The Healing Touch (Stories from hope haven)

by Hanson

  There was no point in calling again, but she and Becky would have a very serious conversation when she came back to work.

  Anabelle didn't have long to wait. Becky came into the unit before noon casually dressed in jeans and a green corduroy jacket. Her dark hair, usually worn in a ponytail, was streaming over her shoulders and her usually pale face was flushed. Anabelle first thought it was a sign of fever, but the younger nurse quickly dispelled that idea.

  “I wanted you to be the first to know,” Becky said. “I wasn't sick this morning. I just didn't want anyone to know where I was going until I knew for sure.”

  “Knew what for sure?” Anabelle wasn't quite ready to forgive her falsehood.

  “I’m going to have a baby! I went to the doctor this morning, and it's certain.”

  “Congratulations!” Anabelle smiled and decided the big talk wasn't necessary. She understood why Becky wanted to be secretive until she was sure. “I have to tell you, you have several messages from me on your phone. I’ll be checking everyone who calls in sick for flu symptoms.”

  “Oh, I didn't think of that,” Becky said contritely. “I should have known a sick call would make you suspicious. Everyone is talking about the possibility of an epidemic.”

  “I wasn't suspicious,” Anabelle corrected her. “I just have to take more notice of anyone who's ill. The whole idea behind the task force is to anticipate an epidemic and be prepared for it. But I’m very happy to hear your news.”

  “I’ll be here tomorrow for sure,” Becky promised. “In fact, if you need me, I can get some hospital scrubs and come to work now.”

  “We have a substitute. Why don't you use the rest of the day to spread the good news?”

  “Thank you so much. My mother is going to be thrilled. I can't wait to tell her and everyone I know.”

  “Thank you for letting me know why you weren't here,” Anabelle said. “Although next time, it would be better to tell me ahead of time. It would have saved me calling your home phone and your husband.”

  “Oh dear, did you talk to him at work? I was going to save my news for this evening, but he’ll be wondering what's up. I’d better go see him right now.”

  Anabelle watched her hurry away. She didn't think Becky would try to keep more secrets.

  After a worrisome morning both at work and at home, Anabelle wanted to get away from the hospital during her lunch break. She got her coat and walked across the street to the Diner on the Corner, a casual place that hospital staff liked to frequent when they got tired of cafeteria food.

  The long, narrow restaurant was crowded. All the booths were occupied, so she glanced at the few tables to the left and was gratified to see that James was sitting alone at one. He spotted her and waved her over.

  “Sit down,” he invited, standing until she put her coat on one of the empty chairs and sat across from him.

  “Hard morning?” he asked with enough of a twinkle in his eye to invite her confidences.

  “A nurse called in sick. I tried to find out what was wrong in case she had flu symptoms. Turned out she was at the doctor's.”

  “Let me guess. She's expecting.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “Just a lucky hunch,” he said.

  The waitress came and took her order for a tuna sub, one of her favorites. She found herself wondering whether it was a healthy choice. Fish was always good, but what about the salt in canned tuna? So many things they enjoyed as a couple had high levels of sodium. Cameron's new diet was going to be a real challenge.

  “Have you found Sapphire?” she asked while they both waited for their food.

  “No, and I’m worried that she's gone for good. Fern tries to keep her spirits up, but she really misses her. A cat is the perfect companion for her.”

  “It's such a shame. I know how attached people can get to pets.”

  “I did take your advice. I looked up the pet detective. Who knew people really make a living tracing lost animals?” He shook his head with a smile.

  “Are they on the case?”

  “Not yet, but I’m meeting with one of their detectives as soon as he—or maybe she—can get to Deerford. They’re busier than I could have imagined.”

  “What they do is pretty unique.”

  “I still have no idea how they go about tracing a cat. The boys have tried everything with a lot of help from the Scouts. We didn't get a single response to the posters. Needless to say, they’re pretty disappointed.”

  “Well, it will be interesting to hear what the pet detective suggests.”

  Their meals came, and Anabelle decided that her sandwich was large enough for two people. Restaurants seemed to think their portions should be large enough for a person doing heavy manual labor. Or maybe they were afraid of losing business if they didn't make their servings generous.

  “Half of this sandwich would be about the right size,” she said, dividing it into two parts before biting into the fresh whole-wheat bun overflowing with tuna salad, lettuce, tomato, and pickles. “I wish I had time to take the other half home to Cameron. I’ve no idea what he’ll have for lunch—maybe the terribly salty soup he made for us last night.”

  “He's really into cooking, isn't he?”

  “He was. I’m afraid I discouraged him. He used his mother's recipe to make bean soup, and it was everything he shouldn't be eating with high blood pressure—excessive salt and lots of fatty meat.”

  “I like things well salted too. I have to watch myself with the saltshaker,” James admitted. “Fern is a light eater, but my boys are at the age where they can eat everything in sight and stay slim. Cooking for them tempts me. I can't eat the way I used to.”

  “Those days are gone forever for Cam,” she said. “I don't know how I’m going to convince him to change, especially since he's home all day and I’m not.”

