Читать книгу Almost A Family - Roxanne Rustand - Страница 8

BEING A NEW KID SUCKED. Being a new kid who showed up a week after school started was ten times worse.

Drew scowled at the tips of his sneakers as he waited with Tyler outside the elementary school. Lily sat on a bench behind them, her face glum.

A cabin in the woods was pretty cool, but not enough to make this any easier. Back in Milwaukee, he and Tyler had lived in a tough neighborhood where there were sirens and drug busts night and day, but at least he’d had friends. In Wausau with Erin, they’d finally started to feel at home.

But here the local kids had known each other all their lives and were already settled into the school routine.

Lily, with her white-blond hair and shy smiles, had a better chance of fitting in with kids anywhere, though the meaner ones usually made fun of her weak leg. Tyler got sick a lot and was small for his age, so classmates tried to pick on him. And Drew had never been good at sports or schoolwork, because just surviving had been tough enough.

He gazed at his brother, and thought about the nasty glances in the lunchroom. The snickers out on the playground.

Fed up, he’d shouldered one kid aside as they lined up to go back inside after recess, just as a warning.

He hoped the kids here learned quick. Anyone who thought it cool to hassle his brother or taunt Lily about her limp would have to deal with him. And then he’d end up in trouble himself, like always—with the usual lectures and detentions that had dogged him at every school.

“It’s Erin,” Tyler announced, his voice filled with relief at the sight of her navy Windstar pulling up in front of the school. He hopped off the bench and stood next to Drew. “Don’t say nothing ’bout school.”

Oh, I won’t, Drew thought grimly. To Tyler, he just nodded.

Erin smiled at them as they climbed into the van and buckled their seat belts. “So how did your first day go?”

“Okay,” Lily murmured.

In the backseat, Tyler and Drew exchanged glances.

“Boys?”

Drew caught her looking at them in the rearview mirror, her brow furrowed. She seemed tired and worried, and he wondered if she’d had a bad day, too. Only where she worked, she was the boss—so she could fire anybody who gave her any crap. The thought of that kind of power made Drew clench his fist, thinking of a few guys at school.

When she didn’t pull away from the curb, he finally mumbled, “It was okay. I guess.”

“Good.” She drummed her fingers lightly on the top of the steering wheel. “You know, I was thinking…we worked so hard this weekend, getting moved in. Maybe we could do something fun. Unless, of course,” she added somberly, “you have too much homework.”

Lily beamed at her. “Nope!”

“It isn’t really the first day, though—the other kids have been at it a week now. What sort of makeup assignments do you have so far?”

“Just some reading…and a math assignment. Not much,” she said earnestly. “It won’t take long.”

“Tyler?”

“Just some work sheets.”

“Drew?”

He couldn’t hold back his snort of disgust. “Another one of those ‘what did you do last summer?’ papers. And a bunch of work sheets, but they aren’t due till Friday.”

“Hmm.”

“So, what did you want to do, huh?” Lily tugged at Erin’s sleeve. “We got time.”

Smiling mysteriously, Erin drove slowly down Main and pulled up in front of the Realtor’s building. “Just wait a minute.”

She locked their doors and disappeared inside the building, but was back in only a few seconds. “No luck,” she said as she slid behind the wheel. “I don’t have a phone number for the owner of our cabin and I’d hoped the Realtor might have heard from him by now.”

“About a dog?”

Erin nodded. “I’m sorry, guys. I’d hoped we could go looking today. Anyone up for getting some pizza before we head out of town?”

Scowling, Drew slumped down in his seat. Promises. They never meant much—he’d learned that a long time ago.

“DO YOU NEED ANYTHING else?” The slender young woman shot a surreptitious glance at her wristwatch as she hesitated at the door of Erin’s office. Eager, Erin knew, to race out the front door of Blackberry Hill Memorial to meet her boyfriend, who lingered at the curb in his red Mustang every day at noon.

“I think I’ve got enough for now, Beth,” Erin said dryly, waving a hand over the stack of files on her desk. “Check in with me when you get back.”

“Madge is back from lunch, so I’ll let her know what you’ve been doing, just in case you need anything.” Beth waggled her fingers and hurried down the hallway, her heels clicking against the polished terrazzo floor.

