New Beginnings (23 page)

At dinner they sat at the head table in a room filled with as many as three hundred people, Lew Maxwell as the host. A man in his fifties, he had graying hair and a manner that made each person he met an instant friend.

James enjoyed the breast of chicken filled with stuffing, but noticed Fern was only nibbling at her dinner. Nerves, he imagined.

The plates were taken away and small dishes of chocolate mousse brought for dessert.

Lew moved to the podium to acknowledge dignitaries in the audience and make a few announcements.

Fern leaned toward James. “I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be. You’ll do fine.”

As Lew introduced Fern, she took a deep breath and walked steadily to the podium barely using her cane. She turned a dazzling smile on the audience.

“Hi. My name is Fern, and I have multiple sclerosis.”

“Hi, Fern,” the audience responded.

That seemed to please her, and James saw the tension ease from her shoulders.

“People all over the world adjust to their own particular situation. Whether they are short or tall, live at the equator or in the wilds of Alaska. They work as doctors, store clerks, and schoolteachers. They thrive because of who they are. All of these people have multiple sclerosis. MS may restrict or limit what they can do physically. But MS does not define who they are. Nor does it define who I am, and it shouldn’t define who you are either.”

In full agreement, the audience responded with enthusiastic applause, and James sat back to enjoy the rest of her speech. With only a few words, she’d grabbed their attention and held the audience in the palm of her hand. She was one of them. She understood. And they loved her for that.

James wished the boys could be here. Seeing her. Listening to her speak. They’d feel the same pride that filled his chest and brought the burn of tears to his eyes.

I
LOVED THE MOON JELLIES. THEY FLOAT AROUND AS
gracefully as ballerinas.”

Sitting in the family room reporting on their trip to the boys, James smiled affectionately at his wife. “She was so engrossed in those silly moon jellies, I had to drag her away.”

“Only because you wanted to see the Amazon exhibit.” She visibly shuddered. “They have a bird-eating tarantula the size of a small pizza.”

“Cool,” Gideon said.

“Plus,” James added, “anacondas, piranhas with razor-sharp teeth, gigantic crocodiles—”

“Hey, that sounds neat. When do we get to go?” Nelson asked.

“If you’re going to see the Amazon exhibit, once was enough for me. I’ll stay home and paint.” Although lines of fatigue pinched her eyes, Fern was still smiling after their weekend away. “So what did you boys do while we were gone?”

Gideon shrugged. “Nothin’ much.”

“That’s hard to believe, Son. No date?” James asked.

“Yeah, I had a date.” Sitting with his arms resting on his thighs, Gideon appeared to be examining the floor in search of an answer. “Sue and I went to a movie last night. No big deal.”

“How’s it going with her?”

“They hang out together at school all the time,” Nelson reported.

Gideon cut his brother a sharp look. “So? What’s it to you? You jealous because you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“Boys,” Fern admonished. “Be nice.”

Nelson lifted his chin. “I’ve got a girlfriend. I just don’t hang out with her all the time.”

“You have a girlfriend?” Fern asked. “What’s her name? What’s she like?”

“At least that’s better than the girl you talk to on the radio all the time,” Gideon said. “You never even see her.”

Standing, Nelson shot his brother an angry look and jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. “Her name’s Pamela. She’s like a genius or something. Thinks she might want to be a doctor. We study together sometimes, okay?”

“That sounds fine, Nelson,” James said.

“Yeah, well, I got stuff to do.” Nelson spun around and marched off to his bedroom.

Gideon decided to do the same.

Fern and James exchanged an amused look.

“Our boys are growing up, aren’t they?” Fern commented. “Both of them with girlfriends.”

“And not much time for their aging parents.”

Laughing, Fern said, “If that’s the case, maybe we ought to sneak off together for a weekend more often.”

“That would definitely work for me.”

The following Sunday afternoon, Anabelle arrived at Baldomero’s restaurant for her retirement party. After three attempts to choose what she wanted to wear to the event, she’d decided on a flattering plum-colored wool dress with a slightly flared skirt.

Although she’d been to any number of retirement parties over the years, she had no idea how to act at her own. She rubbed her arm where the wool was beginning to itch.

