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  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, 2011 by Biblica, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

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  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  In loving memory of Lola Fay Atkinson,

  dear friend and cousin extraordinaire.

  Your smile shined brightly here on earth,

  warming the hearts of so very many.

  Heaven is blessed to have you in its midst.

  And, as always,

  for Bob.

  Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

  Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.

  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation,

  by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,

  present your requests to God.

  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,

  will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

  —Philippians 4:4–7

  STORIES from HOPE HAVEN

  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

  ELENA RODRIGUEZ HUMMED A HAPPY TUNE WHILE she strolled from the Hope Haven parking lot toward her second home, as she liked to call the century-old, brick hospital building. It was the middle of October, and amber leaves were already drifting from the trees to the parklike lawns and walkways; but the pink, yellow, and scarlet roses seemed to have taken one more deep breath and were blossoming profusely.

  Friday morning couldn’t have dawned more beautifully.

  Except, of course, for that twitch near her stomach that she’d felt when she got up this morning, and the fact that she hadn’t felt at all like eating the scrambled eggs and chorizo that her husband Cesar had so lovingly prepared for her breakfast. It had all looked like a big pile of grease and had turned her stomach.

  But it was much too pretty a day to think about that now.

  With her never-ending to-do list tucked in her pocket and her head full of thoughts about the American Cancer Society’s Walk for a Cure events that she was coordinating locally, Elena did what she often did in spring and summer: She stopped to inhale the sweet fragrance of Mr. Lincoln, one of her favorite roses. The hybrid tea was so full of velvety, deep red flowers that she didn’t think anyone would notice if she snapped off a few with nice long stems. It was rather a no-no to pick the roses, but they’d be gone with the first wind or frost; and really, the people inside the hospital could definitely enjoy them far more in a vase at their bedside.

  She dug a small pair of blunt-ended scissors from a pocket in her tote bag and snipped off half a dozen Mr. Lincolns, adding a few yellow and pink Peace to the bouquet, and last but not least, four Double Delights, their red-and-white petals adding the perfect touch to Elena’s collection.

  If only she could take them into the Intensive Care Unit to brighten the days of her patients. But flowers were definitely forbidden around the critically ill, which was a pity. If anyone needed a day brightener, it was the people who were stuck in bed with tubes running in and out of them, with nothing to listen to but the beeps and buzzes of monitors.

  She loved her job as a registered nurse in Intensive Care, but she sincerely hoped she’d never end up a patient in the ICU.

  Elena waved good morning to one of the groundskeepers who was raking leaves into a pile. “Don’t forget the Cops and Docs basketball game is tomorrow at four.”

  He waved back. “I’ll be there.”

  Hopefully a lot of people in town would be there, she thought, when the sliding double doors leading into Hope Haven Hospital opened and she walked into the reception area. The game was one of the first fund-raisers leading up to the big Walk for a Cure event that would be held the weekend before Thanksgiving. Cesar and their son Rafael would be playing for the Cops; her friend and fellow RN James Bell, along with his eldest son Gideon, would be playing with the Docs. She’d had a ton of fun planning the event and couldn’t wait to cheer on both teams.

  Counting the money they made after the game was over would also be a treat. The more money they made, the more they could donate to cancer research.

  It wasn’t quite 7:00 AM, and the reception area, strewn with a banner announcing the Walk for a Cure that the hospital was sponsoring, was relatively quiet. Custodian Hap Winston, who always had a ready smile, was busy cleaning the information counter; the spray he was using spread the scent of pine throughout the room.

  “Mornin’, Elena,” he said, as if he could see her through eyes in the back of his nearly bald head. “I saw you swiping roses again, but not to worry”—he twisted around and winked—“I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Thanks, Hap.”

  She could easily stop and carry on a five-minute conversation with Hap, talking about football or the weather or his latest adventure with his great-grandchildren; but she wanted to get the roses into water. And then it dawned on her. The chapel would be the perfect place for today’s bouquet. While she was going about her work, she’d ask the Lord to guide her.

  Hanging a left, she headed down the short hallway and entered the sanctuary. She’d expected to find the small room empty, but Pastor Tom sat in the first row of wooden pews, his head bent, hands folded in prayer.

  In his lap were at least a dozen roses, which made her smile. Had he swiped them from the hospital gardens too?

  Elena sat beside him, dropping her tote bag on the floor, with the thorny roses resting on top. Closing her eyes, she prayed silently: Dear Lord, as I begin this day, I ask for Your guidance. Inspire me, please, and lead me through all that I do for my patients. Bless the doctors and nurses and others who gather here to help those in need, and watch over those in our care. Teach us to give our best, to speak with love, and to act with courage, that we may be good stewards of all the gifts You have given. Amen.