Sighing, Erin rounded her desk and shut the door, then continued looking through the files. She’d known that the hospital was in trouble before accepting the job. Now, on her fourth day here, she was learning just how much. The picture was bleak.

With operating losses exceeding twelve percent of patient revenue, and fewer than eight hundred admissions per year, there were definite challenges ahead. And on the second Thursday of October, she’d be standing before the board to explain what was wrong and how she planned to fix it.

No small task, she thought grimly, flipping through another file.

This was her first time at the helm, and success here would mean she could move upward if this town didn’t suit. Failure would dog her forever and limit her chances at making a good, secure living for her children.

At a soft rap on the door, she glanced up. “Come in,” she called out, “it’s open.”

Madge Wheeler bustled in, her bulky frame encased in a heavy, hand-knit red sweater and plaid skirt. Sparkly crystal earrings dangled beneath a cloud of curly gray hair. “Beth told me to drop in.”

“Thanks. I do have a few questions.” Erin tipped her head toward the stack of employee files. “How long have you been here?”

Madge pulled a chair up to the front edge of Erin’s desk. “It’s all there. I started here as a teenager, helping in the kitchen. Worked my way into the front office, from receptionist to clerk, and after thirty years, I became the office manager.”

“And Grace Fisher?”

“Director of nursing for thirty-five years. Retiring this year, she says, though she’s been saying that for a while now and she never gets around to it.” Madge’s voice was filled with pride. “This hospital has continuity. None of those fly-by-night employees here today, gone tomorrow. We have good people and they stay. Newest one on the payroll is the Baxter girl, just out of high school, but the average employee has been here for seventeen years. I know, because I wrote up a report for the hospital’s fiftieth anniversary last year.”

Erin frowned. “I need to meet with you and Grace soon—tomorrow, if possible. I also need to have a meeting with the medical staff. Can you set up a date?”

Madge pursed her lips. “Something wrong?”

Nothing that more patients and fewer employees couldn’t cure, but given the small town and the longevity of the staff, change wasn’t going to be easy.

“I know you and Grace have been here a long time—you two are the true experts on the hospital and what makes it tick. I’m sure you’re both aware that we’ve got to look for ways to turn this place around, or it could go under.”

Madge’s expression grew wary. “A town this size isn’t ever going to have a big city hospital. No one expects that here.”

“But the board does expect it to break even. If it folds, and the entire patient load goes to Henderson Regional, this town will lose a very important public service for young and old alike.”

“True…”

“I’m counting on you and Grace to work with me as a team. I want this place to succeed just as much as you do.” Erin picked up a pile of papers and tapped them into a neat stack. “I want to find effective solutions. Ones that will protect jobs here and provide better service to the community.”

The older woman drew herself up. “Mr. Randall ran a tight ship,” she huffed. “We never had a penny missing, and he was well liked in this town.”

But that didn’t make him a good manager. From what Erin had found so far, it appeared that her predecessor had spent more time socializing on the golf course than tending to business. She’d called a number of times to ask questions before taking this job, and quickly realized that he came in late and left early, and also seemed to have a lot of “business lunches.”

“I’m sure he did well,” Erin said carefully. “But sometimes a little change is a good thing, don’t you think?”

“I’ll continue to do my best,” Madge said stiffly as she rose to her feet. “Grace has the day off tomorrow, but I’m sure she can meet with us Monday.”

“Sounds good.”

“The doctors have a weekly breakfast at Ollie’s Diner on Thursday mornings, so that might be a good place to meet them. Otherwise, trying to find a time when they could all be at the hospital together would likely set back your meeting a good three weeks.”

“Isn’t a diner a little too public?”

Madge waved away her concern. “They always use the booth at the back, past the ice machine and the bathrooms. No one could listen in even if they wanted to.” She tapped her pencil against her front teeth. “I’ll go do some calling and make sure they all plan to meet next week.”

“That would be fine. Thanks.” Erin watched the woman leave, then flipped open another file and began poring over the names and numbers before her.

Of the seven board members, Hadley had been the most supportive of her, Dr. Olson had been rather cool and Dr. Anderson had been openly dubious about her qualifications. The mayor and the others had been more enthusiastic.

