Heart Like Mine (34 page)

She'd never been anything but professional during her tenure at Mercy, and right now … she was anything but. She looked at the papers, tried to calm her breathing, and found an item near the bottom that he actually had added on his own. She shook her head, defeated.

“Kevin, do you know why so many teenaged cystic fibrosis kids get single rooms?”

He tipped his head, raising his eyebrows. “Because we've tried to give them privacy. I get it. It's important. But we could have two beds in those rooms. We're losing money.”

“It's not about privacy.” Her voice sounded as hopeless as she suddenly felt. “It's because the types of infections some of them have are highly contagious to other kids with CF.”

“I'm sure we have protocols in place to keep that under control. We're a small hospital. We have more leeway on things like this.”

She stared at him. “No. We. Don't. They could die, Kevin. We could speed up their
deaths
by going against standard, industry-wide recommendations. You can't play God here.”

“Delaney”—Margaret raised her eyebrows—“do you need to perhaps step out and take a moment?”

Delaney looked down at the table, counting to ten. “This proposal is dangerous, Margaret. The items I already had on it are untenable, and he's added even more. Please don't let this proposal go through, in any shape or form. Kevin hasn't done this research. He'll deny it till kingdom come, but this is my work. And because it was my job to present a well-researched, well-documented proposal, I took the time to examine every one of these items.”

She took a deep breath. “Because I did
that
, I know that my original thoughts don't hold water. If we make these cuts, we risk patient safety. That's the bottom line.”

“Thank you.” Margaret nodded. “And now, I think it would be best if you stepped out for the rest of the meeting. We certainly have heard your thoughts, and we will take them into consideration. However, I think we also need to hear the remainder of—Kevin's—proposal.”

Delaney looked at her, then at Gregory.
Seriously?
She was being dismissed? She was being shown the door, and Kevin was going to get the chance to continue this bullshit presentation?

Margaret stood up and opened the door. “Thank you, Delaney.”

 

Chapter 30

“Dr. Mackenzie, thank you for joining me.” Kevin McConnell shook his hand, indicating a seat in a tiny conference room on the first floor early Wednesday afternoon. “I know this was short notice. I appreciate you making time in your schedule.”

Josh looked around at the empty room as he sat down, suspicion crowding out the anger he'd been carrying since his conversation with Delaney last night.

“With all due respect, it didn't sound like this was an optional meeting.”

Kevin sat down at the head of the table, shuffling some papers before he clasped his hands and looked at Josh.

“As I'm sure you're aware, we've been doing some very careful budget analysis over the past few weeks, and your department was examined at length. Unfortunately, we've had to make some hard decisions.”

Josh's gut squeezed.
Oh, hell.

Kevin's face was set in a sympathetic—yet businesslike—pose, and Josh wondered how hard he'd had to practice it in order to feel like it was working for him.

It wasn't.

“What kinds of decisions are we talking about?”

Kevin pulled out a sheet of paper and looked down at it for a long moment, then sighed. “The board met this morning to look at proposals, and they've voted in some immediate changes. We've had to make some … rather substantial revisions to a number of line items. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you, and believe me, I wish we weren't in a position of having to adjust things quite so substantially.” He handed the paper to Josh. “I'll give you a minute to look them over, and then we can go through them line by line if it's helpful.”

Josh took the sheet, trying to regulate his breathing, trying not to think about what role Delaney might—or might not—have had in pushing through this proposal, whatever it was. He took a deep breath and started slowly scanning the list, letting his eyes take in each item in turn. As he read, a whole different kind of emotion took over.

He'd seen this list before. Delaney had
handed
him this list. But then she'd spent two weeks on his floor, and the last time he'd checked, she'd claimed to have shredded it. She'd said it was premature, not fully researched, not—safe. So why the
hell
was he seeing it again?

“May I ask who was responsible for coming up with this list?” He fought to keep his voice even.

“It was a group effort, of course, but I have to give my colleague, Delaney Blair, credit for most of the heavy lifting here. I'm sure you've seen her around the floor for the past couple of weeks, doing some observations.”

Josh nodded slowly. Oh, he'd seen her, all right. On the pediatric floor, on the dock, in his bed …

“This”—Kevin pointed to the paper in Josh's hand—“is the culmination of her efforts. She turned in her recommendations on Friday.”

No. This had been the
start
of her efforts, which she'd then discarded.

Hadn't she?

“I'm sorry.” Josh leaned forward, placing the sheet on the table. “I'm really confused here. Surely you've determined the impact these cuts would have on our programs. Delaney wouldn't have recommended these cuts. There's no way.”

Kevin nodded gravely. “I'm sorry. Nothing was easy about this. For any of us. She warned us that these findings would be … upsetting.”

“Upsetting?
Upsetting?
You're kidding, right?” Josh felt like the top of his head was about to blow off. The cuts on this list weren't just taking nice-to-have items away in a budget crisis. These were people—people he needed on that floor in order to keep his patients safe and well cared for. These were
not
optional. They were vital.

“Now, let's take this step by step.” Kevin put up a placating hand, and Josh fought the urge to shove it down his throat. For Christ's sake, maybe the guy hadn't even had anything to do with the damn recommendations. “Let's run through the list so we can leave the room with a plan for implementing these changes.”

“You know, calling them
changes
or
revisions
doesn't fool me into thinking you're doing anything but slicing my programming to shreds. Could we at least cut the bullshit here?”

Kevin sat back, taking a deep breath.
I'm just the messenger
, his posture said.

“Fine.” Josh shook his head. “We'll go down the list, but I have one question—why isn't Delaney here herself to present this?”

Kevin took another breath, rocking his head back and forth like a football player with an old neck injury.

“Delaney doesn't tend to get involved at this level.”

