The Healing Touch (Stories from hope haven)

by Hanson

  “I like to marinate fresh fish in a citrus juice. Today I’ve chosen pineapple juice. Because we have to move right along, we can only leave the tilapia in the fridge for about thirty minutes. If I did this at home, I’d allow at least an hour, but I know you folks are hungry.”

  When all the fillets were sealed in a plastic bag of juice and stowed in a big metal bowl, they cleaned their workstations.

  “Now for something really fun,” Sherry said. “I’m going to teach y’all to make southern-style salsa. Guess what the main ingredient will be?”

  The group was unanimously unresponsive. Anabelle didn't think that boded well for the success of the class, but Sherry cheerfully continued.

  “Peaches, of course! I am so sorry that I couldn't get fresh Georgia peaches, but I did thaw some from my own freezer. I always go a little wild when they’re in season.”

  The class set about making salsa with a great deal of enthusiasm compared to the fish lesson. Anabelle had never made her own, but now that she knew how easy it was, she would definitely do it again. Sherry's recipe included chopped cilantro and minced jalapeño pepper, two ingredients Anabelle had never used. It also had a tablespoon of oil, a dash of lime juice, diced bell peppers, and chopped red onion. She left the salt out, although it only called for half a teaspoon. One of the reasons for taking the class was to show Cam that he could do without a lot of salt.

  “You can make up your own recipe when you know the basics,” Sherry said. “Sometimes I add cucumber or a hint of mint or ginger. You can also add tomato.”

  “I thought all salsa was made from tomatoes,” Hope said.

  “Well, honey, I hope you get all kinds of new ideas from my classes,” Sherry said.

  They let their small bowls of salsa sit so the flavors could blend while Sherry took their fish from the fridge.

  “They all look alike,” Hope complained. “How do I know I’m getting mine back?”

  “These will be so delicious that it won't matter a lick,” their teacher said.

  Was she naturally this cheerful, or did she have to practice in front of a mirror? Anabelle reminded herself again why she was there.

  “I like to grill these outside after your horrid Midwestern weather gets better,” she said, demonstrating how to add lime-butter and seasonings to the fillets. “Now remember where you put your tilapia on the broiling pan. That way you’ll get to eat the one you seasoned.”

  To his credit, Cam avoided the saltshaker and covered his with the special seasoning Sherry recommended. Anabelle could only hope his newfound enthusiasm for healthy cooking Sherry-style would carry over to meals at home.

  When the fish was done, the teacher added small portions of steamed sticky brown rice to their plates, and they all went to a table at the rear to taste-test their tilapia and peach salsa.

  “Not bad,” Cam said. “In fact, I’d give it an A-plus.”

  Sherry giggled her thanks, and Hope slid her fish onto her husband's plate. Anabelle was as grateful for the chair as she was for the meal.

  On the way home, she listened to Cameron rave about the class.

  “I guess you want to go again,” she said with resignation.

  She was a health care professional. This was a small price to pay to keep her husband healthy, wasn't it?

  Chapter Twenty

  COLD RAIN HAD REDUCED THE SNOW OUTSIDE TO dirty patches, but Elena felt as if she were pushing a huge snowball uphill. Rumors about the woman in isolation were everywhere, and people were edgy about the possibility of an epidemic. As hard as she tried to stop the staff in her own unit from repeating versions of the story, some still persisted in believing that the patient was infected with a dangerous strain of flu.

  Her job on the task force was to help with communications, but she felt defeated by the rumors. She understood that people were worried. How could they not be when every unit was preparing for the drill? She also knew that no good could come of panic. They were trained professionals and should be concentrating on their roles in a real disaster, not speculating about a potential crisis that might prove to be a false alarm.

  When Maxine left a message at the nurses’ station requesting that Elena meet with her after work, she felt relieved. Maybe the county health nurse would have some ideas about controlling rumors.

  As usual, one of her first priorities of the day was checking on the coma patient. She always talked to her, hoping that words might penetrate the cloud over her mind. Unless she woke up soon or someone came forward to identify her, she would be moved from Hope Haven to a long-term care facility as a ward of the state. Elena prayed that the kind-faced woman wouldn't be lost in the system. Surely someone somewhere was missing her.

  She felt unusually fatigued when it was time to leave the floor for the day. Her job working with critical patients was always demanding, but her weariness went deeper. Things seemed to be spiraling out of control in the hospital, and she couldn't get Cesar out of her mind either. He couldn't complain when she used her free time to make a dance costume for Izzy, but his resentment seemed to simmer just below the surface. She wanted to spend more time with him, but her busy life kept interfering. His job involved overtime, so why did he expect her to be available whenever he had free time?

  When she got to the community health room only minutes after her shift ended, she found Maxine alone, sitting in front of her laptop computer with a vacant look on her usually animated features.

  “You look as if you just received bad news,” Elena said, shutting the door behind her. “Have the test results come back for our potential flu victim?”

  “No, not yet. I understand that the state labs are overrun with work. Meanwhile, the patient is off the respirator and asking for her baby.”

