Authors: Stephanie Queen
“All this for one little girl. It’s too much. She can’t play with it anyway. You told me yourself she just looks at it, maybe touches it. Don’t you think you’re overdoing it? And who’s going to pay for all this anyhow? We don’t even have money to pay for a gardener and I have to do all the yard work,” Bonnie complained. Roxanne only laughed at the scolding.
“Let the garden go. It’s practically winter anyway. All I’ve bought for Lindy hasn’t even cost me one-hundredth the price of one ruby ring. Al called me and he has a buyer for five grand.” Her friend the lawyer had done a good job for her. She still smiled.
“How’s Lindy’s treatment coming along?” Bonnie asked, settling into her rocking chair.
“It’s only been ten days since the graft. Dr. Oki said not to get discouraged. Her body’s rejection rate of the grafted skin is a bit high, but she’s young and it grows fast. She was burnt badly over half her body, mostly her hips and legs. I was there yesterday when they were checking her legs. They look awful.” The smile left her face. Roxanne chewed her bottom lip and looked out over the ocean through the sliding glass door.
“Then you’re doing the right thing for her. How’s her father?”
Roxanne winced. “You sure know how to ask the tough questions, don’t you?”
“That’s no answer. Has he been around?”
“Not when I’ve been there. But I’ve only been popping in and out at odd hours. They tell me he comes sometimes—at night.” Roxanne gulped on her emotion. He was supposed to be feeding Lindy, helping her by being there. But so far the nurses said that Roxanne was the only person who’d done any of that. Paul Paris came by. She’d seen him once or twice. But he never fed her. The hospital staff insisted that family support was a major component to recovery from burns because it’s such a long haul, sometimes taking a year. With a sudden movement, Roxanne turned from the window.
It was against all the rules of the hospital for her to get involved with a patient. No one in her right mind would subject herself to the inevitable pain of getting emotionally attached. Yet Roxanne did. She couldn’t help herself with this girl “I’m going in again tonight to give her these things. Do you want to come?” Roxanne took a seat.
“No. I’ve done enough surrogate mothering in my lifetime to be canonized a saint already. I just hope you realize what you’re getting yourself into. But of course you don’t. You never do.” Bonnie stood and shook her head and went to the stove. Roxanne couldn’t help smiling again as she watched the old woman.
“You’re right. I never know what I’m getting myself into. And it’s a good thing too, or I’d never do anything and we’d have a pretty dull life, wouldn’t we?” she said. Bonnie laughed, shaking her head.
“Roxanne, where did Mommy go?” Lindy lay still, but her pale blue eyes looked up questioningly through the plastic of the BCNU. It was the first time Lindy had asked about her mother, and Roxanne had no idea what to say. She did not know what anyone had told the child.
“What did your daddy tell you, honey?” Roxanne buzzed the nurse’s station. If there was ever a time she needed assistance, it was now. Up until then, their talk had been only about inane little girl things, like doll clothes and TV cartoon heroes. And basketball. And baseball.
“Which daddy? Daddy Paul just says she’s gone. He acts funny. He doesn’t talk very much. Not like you. I like talking to you.” Lindy’s eyes continued to implore and Roxanne had to look away. The door to the room was pushed open behind her, and Roxanne turned with relief, expecting to see the nurse. But it was not the nurse. It was Paul Paris.
“Roxanne Monet. They told me you were here,” Paul said moving into the room. His abruptness startled her.
“Hi, Daddy,” Lindy said with a tentative smile. Paul looked over at the child and smiled and then looked back at Roxanne warily.
“I hope you don’t mind my visiting with Lindy. I’m in and out of the hospital anyway and every little girl needs someone to talk girl-talk with. Right Lindy?” Roxanne gave the girl a conspiratorial wink and then stood, ready to leave her with “Daddy Paul.”
“No, don’t go,” they both said at the same time. She might have expected the response from Lindy, but she looked at Paul more closely.
“I’m afraid I have to leave now.” She blew Lindy a kiss and squeezed her hand through the rubber glove insert in the tent as she had become accustomed to doing when she left Lindy. She nodded at Paul and walked toward the door.
“I hope you’re not leaving on my account. I would hate to think I’ve scared away such a beautiful woman.” He followed her to the door and they stood there. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that Lindy calls me Daddy.”
“No. Why should it?” Roxanne was bothered, but not by him. She did her best not to show it. She smiled and waved good-bye to Lindy and walked from the room.
That night, Roxanne could not sleep. She wrapped herself in a blanket and went outside to stand on the deck and look out over the moonlit ocean, same as she always did when she couldn’t sleep. She supposed insomnia was better than having those dreams.
Breathing in the cold salty air of the November night, she forced her mind to think of something more constructive. Lindy? No. Roxanne had no idea why she was attaching herself to this girl. It was not because of Barry. Their relationship was best described as very loose. Compassion? If that were the case, she’d be visiting every last child in the hospital because they were all suffering and deserved compassion.
There was no denying that she found something in Lindy that reminded her of herself as a little girl. The child was motherless. But Roxanne was not Lindy’s mother and could never be, so what was she doing? Maybe she could be a big sister to the girl. She was pleased with this thought, because despite her scoffing at Bonnie’s warning, she was afraid of becoming too involved. And then being left with nothing.
Chapter 8
ROXANNE WAS encouraged by Lindy’s progress. She smiled at the nurse as she emerged from the sleeping girl’s room.
“I think I see a big difference since she was put in Dr. Oki’s program,” Roxanne said to the nurse.
“It’s too soon to say for sure officially since it’s only been a few days. But I think you’re right. It’s too bad they won’t be taking any more patients.”