  “You probably can’t,” James said, sounding uncharacteristically pessimistic. “He’ll have to decide for himself that he wants to be healthy and eat the way he should.”

  “You’re right,” Anabelle admitted sadly. “No matter what I fix for dinner, I can't control what he eats all day. He loves salty crackers, nuts, and chips. Even if I throw away everything in the house that he shouldn't have, he's not a child. He’ll buy what he wants to eat. It hurts to admit it, but I may do more harm than good if I make a big fuss.”

  “Cam respects you. I’m sure he’ll listen, but…” He shrugged. Even optimistic James couldn't be sure her husband would ever change his ways.

  “Yes, he’ll hear me, but that doesn't mean he’ll act on what I say.”

  “You’ve always worked things out together,” James reminded her. “Maybe when Cam gets used to the idea, he’ll be cooperative.”

  “And maybe Sapphire will come home wearing magic boots and a feathered hat.”

  He laughed with her. She did feel better venting with James, but her problem was far from solved. Would Cam even eat the healthy meal she had planned for this evening?

  Chapter Ten

  AFTER WORK ANABELLE SPENT NEARLY AN HOUR in the supermarket, triple the time it would usually take her to pick up a few things for dinner. After reading the labels on a dozen or so salad dressings, she realized that she couldn't take anything for granted when it came to making healthy selections. She finally found a vinaigrette without any saturated fats that was lower than most in sodium content, but it occurred to her that she might do better making her own in the future.

  Cam liked chicken dipped in egg then rolled in her special corn flake breading that included salt as a seasoning. That wasn't what he was getting this evening. She was going to make chicken packets, an idea she’d thought up today. Each breast would be wrapped in foil along with a chunk of sweet potato, several big button mushrooms, and pieces of onion. She bought some salt-free poultry seasoning and hoped the results would be tasty.

  The ready-to-use bags of salad greens were tempting, but she studied the whole vegetables in the produce section. The romai
ne looked fresh, and she didn't begrudge the extra time it would take to wash and chop ingredients for a dinner salad. The tomatoes were a little winter-pale, but Cam didn't think a salad was a salad without them. Most years he grew more in his garden than they could use.

  He wasn't home when she got there, but it didn't take a detective to discover what he’d eaten that day. A small frying pan with egg residue was soaking on one side of the double kitchen sink, the stovetop was sprinkled with kosher salt that had missed its target, and a bowl crusted with the remains of bean soup was on the counter.

  Cam usually loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the stove and countertops. He seemed to be telling her that he would eat as he pleased, and it worried her to see him so careless about his health.

  The chicken breasts were done in about forty-five minutes, but Anabelle had to turn down the oven to keep them warm for another half hour before her husband got home.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said nonchalantly. “I went with Evan to look at a possible job. A guy wants to line his drive with a hedge and landscape the front of his house. I think Evan has a good chance of getting the job.”

  “Lucky for you our son has the business now so you can tag along.”

  “I like to think there's still a few things I can teach him.” He sounded a bit indignant, not a good start to dinner.

  “I’m sure there are,” she agreed. “Evan is fortunate that you’re still interested.”

  “I’ll probably do a little part-time work for him during the busy season. Work off those extra pounds I put on during the winter.”

  “That's a good idea, but it will take more than that to control your blood pressure.” She hadn't meant to lecture, but she knew Cameron too well. He was still in denial about the need to change his diet.

  “I feel great for a man my age,” he assured her. “I just need to get outside more.”

  “Well, dinner is probably overcooked. I didn't expect you to be this late.”

  “Sorry, I should have called. Let me wash up, and we can eat.”

  While he freshened up, she gingerly opened the chicken packets, carefully spearing the foil with a fork to let steam escape so it wouldn't burn her. The contents didn't look very appetizing. The sweet potato chunks were mushy and the mushrooms had shriveled into blackish lumps. The breasts seemed a little dry when she tested them, and the onions were definitely overcooked.

  She measured the dressing for their salads and deliberately left the saltshaker in the cupboard, although she did put a wooden pepper mill in the center of the table. Cam could grind as much as he liked onto his food.

  Cam asked a blessing on their meal and then looked at it with a grim expression.

  “So this is a healthy dinner?” he asked in a sour voice that was totally unlike him.

  “I admit the sweet potato is overcooked. You were late.”

  He pushed his fork into the mushy orange chunk and then noticed that both salt and margarine were missing from the table.

  “All I can use is pepper?”

  “I used poultry seasoning on the chicken. It might not need anything else.”

  He reached for the pepper mill and made a production out of turning it and liberally sprinkling his whole dinner with black granules.

  “Cam, you don't like pepper that well,” she said, taken aback by the amount on his food.

  “I guess I’ll have to learn to like it.”

  He passed up dessert, a fruit salad with lemon yogurt, but helped her clean the kitchen as he often did.

  Anabelle planned to use the evening to catch up on small jobs like washing hose and doing her nails, but Cam convinced her to watch a documentary on television about research into the story of Moses. She was fascinated to see many aspects of the biblical story confirmed by modern-day findings, but her long day got the best of her. She dozed off before the end, and Cameron woke her.

  “Time for bed,” he said, turning off the television.

