by Patti Berg
“You’ve caused a lot of unrest at the hospital.” He sat behind his desk, resting his elbows on a glass blotter that had photos of children beneath it, fingers steepled. His beady eyes glared at her from behind his acrimonious pose.
Elena’s nerves started to jitter, but she couldn’t let him get the best of her. “I don’t consider anything I’ve done troublemaking, Mr. Innisk. What I’ve done has all been in the interest of bringing Mr. Varner back to Hope Haven.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“Mr. Varner has always been loyal to Hope Haven. He was instrumental in saving the hospital from closure a few months ago. And, as you can see from this petition”—Elena took the stapled sheets of paper out of the notebook she’d been carrying and placed them on his desk, pushing them across to where his elbows rested—“a large percentage of Hope Haven’s staff strongly believes that Mr. Varner should be reinstated.”
“Releasing him was a board decision. It was not done without great thought.”
“From what I’ve heard, it was done when the board told him to cut the children’s ward and Pediatrics Intensive Care Unit from the hospital’s budget.”
Elena opened her folder again and drew out an inch-thick stack of legal-sized white paper with even more names written on them. “This petition was circulated over a year ago and presented to the board at that time. All 2,833 names on the petition belong to citizens of Deerford who believe a PICU and children’s ward would be beneficial to Deerford.”
“You don’t know all that much about business, do you, Mrs. Rodriguez?”
“I know enough.”
“But not enough to realize that businesses operate on careful analysis of present and future economics, on long-term business plans, on the power of the dollar. Hope Haven is not operated on the power of a few petitions. It’s a business. In fact, it’s a corporation and as such, operates under the auspices of its board of directors.”
“Perhaps you don’t know why Hope Haven was founded.”
“I know the exact reasons, Mrs. Rodriguez.”
“Well, let me remind you, Mr. Innisk. Winthrop Jeffries believed a man’s soul should be nurtured and cared for as much as his body. He instilled in the people who worked for him, who built Hope Haven, the words from I Peter 5:2 that say, ‘Be shepherds of God’s flock that is under your care, serving as overseers—not because you must, but because you are willing, as God wants you to be; not greedy for money, but eager to serve.’”
The edge in Innisk’s voice softened. “This is not the world that Winthrop Jeffries lived in, Elena. A hospital can no longer operate on that premise.”
Elena was struck by how genuine he sounded. And how tired he looked. “Before I go, Mr. Innisk,” Elena said, pushing back the chair and standing. She leaned across Frederick Innisk’s desk and set a neatly typed piece of paper in front of him. “Perhaps you should contact the CEOs of these two companies that were ‘reorganized’ by your Mr. Bancroft. Or you might want to talk with the new owner of the companies, who stepped in and purchased them before they went bankrupt.”
“I haven’t heard anything about this.” Innisk ran his hand over his face. “I expected our vetting of him to check out.”
“Call them, Mr. Innisk. And I suggest you do it soon, before Mr. Varner has a chance to accept another job with another hospital. There are others who have looked at his record from Hope Haven, and they’ve been amazed to see the earnings curve the hospital had for quite a number of years. They’re also aware that Mr. Varner helped save Hope Haven from financial disaster a few months ago.”
“He wasn’t alone in saving the hospital.”
“Maybe not, but he was the CEO of Hope Haven at the time. You may not have recognized his importance during that crisis, but other hospitals have. He is in demand, Mr. Innisk. Surely the board of directors of Hope Haven won’t want to lose him completely.”
With that, Elena turned on her heel and walked out of Frederick Innisk’s office. Heart beating a mile a minute, she slid into her car, closed the door and nearly collapsed.
But she’d never felt so good in her life.
Chapter Twenty-Six
ELENA SAT ACROSS FROM CESAR INSIDE GERMAIN’S Ice Cream, the place on Deerford Square where they had gone on their first real date. She sipped on an extra large double chocolate malt; Cesar had a root beer float. Just like old times, except that they were a little older.
Maybe a little wiser.
“You look awfully tired tonight,” Cesar said, reaching across the table to hold her hand, as he had all those years ago.
“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. Church. Work. The Harvest Festival. You.” She smiled. “Not necessarily in that order.”
“Do you miss the choir?”
“I’ve only missed one week of practice, but no, I didn’t miss it at all.”
Cesar stirred the ice cream around in the tall, opaque glass, staring at the swirling drink, as if there were something troubling him.
“Something wrong?” Elena asked.
He looked up slowly. “What is it about going to church that you like so much?”
In her wildest dreams, she hadn’t expected that question. “I suppose if I put a list of reasons on paper there’d be a lot of them. Mostly, going to church, believing in the Lord, gives me a great sense of peace that I can’t explain. When I walk into church—not just Holy Trinity, but any church—I’m filled with wonder and hope and joy. It’s like someone breathed new life into my lungs and made me stronger.”
Elena took a sip of her malt, thinking about the many reasons. “You know, when I sit here with you, I remember falling in love. The feeling that I was invincible. That my heart was ten times larger than it had ever been before and it beat faster. When you touched me, when you first told me you loved me, I thought I could never be happier.”
