ALTHOUGH HOWIE’S EIGHTH BIRTHDAY WAS officially on January 11, it fell on a Wednesday, so Candace decided to have his birthday party the prior Saturday. She rented the YMCA’s indoor swimming pool for the event.
“I had no idea ten little boys could make so much noise.” Sitting next to the pool, Candace kept her eye on Howie and his splashing, screaming, cannonballing friends.
Wearing a swimsuit, Heath sat on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling in the water. “It’s a talent we guy types treasure.”
“Little-girl parties are much more subdued.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Candace. “But are they as much fun?”
“If we have a little girl, you may find out.”
He winked at her. “I can hardly wait.”
Unlike Howie, Heath didn’t seem to care whether they had a boy or a girl. They both simply wanted a healthy child.
Maybe a child a little quieter than Howie, she thought as his Tarzan cry echoed through the pool area before he did a cannonball into the deep end. A wave of water washed over his buddies. Fortunately all the boys had taken swimming lessons. While they wouldn’t set any records, Candace was confident they wouldn’t drown either.
Still, she kept an eagle eye on them, frequently counting heads as they bobbed to the surface. It didn’t matter that there was a lifeguard on duty. The boys were her responsibility.
The pool area smelled of chlorine, the air overly warm and humid, making Candace’s stomach queasy. She’d be so glad when she got past the first trimester and her tummy settled down. She couldn’t remember having ever eaten so many saltine crackers.
Blessedly, the time they had the pool to themselves came to an end.
While Heath rounded up the boys, Candace went into the adjacent room where Brooke had set the table with paper plates and cups, and Janet had put out the sheet cake she’d baked. A rocket ship made of red icing filled the center of the cake.
“I bet all the boys are going to want a piece of cake with the red icing,” Candace commented. “They’ll be covered with it by the time they go home.”
“Fortunately I brought along an unlimited supply of hand wipes.” Janet held up an entire box full of wipes.
Candace could only hope that would be enough. The YMCA probably wouldn’t approve of her sending all the boys back to the pool to wash off the sticky icing.
The boys came storming into the room, wrapped in towels, shivering, their suits still dripping.
It took all the adults plus Brooke to maintain a semblance of order while Howie opened his presents, a mammoth collection of action figures and high-speed race cars.
Finally, they served the cake and ice cream, and there was momentary silence as the boys dug in.
With a headache blooming, Candace leaned against Heath. “Maybe I should start praying we have a girl.”
His chest rumbled with laughter, and he kissed her on top of the head. “Boy or girl, you’ll be a great mom.”
Saturday evening, Anabelle talked Cam into taking her to dinner at the Heritage House, the most upscale restaurant in Deerford.
The hostess led them to one of the private rooms on the first floor. Formerly a private home that Abraham Lincoln visited as a young attorney, the ambience was mid-1800s with wall sconces, dark wood floors, and Victorian-style furniture. A kelly-green cloth covered their table, and a single candle cast a romantic light across the highly polished silverware.
Once seated, Cam leaned back in his chair. He was actually wearing a jacket and tie, a rare occurrence for him. His gray hair and mustache were neatly trimmed.
“All right, lass. It’s not our anniversary or your birthday. What occasion are we celebrating?”
“None, really. I wanted a quiet place where we could talk without being interrupted by the phone or people dropping in—”
“Or by Sarge and his antics.”
She smiled. “That too.”
“Well, then, it’s your choice of topic.”
Fiddling with the silverware, Anabelle took a deep breath. “Yesterday Albert Varner offered me the nursing administrator job.”
“That sounds to me like something to celebrate.” His eyes twinkling in the candlelight, he lifted his water glass for a toast.
“Not yet, it isn’t. I haven’t decided whether to take the job or not.”
He took a sip of water and then set his glass down. “Seems to me you’ve been thinking about the promotion for a week or so. You’re usually quick to make a decision.”
“I know. But this time…” She rubbed her temple. “The idea of a promotion always sounds so nice. Others have been very kind, saying I’d be good at the job.”
“You would be.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. It’s all paperwork and recruiting new nurses and attending meetings. That’s not what I’m trained to do. I’m trained to treat patients and help them get well.”