  “One rumor said that the father was allowed to take the infant home, but I don't know what to believe anymore. You’d think the plague was loose in the hospital. Isn't there anything we can do about the stories that are circulating?”

  “I’m using the hospital's online resources to refute every rumor I’ve heard. That's why I wanted to see you. You’re in a much better position than I am to know what staff members are saying. If you wouldn't mind working with me…” Her voice trailed off.

  As a nurse Elena didn't like her pale color or the redness around her eyes.

  “Are you all right?” she asked with concern.

  “Oh, don't worry. I don't have any flu symptoms. I’m just worried sick about my sister. We usually talk at least once a week and send e-mails back and forth on a regular basis. I haven't heard from her in weeks, and it really worries me. It's not at all like her to drop out of sight.”

  “Maybe she's busy at work or with her family,” Elena suggested, trying to reassure her.

  “Jeanette never married, and I’m her closest family member. She's quite a talented artist. In fact, she makes her living illustrating children's books and teaching an occasional art class. I’m afraid we don't always see eye to eye on some things though. Lately she's taken jobs house-sitting because she hasn't gotten as many contracts as she’d like from publishers. I wanted her to visit us for a while instead of staying alone in strange houses, but Jeanette can be pretty stubborn.”

  “I know about stubborn,” Elena said, pursing her lips and thinking about the men in her family.

  “She insisted on watching a house somewhere in the Deerford area, but she never told me the people's name or the address. I was sure she’d send me an e-mail, maybe arrange for us to see each other while she's so close.”

  “She never did?” Elena had a thought floating on the edge of her consciousness, but she couldn't quite bring it into focus.

  “No, I’ve sent her several e-mail messages every day and tried to call her cell phone number. No response. She never stays angry long, and it's totally unlike her not to let me know where she is. I’m really worried that something has happened to her. I thought of calling the police, but she would be terribly upset if I checked up on her that way. Sti
ll, it's been too long. Something isn't right. I’ve been e-mailing the friends I know, even her main publisher, but no one seems to know where she is.”

  Elena was wringing her hands without realizing it, adding things up in her mind until she was almost certain that she knew where Maxine's sister was. But she had to be sure before she delivered the bad news.

  “Do you have a picture of your sister?”

  “I have an old one of the two of us in my billfold, but why do you ask?” The worry lines in her forehead seemed to get deeper.

  “Please, can I see it?”

  Elena didn't know whether to hope that she was right or hope that she was wrong.

  “All right.”

  Maxine sorted through a small stack of photos crammed into a compartment of her billfold, finally pulling out a creased and faded shot of two women.

  “She looks a lot like you,” Elena said, staring at the picture with growing dread. How was she going to break the terrible news to this sweet woman?

  “She's only two years older. When we were young, we liked to dress in the same clothes, only in different colors. Once in a while, a stranger would ask if we were twins; but I don't think we really looked that much alike.”

  “Maxine, I don't know how to tell you this…” Elena began.

  She handed the picture back, dreading the words that had to be said. As often as she dealt with worried and grieving people in her job, she was finding it much harder to give bad news to someone she liked and admired.

  “Do you know something about my sister?”

  “I’m afraid so. I’m pretty sure she's a patient in ICU.”

  Maxine stood and came around the table to stand in front of Elena, making it even harder for her to tell her about the unidentified patient.

  “It's not good,” she said, groping for a way to break the terrible news.

  “Tell me.”

  “We have a patient in a coma. She was walking along a road near Deerford when a vehicle swerved toward her. The paramedics who took the call believe that she ran to the side to avoid being hit and fell down a steep incline. She suffered severe head trauma.”

  Maxine's eyes were swimming with tears, but she insisted on going directly to the room where her sister might be.

  “You’re not sure? She didn't have identification?”

  “No, but I’ve been trying to figure out why her face seemed so familiar.”

  “I have to see your patient.”

  Elena saw the distress in Maxine's face and posture.

  “You could be wrong. Jeanette has a lot of friends. She may be staying with someone who doesn't have a computer. Or hers might have broken down. They don't last forever, you know.”

  Elena followed her to the elevator, her heart heavy. She should have figured out why the patient's features seemed so familiar before this. She didn't know whether to hope that she was wrong for Maxine's sake or pray that she was right for the patient's.

  She put her hand on Maxine's shoulder as they went into the room, but neither words nor touch could cushion the shock when she looked down at the bed.

  “It's Jeanette,” she said in a hoarse voice. “How long?”

  “A little over two weeks.”

  “Wasn't she carrying anything to identify her?”

  “No, her things are here in the patient locker.” She took out the plastic hospital bag that held everything that had been found on her person.

  “I recognize these running shoes,” Maxine said. “They’re her favorite brand. Once we had to look all over the mall in Peoria to find a new pair her size. And she had sweats just like these.”

  She dropped the possessions and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her sister's limp hand in hers.

  “Jeanette,” she said over and over in a soft, sad voice. “What do the doctors say? Will she ever wake up?”

  “There's always hope.” Elena said the words but had a hard time believing them herself. “They just don't know.”

