New Beginnings (18 page)

Candace blanched. “Of course. But everyone is betting you’ll get the job. I only thought—”

“As long as you understand, I’m going to get back to scheduling my nurses for next week. Excuse me.”

She slid her glasses back in place and returned her attention to the computer screen. She didn’t want anyone speculating or betting on her getting the promotion, not until she made up her own mind about what she should do.

She took a deep breath as guilt washed over her. Poor Candace. She hadn’t meant to jump all over the sweet girl. She’d have to apologize the next time she saw her.

But really, with her emotions all tied in a knot over her decision, she didn’t want the staff speculating about her. Not even her dearest friends.

With a roast cooking in the oven for dinner, James drained the potatoes. Fern sat at the breakfast bar cutting tomatoes for the salad on a cutting board. Outside the window it was already dark, the remnants of the snowstorm glinting in the moonlight on the ground.

“I saw Nelson in his room studying,” James said. “Is Gideon around somewhere?”

“He went over to Scotty’s house. He promised to be home by dinnertime.” She dropped a handful of tomatoes into the salad bowl.

“If he doesn’t remember, he’ll eat his dinner cold. Not that he’s had much of an appetite for the past couple of weeks. He must’ve lost ten pounds.”

“You know, when he came in the house he was acting almost normal. In fact, I heard him whistling as he went off to Scotty’s.”

“Whistling?” James stuck the beaters in the bowl of potatoes but didn’t turn the mixer on. “Maybe he’s finally getting over Jenni dumping him.”

“I hope so. It was painful to see him moping around for such a long time.” She started chopping the green onions.

The beaters whirred through the potatoes. James added milk and butter. Maybe a few days back at school had helped Gideon get his life into perspective.

A few minutes before James was ready to serve dinner, Gideon burst in through the back door. He strutted into the kitchen, his hips loose, his arms swinging, a grin on his face.

“Hey, Dad. What’s for dinner? I’m starved.”

Repressing a smile, James made eye contact with Fern. “Probably nothing you’d like.”

“Don’t count on it. I’m so hungry I could eat fried liver.”

Fern wrinkled her nose. “
Eeewww
. You’ve never liked liver.”

“Yeah, well, maybe a couple slices of that roast I see would be better.”

Chuckling, James said, “Go wash up and tell your brother dinner’s ready.”

“You got it, Daddy-O.” Doing a silly backhanded salute, he jogged out of the kitchen.

“Something has certainly upgraded his mood,” James commented, carrying a platter of sliced roast beef and a bowl of mashed potatoes to the breakfast-nook table.

A few minutes later, they were all sitting around the table, had said grace, and Gideon was stabbing two slices of beef, dropping them on his plate.

“You seem to be in particularly good spirits, Son.” James helped himself to some potatoes.

“I’m in a great mood. I’m going to the Winter Carnival at school.”

Nelson’s fork clattered onto his plate. “You’ve got a date for the dance?”

“Yeah, I do. What of it?”

“Because you told everybody you’d given up on girls for the rest of your natural life, that’s what of it.”

Shrugging, Gideon stabbed a piece of meat with his fork. “I changed my mind.”

Curious, and secretly pleased that his son was back in the dating game, James asked, “So who’s the lucky girl?”

“Sue McIntyre. She’s in my US Government class.” He chewed around his words. “The best part’s that her dad is a retired navy captain, and she’s jazzed I’m going to Annapolis.”

Choking on a bite of meat, James coughed.

“How nice, Gideon,” Fern said. “You two should have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. I can hardly wait to talk to her dad. I mean, how cool is that? A retired captain. I bet he’s seen a lot of action.”

“I bet Sue is so ugly, you’re only going out with her because of her dad,” Nelson chided his brother.

“She’s not ugly!” Gideon glared across the table. “She’s got really pretty blonde hair practically to her waist and sort of sea-green eyes. She’s smart too. She’s taking a bunch of advanced placement classes.”

“Can she beat you at arm wrestling?”

“Nelson!” Fern gave the boy a shake of her head. “You’re not to make uncomplimentary remarks about Gideon’s dates, ever. You understand?”

Nelson squirmed in his chair. “I was only teasing.”