“Which is what you do in your current job. So turn down the promotion. We don’t need the extra money.”
The young waiter arrived to take their orders.
Anabelle hurried to open the velvet-covered menu and scanned the selections.
“I can give you a few minutes, if you’d like,” the waiter said.
“No, I’m ready. The Cornish game hen will be fine with a salad, the house dressing on the side.”
Cam ordered a steak, medium well, and the tomato bisque.
When the waiter left, Anabelle licked her dry lips and took a sip of water. “What would you think if I decided to retire?”
His eyes widened slightly. He looked as though he was trying to hold back a gigantic grin. “That would be great, luv. We’d have more time to spend together.”
“But what would I do with all that time? You’ve got the nursery, helping Evan when he needs something. I can’t just sit around for the next twenty years making quilts, at least not twenty-four hours a day.” Certainly the arthritis in her hands would flare up and turn very painful if she did too much handwork. Machine work was much easier on her hands.
His lips twitched into the smile he’d been holding back. “You could always pander to my every wish. I’ve heard some women do that.”
“Ha!” She waved off his suggestion as being not worthy of a response. “I’m serious. I’ve worked for so many years, it’s hard for me to imagine not going to the hospital almost daily.”
“Hmm, let me think.” He started ticking off ideas on his fingers. “We’d have more time to run to Chicago to visit Kirstie.”
That would be on the plus side for retiring, she thought.
“Money wouldn’t be a problem. You’ll have a nice pension.”
True enough.
“You could spend more time with Ainslee, particularly once she has the new baby.”
“I’d like that,” Anabelle agreed. “Working, I haven’t had as much time with Lindsay Belle as I would have liked.”
“There, you see? For that reason alone, it’s high time you retire.”
The waiter brought Cam’s soup and Anabelle’s salad. She sprinkled a few drops of dressing on the butter lettuce and took a couple of thoughtful bites. With Evan and Maureen planning marriage, she’d have two more grandchildren she’d enjoy getting to know. She could take them places, maybe on picnics during the summer.
Cam tasted a couple of spoonfuls of soup. “Come to think of it, if you were retired, you could go to some of those national quilting shows you’re always reading about.”
“I could,” she agreed, although she wasn’t big on traveling. “There’s one in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in March. That’s Amish country, so the quilts are especially lovely.”
“There, you see? Being retired doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”
She twirled a piece of lettuce in some dressing. “My problem with quitting the hospital altogether is that I’d miss my friends. I’ve worked with some of those people for almost all of my thirty-plus years at Hope Haven. It’s hard to walk away from all of that.”
“Just because you retire doesn’t mean you can’t drop into the hospital from time to time to have lunch with them. Or have them over to dinner at our house,” he said reasonably. “I see my old buddies at Rotary meetings and the men’s prayer group at church.”
“True.” Because of her work, she hadn’t been as active in her church as much as she might have liked. Another possible plus on the side of retirement.
“When do you have to give Varner your answer?”
A knot tightened in her stomach. “Next week. He’ll need to offer someone else the job as soon as possible if I decide to turn it down. If I decide to take the job, he’ll want me to start right away. He doesn’t want to leave the position vacant too long.”
Cam shoved his empty soup bowl aside. “Whatever happens, luv, I’ll support your decision. You know that, don’t you?”
She did. Which made the decision all that much more difficult. It wouldn’t affect just her. Cam would be affected one way or another as well.
Elena was eager to get to work early on Monday morning.
In the employees’ lounge, she spread out the brochures Cesar had brought home from the travel agent.
“Our trip to Spain is back on,” she announced. “We leave February 19.”
“That’s wonderful!” Candace said. “After all the trouble you had because of the blizzard, I’m glad you’ve rescheduled your trip.”
“Yes, and we’re going to be there for Carnival, which is a really big deal in Spain. Our first stop is Cádiz. They have a provincial contest for singing groups at Teatro Falla. That’s the name of the theater where they all perform.” She flipped open a brochure to show them the picture. “Just look at these costumes. Have you ever seen anything more elaborate?”
