Chapter Ten

THE SCOUT TROOP MET IN THE SOCIAL ROOM AT Church of the Good Shepherd. The boys started to straggle in a little before six o’clock, hauling in their bedrolls and duffel bags for James to check for the trip. At the last meeting he’d given them each a list of what they’d need.

“Okay, guys. Settle down. No more roughhousing.” Some of the boys were playing King of the Mountain on one of the long folding tables used by the church. While not acceptable behavior, James understood their excitement about the upcoming camping trip. He was pretty jazzed too, despite his worry about leaving Fern overnight. “Spread out around the room, dump out the contents of your duffels and get out your checklists.”

The boys, all seventh and eighth graders, erupted into action, each vying for a spot to display the contents of his bag.

“Hey, Pete. You’ve got enough stuff there to go camping for a week,” one of the boys teased.

“Mom said I had to bring two of everything in case I get my socks and pants soaked.”

A neighboring boy nudged his buddy. “I’m sure not gonna carry Pete’s duffel. It’s gotta weigh a ton.”

James interrupted the teasing, saying, “Listen up, guys. Stand by your duffel so I know which one belongs to you. And let’s keep it down to a low roar, okay?”

He made his way around the room, eyeballing the gear the boys had packed: canteen, mess kit, long johns, extra wool socks, heavy hiking boots. He expected there’d be snow on the ground, and it was sure to be cold. Safety was his number one priority. With a few exceptions, the boys had followed the packing list to a T.

“Nelson, you and a buddy get two tents from our storage closet. We’re going to practice putting up the tents outside.” The troop was very fortunate that the church allowed them to store some of the troop’s gear in the rec room, otherwise it all would have been stuffed into James’s garage at home.

Over the years, the church grounds had expanded, the result of the owner of the adjacent property deeding the acreage to Good Shepherd after he passed away. The church had installed volleyball and basketball courts, a softball field and a small playground. The church used the area for various retreats and programs and rented it out to other community groups as well.

James directed the boys to a large grassy area near the picnic pavilion, which was lit by floodlights. For the purpose of erecting the tents, he divided the troop into two groups.

“First thing you do is put down a waterproof ground cover. Trust me, you’ll be glad you’ve got that ground cover if we’re camping in the snow. Now spread out the ground cover.” He watched as the boys managed that step with minimal effort and only one small complaint about sleeping on the hard ground.

“Now the tent,” he continued.

The process looked like a bunch of clumsy circus clowns had taken over the troop. Tents sagged. Poles collapsed. Kids got stuck inside and had to fight their way out.

By the time James had the tents straightened out and the boys had taken them down again to stow them away, James was exhausted and his sides ached from holding in his laughter.

On the way home in the van, Nelson said, “That was great, Dad. I can hardly wait for the camping trip.”

“Me too.” He mentally groaned, though, praying the Scouts would retain at least some small part of what they’d learned at the meeting that night.

On Wednesday, Mr. Varner called a meeting of employee representatives to discuss the impending pay cuts.

James had previously been chosen to serve on an employee grievance committee and so had Elena. They were joined in the conference room by Eddie Blaine, a hospital custodian and handyman, and Lori Neff, an admissions clerk. Pastor Tom was among the group as well.

With her usual efficiency, Penny Risser, Varner’s executive assistant, had arranged copies of the hospital budget, a yellow pad of paper and a pencil at each place at the long conference table. A huge white poinsettia had been placed on the counter behind the CEO.

James pulled the budget closer and flipped through the pages. It looked a lot more complicated than his household budget, involved millions of dollars and showed a huge deficit. Turning off a few lights to save electricity wasn’t going to fix the hospital’s financial woes.

In his household, James didn’t think the effort would solve all of their problems, given the way the cost of Fern’s meds continued to skyrocket, but it was a start.

Albert Varner, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and tie, sat at the head of the table. He cleared his throat.

“I believe we’re all here,” he said. “We’ll begin with—”

Penny, who was sitting next to him, leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

“Well, yes,” he muttered. “We’re all here except Mr. McGarry, our financial officer. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly. But we can begin with the reason for this meeting.”

