by Leslie Gould
The woman had her reading glasses on now and was scanning the résumé. “Oh, I can see you have a lot of experience.” She peered over the top of her lenses. “Any tech skills?”
“As in health care informatics technology?”
She nodded.
“No.” He wished he could say yes.
“Too bad. We need to convert all of our charting. I’m applying for a government grant to do it.” She stood. “I would love to hire you if”—her phone began to ring—“I had an opening.” She held up her index finger. “Hold on just a moment. I’d better take this call.”
She sat down at her desk and swung around in her office chair, her back to James. After saying hello, she listened for several minutes and finally said, “I understand. I’ll have another assignment for you in a day or two.”
After hanging up the phone, she picked up James’s résumé again. “Did I see a reference to military experience on here?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled. “Desert Storm.”
He nodded, feeling hopeful for the first time all morning.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.
A moment later, she walked him to the door. As she started to extend her hand for him to shake in farewell, her phone rang again. With a wry, nettled expression she turned and disappeared back into her office.
As James stepped out into the overcast spring morning, he couldn’t help but sigh. “Lord,” he prayed again, “I wonder what You have planned for me.”
Instead of heading home, he pulled his van into a space in the front lot of Hope Haven, since he couldn’t park in the back employee lot anymore. As he walked toward the hospital, the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. Daffodils bobbed and bowed in full-blown splendor in the front flower beds, the tulips looked ready to pop open any day, and he noted how welcoming the brick building appeared. Instead of going in the front door, he stepped around to the side of the building and peered at the stained-glass window of the chapel. The royal colors brightened as the clouds parted for the sun, causing the emerald green and royal blue geometric shapes to shimmer in the morning light.
“James!” Eddie Blaine walked toward him, wearing coveralls and a stocking cap and carrying a push broom in his hands. “How come you’re not working today?”
James hoped Eddie didn’t see him grimace. There was no reason not to be concise. “I’m headed to the HR department. I was let go on Friday.”
Eddie stumbled a little and almost dropped the broom. “Say what?”
“It’s true,” James said. “The hospital ended up cutting the new Holistic Cardiac Program.”
“But why didn’t they give you another job?”
“There aren’t any other jobs right now.”
“But you’ll be hired back, right?” Eddie leaned against the broom handle.
James tried to smile. “I hope so.”
The custodian shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, and then, “Well, best of luck.”
James walked back to the front door and through the lobby of the hospital. There were a few visitors sitting in the comfy chairs but no one he knew. He took the first right and headed down the hall toward HR.
Leila Hargrave greeted him in her usual cool manner and directed him into her office, closing the door behind her. He towered above her even though she wore pumps.
“Frankly, I’m really embarrassed by all of this,” the nursing supervisor said, scooting her chair toward her desk. “Legally, the hospital has the power to terminate your contract. Ethically, it’s inconceivable for the administration to let a nurse go who has worked here for twenty years.” She shook her head and then patted her signature gray bun that was nestled at the nape of her neck, as if to make sure it was still in place.
James felt as if he needed to comfort her. “Things will work out,” he said.
Leila nodded. “I know they will.” She let out a sigh. “Probably the larger question is, ‘Will things work out for the hospital?’” She pulled a file from her side drawer and then made eye contact with James. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“Is it that bad?” James had been hoping that McGarry had been overreacting about the hospital’s being in a bad position—again.
“Yes and no,” she answered. “Sure, things are tight but if the administration keeps making knee-jerk—” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Okay, I’m going to stop now.” She opened the file and divided the stack of papers in two. “Here’s your copy.” She handed the document to him and continued speaking. “We’ll freeze your retirement account so when—or if—you come back, it will pick right back up again.” She flipped the page of her packet. “As far as insurance…”
This was the biggie.
“COBRA will be available to you.”
“When does the insurance we have now end?”
“You’re paid up through the end of April.”
James nodded. Yikes. With Fern’s preexisting condition, it will be impossible to find another company that will accept her. I was a fool to take the contract job. But then he recalled that the hospital had offered him the same health insurance they’d had for years, and it had never occurred to him that the Holistic Cardiac Program would be cut. “How much will COBRA cost a month?”
Leila shook her head. “You’ll have to contact them. I can’t even give you an estimate.”
“But a lot, right?”
She nodded solemnly.
James had read recently that Americans spent 20 percent of everything they made on health care. He thought about Fern. The money they spent on her was definitely worth it. Sure, life was hard, but she had a relatively good quality of life. What would their family be like without her? Even twenty years ago, she would have been completely bedridden by now with her MS. But without insurance, the cost of her care would completely break the family’s finances within a few months.
Next, Leila had James fill out paperwork to be put on a list of nurses approved to work at Hope Haven in case they needed someone to pick up extra shifts when the hospital was shorthanded.
“Please,” Leila continued, “put me down as a reference on your résumé. I want to say that there will be an opening here before the month is over and as soon as one appears, I will call you. But I’m beginning to fear that the hospital may even put a freeze on hiring within a few days.”