“I don’t believe you’d appreciate it if Gideon teased you about some girl you were dating.”

“Not that any girl would go out with him,” Gideon muttered, which resulted in him being the recipient of an equally stern look from his mother. “I was just trying to even things out.”

“Don’t,” was all she said, amazing James with the power his wife wielded with a single word.

Gideon focused on his dinner, forking potatoes into his mouth followed by a bite of meat.

“We’d like to meet her sometime,” Fern said.

Gideon’s eyebrows pulled together. “Yeah. Sometime.”

With that noncommittal response, the rest of dinner proceeded in a more amicable fashion, Nelson sharing that his advanced math class was getting tougher and Gideon mentioning he hoped to be the Junior ROTC student commander next year when he was a senior.

As different as his two boys were, James was equally proud of them both. He was eager to watch them grow into fine young men.

A
LTHOUGH HOWIE’S EIGHTH BIRTHDAY WAS
officially on January 11, it fell on a Wednesday, so Candace decided to have his birthday party the prior Saturday. She rented the YMCA’s indoor swimming pool for the event.

“I had no idea ten little boys could make so much noise.” Sitting next to the pool, Candace kept her eye on Howie and his splashing, screaming, cannonballing friends.

Wearing a swimsuit, Heath sat on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling in the water. “It’s a talent we guy types treasure.”

“Little-girl parties are much more subdued.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Candace. “But are they as much fun?”

“If we have a little girl, you may find out.”

He winked at her. “I can hardly wait.”

Unlike Howie, Heath didn’t seem to care whether they had a boy or a girl. They both simply wanted a healthy child.

Maybe a child a little quieter than Howie, she thought as his Tarzan cry echoed through the pool area before he did a cannonball into the deep end. A wave of water washed over his buddies. Fortunately all the boys had taken swimming lessons. While they wouldn’t set any records, Candace was confident they wouldn’t drown either.

Still, she kept an eagle eye on them, frequently counting heads as they bobbed to the surface. It didn’t matter that there was a lifeguard on duty. The boys were her responsibility.

The pool area smelled of chlorine, the air overly warm and humid, making Candace’s stomach queasy. She’d be so glad when she got past the first trimester and her tummy settled down. She couldn’t remember having ever eaten so many saltine crackers.

Blessedly, the time they had the pool to themselves came to an end.

While Heath rounded up the boys, Candace went into the adjacent room where Brooke had set the table with paper plates and cups, and Janet had put out the sheet cake she’d baked. A rocket ship made of red icing filled the center of the cake.

“I bet all the boys are going to want a piece of cake with the red icing,” Candace commented. “They’ll be covered with it by the time they go home.”

“Fortunately I brought along an unlimited supply of hand wipes.” Janet held up an entire box full of wipes.

Candace could only hope that would be enough. The YMCA probably wouldn’t approve of her sending all the boys back to the pool to wash off the sticky icing.

The boys came storming into the room, wrapped in towels, shivering, their suits still dripping.

It took all the adults plus Brooke to maintain a semblance of order while Howie opened his presents, a mammoth collection of action figures and high-speed race cars.

Finally, they served the cake and ice cream, and there was momentary silence as the boys dug in.

With a headache blooming, Candace leaned against Heath. “Maybe I should start praying we have a girl.”

His chest rumbled with laughter, and he kissed her on top of the head. “Boy or girl, you’ll be a great mom.”

Saturday evening, Anabelle talked Cam into taking her to dinner at the Heritage House, the most upscale restaurant in Deerford.

The hostess led them to one of the private rooms on the first floor. Formerly a private home that Abraham Lincoln visited as a young attorney, the ambience was mid-1800s with wall sconces, dark wood floors, and Victorian-style furniture. A kelly-green cloth covered their table, and a single candle cast a romantic light across the highly polished silverware.

Once seated, Cam leaned back in his chair. He was actually wearing a jacket and tie, a rare occurrence for him. His gray hair and mustache were neatly trimmed.

“All right, lass. It’s not our anniversary or your birthday. What occasion are we celebrating?”

“None, really. I wanted a quiet place where we could talk without being interrupted by the phone or people dropping in—”

“Or by Sarge and his antics.”

