Chapter Six

JAMES CLOCKED OUT AT THREE, THANKFUL TO BE leaving. Once he’d come off the adrenaline high, he’d gone into a slump. He wished now he’d said something to Anabelle and Elena about Gideon. They might have been able to offer some sage advice. Unfortunately, he’d taken an even later lunch than they had.

James had reservations about his son's going into the military; especially knowing what combat could do to a soldier. He remembered all too clearly arguing with his parents about the same thing. His dad, a Vietnam War vet, still suffered effects of post-traumatic stress. His mother had cried every time James mentioned joining up.

But James was young and headstrong, not all that different from his son, and signed up anyway. He’d trained as a medic and saw enough action to know he didn't want that kind of life for his son. Neither did he want to argue with Fern. James didn't suffer from debilitating flashbacks like some vets did, but he had the memories. One scene in particular came to mind. He’d been choppered in with another medic to take care of children who were in school when a bomb hit. James closed his mind to what he had seen. No, Gideon should never have to experience the ravages of war.

James noticed the dark clouds moving toward them and hoped it didn't mean another heavy rainstorm. In the locker room, he shed his work shoes and scrubs and donned the still-damp clothes from this morning. Nothing like getting into wet jeans and tennis shoes. One good thing about it, though, was he wouldn't have to worry about getting rained on again.

James headed home, hoping Fern's mood had improved. Gideon's as well. Though he didn't feel responsible for the arguments this morning, he planned to apologize and to patch things up with Fern.

He wished he had an answer for Gideon, but he still needed time to think and pray on the subject. His son deserved to be rewarded for his good grades. So far he’d managed to stay out of trouble and James couldn't have been more grateful.

On the way home, James stopped at the grocery store to pick up some pink roses. While there he shopped for items they might need for dinner like prewashed baby spinach leaves and raspberry sherbet.

Once home, James parked in the garage, collected his purchases and went in via the kitchen door.

“Hey, sweetheart.” James set the bag of groceries on the counter.

“I’m in here.”

He carried his peace offering into the living room. The walker beside Fern told him she’d had a rough day. On good days, she managed with a cane.

“For me?” Fern's grin lit up her face. “I should be the one bringing you flowers.”

He placed the bouquet in her arms and bent down to kiss her. While he was bent over, he greeted Sapphire, Fern's four-year-old Maine Coon cat and constant companion. The cat meowed a greeting of her own, stretching up to keep the chin scratches coming.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you this morning. It's just that Gideon is still a boy. He's too young to be thinking about the military.” Her speech came slower than it had that morning, but he still managed to understand most of what she said.

“I tend to agree; but he is thinking military, and we’ll have to address that.” He smiled. “But not right now. We’ll talk with him as soon as the opportunity presents itself. At the moment, I need to find a vase for the roses and take a shower before I start dinner.”

James kissed her again and started for the laundry room off the kitchen. Finding a suitable vase, he removed the plastic wrap around the flowers and filled the vase with water. He sprinkled in the packet of food that was supposed to keep cut flowers fresh and arranged the roses and greenery. He then carried the bouquet in and set it on the coffee table with a flourish.

“You missed your calling.” Fern grinned up at him. “You would have made a great florist.”

He chuckled. “I don't think so. I barely know the difference between a rose and a carnation.”

He sat down on the couch next to her pausing to admire Fern's cute face, framed in a pixielike hairstyle that she kept short so it was easier for her to handle. Her cocoa brown eyes met his. “What are you looking at?”

“You. Just thinking about how beautiful you are.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, her smile gone. “Don't you mean were?”

“No.” He pulled her into his arms. “I mean are.”

They snuggled for a few minutes before being interrupted by their thirteen-year-old barreling through the front door.

Nelson dropped his backpack where he stood. “Sheesh, I can't believe my parents are kissing and stuff in the front room. What if I’d brought a friend home?”

“Oh, the horror of it all.” James rose from the couch to meet Nelson as he crossed the room. Giving his son a hug, he said, “I’d think you’d be used to us by now.”

“Yeah, well I guess it's better than fighting.” Nelson maneuvered around the coffee table and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek and endured another hug.

“How was the swimming?” Fern asked. Nelson had spent the afternoon with his Scout group at the community pool.

He straightened. “Good. I’m close to getting my badge.” Nelson hadn't taken much interest in sports—preferring books and computers. James often shot hoops with the boys but could tell Nelson wasn't exactly crazy about the game. Still, James insisted his sons get some exercise every day, so hoops and Scouts seemed just the thing.

“Where is your brother?” James asked.

Nelson shrugged. “I have no idea. I didn't want to wait, so Cody's mother brought me home.”

“Ah. Listen, why don't you shower and get dressed. Then I will attempt to feed you.”

“Then can I play my computer game afterward?”

“We’ll see.”

Nelson hooked the strap of his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the stairs.

James rested his hands on the sofa arm and leaned over to kiss Fern on her forehead. “Do you need anything before I take a shower?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

James took his time in the shower, mentally scrolling through his long list of things to do that evening. With Fern growing weaker and less able to handle household chores, he had to take on more.

