“We’ll figure that out if we need to.” James patted her hand before he picked up a pair of Gideon's jeans. “I picked up some good paper and envelopes today for my cover letters and résumés.”
“Oh, good,” Fern said as Sapphire, her cat, leaped into her lap. “Oof. You’re heavy,” she told the enormous feline. Then she looked back at James. “I could print them out for you tomorrow and get them addressed and ready to go. That way, all you’ll have to do is sign them tomorrow evening, and we’ll pop them in the mail.”
“That would be great. If you could update the résumés, I can do the cover letters at work.” No way could he let Fern see the addresses of the places he intended to apply. Several were in or around Deerford, but two were in Peoria, well over an hour away. And if he took a job in Peoria, the family would have to move…and the remodeling he’d mentioned would be unnecessary altogether.
“All right. How many do you need?” She stroked the cat, which immediately began to purr loudly.
“Six. I’ve identified six places I’m definitely going to apply.” He suppressed a sigh. Fern was distressed enough about her condition. If she realized he was applying to places so far away that they would have to move, it would only upset her more. And she was quite astute, he reminded himself. He’d have to be careful or she’d sense his unhappiness. “Hey,” he said. “Remember I told you about the other three nurses I’ve had lunch with?”
Fern nodded. “Anabelle Scott and two others.” She knew the whole Scott family because they also attended the Church of the Good Shepherd. She thought for a moment. “Wait. Don't tell me their names. One is Candace Crenshaw and the other…Ellen?”
“Elena. Elena Rodriguez. She's a real firecracker. Lots of energy. And let me tell you about the idea she had.”
“Idea for what?”
“She would like to see the hospital do some fund-raising to try to stay afloat.”
“Well, me too, but that's not up to us.”
“Elena doesn't know the meaning of the word no.” James shook his head, laughing as he thought about his friend's dogged determination. “She came up with this great idea for a Wall of Hope. You know that rather basic courtyard near the ER outside the chapel?”
Fern nodded.
“Elena thinks we could create engraved bricks—you know, for memorial or honorary purposes—and redo that courtyard with them. Anabelle's husband designed a great wall and walkway for the project.”
Fern asked additional questions as James explained Elena's idea. Finally she said, “I think it's a great idea. Anything that would keep Hope Haven from closing is fine with me.”
James grinned at his wife, trying not to dwell on the cover letters and résumés he intended to send out. “That's exactly what I said.”
Chapter Ten
CANDACE LOOKED OUT AT THE ROOM FULL OF extremely pregnant ladies and their labor coaches. Most of the women had their husbands or partners with them, but a few had a sister, mother, or other friend accompanying them.
Robin Overing sat in the very back row with Andrew at her side. The couple was holding hands. Andrew smiled at her, but Candace noticed Robin avoided her gaze again. If only she could think of some way to get the young woman to listen to reason. She’d been praying about it quite a bit; but if God was sending her any ideas, she was missing the memos.
Turning to the lecture outline before her, Candace put aside her worry and began to speak. Today's class would begin with a lecture on what could happen when a birth did not go as planned, and included a DVD of a cesarean section. During the movie, Candace stood at one side of the room, her gaze constantly monitoring the faces of the viewers. It was not uncommon for a class member to pass out while watching the surgery and blood in the process, even though she warned everyone beforehand and coached them on what to do if they began to feel faint. This class, however, seemed to be fine.
Near the end, she drifted toward the back of the group. Pausing near the Overings, she sent Robin a warm smile. In an undertone, she said, “Can you stick around after class? I’d like to speak with you.”
Robin nodded, and Andrew whispered, “Sure.” He flashed her a look of gratitude.
Pleased with herself for being proactive, Candace concluded the movie and went on to the next section of the class. It included information on the postpartum process, newborn bonding and breast-feeding. There was another class offered on breast-feeding, so she presented only a general overview.
Finally, they reviewed the breathing and relaxation techniques they had been learning. Each woman lay down on a mat on the floor with her labor coach at her side, and they worked through a series of breathing patterns.
To conclude the class, Candace thanked them all for attending and handed out packets to each mother, which included free samples of infant care products, coupons and rebates and a certificate of completion for the class. She held Robin's until last.
When the last of the mothers had departed, Candace approached Robin and Andrew, who had moved to seats at the front of the room. Pulling a nearby chair around to face them, she said, “Thanks for staying. How are you feeling, Robin?”
The young woman shrugged. “Fine. Except for worrying, of course.”
Candace nodded in sympathy. “I’m sure you’ve been concerned. Have you given any more thought to how you want to handle your breast cancer?” She used the term deliberately—aware that people often danced around terms and wanting to be sure Robin was confronting her illness.
“I’d rather not handle it at all,” Robin said, her expression wry. “I know I can't just ignore it, but I still don't know what to do.”
“What do your parents say?”
A flood of red color rose up Robin's neck, and her entire face flamed. “I haven't told them,” she said, looking down.
Candace was horrified. “But—but Robin, you need support. You need your family around you.” Robin was an only child; Candace was fairly certain the Kings still lived in her old neighborhood, although she hadn't seen them more than once or twice in years.