“This level? What does that mean?”

“She's the lead investigator on these sorts of things. She likes to really dig in and get down in the mud—so to speak—but when it's time to deliver the recommendations that come out of that research, she prefers to let others handle that piece.”

Josh shook his head, swallowing hard. None of this made sense. He couldn't believe the woman he'd just spent the weekend with had anything to do with this. Then again, that woman was nothing at all like the one who'd sat upstairs last night and poured a bucket of cold water over his memories of a hot, sweet weekend.

Maybe he didn't really know her at all.

Did she know Kevin was in here right now, delivering this news? Was she
here
in the building? Had she known last night that this was the plan for the morning? Had she cut Josh loose before the board got wind of their possible relationship, knowing he was just about to get sliced off at the budgetary knees, as well?

He'd certainly give her points for keeping things neat and tidy at the end.

Kevin shifted his stack of papers. “I'm sorry. This is just how she does things.”

“She's done this before?” Josh felt his eyes widen.

“Yes.” Kevin nodded slowly, like he was dealing with a seventh grader who was late to the punch. “This
is
what Delaney does.” Then he cocked his head again. “We build the budgets, and she … trims them.”

“But I've seen this list already. She showed it to me. She
also
said that it risked destroying the entire department if implemented.” Josh shook his head, running his eyes back down the list. “So you'll forgive me if this makes no sense at all right now. I'm having a hard time believing Delaney really supported these recommendations.”

“I know.” Kevin used his placating voice again. “It's difficult for everyone. She wasn't happy about presenting them, if it makes you feel any better. But her hands were tied.”

Josh put his hands up, completely confused. “Have you seen all of the news this week? Our pediatric department has been flooded with good publicity. If we make these cuts, the next news story we get is going to be one we really don't want to picture.”

He shook his head. He needed to hear this from Delaney. “Can we get her in here? I need to hear this from her own mouth.”

“She's not available. I'm sorry.”

“Is that part of her strategy, too?”

Kevin shrugged apologetically. “I'm sorry to be the one to deliver this news to you. I really am. How about if I give you some time to digest the recommendations, and we can meet tomorrow instead? Would that work for you?”

Joshua shook his head, staring at the proposal blindly.

Kevin sighed, then stood up, looking at his watch. “I'm really sorry. Give me a call tomorrow, and we'll schedule a time to meet, all right? We have a little time before these changes need to occur.”

Five minutes later, Josh still sat at the table, a cold cup of coffee in front of him … and a cold lump of ice in his gut.

He picked up the list, scowling as he scanned the items once again. This time he noticed a column he hadn't seen the first two times. His eyes widened in fury as he realized this wasn't just a proposal anymore. This time, every item on the list had an implementation date.

Apparently he had three months before his department imploded.

That was three months longer than he had before
he
did.

*   *   *

“Have you seen Joshua? Dr. Mackenzie, I mean?” Delaney fought to keep her voice level as she leaned over the nurses' station counter to get Therese's attention Wednesday afternoon. She'd spent two hours stewing at her desk after the board meeting, but when Kevin had walked by her office ten minutes ago with a triumphant expression on his face, she'd panicked.

When he'd stopped short and come back in to tell her the news of the board vote, she'd held her stomach, feeling sick. Then, with an I-won-this-round gleam in his eye, he'd told her that he'd saved her the trouble of delivering the news to Dr. Mackenzie.

She'd whipped off her heels and taken the stairs down from the sixth floor, not wanting to wait for the elevator. When she'd reached the third floor, she'd paused, putting on her shoes and trying to catch her breath before she pushed through the doors. She'd already done the crazy-chick act once today. No need to look like she was about to launch it again.

She had to get to Joshua—had to explain what had happened. Had to tell him this wasn't her doing, even though she was dead sure Kevin had spun it that way.

Therese looked up, frowning, and Delaney saw her set her jaw carefully. “I don't know where he is,” she answered, turning immediately back to her computer screen.

“Is he on the floor?”

Therese didn't look up. “Check with Millie. She's with Annabeth.”

“Thank you.” Delaney tapped on the counter, then spun to head toward Annabeth's room. When she got there, she knocked and ducked her head in.

Millie looked up, but
she
didn't bother to wipe the frown from
her
face. Or the frost from her voice. This didn't bode well at all.

“Yes?”

“I'm just looking for Joshua. Have you seen him?”

“No.”

“Any idea where he might be?”

Millie's eyebrows went up in challenge. “No.” She stood and walked toward Delaney, seemingly sizing her up. She must have seen the desperation in Delaney's expression, because finally, she pointed toward the playroom.

“Last I saw, he was in there with Kaya and her mom.”

“Thank you.” Delaney quick-stepped down the hall, halting when she heard Kaya's little voice.

“Tomorrow? I get to go home tomorrow?” Kaya was squeaky and elated.

“You betcha,” Joshua answered, and Delaney could imagine him squeezing Kaya's little cheek. “But I'm going to miss you.”

“I'll miss you, too. Maybe I can come visit just for visiting. Not for staying.”

He laughed, but Delaney heard a note of sadness in it. “Just for visiting.”

A few seconds later, Kaya and her mother came down the hallway, each with one hand on Kaya's IV pole. Delaney worked up a smile as they ambled by, and then she headed for the playroom, hoping she could catch Joshua before he got tied up with another patient.

When she got to the glass door, her throat felt like she'd tried to swallow a grapefruit. He was sitting in one of the kid chairs, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He looked positively exhausted—and devastated.

She knocked tentatively, then pushed open the door. He looked up, pasting a smile on his face, then letting it drop as he realized who she was.

“Why are you here?” His voice was clipped, angry.

“I'm here—to talk to you.”