by Leslie Gould
It was probably crazy to tell Anabelle he’d come back to Hope Haven to pray, but he needed that too. Maybe more than anything.
Chapter Nineteen
ANABELLE SAT AT THE END OF THE TABLE during report, listening to Debbie Vaughn, who was giving the shift change report, and stealing glances at Marie. She looked tired and absolutely wrung out.
“That’s all,” Debbie said. “Hope everyone has a great day.” Then she muttered, “Hope the rest of us have a great sleep.” She would be the most likely to take Anabelle’s job. It had been obvious for quite some time that Debbie was tired of night shift. Anabelle couldn’t remember how many years the woman had been working that shift, but probably close to ten by now.
“How’s your son doing?” Debbie asked Marie.
“Better. We had quite the week but he’s finally responding to his treatments. I hated to miss work last week, but I didn’t have any other choice.” Marie stood, a pained look on her face.
Anabelle, her heart racing, followed the woman out to the hall, wondering if it would be better to break the news at the beginning of the shift or at the end. She decided on the end. She could start by asking if Marie had gotten her message. The woman hadn’t called her back.
Marie turned around. “Thank you for telling Rev. Wiltshire about my situation,” she said quietly and sincerely. “He brought a box of food by on Friday and had some ideas for me as far as resources to tap in to. And,”—her eyes swam—“he prayed with me and my kids. I felt a peace I haven’t experienced in weeks.”
Anabelle impulsively hugged Marie, and the younger woman melted into her arms. She wanted to tell her everything would be all right—and it would be, someday. But how could she tell her that now, and then tell her she didn’t have a job later in the day?
Marie pulled away and swiped at her eyes with her forearm. “I can’t tell you how much this job means to me. And this hospital. I’ve never worked anywhere like Hope Haven.”
Anabelle nodded. “I agree. It’s a pretty special place.” She was unprepared for the tears that suddenly filled her own eyes and the sinking feeling in her stomach.
“Are you okay?” Marie reached for her hand.
“Just feeling emotional, that’s all.” Anabelle pulled a tissue from her pocket. She’d wait until the end of the shift to give Marie the bad news. “Let’s get to work.”
The women parted, and Anabelle stepped behind the nurses’ station, feigning the need to look something up on the computer. She dropped down into the chair and stared off into space. If she retired and Debbie took her job, who would take Debbie’s job? If it was someone from night or evening shift, Marie would have to take their job and she wouldn’t be working days anyway. It was an absolute fluke she was working days as it was. Right now, the evening-and night-shift nurses, except Debbie, preferred those shifts for one reason or another: they coincided with their husbands’ shifts, or didn’t and therefore met their child care needs, or they wanted the extra pay for shift differential or they preferred working shifts that were more low-key. There were a multitude of reasons—all reasons that wouldn’t work for Marie.
Anabelle crossed paths with Marie several times during the shift, and each time the young woman met her with a grateful smile. By quitting time, Anabelle had decided to retire for sure. She and Cameron could get by without the extra income. Sure, it would mean not buying as many things for Lindsay Belle—and also not being reprimanded by Ainslee every time they did—but that wasn’t an issue at all compared to Marie’s not being able to provide basic needs for her children.
After report, before heading out to the Wall of Hope to pray, Anabelle slipped down the back stairs to the first floor, to the HR department, but Leila Hargrave wasn’t in.
“What do you need?” Penny Risser, who’d been leaning over looking at something on the HR administrator’s computer, asked.
Anabelle stepped away from the nursing administrator’s desk. “To talk to Leila.”
“She’s in a meeting.” Penny nodded toward the wall that connected HR to the CEO’s offices. “With the administrators and a guy from California.”
Anabelle stepped toward the administrator’s desk. “Is it Heath Carlson’s friend?” She’d heard he was in town.
Penny shrugged. “All I know is that the man is ‘gathering information.’ Whatever that means.”