James peered over Candace’s shoulder. “I’m not sure I’d want to wear a lace-trimmed shirt like that guy. Particularly not in pink.”
“No, no, it’s perfect.” Elena laughed. “All the men dress up like this. It’s the custom.”
“I have enough trouble wearing an Uncle Sam–striped top hat for the Fourth of July. I think I’ll pass on a Carnival costume.”
Standing nearby, Anabelle said, “I’m sure you and Cesar will have a wonderful time.”
James noticed that Anabelle was unusually quiet this morning. Maybe she’d had a tiring weekend.
He glanced at his watch. “Gotta get to work, ladies. You’d better take lots of pictures while you’re in Spain, Elena. Otherwise I’ll never believe the guys actually wear those costumes.”
“Oh, I will. You’ll see for yourself, I promise.”
James winked at Elena and then made for the stairs to the second floor. Dr. Drew was planning to discharge Trisha Witten this morning. He imagined the entire family would come to escort her home. The difference between how sick Witten had been before her liver transplant and how much healthier she’d been looking recently was nothing less than a miracle.
A miracle due in large measure to the driver of the snowplow who had pulled James out of the ditch.
Determined to thank the driver, James had made phone calls to the Deerford Street Department, the state police, and anyone else he could think of. Nobody claimed credit for sending a plow out to rescue him.
Shaking his head, he concluded he’d never know who the driver had been or where he’d come from. James would have to chalk it up to the mysterious way the Lord intervened when He was most needed.
He checked the patient census in his unit, delivered meds as needed, and made notes on the appropriate records. By the time he finished, Dr. Drew arrived with the discharge papers for Mrs. Witten.
“Her vitals are excellent this morning,” the doctor said. “With help at home, she should manage quite well. I’ve arranged for her to see Dr. Hildebrand by the end of the week.”
“Looks like Mrs. Witten will make it to her daughter’s wedding.”
“As long as she follows the orders and takes her meds properly, she’ll be dancing with her husband that night.” Dr. Drew signed off on Witten’s discharge.
The doctor left to return to his office, and James gathered up the paperwork. He made a call to the volunteer coordinator’s office, notifying them of the patient’s discharge.
A few minutes later, Phyllis Getty, wearing her kelly-green volunteer jacket, arrived striding down the hall with a wheelchair.
“Heard you’ve got a passenger for me.” For a tiny woman who was well into her eighties, her voice carried like that of a drill sergeant.
“You heard right. A very special lady who is soon to be the mother of the bride.”
“Lovely,” she barked. “I adore weddings.”
He led Phyllis to Mrs. Witten’s room. Dressed in a comfortable jogging outfit, she was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Phyllis wheeled the chair up to the bed and set the brake. “Now’s your chance to be queen for the day. I’m here to whiz you off to your fairy-tale adventure.”
Mrs. Witten laughed. “I’m afraid I’m moving too slow these days to be whizzed anywhere.”
“I’m guessing your family will be spoiling you for the next several days, which is your due as their honored matriarch.”
“You’ve got that right,” Neil Witten said. He helped his wife ease into the wheelchair. “She’s not going to lift a finger except to get her strength back.”
“I’ve got your toiletries and extra nightgown, Mom,” Tammy said.
Phyllis handed Trisha two of the flower arrangements that had adorned a wall shelf. “You hang on to those, and your husband will carry the other two.”
Neil did as he was told.
“Okay, I’ll lead.” Phyllis wheeled the chair around and aimed for the door. “You follow, and we’ll have no laggards. This beautiful lady is eager to get home where she belongs.”
Just before Trisha went out the door, she grabbed James’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough for what you did.”
“You can thank me best by having a long and happy life.” He glanced at Tammy. “And enjoying your grandchildren when they arrive.”
Tammy flushed, and Trisha squeezed his hand.
“Time’s a wasting, folks. Let’s move it along.”
James stood back to let them pass. A sense of pride and gratitude filled him. It was one of those moments when he knew the Lord had used him, Dr. Drew, and the rest of the staff of Hope Haven to do His healing work.
He wondered if he’d feel the same way about his job if the opportunity to move up to nurse supervisor were offered to him. How might the Lord use him in that role?