James felt as if the wind had been kicked out of him. “P-p-pardon?” he stammered.
“We’re looking at a hiring freeze. That’s the next piece of bad news in all of this.”
James managed to stand and extend his hand to her. “Th-th-ank you.” He was aware that he was still stammering, something he hardly ever did anymore.
Leila shook his hand. “This is simply a matter of you being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It’s as simple as that.”
James knew Leila was right, but it didn’t make her words any more comforting.
Monday after work, Candace sat at the kitchen table reading the Deerford Dispatch while her mother played the baby grand piano in the living room and Brooke and Howie focused on their homework.
“Mommy,” Howie said, “what’s five plus seven?”
“Sweetie,” she said gently, “it’s your homework. You figure it out.”
He stared off into space for a minute, his lips moving.
Candace was in the middle of an article on Hope Haven. CEO Albert Varner was quoted as saying the financing for the Holistic Cardiac Program didn’t come through and that was why it wouldn’t be implemented. There was no mention of cutting the Birthing Unit.
“Twelve!” Howie shouted.
Brooke groaned. “Quiet! I’m trying to finish my social studies so I can go on the hike.”
“What’s twelve?” Candace whispered.
“Five plus seven,” Howie answered and then beamed, his green eyes dancing. She patted his head, her hand resting on his thick hair for a moment. Maybe they needed to dig out the addition flash cards she bought a couple of months ag
o. First grade was almost over, and Howie was still struggling with his simple addition.
Candace turned her attention back to the article. At the bottom, in a sidebar, was a notice about the advisory committee of medical professionals that was being formed. She’d volunteered to be on the committee at work today, and the first meeting was tonight…at seven thirty, according to the paper.
Heath had volunteered to serve on the advisory committee too and offered to give her a ride after he took her and the kids, if they finished their homework, on a short hike and picnic at Bass Lake. The afternoon turned out to be so nice that they both thought it would be great to soak up some of the sunshine.
It was a lot to fit into the late afternoon and evening, but it was worth it to get some fresh air. Rain was predicted again for the next day.
She folded the newspaper. Her mother had agreed to watch the kids that night and any other nights the committee met, if she could, because they both felt it was important for Candace to be involved in what was going on at the hospital. Her mother had her retirement pension and contributed to running their home, but they all depended on Candace’s job at Hope Haven.
“Mom, what’s a malpractice suit?” Brooke asked, tapping the eraser of her pencil on the tabletop.
“What’s the topic?”
“Health care and what it’s going to look like for our generation. Our teacher said it’s important.”
Candace smiled. The seventh grade at Deerford Middle School was dealing with contemporary issues, which was fine with her, as long as they were concentrating on the basics of social studies too. “A malpractice suit is when a patient sues a doctor, or other medical provider, for doing something wrong in the care of the patient.”
“Like?”
“Well, let’s say we have a patient in the hospital who has been in labor for thirty-six hours and the baby is breech and the heart monitor shows it’s in distress. If the doctor didn’t order a C-section and something happened to the mother or the baby, the patient could sue. They’d hire a lawyer, and it would go through the court system.”
“Oh.” Brooke tapped her pencil a few more times. “So that’s one of the reasons health care costs are so high?”
“That’s exactly right,” Candace nodded with pride and Brooke began writing.
It was also one of the reasons other small hospitals had closed their obstetrics wards. A huge malpractice suit could totally wipe out a place like Hope Haven. Candace folded the paper. Having been the target of a spurious malpractice suit not too long ago, Candace didn’t want to think about that eventuality. “Are you two almost done with your homework? I’m going to make sandwiches, and Heath will be here in a few minutes.”
“Done!” Howie jumped from his chair.
Candace reached for his worksheet. “Let me check.”
He had several wrong answers, and she marked those mistakes and slid it back to his place. “Good effort. But redo these,” she said.
Howie groaned as he climbed back on his chair.
Forty-five minutes later, they strolled down the pathway along the lake with Howie running ahead and Brooke skipping after him, her curls bouncing up and down on her back.
“I just can’t believe we’re worried about the state of the hospital again so soon,” Candace said.
“Let’s just take it a step at a time,” Heath said calmly. “We should find out more tonight, but remember just because the hospital can’t sustain a new program doesn’t mean Hope Haven is in a bad situation again.”
Candace nodded, but she couldn’t help thinking of the worst-case scenario. A fish jumped in the lake and the breeze picked up a little, playing with the branches of the weeping willows on the other side of the path. Howie turned back toward Candace and Heath and pointed to a hawk circling above the tree line.
Heath gave him a thumbs-up and called out, “Attaboy!” Then he lifted the binoculars around his neck and watched the bird for a moment. “Want to look?” he asked Candace.
She took the binoculars from him. She could see the hawk’s beak and eyes. The feathers on the crown of his head stuck up a little and the ones on his wings were so perfectly laid out and arranged that she couldn’t imagine anyone looking at them and not believing in a Creator. She handed the binoculars back to Heath. “That’s really cool.”
