Special Blessings

by Anne Marie Rodgers

  Stories from Hope Haven is a registered trademark of Guideposts.

  Copyright © 2011 by Guideposts. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to Guideposts, ATTN: Rights & Permissions Department, 16 E. 34th St., New York, NY 10016.

  The characters, events and medical situations in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or occurrences is coincidental.

  Scripture are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Bible Publishers.

  Guideposts.org

  (800) 932-2145

  Guideposts Books & Inspirational Media

  Cover design and illustration by Lookout Design, Inc.

  Interior design by Lorie Pagnozzi

  Typeset by Aptara

  Printed and bound in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  In memory of my cousin Bill, the only person I ever knew who could read a calendar without being able to read.

  And for Nicci Jordan Hubert: “It is by chance that we met, by choice that we became friends.”

  (Author Unknown)

  I treasure your friendship as much as I value your unflinching evaluations. Thanks for everything you have taught me, my friend.

  The Best Medicine by Anne Marie Rodgers

  Chasing the Wind by Patricia H. Rushford

  Hope for Tomorrow by Patti Berg

  Strength in Numbers by Charlotte Carter

  A Simple Act of Kindness by Pam Hanson & Barbara Andrews

  The Heart of the Matter by Leslie Gould

  Well Wishes by Anne Marie Rodgers

  Measure of Faith by Patricia H. Rushford

  Cherished Memories by Patti Berg

  Christmas Miracles by Charlotte Carter

  The Healing Touch by Pam Hanson & Barbara Andrews

  Lean on Me by Leslie Gould

  Special Blessings by Anne Marie Rodgers

  With Open Arms by Patricia H. Rushford

  In This Together by Patti Berg

  New Beginnings by Charlotte Carter

  Chapter One

  HEY, LOOK AT THAT!” HEATH CARLSON POINTED into the cool emerald forest that ringed Bass Lake.

  “What?” Candace Crenshaw turned her head to peer into the woods on Heath's far side. As she did so, Heath quickly pivoted, capturing her lips with his in a sweet, lingering kiss before starting forward again on the lakeside path.

  “Heath.” Candace was smiling. “What was that for?”

  Her fiancé grinned and shrugged. “Just because. You look very pretty in that green T-shirt. It matches your eyes.”

  Candace's heart melted. “Thank you.” She gestured to the seven people in front of them. “We’d better not get too far behind. Howie has a knack for falling into any body of water he gets near.”

  Dappled sunlight slipped through the forest canopy above them, and off to their left, sunlight danced across the surface of the lake as a warm breeze lightly rippled the water. The weather in early May in Illinois could be capricious, but today was pleasantly mild. Last year at this time, she and Heath had been on the verge of dating and falling in love. The thought warmed her.

  Just the night before, Candace's friend and fellow nurse Elena Rodriguez had hosted a small party for the newly engaged pair. Their family and closest friends—mostly co-workers from Hope Haven Hospital where they’d met—had gathered in Elena's home to wish them well. All the women had exclaimed over Candace's engagement ring—a stunning, round, brilliant-cut diamond with pear-shaped side stones. It was very different from her first ring—a sweet, small solitaire her late husband Dean had given her when they were both poor college students, which she had cherished. She still was getting used to seeing Heath's ring flash on her left hand.

  After attending church at Riverview Chapel earlier that morning, Heath and Candace had brought Brooke and Howie to meet some friends for a picnic at Bass Lake, a State Park, a popular local recreation area.

  Ahead of them on the tree-shaded path that encircled the lake were Skip and Margie Mullen, their three young children, and Brooke and Howie. Skip was a friend of Heath's from high school who recently had been hired as the chief informatics officer for Hope Haven. He planned to bring in grants to fund updating the hospital's electronic charting technology capabilities. In turn, that would free up funds to save other departments and jobs that were on the chopping block.

  After looking at homes in nearby Princeton, the Mullens had decided instead to build a house in the new development where Candace's friend and fellow Hope Haven nurse James Bell lived. Candace was glad the Mullens would be closer. It would be easier for her to get to know Heath's old friend and his family.

  As the group continued their hike around the lake, Heath, Brooke, and Skip took turns carrying the Mullens’ two-year-old Violet piggyback-style when she tired of walking.

  Afterward, they returned to their picnic site near the lake's sandy beach—a wooden table beneath some fir trees with a nearby stone grill. Heath and Skip did not let Candace or Margie lift a finger and provided the entire feast: barbecued chicken, burgers and hot dogs for the kids, pasta salad and coleslaw from a local deli, deviled eggs, a vegetable plate, and fresh, sliced strawberries. Fudge brownies covered in peanut-butter icing satisfied everyone's sweet tooth.

  When everyone was stuffed to contentment, Candace and Margie spread a blanket on the sand and sat watching the children play at the water's edge while Heath and Skip cleaned up the remains of the meal.