“I know.” The girl sighed. “But I have Andrew, and until we’ve decided how to proceed, I’d rather not upset them.”
Candace compressed her lips, trying to stem the concern she felt. “What’s holding you back from making a decision about what to do? Do you have any additional questions that the doctor or I can answer?”
Robin shook her head. “I understand what you were saying the last time we talked,” Robin said to Candace. “I do.” She nodded her head, her eyes wide and sincere. “We read through the information the doctor gave us. Clearly, surgery is my best option.” She fell silent.
“But?” Candace prompted.
“But even a small percentage of a chance that the baby might not survive the surgery isn't acceptable to me.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Candace…I lost a full-term baby three years ago.” Tears filled her eyes.
A chill shivered down Candace's spine. Going through hours of labor only to deliver an infant that didn't live was the worst thing that could happen to a mother. It also was the worst thing that could happen in a labor and delivery unit. No matter how good a nurse was at managing her emotions for the sake of distraught patients, when a baby was stillborn or died during the birth, it was hard to keep one's composure. “Oh, Robin, I’m so sorry for your loss,” she finally said. “I understand why you’re determined to keep this baby as healthy as possible.”
“I just can't do anything that might jeopardize the baby's life. It took a long time for us to conceive the first time, and it took almost three years this time. If I lose this child, I may not get another chance.” Her eyes welled with tears. “Although that may be a moot point, given my diagnosis.”
“Your diagnosis is extremely survivable for both you and the baby,” Candace said gently. Was there any way to get through to Robin? “Ninety-six percent of the women who are diagnosed early and treat breast cancer promptly are cancer free after five years. As for not getting another chan
ce, you’re in your prime years to conceive. Even if it doesn't happen right away, women are having babies much later in life now.”
“But if I have radiation or chemotherapy, it could hurt my chances of another pregnancy. Or maybe damage me so that if I ever got pregnant again, another baby would have birth defects.”
“Who told you that?”
Robin hesitated. “No one. I just know that kind of thing can be dangerous. I read a woman's blog on the Internet—”
“That could have been fiction for all you know.” Candace kept her voice gentle and light, infusing it with a touch of amusement, and Robin smiled reluctantly.
“That's possible.”
“Internet research is fine, but depending on who wrote it, the information isn't always accurate. It's vital that you share all these concerns with your doctor,” Candace urged. “He can give you specific information about birth defects, the likelihood of future pregnancies and anything else you are worrying about.”
“Okay.” But Robin didn't sound particularly committed to talking with the doctor in more detail, and Candace feared she hadn't changed the younger woman's mind.
“Having treatment could mean—in all likelihood it would mean—that you would be there to care for your baby yourself long-term. Don't you want to see your child grow up?” When Candace glanced at Andrew, the pleading expression in his eyes kept her pressing on.
“God has the power to fix this,” Robin said. “I’m going to leave it in His hands.”
Candace's mouth opened and then closed again. She couldn't believe what she’d just heard. With unusual asperity, she said, “I think you’re exactly right. God does have the power to fix this. He created doctors and nurses, who are His hands here on earth.” Her voice grew impassioned as she leaned forward, her gaze fixed on the pregnant woman. “I believe God uses doctors and other medical professionals to aid in healing. Ignoring medical advice is not what God intends, Robin. He guides the hands performing surgery. I know He is with me when I am trying to alleviate a patient's pain or comfort the family of a terminally ill patient.”
Robin looked quite taken aback. Candace knew her speech had been a bit more forceful than her normal quiet manner. Had she offended Robin?
Finally, Robin said, “I never thought of it that way.”
“Have you prayed about this?” Candace asked. She was usually very careful not to talk much about her faith to her patients unless it was very clear that they would not mind her offering to pray for them, though she had already spoken of faith to Robin the day they had visited her oncologist and then gone to the Corner.
Andrew shook his head in answer to her question. “We don't go to church.”
Candace smiled. “We don't need to go to church to talk with God. He listens to everyone. Perhaps you could pray together and try to discern what God wants.”
“If we want surgery to be as successful as possible,” Andrew said, “we have to make a decision this week.”
Robin kept her gaze lowered. “Why don't we do as Candace suggests before we worry about a timeline.”
Her husband tossed his hands up in the air and threw himself back against the chair. He looked like he might explode. Tightly, he said, “In case you hadn't noticed, we are on a timeline. This is the second week since your diagnosis. You have to get that tumor out of there!”
“I don't have to do anything,” Robin said in an equally belligerent tone.
Andrew was shaking with anger. Thrusting one finger beneath his wife's nose, he said, “If anything happens to our baby because you can't face dealing with cancer, I will never forgive you.”
Robin looked stunned by his words.
Alarmed by the level of tension and discord between the two young people, Candace stepped into the momentary silence. Quickly, she said, “Why don't we try this: go home and talk to each other. Don't yell, don't get defensive. I’ll be available all weekend. Just call if you have any more questions or concerns.” She looked at Robin. “That gives you more time to consider everything we’ve discussed.” She transferred the eye contact to Andrew. “It also addresses your concern about a timely decision.”
Husband and wife both nodded.