  “If she doesn’t—”

  Elena anticipated her question. “Dr. Hamilton has been looking for long-term care,” she said softly.

  “My goodness,” Maxine said almost under her breath, “how could this happen? If I hadn't found her, she would have been warehoused as a ward of the state. I don't believe that she’ll never come out of this. I can’t!”

  “I believe that the Lord answers prayers,” Elena said. “I’ve prayed for your sister since her accident. I’m only sorry that I didn't connect her to you sooner. I’m not giving up on her. I’m sure you’re not going to either.”

  She stayed and prayed with Maxine, giving her all the comfort her faith and her profession could muster. It was nearly six o’clock before she’d notified Dr. Hamilton and the nursing staff that their coma patient was no longer a Jane Doe. Maxine's husband joined her at the bedside, and Elena quietly left them.

  The rumors circulating in the hospital weren't good, but they’d brought Elena to Maxine when she most needed her. She went home, realizing she hadn't called to say she’d be late.

  “Where were you?” Izzy asked, throwing herself at Elena's legs the minute she stepped into the house.

  “Something came up at the hospital, sweetheart,” she said, scooping her granddaughter into her arms.

  “The pizza man is coming,” she said, slipping away. “I ordered plain cheese. Daddy likes icky stuff on his.”

  “Phones not working, Mama?” Rafael teased, making the same comment she’d said to him many times.

  Cesar was leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest.

  “Your mother does important work,” he reprimanded his son. “If she's late home, she must have a good reason.”

  He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders just as the front doorbell rang.

  “Pizza man!” Izzy shouted excitedly. “You said I could pay him, Daddy.”

  Rafael followed her to the door to help with the transaction, but Cesar and Elena stayed where they were.

  “You didn't stay just for a meeting,” he said. “I can see it in your face.”

  “The coma patient has a sister, Maxine Newman, the county health nurse. I just put two and two together, but I should have recognized how much they look alike before this.”

  “Hey, I’m the detective. I’m the one who didn't do my job. Any patient who has you as a nurse is very, very fortunate.”

  “I still feel terrible about it. She may never wake up.”

  “With you taking care of her, she’ll be out jogging before summer.”

  “About all I can do now is pray.”

  “We all know how good you are at that,” he said, hugging her against him and brushing his lips over her forehead.

  Elena smiled for the first time that day. Cesar might be a long way from accepting the Lord, but he made her happy by understanding that sometimes she had to give time to others.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GOOD NEWS,” JAMES SAID AS HE MET ELENA ON HER way into the hospital Friday morning. “I have our flu patients.”

  “Maybe I’m not awake yet,” she said, shaking her head. “What flu patients?”

  He laughed at her confusion. “Nearly two hundred senior citizens have volunteered to act as the patients overwhelming our facilities Monday when we have the drill. We won't have to pretend to be swamped. We really will be.”

  “Oh my, that is realism.”

  “We have Candace's mother to thank. Janet spent hours and hours networking on the phone to find that many. The police are on board for extra security, and we have retired nurses and doctors to help out. The hospital board approved free lunches in the cafeteria for everyone who participates.”

  “My biggest worry is taking care of the patients we have. Won't all the extra activity interfere?”

  “Hopefully, no. As long as we keep everyone informed, I don't think it will be a problem. Casual visitors will be denied entrance for a few hours, but that won't apply to the close relatives of ICU patients.
The newspaper is giving us front-page coverage so the whole town should know what's going on.”

  “Have you heard the news about our coma patient?” she asked.

  “Did she wake up?”

  “No, but she's not a Jane Doe anymore. She's Maxine Newman's sister, if you can believe it. She was house-sitting when she fell. That's why no one reported her missing.”

  “Poor Maxine,” James said, crinkling his brow in sympathy. “Speaking of the missing, the pet detective is coming to Deerford today to do some hands-on hunting for Sapphire. She thinks she can find her, but I’m not so sure. It's been a long time.”

  “For Fern's sake, I hope she's right.”

  Maxine was in the room with her sister when Elena reported for work. She felt a little weepy seeing the love and concern on her face, but she still had faith that the coma patient would return to consciousness someday.

  “I have a million things to do before the drill,” Maxine said. “Please promise that you’ll call me if there's the slightest change.”

  “You don't need to ask,” Elena assured her.

  The world seemed a brighter place when Elena left the hospital after work. The rainy spell had finally passed and unseasonably warm weather reminded her of childhood pleasures: finding twigs and weaving them into little baskets, searching for pretty stones, seeing how high she could swing on the school playground.

  It was a privilege and a pleasure to watch her granddaughter grow, but it was also a reminder of her own innocence as a child. She’d always been close to her mother, and it was one of the joys of her life that she’d located her restaurant in Deerford.

  Izzy had been denied the early bonding years with her mother. How was it going to affect her in the future? Could Sarah make up for lost years and play an important role in her life?

  Elena had many questions, but no answers.

  Rafael worked the breakfast and lunch shifts at the restaurant, so he was available to pick up his daughter after school. Today they got home before Elena, and she could hear Izzy laughing as soon as she stepped into the house.