Anabelle thought for a moment and then turned back to Penny. “I’ll talk to Leila tomorrow.” She felt a twinge of guilt for not letting Marie go yet. She’d definitely disobeyed orders, something she couldn’t recall ever doing before as a supervisor. “Thanks,” she said to Penny and then headed down the hall toward the Wall of Hope.
“Joel, I’ve got to go. I told you I have a meeting in town.” James was out of patience. The young man had been demanding and out of sorts all afternoon. James had asked him several times if there was something bothering him, but Joel had insisted there wasn’t. Without Joel’s bringing up his dad, there was nothing James could say.
Joel’s lower lip actually jutted out. For a moment, James wanted to laugh but knew that wouldn’t do any good. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. “In the morning. Polly will be here too.”
Joel adjusted the hospital-style bed so he was sitting up straighter. “Wait. There’s something I need to ask you.”
James turned around.
“Mom made an appointment with the doc I’m supposed to see. Can you take me?”
“I thought one of your parents was going to.”
“Dad was.” Joel turned toward the window and his voice grew quieter. “But I would rather you did.”
James rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ll check with your parents and my supervisor. I’m not sure what the protocol is on this sort of thing.”
Joel turned his head back toward James. “Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it. See you tomorrow.”
Exhaustion crept up on James as he drove into town. His phone rang and, thinking it was Fern, he flipped it open to speakerphone.
It was Cody. “I have someone who’s interested in looking at the house, this afternoon or tomorrow morning.” Her voice sounded apologetic. She explained the person who wanted to see it was from out of town and in Deerford on business. He was trying to see as many houses as possible in a short time, both in town and in Princeton. She had no idea what would come of it—but she felt she had to show the house. She was sorry.
James tried to soothe her feelings, telling her he understood. And he did. “Tomorrow morning would work best,” he said.
He closed the phone as he reached the city limits and gripped the steering wheel even tighter, feeling utter despair for the first time.
Candace stepped out into the courtyard, relieved to find the space warmed by the afternoon sun. The morning had been cold, but the day had grown progressively warmer. She turned toward the picnic table by the wall and called out a hello to Anabelle.
The older woman looked up from her knitting and smiled. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone else was going to show up.”
“I had a patient who just delivered,” Candace explained. “And Elena had to go pick up Izzy. She’ll be right back.” She brushed a leaf off the bench across from Anabelle and sat down. “Have you heard from James?”
Anabelle shook her head.
“What are you knitting?” Candace settled down onto the bench opposite her friend.
“A cap for Lindsay Belle. For next winter.” She held the lime-green creation and the skein of yarn bounced off the table into her lap.
As they chatted, James hurried into the courtyard. “I thought I was late,” he said, “really late.”
“You are,” Anabelle chided. “It’s just that Elena’s later.”
They all laughed, mostly because Elena was never late. When James explained he’d come from his home health job, Anabelle chastised him for working too much.
“Isn’t that ironic?” he said. “I’m unemployed—and working too much.” He smiled, and Candace
was relieved to see the grin that she’d missed so much.
“I admire how you’re trusting God,” she told him. “You put me to shame. I’ve really been struggling with the threat of the hospital reducing staff and maybe even closing.”
“You don’t know of what you speak,” he said, and then smiled again. “Actually, I need to be reminded to trust. I’m feeling pretty desperate.”
Candace couldn’t imagine James needing a reminder, not with how he’d trusted God through Fern’s illness, the demands of raising teenagers, having to move out of their old house because of mold, and waiting for it to sell.
Elena arrived a moment later with Izzy in tow. As they sat down at the table, the girl whispered something to her grandmother and Elena said, “That’s okay, they’ll be safe in the car. You can show Aunt Anabelle later.”
Anabelle perked up. “What do you want to show me, Izzy?”
“Long story,” Elena interjected. “I’ll tell you later. We’ve held everyone up enough.”
Izzy looked disappointed but began coloring, a little outside the lines, in her book.
