“We got hot dishes over on that end,” Bonnie Sue told her. “Salads in the middle and desserts down at that end. Coffee and punch are on the table in the corner.”
Sarah found a spot to place her pasta salad on the middle table.
“You couldn’t talk Kurt into coming, huh?” Bonnie Sue asked.
“Afraid not. He said they’d be fine on their own for supper.”
Her cheery smile faltering, Bonnie Sue shook her head. “Maybe next time.”
Sarah hoped so, though she wasn’t optimistic.
Alexis Hoffman, the pastor’s wife, appeared at Sarah’s side. “Hello, dear. It’s Sarah, isn’t it? I’m glad you could join us.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” Except for that brief period when she sat on Peaches’s back, her emotions bouncing between terror and a growing admiration…and affection for Kurt.
“Oh, good.” Alexis glanced around the increasingly crowded room through her blue-rimmed glasses. “Let’s find us a quiet spot and I’ll tell you all about the wonderful help the volunteers at Shelby Community Hospital provide for our patients and the staff.”
Hooking her arm through Sarah’s, Alexis herded her to the far side of the room, chatting all the way about the various volunteer opportunities.
“Mrs. Hoffman,” Sarah interrupted over the hum of conversation in the room.
“Do call me Alexis, please.”
“All right, Alexis. I’ve been volunteering at Washington University Hospital for several years.” When her own health permitted. “I visit the pediatric unit and entertain the children, particularly those in the oncology unit. I’m a ventriloquist and dress up like a clown.”
Alexis eyes widened. “A ventriloquist?”
“Yes, I use a dummy I call Dr. Zoom. He tells ridiculous jokes. The youngsters seem to enjoy the diversion.”
“My, my.” She seemed both surprised and taken aback by Sarah’s revelation. “We’ve never had a ventriloquist. Or a clown entertaining the children. We don’t have a pediatric oncology unit, per se. I don’t know…” Her forehead pleated as she considered the possibility.
“Each hospital is set up differently, I’m sure. The arrangement, or how your medical units operate, may not be conducive to using someone like me. Hospital procedures always come first.”
Alexis squared her shoulders. “I like the idea. Yes, I do. And just because we’ve never had a clown doesn’t mean we can’t do something special for our children. But it does mean I’ll have to clear it with the administrator.”
“I can provide references from University Hospital, if you’d like. And assuming Mr. Ryder approves, I’m thinking a half day per week would be all I could volunteer.”
“That sounds lovely, my dear. And Kurt had better approve and give you that much time off or he’ll certainly hear from me.”
Unable to repress a grin, Sarah was quite confident Alexis Hoffman could be very persuasive.
Sarah gave Alexis her cell number and reminded her that she’d only be staying in Sweet Grass Valley until the end of summer.
They finished their discussion and joined the line at the potluck table. The selections varied from meatballs in a tomato sauce, to a dozen different types of salads and decadent chocolate eclairs from the bakery.
By the time Sarah finished gorging herself on all the delectable treats, she’d met a half-dozen parishioners, had traded recipes with three women, and knew she’d have to diet for the next week if she had any hope of getting into her new jeans again.
Chapter Seven
As the following week progressed, Kurt found himself looking forward to having his morning coffee with Sarah sitting across the table from him. Her hair was generally mussed, and she didn’t wear makeup at that early hour. The natural look suited her. Nothing pretentious about how she acted or the way she spoke.
A down-to-earth kind of woman. He liked that.
She’d also been great with his kids. Although Beth was no longer grounded, his daughter was still helping Sarah clean out the flower bed around the gazebo and in front of the porch. They’d bought flowers from the nursery in Shelby and would be planting them soon.
The ventriloquism lessons were going great. In fact, Toby had practically stopped talking in his own voice, sounding instead like some John Wayne cowboy dude turned town sheriff. Great, except it was weird when the kid’s lips barely moved.
Friday morning he finished shaving, ran a comb through his hair and headed downstairs, his spirits high as he looked forward to seeing a sleepy-eyed Sarah.
