by Leslie Gould
James turned his eyes toward the hospital. The sun was low in the early spring sky, but it cast a shimmer of light over the bricks and windows. He turned on the ignition and let it idle for a minute before turning on the heater.
At least their previous home had sold last month. He’d begun the paperwork for a loan to buy their new place. If he really didn’t have a job, he was pretty sure they wouldn’t be approved for the house.
As he drove away from the hospital, he prayed, “What now, Lord? What do You have planned for me and Fern and our boys?”
Chapter Two
AFTER FINISHING THE DINNER DISHES, JAMES watched Fern for a minute. She rocked gently in the comfortable living room next to the fireplace, her walker just a couple of feet away. Her eyes were closed as she listened to an audiobook, her earphone buds firmly in her ears. Her short hair was held back with two barrettes, and she wore a nice pair of sweatpants and a jacket. The room was warm enough that she didn’t have a blanket wrapped around her legs. Sitting there, she didn’t look as if she had MS, as if she was fighting a disease that was slowly but surely attacking her central nervous system.
She was happy in the new house. God had provided what they needed, from the single-level layout to the hardwood and tile floors that made maneuvering from room to room so much easier than it had been in the old house with its wall-to-wall carpet. Having enough rooms for an office and exercise room was a big bonus, and the jetted tub in the master bathroom as well as the larger hot tub and the half basketball court in the backyard were more than James—and their boys—had ever dreamed.
He stepped next to her and touched her arm. Gideon and Nelson were settled in their rooms, and the main work of the day was done. He pressed his hand against her arm more firmly and said, “Sweetie.”
Her eyes opened slowly and she smiled.
“I need to speak with you,” he said, pulling a straight-backed chair beside her.
“What is it?” Looking concerned, she pulled the earbuds out and turned off the MP3 player. “Is it one of the boys?”
He shook his head. “It has to do with work—turns out I gave up my seniority when I took the lead-nurse job for the new Holistic Cardiac Program.”
“James?” Her eyes were wide. She’d guessed at what was coming.
“Hope Haven cut the program today.”
“Oh dear.” She reached for his hand. “How are you doing?”
He smiled. That was so like Fern to be concerned about him before anything else.
“It hurts.” He paused a moment. Talking about it with her brought his emotions to the surface. “But I’m going to speak with Leila on Monday morning to see what advice she has for me. And we’ll trust God. Right?”
“But won’t you get your old job back?” She squeezed his hand.
He shook his head. “I’m going to appeal it—talk to Leila like I said. In the meantime, I can apply for the next open position and anything else I can find in town. I’ll check in Princeton too.”
Fern exhaled. “Oh my.”
Now it was James’s turn to squeeze her hand. “I could use some help updating my résumé tomorrow.”
“Of course,” she said.
James leaned forward and kissed her cheek, and she reached up and pulled him close, hugging him tightly.
The phone began to ring but stopped quickly. Either it was a wrong number or one of the boys picked it up. A minute later, Nelson sauntered into the room. “It’s Dr. Hamilton.” He held the cordless phone out to James.
As James reached for it, Nelson glanced from his father to his mother and said, “What’s up?”
James shook his head and mouthed, “Tell you later.”
Nelson lingered for half a moment and then headed back to his room, and James said hello to the doctor.
After a quick greeting, Dr. Hamilton said he’d contacted the hospital board president, Bernard Telford, and found out that there had been an emergency meeting last evening. “I’m afraid the majority of the members are in agreement with Albert about our program,” he said. “But I’m not sure any of them have done their homework. It’s a travesty.”
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Dr. Hamilton said that he’d requested authorization to form an advisory committee of health professionals and it was granted. “Would you join me on the advisory committee?” Dr. Hamilton asked.
James headed through the dining room on his way to the kitchen, knowing it would be obvious to Fern that he no longer wanted her to hear the conversation. “Thank you,” James said, stepping onto the tile floor of the kitchen. He kept walking and stopped at the back windows. “But I need to pass.” He explained that because he would have much to gain if the program was saved, it felt like he would have a conflict of interest on the committee. Besides he was afraid it would only add more stress to Fern if he were gone evenings. “But I was wondering if I could use you as a reference on my résumé.”
Dr. Hamilton groaned. “I’m going to get you back to Hope Haven ASAP. In the Holistic Cardiac Program if I have my way. There’s no reason for you to work on your résumé.”
“In the meantime…” James hoped his voice sounded upbeat.
“Of course you can use me as a reference.”
James leaned against the kitchen counter. “Anabelle would be great on the advisory committee.”
“She’s next on my list,” Dr. Hamilton said.
After he hung up the phone, James peered into the darkness of the backyard, again wondering how they’d qualify for a loan if he didn’t have a job. He would play basketball with the boys tomorrow. And every day thereafter for as long as they still had the house.
Anabelle lobbed a tennis ball to Sarge and then stepped onto the deck. She’d been playing catch with her dog—a shepherd mix—for at least fifteen minutes, and her arm was growing sore.