Erin would succeed at revitalizing the Blackberry Hill hospital whether or not she had full cooperation from everyone involved, but so far, it wasn’t looking like an easy job.

And with a family to support, she couldn’t afford to fail.

STARING OUT AT THE BRIGHT Saturday morning sunshine, Connor Reynolds whistled to his old yellow lab, Maisie, and waited until he heard her toenails click across the kitchen flooring before he opened the door wide for her to join him on the porch.

He took a deep breath, smelling pine and damp earth. Peace. Quiet. Here, he had complete solitude, except for the dog and a few larks trilling from the tops of the pine trees surrounding his house.

The days were long. The nights…longer. But despite everything that had happened, at least he had this, and life was good. At last.

The sudden jolt from the past—seeing Stephanie’s studious little cousin a week ago—had startled him, bringing back too many unwanted memories, and the irony of seeing Erin with three beautiful, healthy children had reopened old wounds. He hadn’t even trusted himself to speak.

After graduating from medical school, he’d worked tirelessly to establish a successful practice. Tried so hard to make his marriage work. Imagined a home bustling with children and a wife who loved him. Who would have guessed quiet little Erin would end up with the richer life?

Or that she would have changed so much. He remembered her as a petite little thing with glasses and her brown hair pulled back into a severe ponytail. Now, her hair was very short, accenting her big brown eyes and delicate features—like a young Audrey Hepburn in blue jeans. She couldn’t be more different from Stephanie’s blond, hard-edged sophistication.

With luck Erin was just passing through town. He didn’t need a constant reminder of how he’d failed.

Reaching down to stroke the dog’s soft coat, he stepped off the porch and started toward his favorite trail at a jog, Maisie at his side.

Already the leaves were turning, the dark pines a perfect foil for the splashes of crimson and orange of the maples, the bright yellow of the aspens. The bowed grass was slick with first frost; the damp earth and fallen pine needles released their heady perfume as he ran.

The crisp, early September air burned in his lungs as he continued up the track, dodging rough-edged boulders and fallen trees.

At the top of the rugged, rocky slope above his property he stopped briefly to let the old dog catch her breath.

It was his favorite place, this craggy peak. An hour or so to the east lay the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. To the north, Canada. There was almost a holy atmosphere here, with a view of thousands of acres of pine forest and lakes in every direction. The vast reaches of northern Wisconsin made him feel small. Inconsequential. Made his past seem like nothing more than a minor flaw in the cosmos. Here, he—

From behind him came a loud whoop and a holler, and the sound of what had to be a hundred kids racing up the trail. Branches cracked. Pebbles skittered down the rocky precipice behind him.

The interlopers—two vaguely familiar, bedraggled and dirt-smudged boys—skidded to a stop when they caught sight of Connor and the dog. Maisie, never much of a guard dog to begin with, promptly flopped over on her back and thumped her tail, her tongue lolling in a blatant appeal for attention.

The kids glanced uncertainly at each other, then took a step back.

“Who are you?” Connor asked sharply. A keen awareness of the dangers in this rough terrain, coupled with the surprise at seeing two children—alone—gave his voice an edge that sent the boys back another step. He softened his tone. “Are your parents with you?”

The two exchanged glances again—probably sensing the danger of telling that to a stranger—and the taller one leveled a defiant glare at Connor.

“Boys, you can’t—”

But they both spun and raced down the trail, the sound of them skidding and crashing through the brush gradually fading away until the silence was almost too great.

Obviously disappointed, Maisie lumbered to her feet and gave Connor a reproachful look.

“I didn’t mean to scare them, girl.” He stared pensively in the direction they’d gone, remembering the family he’d almost had. That younger boy was probably about the same age as his own would have been….

After Stephanie’s death he’d immersed himself in his career. He’d worked out every day until he was aching and exhausted. Ran until his lungs burned, then he’d traveled for months. Nothing helped. His grief and guilt had haunted him for over a year after he lost her.

It was clear he wasn’t cut out for parenthood. He’d failed his wife, his unborn son, and even now his dog was better with kids than he was.

Cursing under his breath—knowing that the nightmares would be back tonight—he whistled sharply to Maisie and headed farther up the trail at a faster pace.