The Best Medicine

by Anne Marie Rodgers

“Something must be going right in your life,” Candace commented. “Spill.”

  Anabelle laughed as she did a spontaneous little victory dance. “I just got a phone call from Kirstie. She invited me to go shopping with her on Saturday.” She cleared her throat. “I’ve been trying really hard not to be overbearing and intrusive.”

  “Sounds like it's working,” James said. He grinned at her. “It's a whole new way of life.”

  Anabelle shook a mock-fist at him. “Smarty pants.”

  Elena was the last to arrive. She was grinning from ear to ear, her wide smile gleaming in the bright sun.

  “Goodness gracious!” Anabelle said. “Don't you look like…” She paused for a moment. “Well, like the cat who swallowed the canary.”

  “There's a reason people use that cliché,” James told her. “You can picture the type of smile immediately.” He turned to Elena. “What's going on?”

  “You’ll never believe it.” Elena dropped onto the picnic bench, fanning herself dramatically. “I’m in shock.”

  “Not too much shock to tell us why, I hope,” Candace said.

  Elena sat up straight. She looked around the group, milking every moment of suspense. “Drumroll, puh-leeeze!”

  James obligingly began a rapid finger tap against the edge of the table.

  “The hospital,” Elena announced, “has received a two-million-dollar donation.”

  Candace was sure she hadn't heard that correctly. “How much?”

  “Two million,” Elena repeated. “That's one hundred thousand times twenty. I can't even imagine it.”

  Anabelle shook her head in wonder. “Are you sure? That's an awful lot of money.”

  “I’m sure. I saw the check.” She grinned. “But only for a minute, because Zane was heading straight for the bank. He was terrified to have a check that big in his hands.”

  “Where did the money come from?” Candace still couldn't believe it. Who on earth would donate that large a sum? For that matter, who could?

  Elena said, “Remember when Dr. Weller treated the little boy who blew off two of his fingers and nearly lost an eye in that fireworks accident last summer?”

  “Yes.” Anabelle shuddered. “That was really difficult.”

  Elena continued, “Dr. Weller gave him excellent emergency care. He also got a helicopter in quickly to take the child to Children's Memorial in Chicago, and he personally went along.”

  James chimed in, “The board reprimanded him for not following established protocol for flight transfers, but if he hadn't skipped protocol, that child might have lost his eye.”

  “What does this have to do with the donation?” Candace steered them back to the original topic.

  “The grandparents are quite wealthy. They were horrified when they heard Hope Haven might have to close. That family lived the experience we’ve all talked about—if this hospital hadn't been here, that child's outcome might have been very different. They feel very strongly about keeping our doors open.”

  “Two million dollars,” James said slowly. “But even that won't last very long.”

  “Zane told me this morning that we’re very close to raising enough money to keep the hospital open for at least the next year.”

  “That is excellent news,” Candace said. “I’ve been wondering whether I’m foolish not to be looking for other work. But that is a sign that I am meant to stay here.”

  “There is one catch, though,” Elena admitted. “They stipulated that the money go into a trust or endowment that would supply interest income. So we really won't be getting two million to spend.”

  “Still,” Candace said, “it's quite a gift.”

  “Especially for one single brick!” Elena said with a grin. “I would have given them a dozen, but one is all they want.”

  “How did your meeting with Cam go this morning?” Anabelle asked.

  “The campaign is going unbelievably well. We have enough bricks now to build an entire wall about waist-high around the courtyard. That's what we met to talk about. Cam thinks we should use additional donations to pave the courtyard with engraved bricks as well.”

  “That's a great idea.” Anabelle gave it her seal of approval in the form of a short burst of clapping.

  “Your husband is a genius,” Elena told her. “No wonder your property is so beautiful all year-round. He's got an entire plan in his head for landscaping this area.” She reached down and picked up a cardboard tube, opening the end and sliding out a large sheet of paper. “Here's the plan for the courtyard. Wanna see?”

  “Of course we want to see,” Candace said. She held one end of the rolled paper as Elena smoothed it across the picnic table.