She’d spent much of yesterday helping Kirstie finish packing for her move to Chicago. The whole time she’d kept up a brave front despite the knot in her stomach.

Perhaps the party would get her mind off of Kirstie and the ache of loss she already felt.

“There are a lot of cars in the parking lot,” she commented to Cam as he drove, looking for an empty space. He had on his dark suit with a paisley tie she’d given him for Christmas.

“There are probably a couple of birthday or anniversary parties going on. Baldomero’s is a popular place.”

“I suppose. I can’t imagine all of these people are here for me.” She hoped Elena and the others, including Elena’s mother, Camila, hadn’t gone to too much trouble.

As they walked toward the entrance, Anabelle heard laughter and music playing—a mariachi band.

Cam opened the door for her, and the music and chatter swooped out, wrapping Anabelle in the happy sound of people having fun accompanied by violins, guitars, and muted trumpets.

“Someone has gone all out,” she commented.

As she stepped inside, a cheer went up. “She’s here!”

Suddenly she was surrounded. The first to greet her was petite Camila Baldomero. “Welcome to Baldomero’s. We’re so glad you’re here. Today you are our honored guest, a member of our family.”

“Thank you—”

Anabelle barely had a chance to thank Camila before Elena hugged and welcomed her.

After that it was one friend after another: James and Fern, Candace and Heath, Eddie Blaine and his co-worker Hap Winston, who had worked at the hospital longer than she had. Food-service workers, including Sarah Fulton, stepped up to congratulate her. For the first time she could remember, Phyllis Getty was wearing something other than her volunteer jacket. Quintessa Smith, who worked for the chief financial officer, and her brother Dillan both greeted her warmly and wished her well. Diana Zimmer was there but without her dog Ace.

Nurses and orderlies and even doctors appeared from every corner of the room, which was festively decorated with crepe-paper streamers and balloons.

Dr. Drew gave her a bear hug. “We’re all going to miss you, Anabelle. But it’s the patients who will miss you the most.”

The tears that had been threatening broke lose then. “Oh, Dr. Drew, what am I going to do without you?”

Cameron, who had been standing nearby, handed her a clean white handkerchief. “I thought this might come in handy today.”

She dabbed at her eyes, confident her makeup would be a mess by the end of the day.

Elena handed her a plate loaded with appetizers, far more than she would ever be able to eat.

“Rafael talked the mariachi band into providing the entertainment at no charge, and he arranged it without me even asking,” Elena said.

“That’s so sweet of him. Of everyone to be here. I didn’t expect—”

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t expect a big turnout for your retirement.” Sniffing, Elena wiped her eyes with a napkin. “You’re much loved around Hope Haven.”

The band played a loud chord, drawing attention to the small stage and to Albert Varner standing in front of the microphone.

“If I could have your attention.” He cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen—”

The crowd slowly quieted, and Anabelle noticed Penny Risser stood at the edge of the stage, ready as always to assist her boss if needed.

“We’re here today to honor Anabelle Scott and her devoted service to Hope Haven Hospital,” Mr. Varner began.

“Hear! Hear!” The crowd applauded and cheered.

Heat rushed to Anabelle’s cheeks. This was so much more than she’d expected. Nearly overwhelming.

“Many of us have known Anabelle for a long time,” Mr. Varner continued. “Through her hard work, professionalism, and kindness, she has earned our respect and, yes, our love. She has represented in the best possible way the heart of Hope Haven Hospital and our mission to serve the community with high-quality, caring medical service. There have been times”—he glanced in Anabelle’s direction—“times when she served as the conscience of Hope Haven Hospital as well. For that, we are particularly grateful.”

Cam slid his arm around Anabelle’s shoulders, which were shaking with emotion. “Hang on, luv.”

She leaned against him. “This is harder than I thought.”

“I know.”

“Now, if Anabelle would be so kind as to join me.” Mr. Varner gestured for her to come up on the stage. “We have a small token of our appreciation for her.”

Anabelle swallowed hard. Her knees wobbled, and her pulse raced. This would be a terrible time to have a heart attack, she thought inanely.