  “I haven't felt this relaxed in ages,” Margie said with a laugh. Brooke was holding Violet's hand to keep her from running into the water, distracting her with a shovel and sand pail. The oldest Mullen child, nine-year-old Indiana, trailed behind them. The little girl had a bad case of heroine worship and hadn't been more than an arm's length away from Brooke all day. Candace had noted with pleasure that Brooke had been exceptionally kind and gentle with the younger girl as well as the toddler. “Your daughter has been doing my job all day.”

  “Brooke loves children, just like my mother does.” Candace hooked her hair behind one ear with a finger to keep the breeze from blowing it across her eyes. “We invited my mom to join us,” she told Margie, “but she doesn't care for sand. She said she’d rather relax in solitude with a good book.”

  Margie laughed. “That sounds good to me too.”

  “She helps out with my children a lot,” Candace confided. “Sometimes I worry that I’m taking advantage of her, but she always swears she loves being with them.”

  “She probably does then,” Margie offered. “My mother isn't the grandmotherly type, and she makes no bones about it. I doubt your mom would willingly spend so much time with Brooke and Howie unless she really wanted to.”

  The thought was reassuring to Candace.

  “And besides,” Margie went on, “there's an end in sight, right? The who-picks-up-which-kid-from-what-activity deal will get easier once you and Heath are married and he pitches in.”

  “That's true,” Candace said, smiling. “He's going to be a great father to them.”

  “Hello, ladies.” Heath dropped down beside Candace, interrupting their chat, while Skip sprawled next to Margie. “Cleanup has been conquered.”

  “Have you heard about the award nomination?” Skip asked Candace and Heath.

  Heath shook his head, as did Candace. “What award nomination?” Heath asked as Candance mentally sorted
through the disquieting feelings that Margie's comment had provoked.

  There is an end in sight. Will it bother Mom when Heath begins to take on some of the child care she's been doing? Skip's voice brought her back.

  “Hope Haven has been nominated for the National Outstanding Small Hospital Quest for Excellence Award.”

  Candace's eyes widened. “I’ve heard of that award, and it's quite prestigious. How did that happen?”

  “Patient nominations.” Skip leaned back on his elbows. “Hospitals must be nominated by five or more patients who were admitted for at least two nights during the previous calendar year, and the facility has to have under a certain bed count. Apparently someone in the community was impressed enough with the care our hospital delivered to organize a nomination for us. I haven't even learned who it was yet.”

  “That's terrific,” Heath said. “Even being nominated is an honor.”

  “It sure is,” Skip assured him. “And winning would really give an added shine to our reputation.”

  “Then I hope you win,” Margie said.

  “Me too,” Candace said. “Hope Haven needs positive publicity.”

  She couldn't help remembering the recent threat that the hospital might be downsized, not to mention the tense days some months earlier when the papers had been filled with headlines trumpeting allegations of negligence against the hospital and its employees. Thank heaven that lawsuit, which had named her as the primary target, had turned out to be baseless.

  “How's registration going for your next childbirth class?” Skip asked Candace. They had received several cancellations in the past few months as people heard that Hope Haven might be cutting some departments. Although the Birthing Unit had not been mentioned, they feared the bad publicity might create an adverse effect on the number of couples choosing to deliver their babies in Deerford.

  Candace beamed. “The class is full. I guess the good news that we aren't going anywhere is getting around town.” Her smile faded a bit as she thought of one couple she had met recently who would be taking the class. The Nottingtons were significantly older than most expectant parents, at ages forty-eight and forty-two. And while they had been pleasant, she had detected something—some hint of anxiety and stress—that she hoped the couple could resolve. Reading their preadmission questionnaire, she had seen that the couple had one older teen. Perhaps their jitters were simply from the thought of beginning a new parenting journey.

  “Howie! Don't you dare pour that on Eason!” Candace raised her voice just as her son began lifting a pail filled with water to douse his six-year-old buddy.

  All the adults laughed at the dismay on the little boy's face as his plan was foiled, and Candace's concerns were forgotten. The sun was bright. She lifted her face to its soothing warmth for a moment.

  “So where are you two planning on living after the wedding?” Margie asked, turning to look at Candace. “Combining two households of furniture and belongings will be crazy, won't it? We got married right out of college, so we never really had two households to integrate.” She smiled at her husband.

  Candace didn't answer immediately. She hadn't really considered that Heath might be bringing furniture when he moved in. Silly of her, but in her mental planning, she had just plunked him down in her home as it existed.

  “We haven't made any firm plans yet,” Heath said, “but Candace's home is a lot bigger than mine, so I imagine that probably will be our first step.”

  First step? Is he thinking we should sell my house and buy another? And what about his dad who lives with him? Candace blinked in surprise.

  “What's your mother going to do now?” Skip asked her. “Doesn't she live with you?”

  “Yes,” Candace said. “She moved in with us after my first husband passed away. She's been a great help with the kids.”

  “She's talking about finding a place of her own,” Heath volunteered. “I told her I'd be delighted to have a mom in my life again, but she says there's a big difference between having a mom in your life and having one underfoot when you’re newlyweds.” He chuckled, as did Skip and Margie.

  Candace felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach. “My mother's moving out?”