  James moved to hold down the other end, freeing Elena to point to various areas. “As I told you, the wall itself will be three feet high. Cam has worked built-in planters into the design here, here, and here; and these spaces in the middle are for two ornamental trees. It's about twice the size this little spot is right now.”

  Candace was dazzled by the project. Cam's careful drawings brought it into focus, and she could practically see the finished product. “This is going to be stunning!”

  “I know.” Elena took the drawings and rerolled them. “I can't wait until we get started.”

  All three women turned to regard James.

  “Have you made a decision yet?” Elena asked him.

  James wouldn't look at any of them. “I have,” he said quietly.

  There was a moment of silence fraught with tension. Candace tried to imagine how their little group would change without James, whom it appeared was planning to—

  “I turned down the job at Children's. I’m staying.”

  “James, that's wonderful.” Anabelle was beaming as Elena leapt up and gave him a huge hug.

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” Candace's heart felt so light she couldn't stop smiling. “What made you decide to stay?”

  James shrugged. “It was a number of things.” He looked at each of them. “You,” he said to Elena, “are working so hard on fund-raising to keep Hope Haven open. And you.” He pointed at Anabelle. “You impressed on me how much the four of us need each other's support. All of us are stronger because of this little group.”

  Finally he looked at Candace. “You gave me faith too,” he told her with a smile. “You and I have similar situations in that we both support families on one income. If you are willing to place your faith in this place staying open, how can I do any less?”

  Candace sent him a gentle smile. “I continue to have faith that Hope Haven will get through this financial crunch.”

  “I’m awfully glad you’re planning to stay,” Anabelle said. “I have to thank all of you for your hand-holding while I adjust to my empty nest. Our little group just wouldn't be the same without you, James.” Then the older woman reached down beside her and lifted a large canvas bag into her lap. “I brought a little something for each of you,” she told them. “I thought it was time to celebrate our friendship.”

  She shook the bag upside down on the table, and several T-shirts in a lovely shade of sky blue tumbled out. Picking them up and checking the sizes, she distributed one to Elena, to James and to Candace, picking up the last one for herself. Each shirt had the recipient's name and “Hope Haven Hospital” on the left front pocket area. “Look at the back,” Anabelle urged.

  “Oh, this is great!” Elena crowed. “Thank you, Anabelle.”

  James read the script on the back aloud. It was Romans 15:13. “‘May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.’” He looked up, grinning. “That's a good reminder for me, isn't it?”

  “It's good for all of us,” Anabelle said. “I chose the color because it reminded me of the color of the summer sky, and summer is when we really got to know each other.”

  “This is beautiful,” Candace told Anabelle. “Thank you. I’ll wear it with pleasure and think of you every time I p
ut it on.”

  Anabelle's eyes shone; she was clearly moved by the reception of her gifts.

  Candace glanced at her watch. She had a lady in labor upstairs, and she needed to get back. “I have to run,” she said, “but could we share a prayer before I do?”

  “Great idea,” Elena said.

  They all joined hands. Elena opened, then Anabelle and James spoke.

  When it was Candace's turn, she prayed with a heartfelt fervor inspired by the three believers around the circle. After a brief pause, she concluded with: “And Lord, thank You for the gift of these new and precious friendships, the support we offer one another and the joy that we share in our hearts. Bless us each one. Amen.”

  As she looked around at the smiling, chattering group of people about whom she had come to care so much, she felt that somehow, some way, she was beginning a new chapter in her life—a chapter filled with friends, family and the faith that right here at Hope Haven Hospital was where she was meant to be.

  About the Author

  Award-winning author Anne Marie Rodgers has published more than forty novels since 1992, several of which have been best sellers. Her work for Guideposts includes stories in the series Tales from Grace Chapel Inn and Mystery and the Minister’s Wife.