He hoped the MS would go into remission again. This summer he’d had the boys pitch in, but with school starting soon, he might need some outside help. Fern had family nearby. Her parents and sister, Beth, were always willing to help out. As much as he hated asking for assistance, he might not have much choice.

Feeling normal again, James dressed in a Miami Beach T-shirt and khaki shorts and hurried downstairs. He paused at the bottom when he saw Fern reading her large-print book. She held it close to her face to compensate for her worsening vision.

“Blurry vision again?”

“I’m not good for anything anymore. I can't even read.”

“Honey, don't do this to yourself. Try not to get so down.”

“I know, it's just that days like this, I have to work very hard to keep from…” Tears gathered in her eyes.

James caught them on his forefinger and kissed her on the nose. “Well, Princess Cries-a-lot. Pity party is over. I need your assistance in the kitchen.”

“Oh.” She squealed in surprise as James swooped her into his arms. He carried her into the large kitchen/dining room area then set her on a special safety chair at the counter where she was elevated and could coach him while he worked. He made a quick trip back into the living room for the flowers and set them on the counter. Sapphire protested with a chirpy whine and jumped off the couch. Seconds later she had settled in the kitchen near Fern's feet.

“How about a steak and spinach salad for dinner?” James asked.

“Sounds perfect. You’d better make potatoes for the boys.”

“I’ll roast enough for all of us. I could use some comfort food myself.”

For the next few minutes they talked about their day. James told her about Dr. Hamilton's heart attack and the part he had played in it. He still had a hard time believing it had really happened.

“Oh, James, how awful. Is he okay?”

“I sure hope so. He's the best doctor Hope Haven has.” He set the opened bag of baby spinach in front of her with a bowl.

“I hope so too.”

“Did you make it to the health club today?” Physical therapy was an important factor in her care, but since she could no longer drive, they had to depend on friends and family to take her there.

She nodded. “Beth came over this morning to help. She took me and brought me back.” Fern frowned as she picked through the spinach leaves and dumped them into the bowl.

“Is something wrong?”

“It's just that I hate asking Beth and my parents to help me so often. Maybe we need to look into home health care for me.” She tipped her head to one side. “Am I bad enough for that?”

He grinned at her as his stomach took a tumble. “You’re not bad at all.” He didn't want to face that obstacle just yet, though he supposed they would have to sooner rather than later.

On Monday at five, Anabelle was more than ready to go home. She’d caught up on her paperwork, but wanted to check her patients one more time before leaving. She was especially concerned about Olga and Dr. Drew.

Anabelle slipped into Olga's room and crossed over to her bedside. “You’re looking better.” The elderly woman was awake and looking more relaxed. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good. The doctor says she can fix me up as good as new.”

“Great. Did you get the message that your daughter called?”

“I got it.”

“And did you talk with her?”

“Nope. Why is she calling me? I told you I didn't want her to know.”

Anabelle splayed her hands. “Actually we didn't call her. Christina did.”

“Uff-da. That girl. Always poking her nose into my business.” She smiled then. “The girl acts just like my own daughter wanting to help with this and that.”

“I’m sure she's trying to be a good neighbor. Would you like me to phone your daughter so you can talk to her? She's worried about you.”

“Well she shouldn't be. I can worry enough for the both of us.” Olga clasped her hands together and examined her antique garnet ring. “I suppose I should talk to her. Tell her she doesn't have to come.”

“At least let her know what happened and what the doctor said.” Anabelle couldn't imagine not wanting to have her children with her if she was sick. On the other hand, she could certainly sympathize with Olga. Like her patient, she wouldn't want to be a burden and she certainly wouldn't want to leave her home.

Anabelle punched in the numbers needed for the long-distance call and handed the phone to Olga. “I’m going home now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Olga gave her a wave and began talking to whoever had answered. The smile on her face made Anabelle's day.

She made one more stop, detouring into Dr. Hamilton's room. Genna had gone. Anabelle was both surprised and pleased to see Drew resting. His healthy tan had replaced his earlier pallor.

He turned to study her. “You still here?”

“I had some paperwork to catch up on.” Anabelle stepped closer to the bed.

“Humph.”

“Did Genna go home?”

“I wish she would. She just went to the cafeteria. Maybe you can talk her into going home and getting some rest.”

Anabelle smiled. “I don't think so. If you were in her shoes, would you go home?”

“No, but…”

“I rest my case.”

He moved his head from side to side. “They’ll be shipping me home tonight or tomorrow, if Hildie ever gets back to write my orders.”

“So soon?”

“I don't need to be taking up a bed in Cardiac Care. If she doesn't hurry up, I might have to write the orders myself.”

“You may be improved, but you don't want to leave here too soon. I’m glad you’re feeling better, but you and I both know you need to take it easy.”

“You’re worse than Genna.” His half smile softened his grouchy tone.

He glanced out the window and then let his gaze slide back to Anabelle. She saw worry there, a glimpse of fear. Then it was gone.

“Hi, Anabelle,” Genna said as she came in. “Is my husband complaining again?”

They chatted for a few minutes. Dr. Drew was beginning to sound like his old self. Anabelle hoped his improvement was genuine and not just a ruse to get himself released sooner than was wise.

“I’d best be heading home.” Glancing out the window, Anabelle shuddered. “Those dark clouds are getting too close for comfort.”