“Thank you,” Andrew said.
Robin reached out and laid her hand over Candace's. “Yes, thank you. I do appreciate your input, even if it hasn't seemed like it.”
Candace turned her hand up and squeezed Robin's fingers in return, then extended her hand to shake Andrew's. “I’ll be praying for all three of you,” she said.
Robin managed a smile as she laid a hand on her rounded abdomen. “Maybe we will do some praying as well.”
Elena had butterflies in her stomach as she walked down the corridor toward the office of the Chief Executive Officer. Albert Varner was the hospital's CEO, and she had a meeting with both him and Zane McGarry, the CFO, in just a few minutes.
She wasn't a nervous person, she reminded herself. It was just that she was going to meet with the Hope Haven CEO! If that wasn't cause for butterflies to be wreaking havoc in her stomach, she didn't know what would be.
She was well prepared, she assured herself. At Zane's request, Elena had brought along her brick to illustrate the idea she would be presenting to Mr. Varner.
“Hi, Elena.” Zane was just coming out of his own office as she reached his door. “Are you ready to wow Albert with your idea?”
Elena smiled, although it felt distinctly shaky around the edges. “I hope so.”
“Relax.” Zane patted her shoulder as he steered her toward the CEO's suite. “You’ll be terrific.”
Penny Risser, Mr. Varner's executive assistant, looked up when Zane and Elena entered the outer office, although she didn't smile. She had a reputation for zealously guarding her boss as well as relentlessly keeping him on topic and on schedule. “He's waiting for you,” she said in such a brusque manner that Elena surreptitiously checked her watch to be sure they weren't late.
Mr. Varner stood when Elena and the CFO entered the inner office. Elena smiled as Zane performed the introductions. “Call me Albert,” the CEO insisted.
The room was a spacious corner office with large windows providing plenty of light. Several extremely large potted plants towered in the corner between the windows and other hanging baskets spilled over with spider plants, English ivy and silver-and-purple wandering Jew.
As Mr. Varner came forward to shake Elena's hand, he saw the direction of her gaze and laughed. “I take no credit for the plants. My assistant has a very green thumb. If she looks at it, it will grow.”
Elena smiled at Albert Varner as her nerves subsided, appreciating his obvious attempt to put her at ease. What a nice man he is. “I enjoy plants, but I’m nowhere near that successful,” she admitted.
The CEO chuckled. “Few people are. Penny has a gift.”
Elena thought of the severe, unsmiling woman who sat at the desk in the outer office. A green thumb—who would have guessed?
Albert gestured toward the two upholstered guest chairs in front of a gleaming black desk. “Please, have a seat. I’m very interested in this idea of yours, Ms. Rodriguez.”
Albert's eye contact and warm manner made Elena realize why he was such a good choice as the public face of the hospital. Feeling far more comfortable in his presence than she had expected to, Elena went over the Wall of Hope idea with him, explaining the papers in the file she handed him and sharing the sample of an engraved brick.
Albert leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers together and regarding her intently as she spoke. When she had finished, a broad smile crossed his face. “I like it,” he said. “I like it a lot. It's something that involves the community, beautifies the hospital, and raises our profile as well as working as a fund-raiser. I’d like to present it to the board of directors, if you agree, Ms. Rodriguez.”
“Elena,” she said automatically, her mind on what he’d just said. “Thank you very much.”
Albert looked at Zane McGarry. “You’re ri
ght. We need to contact the board president and get a special meeting scheduled right away. This idea should be implemented as soon as possible, if the board agrees.”
“And you think they will?” Elena asked.
The CEO shrugged. “If I said the sky was blue, the board might choose to call it orange,” he said with a laugh. “I can never predict their reactions. However, this idea sounds quite exciting to me, and I’m hoping they’ll see it my way.”
Elena suspected the CEO could convince people of almost anything if he set his mind to it.
Albert flipped through the file she had given him. “Explain this donation page to me more fully. Is Clud Monuments really prepared to make such a generous donation?”
Elena nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Isn't that amazing?”
“It's certainly noteworthy. You have two methods listed here for the purchase of bricks. Are you proposing to use both?”
Elena shook her head. “No, I believe it's an either/or choice. Either set specified prices for the bricks and sell them at that price, or simply ask people to make a donation in any amount they like.”
“Hmmm. And do you have a preference for one of the two methods?”
Elena grinned. “I do, but I’d prefer not to tell you until you’ve thought about the pros and cons of each.”
“Fair enough.” Albert Varner crossed one arm over his chest and raised his free hand to stroke his chin as he thought aloud. “Setting the price would ensure that we cover costs and make a profit. But it may limit donations, because people might not think about donating larger sums. On the other hand, leaving the donation up to the person requesting the brick might actually yield larger donations. We do, however, run the risk of getting donations too small to cover our costs, unless we set a minimum donation.”
“That pretty well sums it up,” Zane McGarry contributed. “Exactly what we’ve been wrangling over.”
Albert dropped his arms and stuck his hands deep into his pants pockets, rocking back on his heels. “I think,” he said slowly, “that I prefer the second option—leaving the size of the donation up to the giver.”
The Best Medicine Page 10