Cesar grinned. “Do you still feel that way?”
“I’m more in love with you today than I’ve ever been. When we’re together, I feel fulfilled, like every wish I could have ever wanted has been granted. And the more I’m with you, the more I want to be with you. And that’s the way I feel about going to church. The more I go, the closer I am to God, and that makes me want to go even more.”
“You can’t have that feeling just with me? That fulfillment?”
“If you weren’t in my life, I’d feel like half of me was missing. I wouldn’t be able to walk or talk or function at all. I’ve always felt that way.”
“But?” Cesar asked.
“I can’t say that loving God has made me love you more, but I believe that knowing God has made my heart bigger, which gives me even more room for the love I feel for you.” Elena laughed. “And now I’m sure I’m not making sense.”
“I think you are.” He slurped the last of his root beer float. “At least you’ve made me see that you’re not making a choice—God or me. You’ve shown me that having one makes the love for the other stronger.”
“That sounds pretty good.”
Cesar dug into his pocket for his wallet, put a couple of dollars down for a tip, and took out a couple more bills to take up to the cashier. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
Elena sipped on her malt until Cesar had finished paying the cashier, then slipped into her coat and they walked together out to her Jeep, parked next to his patrol car.
Standing at her car door, he put his arms around her. “Do you have a lot to do for the Harvest Festival this weekend?”
“I have some costumes to make for me and Izzy and you.”
“Me?”
Elena nodded. “An old-fashioned striped bathing suit.”
Cesar laughed. “There is no way I’m wearing anything like that.”
“Only in the dunk tank.” She grinned. “I was thinking you could dress as a scarecrow the rest of the time.”
“I’m beginning to think you should rejoin the choir and spend more time at practice—anything to keep you from drumming up ideas to torment me.”
“I’m spending my time tormenting others lately.”
“Who?”
“I paid Frederick Innisk an office visit today.”
Cesar’s eyes narrowed into a deep frown. “You did what?”
“Went to his office and gave him a piece of my mind about firing Albert Varner and tossed a piece of information at him that really threw him for a loop.”
“Something you want to share with me?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. But, there was something different about him today. Not that he was any nicer, but I expected him to have oil paintings of the guillotine or a hangman’s noose on his walls. But, no, he had a Chicago Cubs poster, another one of the Chicago Bulls, and both looked like they’d been autographed. He even had a photo of himself with Michael Jordan on his desk.”
“You’re not starting to think that he’s halfway human, are you?”
Elena shrugged. “I’d like to think that somewhere deep down inside the old buzzard there’s a heart of gold. But if it’s there, he doesn’t want anyone to know. And why that would be is anyone’s guess.”
Cesar laughed. “We can come up with some guesses when I get home tonight, but here’s something to think about.” He had a Cheshire cat grin on his face, which meant he was thinking something she might not like.
“Okay, hit me with it.”
“I’ve decided I’ll wear that old-fashioned swimsuit at the festival. But…you’re wearing one too. I think you’ll look awfully cute.”
“Do you have any more big ideas you want to share with me? I thought I was supposed to stop coming up with ideas. That I was supposed to cut my to-do list in half.”
Cesar kissed any further words away. “When it’s over, you’ll come up with another project, and I’ll probably get irritated. But I knew when I married you that I wasn’t going to be settling down with a couch potato. I married you because of who you are, a woman with a huge heart, and I don’t want you any other way.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
IT WAS TUESDAY, A MERE FOUR DAYS BEFORE THE Bread of Life Harvest Festival, and because God was obviously smiling down on everyone involved, all plans were going without a hitch.
“Did you see the Dispatch over the weekend?” Ainslee asked, her smile even more brilliant than normal. “Granted it’s not the biggest paper in Illinois, but the quilt got front-page coverage—in full color, and there was only one typo. They misspelled my name, but I can live with it.”
There was a round of applause from everyone in Zane McGarry’s office—Elena, Quintessa, Ainslee, Ginger and even Megan, who’d become a Harvest Festival volunteer extraordinaire right out of the chute.
“All donors have been given receipts for their auction items.” Quintessa jotted down a few notes, as if something new had just dawned on her. “Rafael Rodriguez, Elena’s son, will be at the festival with his band and will act as our emcee. He’ll also be our auctioneer.”
“I have everything under control for the face painting and balloon animal booth,” Megan said, “and as discussed, children under thirteen will be treated to balloons and face painting free of charge. Everything else I make will go toward the Habitat for Humanity fund.”
“I can’t believe how much you ladies have done in just a few days,” Elena said, her diet soda in hand. “Thank you so much for stepping up to help.”
“I’d apologize for dropping all my duties,” Ginger said, “but I’m just thrilled the doctors said I can go—as long as I don’t stand on my feet too long. And Steve’s off duty that day, so it’s going to be extra special.”
Ginger didn’t know just how special things really were, Elena thought, looking forward to surprising Ginger in just a few minutes.
“Any last questions about the festival?” Elena asked, looking around the room, but no hands were raised, no one said a word. “Okay, then, I guess we’re good to go.”