  Anne Marie has been involved in animal rescue and foster-care efforts for many years. After Hurricane Katrina, she volunteered at the Humane Society of Louisiana, saving animals left behind during evacuation efforts. She also has raised guide dog puppies. Anne Marie currently volunteers at a wildlife rehabilitation facility near her home in State College, Pennsylvania, where she cares for orphaned and injured animals, which are released into the wild after their health is restored. The experience has allowed her to get up close and personal with bobcats, fishers, and bald and golden eagles, along with many other more common species.

  In addition to her work with animals, Anne Marie enjoys a variety of needle arts and sings with her church choir.

  Read on for a sneak peek of the next exciting and heartfelt book in Stories from Hope Haven.

  It’s available through Guideposts’ direct mail program by calling Customer Service at (800) 932-2145.

  Chasing THE Wind

  by

  Patricia H. Rushford

  FOR SOME FOLKS, MONDAY MORNINGS WERE A drag, having to get up early and trudge to work after a restful or fun-filled weekend. To Anabelle, morning was a gift. Though she enjoyed her days off, she loved her job in the Cardiac Care Unit at Hope Haven Hospital. She also loved new beginnings and mornings were just that: a time to reflect and aim for new opportunities.

  Anabelle yawned and did a few stretches before heading for the shower. After drying her short, easy to style hair, she dressed in navy slacks and a pastel floral top. Makeup was a matter of dashing a little mascara on her lashes and blush on her cheeks—and lately, drawing pencil lines on her vanishing eyebrows.

  She grabbed one of half a dozen lab coats that hung in her closet, made sure she had her glasses and name badge and headed out of the bedroom.

  Cameron was still sleeping and probably would be until seven when he’d have his coffee, read the paper and go to the gym for a workout. Not that he needed a gym. Their small farm kept him busy enough. The property included two pastures and a small barn, which housed a number of cats and a palomino gelding named Rusty, owned by Heather Jones, the darling twelve-year-old neighbor girl. The Joneses paid them thirty dollars a month to keep Rusty in their pasture since they had no land other than their small lot.

  She smiled not feeling the least bit resentful of Cam's retirement. With the amount of time he spent puttering around the farm and his shop and helping their son Evan out with his landscaping business, he was busier now than when he’d worked full time. But he seemed happy and that's what counted.

  Anabelle poured coffee from the full carafe on the coffeemaker. She enjoyed being able to set the timer the night before and having the coffee perfectly brewed when she was ready for it.

  How spoiled they were getting. She smiled and set the carafe back, knowing it would stay warm for Cameron. It hadn't been that many years ago when she’d shuffled out to the kitchen first thing in the morning all blurry-eyed to put the coffee on. Back then they’d had few choices and always bought Folgers. Now she preferred the special roasts and usually ground them herself.

  Taking her Kinkade design cup to one of her two favorite spots in the wide living room, Anabelle set it on the end table and opened the vertical blinds to the sliding patio door. She pulled open the door and breathed in the fresh damp air. Her plants had weathered the rain just fine.

  After closing the door, she sank into the cushioned rocking chair that had once been her mother's. Placing her feet on the ottoman, she paused to enjoy a patch of sunshine as it dappled the trees in the private backyard and turned last night's rain into crystal droplets. Moments later clouds blotted out the patch of blue sky.

  Summer was coming to an end. Soon the leaves would be turning. The vine maple had already begun wearing its fall regalia. She still had some dahlias along with several large hydrangeas blooming. The leggy geraniums would need cutting back soon and she needed to deadhead the roses. Maybe she’d have time after work today—if the weather cooperated.

  Anabelle slipped on her reading glasses and dipped into her basket of books and magazines. This year she’d chosen to use Oswald Chambers' My Utmost for His Highest as her daily devotional. Starting the day in thoughtful introspection and prayer always seemed to improve her perspective on life no matter what lay ahead.

  Today, Anabelle had a hard time staying focused. Her mind kept going back-and-forth, from reading about prayer life to thinking about Drew Hamilton. She finally gave up reading and spent the next few moments praying specifically for the good doctor whose wife Genevieve was worried about his health.

  After fishing a package of salmon out of the freezer for dinner, Anabelle poured a glass of orange juice and ate a quick granola and yogurt breakfast. At six thirty, she backed her new silver Ford Fusion out of the garage and headed into the rain.