  “I couldn’t resist picking a few roses this morning.” Pastor Tom stood, plucking a small leaf from the leg of his black slacks. He opened the door of a cabinet where the chaplains kept daily de
votionals and extra Bibles for patients or family members who requested them. He took out a red glass vase. “Thought they’d give the people who come into the chapel today an extra dose of comfort.”

  “I was thinking the same thing.” Elena handed her collection to the graying chaplain, whose sky-blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight streaming into the chapel through narrow windows. “I imagine we’ll see even more bouquets scattered about the hospital today. I doubt we’re the only ones who thought it’d be a travesty to see such beautiful roses soon lost to the weather.”

  He nodded his head, smiling gently. “I’ve been in the ICU already this morning.” He tucked the roses into the vase. “You have a new patient, a diabetic who’s gone into a coma.”

  “I’d better get upstairs then.”

  Grabbing her bag, Elena headed for the door and then looked back at Pastor Tom. “You will be at the game tomorrow, won’t you?”

  “Not to worry, Elena, I haven’t forgotten. In fact, I’ve asked Rabbi Leventhal to join me in blessing the game. After that, we’re officiating.”

  “Perfect.” Elena smiled, knowing that the rabbi and pastor would keep the players on the up and up. There was no telling what would happen when the cops and docs got together on the basketball court. “See you tomorrow.”

  A few moments later, Elena pushed through the second-floor stairwell doorway and nearly collided with a wet mop and the orderly pushing it. Slow down, she reminded herself; but that wasn’t her nature. She wasn’t rushing through life; she enjoyed every moment of it. But her to-do list was always on overload; and if she didn’t move fast, she couldn’t accomplish nearly enough. And right now, she wanted to get to the ICU and get an update on the diabetic coma patient and any other patients she might have to care for today.

  As she passed the Birthing Unit, she smiled and waved at her friend Candace Crenshaw—no, not Crenshaw. Though it had been almost seven weeks since the wedding, Elena still had to remind herself of the newlywed’s new last name. Candace Carlson was cuddling a newborn swaddled in one of Hope Haven’s soft blue blankets and didn’t notice Elena, but that was okay. They were bound to run into each other at some time during the day. They could talk about the walk, what they had done over the weekend, or family—always one of their favorite topics. Maybe they’d have lunch together.

  Turning right at the end of the hall, Elena dodged a gurney left just outside the entrance to the ICU and pushed through the double doors.

  “Code blue…”

  Elena’s musing came to a quick halt when she heard the emergency call. Her mind and body went into high gear.

  Two RNs raced into the farthest room from the nurses’ station. A respiratory therapist flew past her.

  Elena grabbed her stethoscope from her bag, dumped the tote under the desk and her coat on one of the desk chairs. She tossed the stethoscope around her neck and squeezed some hand disinfectant into her palm, then rushed to see what she could do to help.

  The ICU team was already at work on Eugene Lawrence—the name written next to Patient on the whiteboard hanging on the wall. It was amazing to watch Marge Matthews, the day-shift nurse supervisor, call out orders. Gloria Main, one of the RNs who was about ready to go off duty, was on the phone telling the operator to page Dr. Kelsey, the on-call pulmonologist. Danielle Tyson, one of the best respiratory therapists Elena had ever worked with, prepared an endotracheal tube to insert down the patient’s throat.

  Mr. Lawrence had stopped breathing. Elena glanced at the heart monitor—flatline.

  Elena hadn’t had time to look at the patient’s chart and didn’t know if Mr. Lawrence was the diabetic coma patient or another new patient in the ICU, but it didn’t matter. Marge had already shouted out that the patient’s wife wanted him resuscitated no matter what, and when Marge told Elena to start CPR, she didn’t hesitate.

  Elena climbed onto the bed and pressed the heels of her joined hands against his breastbone.

  He was a big guy—muscular, not fat—and she had to use every ounce of her strength as she pushed down on his chest, relaxed pressure on his sternum until his chest returned to its normal position, and then compressed again. And again. And again.

  She watched the monitor, hoping to see his heart begin to beat; but the line stayed flat.

  Beat! Please!

  Marge was getting the defibrillator prepared, but Elena wasn’t yet ready to give up. CPR wasn’t always a lifesaver—but Elena glanced up and saw a woman standing in the corner, watching in horror, tears streaming down her face. It had to be Mrs. Lawrence, and that energized Elena. She wasn’t about to let the woman’s husband die.

  Again and again she performed compressions and then…his heart began to beat. Not long after that, the endotracheal tube was inserted down his throat, and he was breathing with the aid of a ventilator.

  It was a difficult thing for a family member to watch, and Elena wished she or a chaplain—or somebody—had been able to escort the woman out of the room. At long last, Pastor Tom hustled into the room and escorted the lady out. He had a gentle touch with patients and their family members, and Elena knew he’d calm the woman’s fears.