Eddie raised his hand. “Mr. Varner, with all due respect, if you’re going to announce an even bigger cut in our pay, you can kiss Hope Haven good-bye. The employees aren’t going to stand for that. I’m telling you, we’ll stage a walkout. Every last one of us.”

A red flush stained Varner’s cheeks. “No, no. That’s not why you’re here at all. In fact, preventing a walkout is exactly what I’m trying to do.”

James had heard a few rumblings about a walkout, but he didn’t think it was a serious threat. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“A lot of the office staff are really worried,” Lori said. In her forties, she’d always had a quick smile and friendly disposition. She wasn’t smiling now. “We’ve got several single mothers who are trying to support their families on what little they already make. Taking this big a cut is going to hurt them.”

“I’m aware of that.” His face still red, Varner shuffled through the papers in front of him. “That’s why I wanted to explain—have Mr. McGarry explain—why the cut is imperative if Hope Haven is to stay in business at all.”

Penny found the paper he was looking for and put it on top of his stack.

In a nervous gesture, he smoothed his dark hair away from his forehead. “You’ll see very clearly on page four that the projected income without the ten percent cuts in salary will not sustain the hospital.”

Papers rattled as everyone at the table searched for the page he was talking about.

“I need you, as employee representatives, to be able to explain why the cuts are so necessary. I want the employees to know—”

“It’d be better if you explained to the grocery store why the hospital employees can’t pay for their groceries next month,” Lori said.

“I understand,” Varner said, his voice conveying sincerity. “If it helps any, our entire executive staff—myself included—is taking the same ten percent cut in pay.”

“Bravo for you,” Eddie muttered under his breath.

Not wanting the discussion to get too far off track, James interrupted. “I think we ought to let Mr. Varner explain why the hospital is short of funds for the coming year. If we know why, then maybe we can help solve the problem instead of putting all the weight on his shoulders.”

“Yes, yes.” Fumbling with his handkerchief, Varner wiped his forehead. “Let me start from the beginning.”

Penny quickly rearranged her boss’s papers.

He cleared his throat again. “As you’ll see on page one, there are several factors that have created what you might call a perfect storm.”

He went on to delineate the funding sources, both public and private, that had reduced or eliminated their contributions to the hospital.

James tried to take notes, but the government jargon, the several insurance carriers involved and the names of various foundations became a confusing blur. The effect of the absent dollars was clear, however. Hope Haven had to cut expenses. The easiest expense to cut was employee salaries, which could be done by closing an entire medical unit, laying off employees or reducing everyone’s salary.

McGarry finally arrived and verified everything Varner had said as being the truth.

Varner concluded, “If we close medical units and lay off employees, the entire community will suffer. All of the services we offer are needed right here in Deerford. In lieu of that drastic measure, I made the painful decision to cut salaries by a relatively small amount in order to keep Hope Haven a full-service hospital. The board agreed.

“Meanwhile, I’m working as hard as I know how with our funding sources to get them to restore their grants or reimbursements to previous levels. And I’m working with new sources to replace those that can’t or won’t continue to support us.”

After more than an hour of discussion, Varner ended the meeting and Pastor Tom led the group in prayer. “Dear Lord, once again we bring the problems of Hope Haven Hospital to You to seek Your help and guidance. We humbly ask that You give Albert Varner the wisdom and strength to protect the work we all do in Your name at Hope Haven and give us the understanding to face an uncertain future with courage and determination. We ask this in Your name. Amen.”

The weight of hopelessness settled like a stone in James’s chest. He’d simply have to find a way to live with a smaller salary. He could see no other choice.

As he and Elena walked upstairs to go back to work, she nudged him. “You’re looking all gloom and doom.”

“I guess you didn’t notice, things aren’t looking all bright and cheerful at the moment.” He pushed open the door to the second floor and held it for her.

She stepped through the door and stopped in front of him. “Come on now, James. What’s happened to your sanguineness?”

Frowning, he shook his head. This was no time for spelling games. “What’s bloodred have to do with the hospital’s budget problems? Except that’s the color of the balance sheet.”