Elena took the untouched plate of food from her hands, and Cam ushered her toward the stage. Her friends—the members of her work family—stood and clapped as she made her way through the crowd.

Mr. Varner offered her his hand to help her step up onto the raised platform. “There you are, Anabelle. Come right up here beside me.”

Anabelle saw a sea of familiar faces in front of her, all of them smiling.

“To memorialize Anabelle’s retirement,” Mr. Varner said, “I considered getting her a set of engraved, sterling silver knitting needles. However, I was told that although Anabelle does knit, she prefers quilting. Unfortunately, a silver sewing machine of the sort she prefers was not within the hospital’s budget.”

The audience chuckled, which relaxed Anabelle. But only a little.

Varner gestured to Penny, who brought him a flat box about eighteen inches long and a foot wide.

“I fear, therefore, that we had to settle for a more traditional commemorative plaque.” He opened the box, held up a shiny ebony plaque with a sketch of Hope Haven Hospital at the top and then read the words engraved in gold. “‘In appreciation of Anabelle Scott, RN, for her thirty-five years of extraordinary service and dedication to Hope Haven Hospital.’ The plaque is signed by the board of directors and by me, Albert Varner, CEO.”

He looked up from the plaque. “If you believe, as I do, that an individual should strive to live a life of purpose, then our own Anabelle has achieved her purpose in grand style.”

Turning, he handed her the plaque. As they shook hands to the sound of applause, a dozen camera flashes went off. Mr. Varner stepped away from the microphone leaving Anabelle on her own.

A lump the size of a ball of yarn filled her throat. Tears blurred her vision. Her hands damp with nervous perspiration, her fingers left prints on the plaque’s shiny surface.

“Thank you, Mr. Varner, all of you for coming today. I had no idea—” Her voice broke. “This is all so lovely, but why do I feel like I’m attending my own wake?”

Everyone laughed, quieting again to hear what she had to say.

“All these years, I’ve been blessed to be a part of Hope Haven. The hospital has been my home away from home. You have been my family. We’ve seen each other through sickness and joy, births and deaths, tragedies and miracles.” She hugged the plaque to her chest. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

Trying desperately to hold her tears at bay, she started to step off the stage.

“Wait!” Elena scooted between the tables. “We have something else for you.” She held up a large piece of poster board. The words Happy Retirement were carefully lettered across the top. Below that, painted in watercolors, was a caricature of Anabelle in her lab coat, the hem flying behind her and a determined look on her face.

“My goodness! Do I really look like that?” Anabelle laughed at the image.

“Fern painted your picture and everyone has signed it on the back.” Elena turned the poster around where there were dozens of signatures and short notes. “If you haven’t had a chance to sign it yet,” she said to the crowd, “please do so before you leave.”

Anabelle squinted, scanning the room. “Fern, where are you? This is so perfect. I had no idea what a good artist you are.”

Fern waved her hand. “Here I am. I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s absolutely perfect!”

Finally, her knees weak, her emotions roiling, Anabelle sat down at one of the tables. By ones and twos her friends came by to hug her and wish her well.

“You know, I still have two more days left to work, through the end of January,” she said. “You aren’t entirely rid of me yet.”

After a bit, the crowd began to thin. People had other commitments, places they needed to be. The band packed up and left as well.

Anabelle exhaled a sigh that came from deep in her soul. “Elena, I can’t tell you how much this day has meant to me.”

“You know how I love to throw a party. And I had lots of help with this one.”

“It’s been so wonderful, everyone was so caring, even Mr. Varner. I’m tempted to change my mind and not retire.”

Her dark eyes shining with unshed tears, Elena pursed her lips. “I wish you would. I’m going to miss you so much.”

They clung to each other for a long moment, Anabelle recognizing the extraordinary friendship she shared with Elena. That communion of two souls who loved each other would always remain as would her friendships with so many of those she’d worked with over the years.

Today she’d celebrated not her wake, but a new beginning.

J
AMES HEARD ALL SORTS OF BUZZING AMONG THE
clusters of employees in the third-floor lounge the next morning, but he only caught snatches of words.

Promotion.

Where is she from?