Strength in Numbers
Page 3
“I hope your play won’t conflict with the camping trip the Scout troop has planned.” James had taken over as troop scoutmaster when the previous leader had to drop out. He knew he’d enjoy the young teenage boys; he thought the discipline and character building that the Boy Scouts provided helped boys to grow into fine young men. But he’d been reluctant to leave Fern for evening meetings and occasional overnight trips. She’d been the one to insist he needed time away from her to recharge his own batteries.
“Remember, we have a special troop meeting Monday evening to check everyone’s camping gear,” James said.
“I know. The guys will all be there. And the play is right before the camping trip. So no problem.”
Dismissing the Scouting activities as settled, Nelson waxed on about the play and regaled them with stories of his fellow actors and set painters. James only half listened. He wanted both boys to be able to go to college. Even if they landed scholarships, the expense would still be daunting. Saving for their future had never been easy.
He’d also been hoping to remodel the downstairs by adding a bedroom so Fern wouldn’t have to struggle upstairs every night.
Now, with a cut in pay added to the increasing cost of medication for Fern, climbing that financial mountain appeared even more formidable.
Please, Lord, show me the way.
Tension pulled his neck muscles taut. He sat back and rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. There had to be options. Ways to increase his income, not decrease it—or at least maintain his current salary level. He just needed to find a way.
After dinner, the boys helped James clean up the kitchen, then went upstairs to do their homework before bedtime. Fern sat in her usual after-dinner spot, a rocking chair by the double-sided fireplace, a colorful lap robe crocheted by her mother draped over her legs.
Giving the counter a final wipe, James hung the dishcloth over the faucet. Deep in thought, he stood staring out the window into the dark night.
“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” Fern asked.
He didn’t immediately turn around but continued to look into the distance. A streetlight glowed on the block behind them. “It was a long day. I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“James, we’ve been married twenty years. I know when you’re troubled.” A hint of annoyance crept into her tone.
He turned his head slightly. “You know me that well, huh?”
“And you know I’ll keep bugging you until you tell me what’s wrong.” Her brows lowered with concern and her eyes pleaded with him. “Is it about me? Did you talk with my doctor?”
“No, nothing like that.” Defeated, knowing he’d have to tell her now, he dragged a kitchen chair next to her rocker. He took her hand, warming it between his palms, her skin as soft as a baby’s. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. The hospital board is up to its old tricks. We all got notice today of a pay cut. Not a huge one. Really. We’ll be fine.”
A shake of her head told him she’d seen right through his story. “How much of a cut?”
A sigh escaped James’s lips. “Ten percent.”
He saw her mentally calculate what the cut would mean to them. MS had slowed her physically, but she was still as mentally sharp as she’d always been. As sharp as she’d been when she’d managed the office of a medical clinic that served transient farm workers and folks who were down on their luck.
He knew she hated that MS had forced her to give up her job.
“That’s a lot of money,” she finally said.
“We’ll be okay. I was thinking I might check around for some part-time work. Maybe at St. Francis in Peoria. A couple of shifts a week.”
“James, that would mean more than an hour commute each way. You’ll wear yourself out and be exhausted all the time. Not to mention you wouldn’t be here for the boys.”
Or for Fern, he realized as the knot pressed down harder in his stomach.
She squeezed James’s hand, a weak grasp but one filled with determination. “I still get my monthly disability check. We’ll find a way together to make it work.”
Leaning forward, James kissed his wife. His chest filled with so much admiration for Fern, he thought it might burst. Her courage, her determination in the face of adversity, her strength of character had the power to bring him to his knees. She was the force that kept this family together. Kept him striving to be worthy of her.
“I love you, Fern. I always will.”
Chapter Three
ELENA RODRIGUEZ STOOD IN HER BEDROOM AFTER dinner, sifting through the thick manila folder filled with information she’d collected about travel to the Andalucia region of Spain. A new brochure about festivals had come yesterday. The photos of Easter events made it look like an oh-so-lovely time of year to travel there. She’d found a company that offered cooking classes in traditional dishes of southern Spain. Another outfit helped people track their family’s ancestors. She’d even discovered a school where she could take flamenco dancing lessons. She could hear the click of castanets already.
Heartsick that the pay cut would delay her longed-for trip, she swiped the back of her hand at the tears that threatened. She was being such a silly goose about this whole thing.
Her husband, Cesar, walked by the bedroom, reversed course and poked his head in the door. He’d changed out of his police uniform earlier and now wore his favorite flannel shirt and jeans.
“I thought you were putting Izzy to bed,” he said.
She cleared the lump in her throat. Her dream would still come true. Someday. “Rafael is reading her a story first.”
Their son and his five-year-old daughter, Isabel, had moved in with Elena and Cesar when Rafael’s girlfriend deserted both him and their new baby girl. An indefensible act for a mother, as far as Elena was concerned, but one that showed the young woman’s true colors. Sarah had decided keeping herself supplied with drugs was more important than her own child.
Elena gritted her teeth. She did not want that woman anywhere near her son or her beloved Izzy ever again. She’d agreed once to meet Sarah for coffee. The girl hadn’t shown up. She wouldn’t fall for that ploy again.