  Wipers swished at the sheets of water but did little good. She smiled at the irony. With all the innovations made on automobiles lately, it seemed someone could invent a better way of clearing the window in a downpour.

  Her new sedan got around forty miles per gallon and could go about seven hundred miles before needing a fill-up. The dashboard with all its buttons and displays looked like the panel of a 747. She still didn't know what half of them were for.

  Anabelle maneuvered the car along the familiar road, barely able to see the bulky shapes of cars and trucks. The two and a half miles to Hope Haven took twice as long to navigate as it normally did. Finally the hospital loomed ahead of her. By rote, she eased into her usual spot in the staff parking lot. Retrieving her floral umbrella with a Monet garden scene from the backseat pocket, Anabelle waited for a few moments in hopes the rain would subside. No such luck. If she waited much longer, she’d be late. And Anabelle Scott was never late.

  She opened her umbrella and made a dash for the door. She held the door open for several other staff members including Elena Rodriguez, her good friend who worked in Intensive Care.

  “Thank you!” Elena sounded winded. “I forgot to grab my umbrella this morning. Too much else on my mind, I guess.” Elena shook the rain from her long dark hair. “But what's a little rain? I’m certainly not going to melt.” She laughed. “Although for a few minutes there, I was afraid I might wash away.”

  “You’re in a good mood.” Anabelle closed her umbrella and shook off some of the water.

  Elena's dark features brightened even more. “I am. Isabel is turning five in two weeks and I am going to throw her a big party.”

  “That sounds delightful. I must say, I envy you having that darling little girl around.” Anabelle pressed the elevator button and the doors swished open.

  “I know you do.” Elena gave her an empathetic smile. It wasn't the first time Anabelle had br
ooded over not having a grandchild of her own. “You are always welcome to share Isabel with me—especially when I need a babysitter.”

  “You are too kind.” Anabelle chuckled.

  “In fact, Isabel told me to be sure to invite Auntie Amabelle first. You are her favorite person since you made her that adorable princess quilt.”

  “Well, you tell her I’m honored.” Having her quilts used and loved by those who received them gave Anabelle as much joy as making them.

  The women hurried to their lockers where Anabelle removed her rain jacket and umbrella. She adjusted the long chain that held her reading glasses and tucked the glasses into the upper pocket of her lab coat. Pausing at Elena's locker, she asked, “Want to plan on lunch around noon?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Elena pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail and twisted it into a scruffy bun. She was wearing her Finding Nemo scrubs. Elena, being a talented seamstress, made many of her own clothes. “You know how crazy Intensive Care can get.”

  “Cardiac Care as well. Let us hope for an uneventful day.”

  “Right. And what dream world are you living in?” She laughed at the idea.

  “We can always think positive.” Walking away, Anabelle had no illusions of a quiet day in CCU. They had at least one patient going to surgery with more likely to come as patients received diagnoses.

  “See you later,” Elena called after her.

  Anabelle took the stairs to the second floor and turned right to go into the Cardiac Care Unit. She stepped inside her office and left the door open to air the small space out. The stacks of files and notes on her desk told her the weekend must have been hectic.

  Anabelle pulled out her glasses and scanned the weekend happenings to bring herself up to date. They’d admitted a couple of patients who were sent home on Sunday. Mr. Blake had been admitted the day before in preparation for his surgery this morning, as well as Olga Pederson, a woman admitted at five this morning. Age 83—atrial fibrillation.

  Anabelle paused to check the schedule for the day's surgeries. Though she worked in Cardiac Care, she liked to keep up on other areas as well. This morning, however, she had a specific reason. Dr. Hamilton would be doing the open-heart surgery on Mr. Blake at 8:00 AM, which meant he probably wouldn't be out of surgery until around one. She’d try to talk with him then about his wife's concerns. Genna had confided in Anabelle at their quilting club meeting that her husband was overworking himself and she had asked Anabelle to keep an eye on him.