“Come on, boy!” she called as he scooped it into his mouth and zigzagged across the backyard. “Come on!” Finally he ran up the steps to the deck and dropped the ball at her feet. The evening sun had set, and the icy chill of night had descended. She picked up the ball and dropped it in the plastic box of dog toys on the picnic table.
Anabelle’s husband Cameron slid open the patio door. “The phone’s for you.”
“Who is it?” Anabelle patted Sarge’s head.
“Dr. Hamilton.” Cameron handed her the phone.
Anabelle’s heart raced as she answered it. The doctor rarely called her at home. She hoped there wasn’t some sort of emergency.
Dr. Hamilton quickly explained what had happened with the Holistic Cardiac Program and that James had lost his job.
“What?” Anabelle stepped into the house.
Dr. Hamilton added a few more details.
“That’s absolutely ridiculous.” She sank onto the window seat.
“I know. But it’s where things are.” Then he told her about the advisory committee and asked her to participate.
In a heartbeat she answered, “Of course.” If James could be laid off just like that, then none of them were safe. They were all at the mercy of the CEO and the board. After ending the call, Anabelle dialed James. Just when she thought her call was going to go into voice mail, James answered.
Anabelle blurted out what Dr. Hamilton told her and said she was horrified by what had happened. James told her it was okay, that things would work out for him and his family. Then he said he couldn’t talk, that he and Fern had just told the boys, and that he needed to get back to them.
“What can I do for you?” Anabelle asked.
“You could pray for us,” he said, and then chuckled a little. “Because quite frankly this trusting thing is moment by moment—one minute I am doing it, and the next it’s a struggle.”
“Of course,” Anabelle responded. “Tell Fern I’m praying for her too.”
After the call, Anabelle rose slowly from the table. Sarge peered at her through the patio door, his nose against the glass, his dark eyes curious yet sympathetic. He tilte
d his head.
“What’s going on?” Cam stood in the entryway to the dining room.
“James got laid off, and Dr. Hamilton’s forming a hospital advisory committee.”
Cameron shook his head. “Poor James. What about your job?” Cameron had been asking her lately when she planned to retire.
Anabelle shrugged. “Maybe I’ll find out Monday.” She could always retire and create an opening for James. He wouldn’t qualify to be the nurse supervisor of CCU, but if one of the other cardiac floor nurses took the job, that would leave an opening for James. She hoped it didn’t come to that. She wasn’t quite ready to retire. And James had been perfect for the new cardiac position.
She sighed as Cameron stepped toward her with his arms open. “How about a hug, lass?” he said, using one of his many terms of endearment for Anabelle.
She nodded. That would help, for now. She relaxed into his arms and held him tightly.
As Candace started the dishwasher, she glanced at the kitchen clock. Nine forty-five. Both kids were down for the night, although Brooke probably wasn’t asleep since she’d taken a book to bed with her. Candace yawned. She’d check her e-mail and then turn in herself. She’d offered to take the Saturday day shift the next day because two nurses were on vacation and one was out with the flu.
She settled down at the desk in the family room and then scanned her e-mail, deleting the junk messages as she went. As she skimmed down the from column, her cursor stopped on Heath Carlson. The message definitely wasn’t spam. She clicked to open it.
I’m picking up a shift tomorrow too, he’d written. How about lunch, if we can make it work?
If we can make it work seemed to be the phrase the two of them lived by.
His e-mail continued. I’ll pop down to see you when I get a break in the morning—or at least try to call.
He’d signed it Love you. H.
She couldn’t help but smile as she e-mailed him back that she’d look forward to lunch, if we can make it work. She added a smiley face, then Love, Candace and hit Send. It was so nice to be writing love and I love you again.
Even though the house was growing chilly Candace felt warm inside as she clicked through her other messages. A newsletter from Brooke’s school. Several advertisements. That was it.
She logged off and shut the computer down and then wandered around the house, turning off lights and turning down the heat the rest of the way. Light shone under her mother Janet’s door. She was probably reading and would be up late. She didn’t seem to need much sleep, but she did enjoy her alone time in her room.
Candace checked on Howie first. He was on his stomach with his blankets pushed down to the bottom of the bed and his legs tangled in his top sheet. She kissed the back of his head, her lips brushing his brown and copper hair, as she breathed in his sweaty, little-boy scent. He stirred a little and turned his head toward her, smiling slightly but not opening his eyes. She gently tugged the sheet straight and then pulled the covers back over his little body, knowing in a few minutes everything would be undone again. Thankfully his internal heater seemed to keep him warm at night.
Next she stepped across the hall to Brooke’s room. As she opened the door, a light flicked off.
“Brooke?” she said.
Her daughter didn’t answer.
Candace stopped at the edge of her bed. The book Black Beauty was by her head, and Brooke faced the wall, her blonde hair a wave of curls. Candace backed out of the room, sure there was a flashlight tucked under the blankets. She remembered doing the same when she was Brooke’s age. She smiled. No harm done. After all it was a Friday night.
She made her way down the hall, illuminated by the night-light, and slipped into her bedroom, thinking about Heath again until she flicked on the light to her bedroom. On the table beside her sleigh bed was her wedding photo. Dean smiled down at her, his blue eyes bright with adoration. Dean.