Cesar stepped into the room. “You ought to have every word of those brochures memorized by now. Are you looking for something?”
“No.” Sighing, she closed the folder and placed it back on her dresser. Her sewing machine was tucked into a corner of the room, the pieces of a red velvet dress for Izzy ready to be sewn together. “I didn’t want to tell you in front of Rafael and Isabel. The hospital’s cutting my pay.”
“What? Why?” He straightened to his full five foot ten inches, immediately jumping to her defense. “You’re the best Intensive Care nurse they’ve got. How can they—”
“Easy does it, Officer Rodriguez.” She loved that he was so protective of her, but sometimes his reactions were over the top. An occupational hazard for a cop, she supposed. “It’s not just me. The hospital is still in financial trouble, so they’re cutting everyone’s salary by ten percent.”
“Oh well…” Knowing everyone was affected, not only Elena, he calmed down immediately. “Ten percent’s a lot. But with my salary, that won’t hurt us too badly. My salary is solid, particularly when I get overtime.”
“Which I don’t like you to work unless it’s an emergency. I’d rather have you here at home with me.” She sat down on the end of the bed. A dear aunt had given them a wedding-ring quilt when they were married. It still looked fresh and brought back many happy memories.
“The problem is, I’ve been tucking away a few dollars every month to save for our trip to Spain. With a cut in pay, I won’t be able to save as much.” Hardly anything at all, she suspected, with such a draconian reduction in salary.
He sat beside her, looping his arm around her shoulders. “I can earn some extra cash. They’re always looking for someone for a night security job. It wouldn’t be so bad, querida mía.”
“Yes, it would. I don’t w
ant you out at night working by yourself. Besides, you need your rest. I don’t want you falling asleep when you’re chasing some bad guy at a hundred miles an hour down the highway.”
He chuckled, a deep-throated sound that rumbled in his broad chest. A teasing glint appeared in his dark eyes. “Trust me, in a high-speed chase, adrenaline keeps me wide awake.”
Folding her arms across her chest, she gave her husband a hard stare. “I don’t care what you say, I don’t want you to take on any more hours than you’re already working. The trip will just have to wait a little longer than I’d hoped, that’s all.”
“If you’re okay with waiting, it’s okay by me. But you’re a pretty smart cookie. I’m sure, if you give it some thought, you can come up with a better idea than my working graveyard at a twenty-four-hour fast-food place.”
She frowned at him. Maybe she could come up with another way to add to their savings without Cesar working extra hours.
At the moment, however, her brain appeared to be in short supply when it came to moneymaking ideas.
The next morning, James and Anabelle were at the computer at the second floor nurses’ station logging in for their shift when Elena arrived.
“I’ve got a great idea!” she announced, bubbly and excited. Her dark eyes sparkled and her caramel skin glowed with good health and energy.
James glanced at Anabelle, and they both rolled their eyes. As nice and fun as Elena might be, not all of her ideas were practical. In fact, some might have come from outer space, as far as James could tell. Still, if he were ever a patient in ICU, he’d want Elena to be his nurse.
“I’m afraid to ask what you’ve come up with this time,” he said, as he checked the computer for new admissions. No new patients had been logged in overnight. A quiet graveyard shift.
The loudspeaker paged a respiratory therapist to pediatrics. James considered how emotionally challenging working with young children every day had to be. Sick and injured adults were hard enough on his psyche.
Taking her turn at the computer screen, Anabelle shook her head. “I’m not going to ask either. It’s too early in the morning. My brain wouldn’t be able to cope.”
“Guys, you gotta ask. It’s perfect, I promise.” Elena’s teeth were such a bright white that her smile lit up her whole face. “Come on, guys. It’s a good idea.”
Candace appeared at the doorway. Tiny teddy bears decorated her scrubs, perfect for her job in the Birthing Unit. James wondered if Elena had made the outfit for her. He knew she was handy with a needle and thread.
“What’s a good idea?” Candace asked.
“Oh no.” James groaned dramatically, slapping his chest with his hand as though he were having a heart attack. Nelson wasn’t the only actor in the family. “You had to go and ask, didn’t you? Now she’s going to tell us, and life will never be the same.”
Elena punched him gently on the shoulder, and he laughed.
“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy. Since you’re so super rich, I guess the cut in pay doesn’t bother you. But some of us are looking for a way to make up the difference, and I’ve found one that will help all of us.”
In truth, James had spent half the night trying to come up with a solution to the approaching financial crunch. The effort had cost him hours of tossing and turning and robbed him of a good night’s sleep.
“I’ll listen to your idea,” Candace said. “If you can help me come up with enough extra cash to pay for the braces I’m afraid Brooke is going to need, then I’m definitely in.”
Beaming, Elena said, “I’m glad not everyone is as close-minded as some folks I know.” She gave James what was meant to be a scathing look, but the twitch of her lips ruined the effort. She could barely stop smiling.
James raised his hands in surrender. “I give up. What has the Queen of Ideas come up with this time?”