A wave of peace swept over her. The kids were farther ahead now—hurrying along, stopping to pick up a rock or a stick and then rushing on. For the moment, Brooke seemed more like a little girl than a thirteen-year-old, and Candace liked that.
Heath took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She liked that too. She playfully bumped into him, and he put his arm around her, pulling her close. She breathed in the warm scent of his aftershave, thankful for how he calmed her. Those were just a couple of the things she loved about him: his steadfastness in the face of adversity and the manly way he smelled.
“There’s an article in the paper about the hospital,” Fern said to James as he stepped into the living room. “It mentions the suspension of your program.”
He sat down beside her on the couch.
“Did you know about the advisory committee?”
He nodded.
She pointed to the sidebar of the article. “How about the meeting tonight? Had you heard about that?” Her caring eyes met his.
“No.”
“It’s at seven thirty. I could go with you if you’d like.”
James put his arm around his wife. “I don’t plan to go. I don’t think it will make a difference.” He certainly didn’t want Fern to go. It was apt to be emotionally charged, and that would be doubly draining for her.
“There might be new information.”
James sighed. “Probably not.” If there were, Dr. Hamilton would let him know. Or Anabelle would.
“I think that you should at least go.”
James stood. “I’ll think about it. First, I need to finish dinner.” They were having beans and rice, New Orleans style. The first of many budget meals in their future, he was sure. Fern had found the recipe on the Internet. He called down the hall to Nelson. It was his turn to set the table. Gideon was on KP. Afterward, James planned to play basketball with the boys.
Chapter Six
ANABELLE HURRIED DOWN THE HALL OF HOPE Haven toward the boardroom. She’d arrived early, wanting to talk to Dr. Hamilton before the meeting began, but there was already a group of people ahead of her, filing into the room. She followed them and made her way to the front. Granted, it was a fairly small space, but she had not expected so many people to show up.
It looked as if the article in the paper had caused alarm. Cam had certainly reacted that way and asked her point-blank if she would consider retiring now. She had answered no. In her heart, she knew she wasn’t ready—unless it was necessary for James to have a job again.
Heath and Candace sat at the table in the front of the room, and Candace motioned to Anabelle to join them. She made her way around to the back, next to Candace.
“We’re supposed to sit up here,” she whispered. “There’s going to be a general meeting first and then the advisory meeting.”
“Oh.” Anabelle hadn’t realized that from what Dr. Hamilton had told her or from the newspaper article. A moment later Elena made her way to the front of the room and sat next to Anabelle.
“Oh, goodie,” Anabelle said, “I was hoping you would be on the committee.”
Elena reached over and squeezed her hand. The room continued to fill, and at seven thirty sharp, Albert Varner checked his smartphone and then called the meeting to order. “After the article came out in the paper, we decided to allow the public to ask questions.” Varner turned to Anabelle and said, “Do you mind taking notes?”
She nodded and pulled her grocery-list notebook out of her purse as Dr. Hamilton slipped into the chair at the end of the table.
As Varner asked for questions, Anabelle spied James slipping into the back of the room and leaning up against the wall. Anabelle tu
rned her attention to her notebook, concentrating on what was being said.
James had given into Fern’s concerns and agreed to go to the meeting, as long as she put the idea of accompanying him out of her mind. Now, standing against the back wall, he scanned the crowd and smiled at the sight of his colleagues sitting in the front of the room. If he had hand-selected an advisory committee, he would have chosen the same five people.
The mayor of Deerford, Donald Armstrong, stood and asked what departments were going to be cut. Varner answered that only one program was going to be cut—the new one—and that had already happened.
The school superintendent stood next and said he’d heard the Birthing Unit was closing. James glanced at Candace who was, of course, watching Albert Varner intently.
The CEO shook his head. “No, that’s a ridiculous rumor. All of this has been blown out of proportion.” He glanced down at his smartphone as if he had notes he was checking.
The superintendent countered with a statement. “I know of other small-town hospitals that have cut their maternity programs, and young families moved away in droves. In a matter of years the schools were gutted.”
Varner began to stammer. “I already said—we’re not making any more cuts.” He looked toward the front row. James stood on his tiptoes. Zane McGarry, the CFO, was directly in front of Varner. The chief executive continued, “We have no plans, whatsoever, to even make cutbacks to the Birthing Unit, let alone eliminate it.”
Someone James didn’t know, an elderly gentleman, asked when the hospital would reinstate the Holistic Cardiac Program, quickly adding that his wife had heart problems and they’d felt comforted to know when she had a procedure done that a state-of-the-art facility would be available with additional education and therapy. Varner dodged the question without answering it, saying the decision would be made in a couple of months. He hadn’t said that on Friday.
James had been thinking about what Missy at Tender Loving Health Care said about the grant to add electronic record keeping to her business. Hope Haven had electronic charting, but the hospital wasn’t up-to-date with its technology. Varner had said the hospital wasn’t in compliance with the new electronic standards, and McGarry had said they didn’t qualify for government grants to become compliant. He raised his hand.