She smiled. “That too.”

“Well, then, it’s your choice of topic.”

Fiddling with the silverware, Anabelle took a deep breath. “Yesterday Albert Varner offered me the nursing administrator job.”

“That sounds to me like something to celebrate.” His eyes twinkling in the candlelight, he lifted his water glass for a toast.

“Not yet, it isn’t. I haven’t decided whether to take the job or not.”

He took a sip of water and then set his glass down. “Seems to me you’ve been thinking about the promotion for a week or so. You’re usually quick to make a decision.”

“I know. But this time…” She rubbed her temple. “The idea of a promotion always sounds so nice. Others have been very kind, saying I’d be good at the job.”

“You would be.”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. It’s all paperwork and recruiting new nurses and attending meetings. That’s not what I’m trained to do. I’m trained to treat patients and help them get well.”

“Which is what you do in your current job. So turn down the promotion. We don’t need the extra money.”

The young waiter arrived to take their orders.

Anabelle hurried to open the velvet-covered menu and scanned the selections.

“I can give you a few minutes, if you’d like,” the waiter said.

“No, I’m ready. The Cornish game hen will be fine with a salad, the house dressing on the side.”

Cam ordered a steak, medium well, and the tomato bisque.

When the waiter left, Anabelle licked her dry lips and took a sip of water. “What would you think if I decided to retire?”

His eyes widened slightly. He looked as though he was trying to hold back a gigantic grin. “That would be great, luv. We’d have more time to spend together.”

“But what would I do with all that time? You’ve got the nursery, helping Evan when he needs something. I can’t just sit around for the next twenty years making quilts, at least not twenty-four hours a day.” Certainly the arthritis in her hands would flare up and turn very painful if she did too much handwork. Machine work was much easier on her hands.

His lips twitched into the smile he’d been holding back. “You could always pander to my every wish. I’ve heard some women do that.”

“Ha!” She waved off his suggestion as being not worthy of a response. “I’m serious. I’ve worked for so many years, it’s hard for me to imagine not going to the hospital almost daily.”

“
Hmm
, let me think.” He started ticking off ideas on his fingers. “We’d have more time to run to Chicago to visit Kirstie.”

That would be on the plus side for retiring, she thought.

“Money wouldn’t be a problem. You’ll have a nice pension.”

True enough.

“You could spend more time with Ainslee, particularly once she has the new baby.”

“I’d like that,” Anabelle agreed. “Working, I haven’t had as much time with Lindsay Belle as I would have liked.”

“There, you see? For that reason alone, it’s high time you retire.”

The waiter brought Cam’s soup and Anabelle’s salad. She sprinkled a few drops of dressing on the butter lettuce and took a couple of thoughtful bites. With Evan and Maureen planning marriage, she’d have two more grandchildren she’d enjoy getting to know. She could take them places, maybe on picnics during the summer.

Cam tasted a couple of spoonfuls of soup. “Come to think of it, if you were retired, you could go to some of those national quilting shows you’re always reading about.”

“I could,” she agreed, although she wasn’t big on traveling. “There’s one in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in March. That’s Amish country, so the quilts are especially lovely.”

“There, you see? Being retired doesn’t sound so bad now, does it?”

She twirled a piece of lettuce in some dressing. “My problem with quitting the hospital altogether is that I’d miss my friends. I’ve worked with some of those people for almost all of my thirty-plus years at Hope Haven. It’s hard to walk away from all of that.”

“Just because you retire doesn’t mean you can’t drop into the hospital from time to time to have lunch with them. Or have them over to dinner at our house,” he said reasonably. “I see my old buddies at Rotary meetings and the men’s prayer group at church.”

“True.” Because of her work, she hadn’t been as active in her church as much as she might have liked. Another possible plus on the side of retirement.

“When do you have to give Varner your answer?”

A knot tightened in her stomach. “Next week. He’ll need to offer someone else the job as soon as possible if I decide to turn it down. If I decide to take the job, he’ll want me to start right away. He doesn’t want to leave the position vacant too long.”

Cam shoved his empty soup bowl aside. “Whatever happens, luv, I’ll support your decision. You know that, don’t you?”