Anabelle started the meeting, listing things to pray about. The hospital. The upcoming advisory meeting. A job for James. Provision for all of them.
“Skip Mullen,” Candace added.
“Skip who?” James asked.
“He’s Heath’s friend, from California. I met him over the weekend. He’s a really nice guy and seems to have a handle on what’s going on. He’s an expert on e-charting and informatics and grant writing. All of that. Of course, he’s used to making way more money than Hope Haven could pay.”
Everyone nodded in agreement. James’s gaze fell on the Wall of Hope and then he refocused, asking Candace if there was a chance Skip was looking at houses.
Candace nodded. “Yes, here and in Princeton.”
James groaned. “Maybe you could pray he finds one in Princeton. It sounds like he might be looking at the rental we’re in tomorrow morning.”
Candace’s stomach fell.
“Oh, James.” Elena’s voice broke. “I thought you’d already bought that house.”
“The process stopped when I was laid off.”
Candace felt sick. The house was perfect for the Bell family. As much as she’d wanted Skip and Margie to move to Deerford, she was suddenly hoping they’d find a house for sale in Princeton too.
James said, “Just pray; we’ll trust God with it.”
As everyone talked, Izzy began to hum a tune. It took Candace a few bars to realize the song was familiar, and it appeared that it registered with James at the same time because, in unison, they blurted out, “Trust and Obey.”
Izzy smiled. “I learned it in Sunday school yesterday.” She resumed humming.
“Could we sing it together?” Candace asked. “Before we pray?”
All agreed and with Izzy leading them, the four friends sang, “‘Trust and obey, for there’s no other way, to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.’”
Anabelle began her prayer by asking that all of them would trust God with Hope Haven and with their own needs too, including any hard decisions each might be faced with. She mentioned James and all the things that were out of his control: a job, the house, Fern’s health. Candace prayed along silently, adding that she would trust God with her relationship with Heath and their future too.
After the prayer meeting ended, the women said good-bye and left in a hurry to run errands and head home to start dinner for their families. James lingered for a moment, staring at the Wall of Hope again. Finally he stood, stepping toward it, squatting down to read the names of the donors engraved on the waist-high bricks that formed the planter. Above his head the tulips growing in the box were starting to fade, their white, yellow, red, and pink petals hanging loosely from the stems. He leaned his forehead against the bricks. It had been good to pray with his friends, but he still didn’t feel peace.
Lord, he silently cried out, what do You have for me? He waited a moment. Should I go back to school? Should I change careers? Still he felt no peace. The bricks were cool against his forehead and he started to get up, when a feeling swept over him.
Lean on Me.
They weren’t audible words—but a feeling. The feeling swept through him again.
Lean on Me.
James rested his head against the cool bricks again. Is there something else I should be doing? Pursuing? he prayed.
The feeling swept over him a third time. Lean on Me.
Okay. He stood. I will. Help me to trust You. Help me to remember, every minute of every day, to lean on You. Peace finally swept over him. He wouldn’t pursue the PT program. Even two nights a week would be a stress on his family. He would wait—and lean.
Chapter Twenty
CANDACE PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT OF THE mall, close to the shoe store, and glanced at Brooke. “One pair of Vans, right?”
Her daughter crossed her arms. “Could I get two?”
“Two aren’t in the budget, sweetie,” Candace answered pulling into a parking space. One pair wasn’t in the budget either, but it seemed like overnight Brooke’s feet had outgrown all of her school shoes. Her PE shoes were getting tight and would need to be replaced soon too. By summer, she would need new sandals…and new clothes. Candace sighed as she climbed from her Honda CRV.
Brooke walked a couple of steps ahead of her on the way to the entrance. Her long blonde curls bounced against her back, and even though she was still short for her age, her legs seemed to have grown a few inches in the last month. And that, combined with her thin build, gave her the look of a model.
She turned and stopped, waiting for Candace to catch up. As Candace reached her daughter, Brooke took her mother’s hand and swung it back and forth. Even though her daughter was officially a teen, she was still a little girl—at least some of the time.