He came to an abrupt halt at the kitchen doorway. “You’re dressed.” Unintentionally, he’d spoken the words like an accusation.
Carrying a plate of pancakes to the table, she stopped to look down at herself. Her hair was combed, her makeup in place and she wore a simple cotton dress that buttoned up to her neck.
“What is it?” she asked. “Am I buttoned wrong?”
“No, it’s just that…” He strolled toward the table. “I mean, you usually… You must’ve gotten up early this morning.” He missed her sleepy eyes, the way she often mumbled, her efforts at conversation minimal, as she served him breakfast.
“I’m going into Shelby today, to the hospital, after I clean up the breakfast dishes and do a load of wash. I want to get there by ten. Usually the doctors have finished their rounds by then.”
“Oh, yeah.” He slid into his chair. “The ventriloquist business. I’d forgotten. How long do you think you’ll be gone?” Odd, knowing she’d be away, he’d already started to miss her.
“I’ll stay at the hospital through lunchtime. The kids usually take a nap then or their families visit.”
He stabbed a couple of whole-wheat pancakes—which weren’t bad—spread butter on them, then covered them in maple syrup. “It’s nice of you to do that for the kids.”
She sat down opposite him. “I was sort of a sickly kid and spent some time in the hospital. I’m just paying forward some of the nice things that I enjoyed as a child.”
He wondered how sick she’d been, but figured it was none of his business. She seemed healthy enough now.
“I’m sure the kids will love you and Dr. Zoom.”
“I hope so.” She forked up a bite of pancake, no butter and only a drop or two of syrup. “Will you be around if Beth and Toby need you?”
“Yep. I’ll hang close to home. I’ve got some tack to repair and the tractor’s carburetor is acting squirrelly.”
“Remind Beth we’re going to make fried chicken tonight using her grandmother’s recipe.”
He downed a gulp of coffee. “Great. I love it really crunchy.”
“Your arteries probably won’t, but one night won’t hurt.”
He lifted an eyebrow. He’d noticed from the beginning that Sarah was into healthy food. He’d never had so many salads in his life since she’d hired on to be his housekeeper. Or so much baked chicken. He was a cattle rancher. Cattle ranchers ate beef.
But he was getting used to a lighter diet. In fact, he’d lost a pound or two, and his pants were fitting better these days.
Shelby Community Hospital squatted on several acres of former open prairie at the edge of town. The two-story concrete building wasn’t even a third of the size of the Washington University Hospital in Seattle where Sarah had volunteered and had her heart transplant surgery.
The size of the hospital didn’t matter to Sarah as long as there were children there who needed to laugh and smile.
Before she’d left the ranch this morning, she’d called Tricia in Seattle to see how everything was going at the office. As usual Tricia was upbeat about everything except the long wait to learn if she’d passed her CPA exam. Sarah sympathized, assured Tricia she’d pass with high marks and promised to call again next week.
Carrying her tote, Sarah walked into the air-conditioned building. She shivered at the contrast between the blazing mid-morning heat outside and the cool interior of the hospital.
She to
ok the stairs to the volunteer office on the second floor. Alexis Hoffman was sitting behind her desk. Photographs of various events and dignitaries hung on the wall behind her and leafy green potted plants lined the windowsill.
“Good morning, Alexis. I thought I’d check in with you before I change into my costume and go looking for the pediatric unit.”
Taking off her reading glasses, Alexis looked up from the file she was reading. “Perfect. I’ve cleared everything with the administration and pediatrics knows you’re coming. They’re very excited about your visit.”
“So am I.” A little nervous, too, her adrenaline pumping high energy through her veins. She’d be working with new staff personnel and new children in an unfamiliar environment. She prayed everything would go well.
Alexis handed her a name tag identifying her as a volunteer. “Pediatrics is at the end of the hall on your right. Lori Tame is the supervising nurse on duty. I may pop down later to see how it’s going.”
“You’re welcome to. I’ll go change now.”
She found a nearby restroom and stepped inside to transform herself into Suzy-Q, hospital volunteer and clown extraordinaire.