She walked around to the other side of her bed and sank down on the mattress, facing the photo. “What do you think of all this?” she whispered. Inhaling, she stood, her eyes still on the photograph. She loved the picture. It had comforted her through the years since his death. But tonight, for the first time, she wondered if she should move it to the living room. It was too much to be thinking about loving Heath one minute and grieving Dean the next.
Elena turned off the news at ten fifteen. The house was completely still. Rafael had a gig with his band in Peoria, and Cesar was working late. She’d intended to wait up for him but wasn’t sure if she’d make it. She padded down the hall.
She’d had a busy few hours with Izzy before bedtime. Her granddaughter had fallen asleep on the couch before dinner and then was a bundle of energy for the rest of the evening. They’d played Twister, made peanut butter cookies, and worked on the kitty puzzle on the card table in Izzy’s room. And then read a stack of books at bedtime.
As Elena reached the half-open door to Izzy’s room, she heard a faint, “Buela?”
“Yes,” Elena said. The little stinker, she thought with a smile. If she sleeps at all during the day, she’s up half the night.
“Would you read me Madeline again?” Her voice was louder now.
Elena stepped into the little girl’s room and kissed her forehead. “No. You go to sleep.”
“Please,” Izzy said.
Elena shook her head. “I’m too tired to read another word. I’m going to bed.”
“How about if I come tuck you in?” Izzy’s sparkling eyes were evident even in the dim light.
“Nice try,” Elena said. “Now go to sleep.”
As she reached the doorway, Izzy’s sweet voice filled the room, reciting, “‘In an old house in Paris that was covered with vines, lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.…’”
Smiling as she recognized the first sentence from Madeline, Elena stepped out of the room, leaving the door half open. Izzy’s voice followed her down the hall. It seemed she had more than the first bit memorized. Elena realized she was still smiling as she got ready to wash her face. That granddaughter of hers was so, so smart.
At eleven thirty, Elena awoke to Cesar slipping into bed. “How are you?” she muttered, reaching for his hand.
He seemed tense.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
He scooted toward her. “I’ll tell you in the morning.”
“You can tell me now.” Light from the streetlamp shone through the curtains. Cesar’s brow was creased. She cuddled against him.
“They were short of officers, so I took a drunk to the ER tonight. Nice man—very apologetic but really a mess. All worried about how his wife and son were going to react.” He wrapped his arms around Elena.
“That’s too bad.” She had seen patients like that before. Life had gotten away from them and they knew it and were ashamed, but seemed to have no inkling on how to turn things around.
“There’s more.” He exhaled slowly. “When I was at the ER, I heard there’s a rumor going around that the administration’s closing departments at the hospital.”
“Really?” Elena hadn’t heard anything earlier in the day. They wouldn’t be closing the ICU, that was for sure, but she wondered who might be affected. Then again, it could just be a rumor.
“And the ER secretary said that James was laid off this afternoon.”
“James?”
“Yep.” Cesar started to relax and settle into the mattress.
“Are you sure?” That couldn’t be.
“That’s what I was told.” Cesar’s voice faded as he spoke.
“What else did she say?”
Cesar waited a moment to answer, and when he did his voice was practically a whisper. “That was pretty much it.”
“Cesar?”
He responded with a gentle snore. His brow was smooth now. His worries gone.
Not again, Elena thought as she stared at the ceiling, wide-awake. What in the world is going on at Hope Haven this time?
Chapter Thr
ee
SATURDAY MORNING, ANABELLE PARKED IN HER daughter Ainslee’s driveway, sure Doug had already left for his office. He had a design project he needed to finish, and Ainslee was going to work at the antiques store Once Upon a Time for a few hours. It thrilled Anabelle to be able to help them out and spend time with Lindsay Belle. She collected her purse and stepped into the bright sunshine of the spring morning. It was supposed to get up to sixty-five degrees by afternoon—the warmest day of the year so far. Maybe she and Lindsay Belle would go for a walk. The little girl was starting to toddle around. In no time she would be running.
Ainslee’s yard wasn’t exactly neglected—the girl’s father was a retired landscaper after all—but it wasn’t in the tiptop shape it had been in previous years. Her daffodils bloomed alongside last autumn’s leaves that had been raked into the flower beds as mulch in the fall but not cleared out yet this spring. Anabelle smiled. It was obvious her daughter and son-in-law had other things to keep them busy besides yard work. Anabelle knocked on the back door.
“Come in,” Ainslee called out.
Anabelle stepped into the kitchen. The black granite counters were covered with bowls, a few glasses, and several mugs. A box of whole-grain cereal sat on the table, next to the high chair.
“We’re in the living room.”
Anabelle heard a squeal and then a thud as she turned the corner.
“Lindsay Belle.” Ainslee’s voice was full of exasperation as she stood with the baby’s shoes in her hand.
“Where is she?” Anabelle looked around the room.
Ainslee pointed as Lindsay Belle’s head popped up between the sectional and the coffee table, which was covered by a lime-green and pink beach towel clipped with tablecloth holders, like one would find at a picnic, to the glass top. The towel clashed garishly with the sectional and the modern art piece above it.
