up yogurt and a small salad. She usually ate a light lunch and had a fruit snack in the afternoon. At least these days she wasn’t forgetting to eat altogether.

  A short time later, Elena headed to the cafeteria for lunch. Seeing Anabelle, Candace and James at one of the tables by the window, Elena paid for her salad and yogurt and headed their way.

  “Just the person I want to see.” James glanced at her, then down at his book. “What’s a four-letter word for a church recess?”

  Elena shrugged and set her tray down. “I have no idea.”

  James frowned. “Hmm. One down doesn’t help much. What’s a Hebrew zither?”

  “Sounds like an instrument.” Anabelle spooned up some raspberry yogurt.

  James set the crossword puzzle aside and raised his gaze to meet Elena’s. His smile faded. “What’s wrong, Elena? You look like you’ve lost…is it a patient?”

  “No.” Elena sighed. “It’s a long story. I got a phone call this morning from Sarah.”

  “Sarah.” Anabelle frowned. “Not Isabel’s mother.”

  “That’s the one.”

  “No wonder you’re upset,” Candace said. “What did she want?”

  Elena looked down at her salad, her almost nonexistent appetite diminished even more by the lump in her throat. “Sarah wants to see Isabel. She wants to bring her a birthday present.”

  “That’s a bad thing?” James asked.

  “Oh my.” Anabelle seemed to understand the ramifications far better than James did.<
br />
  “Yes, it’s a very bad thing.” Elena clasped her hands together. “She can’t possibly think I’ll let her waltz back into Isabel’s life. The woman is an addict. She walked away from my son and their baby just like that, and we haven’t heard a word from her since then.”

  “What did you tell her?” Candace leaned forward, arms resting on the table.

  “I told her she had no right to see Isabel.”

  Anabelle grimaced. “Um—actually, Elena, unless she signed papers, she may have that right.”

  “That thought had crossed my mind.” Elena placed a hand on her stomach and released a long breath. “I can’t seem to think about anything else. What if Sarah wants custody of Isabel? What if she tries to take her away from us? And what would this do to Isabel? She doesn’t know about her mother. It would tear our family apart.”

  “I’m sorry, Elena,” Candace said. “Do you think she’s still on drugs?”

  “She said she was clean, but I don’t believe it.”

  James tore apart his bun and picked up a knife to butter it. “Maybe you could do some detective work. Find out where she lives and what she’s doing.”

  Elena didn’t want to.

  Anabelle pursed her lips. “Or, if she calls you again, you could meet her for coffee. You’ll be able to tell a lot from talking with her. It would be a good time to make an assessment.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to see her.” Elena pushed the salad around on her plate.

  “Seems to me the best way to handle the situation and save yourself a lot of grief,” James said, “is to confront her and find out exactly what she intends to do.”

  Candace nodded. “He’s right, you know. They both are.”

  “I suppose. It’s silly to worry about something that hasn’t happened.” Elena didn’t tell them that she suspected much of her concern had come from God of all people.

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll just go away.”

  “Somehow,” Anabelle said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

  “We’ll be here for you.” Candace reached across the table to touch Elena’s arm. “And I’ll be praying for the best solution for all of you.”

  “Thank you.”

  After a beat of silence, Candace cleared her throat and said, “I don’t mean to change the subject, but I need prayer for something too.” She told them about the flashback and her resistance to counseling.

  James nodded. “Oh man. I know what you’re going through. I had some flashbacks when I first got out of the service. For me they eventually subsided, but some of my buddies are disabled by them. You need to see someone.”

  “It’s odd,” she mused. “I have so often suggested counseling to my mothers with postpartum depression, but I’m having such difficulty doing what I would recommend for a patient. Maybe it’s the time away from my kids and lack of a sitter. The cost. I don’t know.”

  “The cost should be minimal,” James said. “We have mental health insurance.”

  “I’m glad you told us this, Candace.” Elena set her fork on the unfinished salad and grinned. “I can help with the babysitting. We could trade. Isabel loves to play with Brooke and Howie. I would be happy to watch them. And perhaps Isabel could go to your house sometimes.”

  Candace smiled as she blinked back tears. “You three are something else. You wiped out my best excuses in less than a minute.”

  “Glad to help.” James smiled. “Keep us posted. Let us know how we can pray for you.”

  “I will. And for now, I think I’d better opt out of the code blue team.”

  Anabelle’s first task for the afternoon was to check on Olga Pederson.

  “You’re awake. I stopped by earlier, but you were sawing logs.” Anabelle stepped into the room and pushed back the curtains revealing a middle-aged woman with dark hair reclining in the chair. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company.”

  “Anabelle, this is my daughter Carla.”

  Carla lowered the footrest and scrambled to her feet. “It’s nice to meet you. My mother tells me you’ve all been taking good care of her.”

  “We do our best.” Anabelle’s gaze swept over her patient and the monitors. “You’re looking better, Olga. How are you feeling?”

  “Good. I told Carla she didn’t have to come, but she never was one to listen to her mother.”