  She started toward their bedroom but saw that he was getting the leash.

  “Sarge and I both need some exercise,” he said, fastening the leash to the excited dog's collar. “You go on to bed. You’re the one who has to get up early.”

  She was too sleepy to object, even though it was early. Maybe she would have some better ideas on how to help Cam with his diet after a good night's sleep. He’d hated his dinner tonight, but there was no point in blaming him for being late. He probably wouldn't have liked it if it hadn't been overcooked.

  As soon as her head hit the pillow, she nodded off, but deep sleep evaded her. Perhaps because her husband hadn't come to bed yet, she suddenly awoke and sat upright, checking the clock to see that it was only a little past eleven o'clock.

  The last she’d seen of Cam, he was leaving to walk the dog. Had something happened to him? Their road didn't have much traffic, but still, he could have been hit by a car as he walked in the dark.

  Propelled by worry, she slid out of bed, not even bothering to locate her slippers, and ran barefooted to the kitchen where a light was still showing.

  Her fear vanished, but what she saw made her just as agitated. Cam was sitting at the table reading a book and eating a sandwich stacked so high with meat, cheese, and tomato that he could hardly get his mouth around it.

  “Cameron Scott!”

  “Oh, hi, Annie. I’m just having a little snack before I go to bed.”

  “A little snack?” She was as close to speechless as she ever got.

  “That dinner wasn't very filling, you know,” he said with a touch of petulance. “Fortunately I found a can of processed meat way at the back of the cupboard. Thought I might as well use it up. Remember, you used to fry it with mustard. It's not much good cold, but mayo and some pickles help.”

  Sarge sat beside him on his haunches, obviously begging; and she suspected he’d already had a little taste of Cam's bedtime snack.

  “You’re not feeding it to Sarge, are you?”

  “A little bite won't hurt him. He loved it.”

  “Where has my husband gone?” she asked in dismay.

  He shrugged and had the grace to look uncomfortable. “I’ll do better tomorrow, but you know I can't get to sleep when I’m hungry.”

  “Oh, Cam, what are we going to do?”

  There was nothing more to be said tonight, but somehow she had to convince him that high blood pressure wasn't something that went away on its own.

  The last thing Elena did before leaving for the day was to check on the coma patient. She stared at the patient's serene face and wondered where her mind was. Did people in a deep coma dream? Did they have any awareness of their surroundings? Was this kind-faced woman fighting a battle in her mind, trying to surface to the real world?

  Elena walked over to the bed and took her limp hand, wishing she could communicate with her in some way.

  “Someone must be missing you,” she said in a soft voice. “I bet you have lots of friends who are wondering where you are.”

  It didn't make sense that a well-dressed, middle-aged woman could disappear and no one noticed. Elena thought of different possibilities, but none made sense. People in Deerford didn't disappear without triggering an alarm.

  She turned to leave when a new thought came to her. Maybe the patient didn't live in Deerford. She could have been passing through and stopped to stretch her legs, but where was her car? Someone would have reported an abandoned car by now. Anyway, the single key in her pocket appeared to be a house key and there was no driver’s license.

  When she got home, she planned to ask Cesar whether the police had any leads at all. She was afraid a person with a missing identity wasn't a priority with the department. The weather was warming faster than usual, and that meant more work for law enforcement. Criminals and rowdy people were always more active when spring arrived.

  Elena left her coma patient somewhat reluctantly. She was getting good care around the clock, but Elena had this little nagging feeling that she could do something to help he
r. She couldn't place her face, but there was something familiar about it.

  She hoped to have a heart-to-heart talk with Cesar about going to the new class at church with her, but she wasn't sure what to say. She could talk to him about enriching their marriage and their lives by learning more about the Lord's call to service, but she was afraid his mind was still closed to the Word.

  Sighing deeply, Elena wondered whether Cesar was right about her crowded schedule. She did take on a lot, but there was a good reason for everything she did. Maria was thrilled to hear about the progress on her granddaughter's quinceañera dress, even though it was far from finished. And there was no way she could beg off the task force as long as there was the threat of an epidemic.

  As she walked into the house, Elena was thinking of ways to broach the subject without starting an argument with Cesar. She slipped out of her coat, but before she could hang it up, Izzy rushed up to her, her face flushed with pleasure.

  “I’m going to a rehearsal,” she said a bit breathlessly.

  Rafael was home ahead of her, since it had been his turn to pick up Izzy. “Hi, Mama,” Rafael said, coming up behind his daughter. “Izzy has to practice for her recital. She's really excited about her ballet lessons.”

  “Mama is going to watch me too.” Izzy was making a production out of shrugging into her winter coat, until her father stepped up to help her.

  “Sarah is going to meet us there. It's not her regular time with Izzy, but I thought she could be there to see how our little princess is doing.”

  “That's nice,” Elena said, sincerely proud of the way her son was handling the situation with Izzy's mother.

  He was calm and cooperative about letting Izzy spend time with Sarah. It was best for Izzy and for both of her parents.

  “Oh, did you two have dinner?” she asked as they made their way to the door.

  “Don't worry, Mama,” Rafael said. “We had sandwiches and chips.”