“Oh, wait, Elena, there is one more thing,” Ainslee said. “Megan and I put a bunch of decorations in the conference room that we’d like you and Quintessa to look at—and Ginger too, if you’re interested.”
“Of course I’m interested,” Ginger said. “Just don’t let me get overexcited about them or start volunteering to decorate. I’m trying my hardest to be good, but it’s been a chore.”
“Let’s go look at them now,” Quintessa said. “I need to get Zane’s office cleaned up and get back to work, so I’ll need to make this fast.”
Ginger held her back as she walked, as if she could be in pain, but Elena kept an eye on her, looking for any signs of exhaustion. All she saw was a smile.
Hallelujah!
“I’m getting to know this hospital so well I could find my way around in the dark,” Ginger said, as they walked out into the hall.
“Don’t mention dark and hospital in the same sentence, not around here,” Quintessa said. “We went through that a couple of months ago when the big storm hit. I hope we never, ever experience something like that again.”
“The whole thing was such a surprise,” Elena added. “It was like one moment the skies were quiet, then bam!”
Elena opened the door to the conference room for Ginger, and she stepped inside just as Quintessa flipped on the light switch.
“Surprise!”
Ginger’s hands flew to her chest. “Oh. My. Goodness.”
Candace rushed toward Ginger with a wheelchair and insisted she sit down. “Doctor’s orders. Mine too.” Candace helped Ginger put her feet up on the footrests and stuffed a skinny pillow behind her back. “There. That should keep you comfortable.”
“You really didn’t have to do this,” Ginger said, “but thank you so much.”
Pink balloons floated like clouds against the ceiling. The tables were draped with pink-striped tablecloths made from fabric Anabelle had at home, and Megan provided the pink polka-dot bows that hung all around the conference room in loops and scallops. And the ladies from the prayer group had arrived early to help decorate.
“Want to see the cake?” Ainslee grabbed the back of the wheelchair from Candace. “It’s gorgeous, made by our newest friend, Megan.”
It was three tiers tall, each pink-and-white-flowered, striped and polka-dotted tier separated by cuddly looking white plastic teddy bears. It was too gorgeous for words, so Ginger just laughed and cried.
“As much as I’d love to tell you that we have hours and hours to spend here having fun,” Quintessa said, trying to keep everything running on schedule, “some of us really do have to get back to work in”—she looked at her watch—“half an hour. So let’s open presents.”
“I’ll cut the cake,” Megan said, picking up the sterling silver cake knife she’d brought with her. She’d also brought gorgeous china that was stark white with a small pink-and-white-striped border around the edge.
“I’m beginning to think I might have gone a little overboard with the pink,” Megan said as she slipped the first piece of cake onto a plate.
“What made you think I’m having a little girl?” Ginger asked, smiling.
“I could have sworn someone told me that,” Megan said. “I can’t imagine doing pink when I have blue at home, unless someone told me ‘Girl.’”
“I brought the pink tablecloths,” Anabelle said. “For some reason I thought you were having a girl too.”
“So what are you having?” Elena asked, handing a piece of cake to Ginger and taking one for herself.
“To be perfectly honest, I don’t have a clue. Steve and I decided we didn’t want to know, although I admit I’ve probably called the baby she or her more than once.”
“That should make unwrapping gifts interesting,” Ainslee said, laughing. “I wonder just how many of us went pink when we picked out our gifts?”
Elena had. She knew Megan and Quintessa had too. This should prove to be very interesting. Even more interesting if Ginger and Steve ended up with a little boy.
Oh well, that was something to dwell on later. Right now, i
t was party time!
Ribbon and wrapping paper began to fly as Ginger opened gifts of onesies, “Our Little Girl” picture frames, blankets, dresses, bottles, night-lights, more than Elena had expected, and almost everything was some shade of pink.
“You can always exchange things,” Quintessa, ever practical, said, as she ate a piece of cake. “But if it were me, I’d just hope and pray for a little girl.”
“I’ll be happy with either,” Ginger said, and once again she teared up. “Steve is going to be so surprised by all of this. I really can’t thank you all enough.”
Elena was on her second piece of cake, carbs she’d no doubt work off before the day was over, when one of the conference room doors opened, and Phyllis Getty walked in carrying a huge bouquet—at least three dozen, if not more—of red and white roses. Someone obviously hadn’t heard about the party’s surprise color theme: pink.
“They’re beautiful,” Elena said, helping Phyllis carry them to the table, wondering who they could be from. She was sure all the people who’d been invited were here and that their gifts had already been opened.
“Would you like me to open the card for you, Ginger?” Elena asked.
“But they’re not for Ginger, Elena. The card says they’re for you.”
Elena frowned. “Me?”
“That’s what it says.”
“Hmm.” Cesar rarely if ever sent flowers. It just wasn’t his thing.
Candace handed Phyllis a large piece of cake while Elena took the envelope out of the forked holder and opened it, pulling out the card. A smile widened on her face, and then she read:
I can’t possibly know who all was involved in saving my job, so please share these flowers and my thanks.
Albert Varner
Chief Executive Officer
Hope Haven Hospital
The party couldn’t have ended on a better note. Everything was going according to plan.