  Carla grinned as she took her mother’s hand. “Don’t listen to her. I was the perfect daughter. She was the stubborn one and still is.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Anabelle said. She felt certain Olga felt the same. “How did you get here so quickly?”

  “I caught a red-eye out of Portland last night. Rented a car in Peoria.” She yawned.

  “I take it you’ve been discussing care options. Have you come to any conclusions?”

  “Talking and getting nowhere.” Carla sighed.

  “I understand how frustrating it must be for both of you.” Anabelle looked from one to the other. “I can see how difficult it would be for you to leave your home, Olga. It represents independence, and leaving might seem like you’re giving that up.”

  “Ya—I suppose that’s as good a way as any to put it.”

  Anabelle nodded. “Maybe I can help. You need to know that Dr. Hildebrand won’t discharge you to go home unless you have someone there to care for you or until she’s sure you’re able to take care of yourself.”

  Carla sighed. “That may be a problem. I can stay for a week or two, but I’ll have to go home after that. Maybe we can hire a caregiver.”

  “No.” Olga sounded adamant. “My friend Lucille did that and the woman stole her blind.”

  “That’s too bad,” Anabelle offered, “but I don’t think that sort of thing happens often, especially if you go through a reputable agency.”

  “She’s right, Mom. Lucille should have checked her out.”

  “These days there are a lot of alternatives. I know you don’t want to leave your home, but you might want to look at some of the senior retirement centers. You can still be independent, but you’d have a nurse available if you need one.” Anabelle could almost see the brick wall forming.

  “I don’t want to move at all.” Olga folded her arms across her chest.

  “Oh, Mother.” Carla rolled her eyes.

  Anabelle smiled. “Why don’t you both list your options and do some brainstorming?” She handed them a couple of blank pages from her clipboard. “Maybe you can come up with some ideas that will work for both of you.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.” Carla gave Anabelle a conspiratorial smile. “We’ll list the pros and cons of both sides.”

  “Let me know how it goes.” Anabelle started to leave. “I know the facilities here in town quite well; so if you have any questions, just ask.”

  As she walked to her office, Anabelle prayed for the two women. She understood both sides. Lord, please help Olga and her daughter to come to the right decision—one that will be right for both of them.

  For the rest of the day, Anabelle worked the floor taking over for each of her staff members while they went to in-service and viewed the video on dealing with disasters. Once her nurses and aides had finished, Anabelle went as well. She remembered the procedures but was glad to be going through them again.

  She’d just walked out of the classroom when her cell phone vibrated.

  “Hi, lass. Will you be working late again?”

  “Not too late.” Anabelle had decided to read through the disaster manual before heading home.

  “I’ll make dinner then.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

  “What are you planning?”

  “Oh, maybe some chicken and mashed potatoes, coleslaw and rolls.”

  She laughed. “Hankering for some of Uncle Dan’s Southern fried chicken, huh?” The fast-food restaurant made decent chicken and used real potatoes.

  “What gave me away?”

  Anabelle couldn’t help but smile. “Jus
t the fact that you can’t make mashed potatoes.”

  He chuckled. “Curses, foiled again.”

  “Actually Uncle Dan’s sounds good. I’ll be home by five.” She hesitated. “Would you like me to pick it up on my way home?”

  “You might want to get some extra. Ainslee and Doug just pulled into the driveway.”

  Anabelle’s mood accelerated even more. “Will do.”

  Though Anabelle would have preferred to head home immediately, she forced herself to stay and read the manual. She had done so several times, so it was just a matter of refreshing her memory. She signed her verification card and picked up those from all of her staff, except Seri, and took them down to Varner’s office. She’d have to talk with Seri tomorrow. She hated to let people go, but Seri needed to take her job more seriously.

  Penny was still there and asked her to put them in the box she had labeled. Anabelle did so, then went back to the floor. After giving the charge nurse instructions regarding the disaster drill, she stopped by Drew’s room to say good night.

  Dr. Hamilton wasn’t there.

  Chapter Nine

  BACK AT THE NURSES’ STATION, ANABELLE ASKED about Dr. Hamilton’s whereabouts.

  Heather, the charge nurse, looked surprised. “He’s gone? He must have sneaked out while we were in report.”

  It was entirely possible. For around fifteen minutes, the nurses and aides from both shifts gathered to share pertinent information so the next shift could take over somewhat seamlessly. “I think we’d better find him.”

  Trying not to panic, Anabelle checked the cafeteria. No Dr. Hamilton. She peeked into the chapel. Not there. Anabelle had one more place to look. She made her way to his office, but no luck there either.

  “Where could he have gone?” she muttered. “Drew Hamilton, if you walked out of this hospital, I’ll…” She’d what? Haul him back?

  Frustrated, Anabelle punched the elevator button and stepped in when it opened. As she pressed the button for the second floor, it hit her. If she knew anything about Drew, it was that concern for his patients outweighed his own health and well-being. She walked into the Cardiac Care Unit and went straight to Mr. Blake’s room. Sure enough, there sat Dr. Hamilton, visiting with the patient he had been performing surgery on before his own heart attack.