  Elena was climbing off the bed when Dr. Kelsey, cardiologist Dr. Hildebrand, and Dr. Baer—an internist who was fairly new at the hospital—arrived, checking the patient and issuing orders. It wasn’t long before Elena realized that Mr. Lawrence was the diabetic coma patient, that he had gangrene in the toes on his right foot, and that it was spreading. Surgery was necessary, but they couldn’t operate until he was stabilized.

  Elena would be with him the rest of her workday, and he’d be her only patient, Marge told her. His condition was already serious; Elena only hoped she hadn’t broken his ribs while doing CPR. And if she had, she prayed his lungs hadn’t been punctured, which would only hinder his ability to get well.

  Mr. Lawrence required constant monitoring for at least the rest of the day. His wife would need comforting too.

  Elena took a deep breath while the room emptied, and when she and Mr. Lawrence were alone, she squeezed his hand. “Hang in there, Eugene. We’re going to get you through this—get you well again so you can go home and be with your family.”

  She thought she saw his eyelids flutter. Had he heard her? She felt him squeeze her hand lightly in return—and she smiled.

  There was never a dull moment in the ICU, Elena thought, and moments rarely got better than this. With God’s guidance, they’d helped a patient survive. With His continued guidance, they’d get Mr. Lawrence back on his feet again, so he could live a good long life.

  “Heard you performed CPR on a patient this morning,” fellow RN James Bell said when Elena slid her tray onto the round table in the hospital cafeteria, joining her good friends for a much-needed lunch break.

  “And my back is already suffering from it.” Elena inched down in the lightly padded chair, the muscles in her back feeling as if she’d been kicked by a mule.

  “If memory serves me right,” said Anabelle Scott, the supervising RN in the Cardiac Care Unit, “you’re going to hurt for three or four days.”

  “Oh, great.” Elena grinned, a tad cynically. “That’ll make setting up for tomorrow’s basketball game, plus the bake sale, so much more fun.” She looked from James to Anabelle, smiling. “You will come early to help set up, won’t you?”

  “Don’t know quite yet,” James said. “Fern’s helping to put out flowers for church on Sunday, and the boys and I have a lot on our plates. I’m thinking Gideon and I might have to back out of the whole thing, including playing in the game.”

  Elena felt as if her heart might stop. Were her closest friends going to flake out? They never had yet, but…

  “Stop teasing her, James.” Anabelle, always the voice of reason, shot James a look that could stop a herd of charging buffalo dead in their tracks. “You know you’ll be there.” She faced Elena. “Cam and I will be there too, since we’ll be the ones with the keys to the church gym and kitchen. As for my kids, Kirs
tie’s going to Chicago for the weekend, and Ainslee and Evan haven’t committed yet.”

  Elena finally relaxed, smiling again while James—tall, lean, and in his midfifties, with wavy hair that had gone from brown to solid gray in the last couple of years—and Anabelle—still lovely at sixty-four, her short salt-and-pepper hair immaculate, as always—chatted about their families. Elena swirled her spoon around in the bowl of minestrone she’d bought in the cafeteria, and tried to listen, but she was far too distracted by the soup. It was chock-full of bits of steak, tomatoes, macaroni, and dark red kidney beans, swimming around in dark, steaming broth; she wanted so much to taste it—but she suddenly felt bloated and her stomach rumbled.

  She pressed her hands against her stomach, hoping neither James nor Anabelle had noticed her discomfort. She was hungry—starved, in fact.

  Somehow she managed to take a bite. She still had four more hours to work, and she had to eat something to keep her blood sugar from dropping. The last thing she needed while taking care of Eugene Lawrence was a splitting headache.

  She took another bite and then drank some of the broth, the conversation around her mixing together until she could barely understand what James and Anabelle were laughing about.

  Pretty and petite Candace and her new husband—tall, blond, and handsome Heath Carlson, a radiology technician at the hospital—joined them at the table, the gorgeous bronze tans they’d acquired on their Caribbean cruise honeymoon fading away quickly. They were all smiles. Even though they were often caught up in their own happiness, today they immediately joined in the conversation.

  Elena wanted to concentrate on what her friends were discussing, but she had the horrid feeling that her stomach was on the verge of rumbling again. She laughed when everyone else laughed, although she had no idea what funny thing had been said.

  Suddenly, she was hit by a knifelike pain in her pelvis. Perspiration broke out on the back of her neck and a chill shivered through her.

  The flu? No, Lord. Please, no. Not the day before the Cops and Docs basketball game. Not before the bake sale. I have to be there. I have to.

  She felt an uncommon urge to run to the ladies’ room. Why on earth did her bladder have to feel so full? With a quick glance at the clock on the cafeteria wall, Elena pushed back in her chair, grabbed her tray, and offered her friends a weak smile. “Gotta run—but I’ll see you all tomorrow at the ball game.”