  Heath's blue eyes widened as he recognized the magnitude of the blunder he’d just made. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I assumed you knew. You two discuss everything.” He shrugged, lifting his hands for a moment in a helpless gesture. “It was just a passing comment she made the other day. Maybe she didn't mean it. She could have been looking for reassurance that I wouldn't mind her living with us.” He took a deep breath, obviously aware that he was babbling. “Sorry,” he said again.

  There was a moment of awkward silence during which none of the adults met anyone else's gaze.

  Margie jumped to her feet. “We’d better pack these kids up and head home,” she announced. “They’re not used to this much sun, and I don't want to overdo it right at the beginning of the season.”

  “Good idea,” Skip said. He also rose hastily and strode toward the water to begin corralling his children, leaving Heath and Candace sitting side by side in uncomfortable silence.

  Chapter Two

  HELLO, EVERYONE.” ANABELLE SCOTT LET THE door to the courtyard slowly close behind her as she joined her three friends—Candace Crenshaw, James Bell, and Elena Rodriguez—for one of their frequent lunches. The little courtyard that had been remodeled with the Wall of Hope campaign two years before was one of their favorite meeting places, especially in the spring when so many pretty bulbs were blooming.

  “Hi, Anabelle.” James patted the bench beside him. “You’re just in time for the blessing.”

  Anabelle slid onto the seat. After a brief prayer, the group began to unpack their lunches. “Have you heard about the award nomination?” Anabelle asked James, Candace, and Elena.

  Candace nodded. “Skip Mullen mentioned it to me yesterday.”

  Elena shook her head, while James raised his eyebrows in inquiry. “What award nomination?”

  Briefly, Anabelle shared with them the exciting news she had learned just that morning from Nursing Administrator Leila Hargrave. “I also heard that the selection committee requests a dossier of information.” Anabelle stopped to take a sip of her iced tea. “The hospital plans to put together a committee to prepare the document, and they’re going to handpick people to serve.”

  Elena groaned. “Please don't let them ask me. I don't need one more thing to plan. Cesar's turning fifty in August, and I think I’m going to have a party for him. So be on the lookout for the invitations and mark your calendars. I figure if I have it a little early, I might be able to pull off a surprise.”

  Candace's eyes lit up. “Oh, that’ll be fun. I love surprise parties. At least, I do as long as I’m not the one being surprised.”

  The comment made perfect sense to Anabelle. Despite her lovely features and trim figure, Candace was a very modest, unassuming person; Anabelle suspected that being the center of attention in any setting other than a professional one would make Candace uncomfortable. She’d even been a bit flustered at the engagement party on Saturday evening, and that had been about as relaxed and informal as a party could get.

  “I like being surprised,” Elena declared. “I don't know how Cesar will feel about it, but I think it will be great to get all his friends together to celebrate.”

  “He’ll survive,” James said with a chuckle. “Assuming you really do manage to keep it a secret. From what I’ve observed, it's extremely difficult to truly surprise someone.”

  Elena pursed her lips, nodding in agreement. “It’ll be tricky.”

  “If anyone can do it, you can,” Candace said loyally.

  Later that afternoon, James took the opportunity to clean out his car, something he’d intended to do for quite a while.

  As he opened all the doors of his minivan and stood back to let the heat pour out, he glanced over at Gideon's silver Honda Civic parked next to his in the driveway. They’d gotten th
e car for a song when Gideon had gotten his license because it was nine years old and had nearly a hundred thousand miles on the odometer. Gideon lived in a perpetual state of disorganization, and James suspected the interior of the Civic was an enormous mess.

  He walked over and peered in the Civic's windows. Yep. Trash heap. As long as I'm cleaning, I might as well do Gideon's too.

  Cleaning the interior of the van didn't take long. James kept the interior neat, so a little window cleaner and a good dusting and vacuuming did the trick. He sighed as he hunched his large frame into Gideon's car and began to drag out old McDonald's bags, soda cans, candy wrappers, and school papers. After this, he promised himself he was going to inspect the Honda on a weekly basis and insist that his son make more of an effort to keep it clean. How anyone could ride in such a pigsty was beyond him.

  He grasped a handful of trash and began to stuff it into the trash bag he held, when a bright red F on a stapled stack of paper caught his eye. Hardly able to believe what he was seeing, James shook the rest of the trash into the bag and held up the papers he’d found.

  It appeared to be an English essay of some kind. Below the failing grade was a notation scrawled in red:

  You are capable of a great deal more than this. In the future, please give more time and care to your assignments.

  If Gideon's name and class hadn't been printed at the top of the first page, James would have doubted it could belong to his elder child. Gideon wasn't the scholar that Nelson was, but his grades were satisfactory; and James couldn't recall a time when either of his sons had received a failing grade.

  Dropping the trash bag, he wheeled and stormed into the house. Fern was in the kitchen, seated on a tall stool at the counter while she mixed ingredients for cornbread.

  “Have you seen this?” James demanded.

  “Seen what?” Fern's smile faded as she saw how perturbed he was.

  James slapped the essay down on the counter beside her.