Standing in front of the mirror, she slid a red ping-pong ball over the end of her nose, painted her lips and circles on her cheeks a bright red and pulled on a ridiculous orange wig covering her blond hair. A pinafore apron decorated with colorful appliqued balls and her new volunteer pin completed her costume.
“You rock, Suzy-Q,” she said, doing a little jig in front of the mirror.
She fluffed her outrageous wig one last time before heading to the pediatric unit. Years ago she’d been a patient in a pediatric oncology ward. Leukemia had nearly felled her at the tender age of four. All those chemo and radiation treatments she’d had as a child had taken their toll, eventually weakening her heart to the point that she’d needed a new ticker.
As she walked down the hallway toward the pediatric unit, she caught the all-too familiar institutional scent of antiseptic and floor wax that had perfumed so much of her life.
At the nurses station, the nurse on duty stared at her a moment. A slender woman with dark hair wearing light blue scrubs, she laughed. “They told me a clown was coming, but wow! You look great. The kids will love you.”
“I certainly hope so.” Sarah dug into her tote and handed Lori Tame a badge to pin on her brightly colored nurse’s jacket. In bold red letters it read MY HERO. “Hey, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Sarah had the greatest respect for nurses and all they did, particularly pediatric nurses. It could be a tough, heart-breaking job. “Anything special I need to know about your patients before I make my rounds?”
“We have eleven patients on our census this morning. If you have the time, the little boy in two-seventeen could use some extra attention. Shane’s our only cancer patient at the moment and he’s on a chemo drip. His parents both work long hours so he doesn’t get many visitors.”
“I’ll make the time,” Sarah promised.
One room at a time, she visited the children. For adolescents she demonstrated Dr. Zoom and gave them a few tips about ventriloquism. She had a ton of groaner knock-knock jokes for kids in their middle years. Younger children she gave finger puppets that she’d made, doctors with silly glasses and patients in gowns that flapped open just like the ones the children were wearing.
When she reached room two-seventeen, she peered around the door. Her lungs constricted on painful memories of her own childhood chemo experience and her heart went out to the youngster in the bed. No more than six or seven, his bald head and face looked like a full moon, but much paler. He appeared small and fragile, vulnerable as he stared transfixed by a cartoon show on the television. An IV hooked up to his arm pumped poison into his bloodstream in the hope of curing whatever cancer afflicted the youngster before it had a chance to kill him.
Before stepping into the room, she took a deep breath, forced her fear for the child’s future to the back of her mind and locked it there. Giving him a chance to smile, a laugh or two, could help him win his life-threatening battle.
“Hey, there. Somebody told me the cutest kid on the floor was in this room. Have you seen him?”
Startled, he blinked and glanced toward Sarah. “Nuh-uh.”
“You haven’t seen him?” She gestured broadly, arms held wide, as though she were in the circus big top playing to an audience of thousands. “He’s got to be here some where.”
“I don’t think so.” He spoke in a tiny, almost fearful voice, apparently unsure what to make of her.
“Maybe he’s under the bed.”
His eyes widened. He shook his head.
Making a big deal of it, she got down on her knees to look, then quickly duck-walked to the other side of the bed and popped up, surprising the boy.
“My name’s Suzy-Q and I’m a clown. Are you sure you haven’t seen that cute kid they told me about?”
Thoroughly puzzled, his gazed darted around the room in confusion. “I’m the only kid here.”
“Well, let me think.” She placed her fingertip on her chin. “They said he was about six or seven years old and bald as a cucumber.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m bald.”
She intentionally waggled her head, making her orange curls bobble back and forth. “Hmm, so you are. I hadn’t noticed. How old are you?”
“Six-and-a-half.”
“What a coincidence! Maybe Dr. Zoom can help us out.” She dug into her tote and pulled out the dummy, holding him on the security rail of the boy’s bed.
“Vhat are you doing, waking me up from my nap?” Dr. Zoom complained in his fake German voice. “Vhat is this place?” His head spun around, and the little boy giggled.