Anabelle took off her reading glasses and shrugged, letting Elena know she was ready to listen as well. “Tell all, Elena.”
“See, last night I was thinking about what our whole block did a couple years ago. We had a huge yard sale. We advertised it in the paper, and everybody on the block made money out of their old stuff.”
She looked so proud of herself, but James wasn’t sure where she was going with her idea. Anabelle and Candace appeared equally confused.
The elevator door opened. Moving quickly, a long, lanky respiratory therapist hurried past the nurses’ station heading toward the pediatric unit.
“We can have a yard sale in the hospital parking lot,” Elena continued. “All the employees can bring white elephants to sell. We can rent space to local clubs and church groups so they can make money too. You know, like a swap meet.”
“I like the idea, but it’s December,” James said. “You can’t really count on the weather this time of year to be nice enough for an outside swap meet.”
“I think it’s a good idea too, but I just don’t see how we’d be able to organize a project like that without months of preparation,” Anabelle said. “The ladies auxiliary at church works all year to put on their holiday boutique.”
Elena’s eager expression faded. “I know all that. But this is an emergency. For some people, anyway.”
No one spoke as Elena looked from one colleague to another in search of support. Her expression clouded in the face of the less-than-supportive reaction.
“It’s still a good idea,” she repeated, setting her jaw at a defensive angle, but she’d lost the confident note in her voice.
“It is, and we’re on the right track thinking of big ideas, but I don’t know if this is the right one.” Candace gave her a sympathetic smile and an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You’re full of wonderful ideas. You were the one who thought of the Wall of Hope that ended up generating so much money for the hospital, and I’m sure you’re just getting started finding ways that will keep the wolf away from our respective doors.”
James wanted to be supportive too. At least encouraging. “You’ll think of something else. Thomas Edison came up with three thousand ideas before he landed on the lightbulb.”
“Oh great!” It was Elena’s turn to roll her eyes. “Only 2,999 ideas to go.”
James laughed. So did the others, including Elena. That was a good way to start the shift. Friends, who often prayed together, laughing together.
Unfortunately, the money issue remained unresolved.
Ted Townsend’s dispirited mood hadn’t changed either, James discovered a short while later.
“How’s the pain this morning?” he asked while checking the teenager’s pulse. A little elevated but not dangerously so. His color was better than yesterday, his temperature normal. No apparent infection.
“It hurts. What d’ya expect? And my toes itch but I can’t scratch them.” In total frustration, he pounded the bed with his fist.
“The toes on your missing foot?”
“Yeah. Somebody ought to go find my leg and scratch ’em for me.”
“That’s a pretty common occurrence with an amputation. It’s called phantom pain. The nerves are still sending signals to your brain,” James explained. “The doctor has ordered meds for you, if needed. I’ll go round them up.”
“Great. Knock me out permanently, okay? I don’t want to live this way for the rest of my life.”
“Your accident didn’t affect your brain, Ted.”
“Terrific! Then I’ll be the smartest cripple in town.” The boy’s lips twisted into an ugly sneer.
While James was sympathetic to the boy’s problem, depressed patients were often difficult to manage and sometimes unpredictable. He didn’t want Ted acting out his anger or his frustration. He could too easily hurt himself.
“I’ll be getting you up on your feet this morning,” he told the boy. “Later a physical therapist will drop by and start you on an exercise program.”
“Get up on my feet? Don’t you mean foot? How am I gonna exercise with one foot?”
“You’ll manage. I promise.”
“Oops, sorry, Ace, I didn’t see you,” he said to the dog before smiling at his owner.
A trim, athletic woman in her midthirties, Diana Zimmer had founded Hope Haven Hounds to bring the comfort of animals to patients. The volunteers and their therapy dogs, who were well trained and affectionate, were carefully screened. Often the dogs provided the best possible therapy for those in pain or feeling depressed.
Ace, Diana’s dog, was particularly good with children, patiently letting them crawl all over him if they were so inclined.
James gestured for Diana to step away from the doorway with him. A professional dog trainer, she wore the identifying green jacket of a hospital volunteer, gray slacks and no-nonsense shoes with crepe soles.
Ace wore his Hope Haven Hounds logo on a green bandanna around his neck.
“I think I have a customer for you.” Idly, he stroked Ace’s head and scratched around his ears. The dog’s thick winter coat had been freshly washed. “A patient who’s feeling particularly low this morning.”
“Nobody can feel down long around Ace. Any problems I should know about?”
Sitting quietly beside Diana, Ace perked up his ears at the sound of his name.
There were certain rules about patient confidentiality in the hospital but James didn’t have to worry about Diana—or Ace—giving any secrets away.
“The kid’s seventeen and lost his leg in a motorcycle accident a couple days ago. He pretty much thinks that means his life is over.”
She grimaced. “Poor kid. Not an easy thing to handle.”
“No, it’s not. Maybe you and Ace can help.” James certainly hoped so. If Ted’s attitude didn’t take a turn for the better, he’d be at risk of becoming his own worst enemy: someone who gave up when the going got tough.