It felt like it took Brooke forever to decide which pair of shoes to buy. She tried on a pair of neon green and then pink. When the salesclerk left to help someone else, Candace suggested Brooke try the black shoes, thinking they would go with everything.
“I’ll give them a try.” But Brooke sighed loudly as she looked in the mirror. Next she tried on a purple pair and then a pair that were forest green.
When the salesperson—who had a tattoo of a rose on her bicep—returned, she told Brooke she couldn’t go wrong with black. “It looks bad with everything,” she said.
Brooke nodded, her face thoughtful. “Yeah,” she responded, “I was thinking the same thing.”
After Candace had paid and they were leaving the store with the black Vans on Brooke’s feet, she whispered, “Bad actually means good.”
“I figured,” Candace whispered, putting her arm around her daughter. “How about a smoothie to celebrate a successful shopping trip?” she asked in a normal tone. She could squeeze that much out of the budget.
“Sounds good!”
“Or would that be bad?” They both laughed as they quickened their steps.
Ten minutes later as they sat at a table in the food court, Brooke pointed across the way, to the jewelry store. “Mom, isn’t that Skip?”
Candace squinted. It sure looked like him.
“And I think that’s Heath.” Brooke was halfway out of her chair.
Candace almost stood too but then sat back down. Heath and Skip were walking out of the jewelry store. She felt her face redden and hoped Brooke didn’t notice.
She didn’t. She was waving her hand. “Hey, Heath! Skip!” she called out. “Over here!” And then Brooke started walking toward the men, with Candace a few steps behind her.
Heath and Skip exchanged looks and what Candace was sure were sly smiles and then headed their way. “What are you two doing here?” Heath asked.
Brooke raised her foot. “Shoes.” And then her half-full cup. “Smoothie.” She grinned at both men. “How about you guys?”
“Um.” Skip shot a look at Heath. “I was shopping for my wife.”
“But Heath’s the one with the bag.” Brooke’s voice was incredulous, but she didn’t go so far as to exclaim, “Awkward!” Instead Candace just thought the word.
“He’s holding the bag for me,” Skip said, extending his hand.
“Yeah. Why am I carrying this?” Heath swung the bag toward Skip. “Carry your own gift.”
The two men laughed, and Candace felt her face grow warmer. Maybe her suspicions were wrong.
“We were just going to go grab some dinner,” Skip said. “Care to join us? My treat.”
Brooke looked at Candace in anticipation, but Candace shook her head. “We already ate, and I need to get home and get Howie to bed.”
“Aw, Mom,” Brooke said.
“Next time,” Skip said.
They chatted for another few minutes. Heath seemed as cool and calm as could be, and pretty soon Candace convinced herself that the gift really was for Skip’s wife. Heath had probably grabbed it off the counter as a joke.
“Well, we’d better get going,” Candace said. As they said their good-byes, Heath gave her a hug, and then Skip winked at her and once again she felt flustered as they turned to leave.
“What do you think Skip bought his wife?” Brooke pushed open the mall exit door and Candace followed her outside, dropping her smoothie cup in the garbage can to her right.
“I have no idea,” Candace said. “But probably something really nice.”
“I hope I have a husband someday who buys me jewelry.…” Brooke’s voice trailed off as they reached the car. Candace sighed, inwardly grateful her daughter was clueless as to what she had thought that Heath might have been up to.
After Brooke and Howie were settled down for the evening, Candace made herself a cup of peppermint tea and sat on the other end of the couch from Janet, who was working on the crossword puzzle in the Deerford Dispatch.
Janet looked up. “I need a word for idea. Six letters.”
“You know I’ve never been good at—wait.” Candace counted the letters on her hand. “How about notion?”
“Oh, you’re right.” Janet looked at Candace, a pleased expression on her face. “Thanks.” She wrote the letters down and then another word. Finally she turned her attention toward Candace. “Did you want to talk, dear?”