“Ha! Gotcha!” she said with a grin. “Sanguineness means bloodred, but it also means optimistic. I looked it up. And you’re the most optimistic guy I know.”

A reluctant smile curled his lips. “You’re right, you got me.”

“Then I say let’s be optimistic. Let’s get everybody thinking and praying about ways we can help the hospital. It can’t hurt. And who knows? Together we might come up with a solution that would turn Varner’s balance sheet back to black.”

James appreciated Elena’s pep talk, but it didn’t buoy his spirits a great deal. He was far too aware of Fern’s deteriorating health and his inability to help her, plus his upcoming overnight camping trip with the Scouts.

The thought of leaving her and being two hours from home if she needed him knotted his stomach and made his palms slick with sweat.

The scent of stew simmering in the slow cooker greeted Anabelle when she arrived home that afternoon. She shrugged out of her coat and hung it up.

Her search for Cameron took her outside. The horse they were boarding for their neighbor girl came to the corral fence, lifting her head in greeting.

For the moment, she ignored the horse. Instead, she walked to the barn where she found Cam kneeling on the ground surrounded by long planks of plywood, bags of potting mix, plastic water pipe and a rolled-up sheet of heavy plastic. He had on his old work pants and a jacket that had seen better days.

“My goodness! What are you up to, Cam?” The unheated barn was chilly and she rubbed her arms against the cool air.

“I’m building a greenhouse.” He stood and massaged the small of his back. “I’m going to start some perennials: black-eyed susans, delphiniums, cone flowers and a couple of lavender plants. Come spring, Evan will be able to put them right in the ground and won’t have to buy them from a wholesaler.”

“What a good idea. Evan will be pleased, I’m sure.”

“We talked about doing this last year, and I never got around to it. Thought I’d better get busy this year. I’m going to set it up to use the barn as a windbreak and lay out the whole contraption so it faces south and gets the most sun possible.”

It pleased her that Cam had found a project to keep him busy. He was always happier when he had something constructive to do.

“I’m going to go change clothes. The stew smelled delicious when I came through the house. Thank you for getting dinner started.” Since he’d retired, Cam had been good about helping around the house, for which she was very grateful.

“Before you go, lass, there’s something I’d like to ask you.”

The slight edginess in the tone of his voice gave her a niggling feeling of unease. “What’s that, dear?”

“I found a picture on the kitchen table this morning of the kids when they were young playing with Skipper.”

“Yes?” She produced her most innocent expression. “The children always had such fun with Skipper.”

He grunted a noncommittal sound. “Then, when I sat down at the computer to check my e-mail, I found someone had printed out an article about how the elderly benefit from having pets to take care of.”

“Really? What else did the article say?” She didn’t actually think either she or Cam qualified as elderly yet, but that time wasn’t too far off.

“You’re still thinking about getting a dog, aren’t you?”

Her shoulders slumped and she gave up her pretense. “Cam, I went by the animal shelter Monday after work. I wasn’t going to bring the puppy home. Honestly, I wasn’t. I was only going to take a peek and come on home. But—” Her throat tightened on her fear for the puppy. “He’s absolutely adorable and so friendly. But if no one adopts him by Christmas…”

Taking off his old gardening hat, Cam ran his fingers through his gray hair, then resettled his hat on his head. “They’ll put him down, right?”

“It’s so unfair. He’s such a darling boy.”

“I’m still not thrilled by the idea of having a dog.”

“I know. Maybe if you went to see him…” She knew Cameron rarely denied her anything she really wanted. But this seemed like a battle she might lose. That left her feeling empty inside, as though someone had torn a baby from her womb.

He looked off toward the far end of the barn and sighed. “I’m not going to tell you that you can’t have a dog, Annie. You know how I feel about it, and we’ll leave it at that.”

Anabelle wasn’t sure how to react now. She could adopt the puppy, but it would still be against Cam’s wishes.

“I simply can’t bear to think what will happen to the poor little guy if no one adopts him. I told the young man at the shelter that if no one else adopted the puppy by Christmas, I would. I’d pick him up Christmas Eve—tomorrow.”

“So be it.” With a nod, Cameron turned back to his greenhouse project.