“It’s a hospital,” Sarah said.
“Vhat? Am I sick? Nobody told me I vas sick.” He grabbed his stethoscope and put it to his chest. “Oh, my, this is very serious.”
“What’s serious, Dr. Zoom?”
He looked up at Sarah, then dropped his head. “I haf no heartbeat.”
“Of course not. You’re a dummy.”
“I’m a vhat?”
“A dummy, but we need your help. We’re looking for a little boy but I don’t know his name.”
“So?” He leaned over toward the boy. “Vhat’s your name, kid?”
The child giggled again. “Shane.”
“He’s Shane! Dr. Zoom, you’ve found him.” She feigned amazement. “Shane’s the cute kid I was looking for.”
Shane grinned, a smile broad enough that it reached his big blue eyes and made them twinkle. The spark of delight she saw was more reward than most people got from a lifetime of work.
“Dat is good. Now I can go back to taking my nap, ya?”
“If you insist, Dr. Zoom. And thank you so much for your help.”
She slid the dummy back into her tote. Shane peered over the edge of his bed to watch Dr. Zoom vanish.
“He’s silly,” the boy said.
“Yes, he is. Look what I brought you.” From her tote she pulled out a CUTE KID sticker. “Where do you want this. On your gown? Or right in the middle of your forehead where everyone can see it.”
“I dunno.”
“Tell you what. I’ll put the sticker on your gown and paint a pretty flower on your face.”
His forehead furrowed above what should have been pale eyebrows but were now as hairless as his head. His bloodless lips turned upside down. “A flower?”
“What? You don’t like flowers? Hmm…” She did her little jig and twirled around. “Ahoy there, matey! How ’bout a pirate flag instead? Hardy-har-har,” she sang in her best pirate voice, twirling a make-believe mustache.
“Yeah.” He grinned, a positively wicked little-boy smile that made Sarah want to pump her fist in the air and cheer. “A pirate flag instead,” he echoed.
“You got it, cute kid.”
For the next half hour, Sarah used face paint to create two pirate flags, one on each of his p
ale cheeks. She talked as she worked, telling him how she’d had chemo, too, and look at her now.
“Will my hair come in orange like yours?” A giggle escaped and he rubbed his bald head as though making a wish on a Yoda doll.
Laughing along with him, her heart did its own little dance of joy. She gave the boy a quick hug before calling it a day and heading home.
Home to Kurt and the Rocking R.
Later that afternoon as dinnertime approached, Beth stood at the kitchen counter dressed in shorts and a tank top. She stared at her grandmother’s fried chicken recipe that she’d written on lined notebook paper.
“It says to dredge the chicken in flour. What does that mean?” she asked.
“You roll the chicken pieces in flour.” Not that Sarah thought she was a great cook, but she’d figured that one out sometime ago. She’d changed into shorts and a tee when she returned from the hospital. The kitchen was really too warm to fix anything for dinner except a light salad, but she’d promised Beth.
“Why don’t they just say roll in flour instead of dredge?”
“Beats me, honey. I think cooks have a secret code or something.”
Beth shot her a grin. “Mom was a pretty good cook.”
“So I understand.”
Using her finger to mark where she was on the recipe, she said, “Wonder why Mom didn’t teach me how to cook?”
Interesting question. “Maybe she thought you had other things you’d rather do. But now you want to learn. Using your grandmother’s recipes is a good way to begin.”
“I guess.” She studied the recipe again. “It says we need to melt a bunch of butter and lard in a big skillet. Ugh. Lard is gross.”
Too true. Sarah could feel her arteries hardening already. “Let’s follow the recipe as best we can this time. Then, if you want to, next time you can make some changes.”
Agreeing that would work, Beth proceeded to roll the chicken in flour, followed by eggs and crushed corn flakes. The messy process resulted in gobs of the mixture blobbing onto the counter and the floor.
The chicken sizzled and spattered when Beth dropped chicken pieces into the hot fat. As she added more pieces, she had to crowd them into the frying pan.
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