“What do you mean?” Roxanne stopped.
“They’re officially closing down the project after May. It’s all winding down for the final stats and reports. We’ve already started. They’re even hiring clerical and administrative staff now to close everything out and finish the papers and reports. But then you should know that. I hear it’s thanks to you that we can continue with our current patients.” The nurse smiled. Roxanne stared at the woman in silence trying to remember that the woman was only the bearer of the news, not the decision maker. Trying to keep the edge off her voice, Roxanne spoke.
“Where did you hear all this?”
“Directly from the president’s office. The memo was distributed to all the affected staff.” The nurse began to push her cart on.
The news stung Roxanne deeply. She felt heat rise inside and felt completely powerless.
She had a meeting with Harry today. This was probably what it was about. She tried to stay calm. She called to the nurse, “Take good care of Lindy for me.” She gave the nurse a tight smile and turned on her heel. Pounding down the hall to the elevator, she headed, not for Harry’s office, but to the office of Dr. Colin Evans, President and Chairman of the Board of Trustees of CMH.
Luckily, when she got there he was in, and his secretary was not. After a perfunctory knock on his outer office door and a wave through the glass-walled room, Roxanne threw open his office door and stepped in. Dr. Evans stood and smiled his greeting. Roxanne returned the greeting, but not the smile.
“Have a seat Ms. Monet.” He was probably the only one left at the hospital that called her that. She had convinced the others on the board to call her Roxy, along with the rest of the universe. But then she didn’t forget that he had a long-standing, if recently distant, friendship with Penelope Boswell. Their relationship dated back to when Penelope was involved in the CMH League. He had never favored Roxanne’s flashy style and only conceded to allowing her to flourish because she came along at a time when they needed extra money for the new building and expansion programs.
Roxanne sat in the chair he indicated and spoke right up. “I would like an explanation as to why Dr. Oki’s program is being ended. Why can’t he continue until next year’s NIH grants come through? You do realize this makes my special fund a lame duck measure?”
He looked at her directly, without even blinking. “Yes. Your fund was never meant to be anything more than a one-time measure from what I understand. Frankly, I would prefer that you drop the crusade entirely. One of the reasons NIH gave funding to another hospital instead of ours for this type of project is because we’re considered to be ‘fund rich.’ We have a wealth of resources and they recognize that at NIH and are now using that as a factor in awarding their ever-shrinking grants. Frankly, we prefer the NIH grants to a fund like yours.
“As for Dr. Oki’s research program, we have to pick and choose more carefully now, which research projects we continue and which we let other facilities carry on for the overall good of the medical community. I think you should stop the special fund now in its tracks before you’ve gone public. The money that’s in it now can be diverted to the general fund. We’ll wind down the program by May on this year’s grant. It will save us from any potential embarrassment if people find out your special fund promotion is only for a handful of children for a short term. We could be the laughingstock of the industry. It might even jeopardize our other fund-raising efforts which we have come to rely on more and more.” He finished his speech and steepled his fingers, leveling her with a serious look.
She looked back at the man with an unblinking stare of her own. To a casual observer his arguments sounded reasonable, even good. But she knew better. This was a political move on his part to gain more control over Harry’s development department. Besides, that “handful of children” he referred to included Lindy.
“Dr. Evans, what you say is all well and good, but as you so euphemistically put it, that handful of children is made of real people, flesh and blood, as important as anyone else at any other hospital. I’m talking about life-saving here, not jockeying for position in the medical research community hierarchy.
“And I’m highly insulted that you doubt my talents as a communicator. You know I can take the fact that there are only these few kids left in this life-saving program and turn the fact into an asset instead of a liability. It would never be an embarrassment. Not only am I not going to stop my crusade as you put it, but I’m going to lobby the full Board of Directors to continue Dr. Oki’s program.”
“Don’t fight me on this one, Roxanne.” He used her first name, but it had the opposite effect from making him sound friendly.
“I have the hospital league behind me.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She left his office.
She took the stairs instead of the elevator to Harry’s office. Harry was talking with his secretary, Pat, when Roxanne strode in.
“I want to talk to you, Harry.” She walked straight into his office and sat down. She rummaged through her Louis Vuitton bag looking for her iPhone.
What a waste of money
, she thought, throwing the bag down on the chair after she’d retrieved the phone. She placed a call to her travel agent, glancing at the offensive bag. “I wish I had the five hundred dollars now that I paid for that thing,” she said out loud. Then she drew her attention back to her call.
“Kelsey, this is Rox. I need a flight to DC and back—let me check.” She looked at the phone and found the app for the Celtics schedule, then went back to her call. “Thursday the 18th, a.m., and I’ll return at midnight on the flight with the team…okay, I’ll go first class. But it has to be that return flight. Thanks.” She clicked off and turned around to see Harry Brown taking up the doorway.
“What are you up to?”
“Don’t be so suspicious Harry. I’m only going to Washington, DC for the Celtics game.”
“Tickets that tough to get in Boston are they? You’re up to something or my name’s Mr. Potato Head.” Harry came in and closed the door behind him as Roxanne laughed at his reference to the name she had called him once during an argument.
“I have a reliable source at NIH and I’m going to talk to him.” She held her hands up at the frown puckering Harry’s brow. “Just to get information. I’m only going to feel out the situation on Dr. Oki’s research grant on the outside chance that there’s any validity to Dr. Evans’s argument that a special fund could hurt us with NIH. I’ll smooth over any and all ruffled feathers before they happen. Because Harry, come hell or high water, I’m going through with the special fund campaign. And it’s going to work.”
“Well you answered my question. Rox, I have only one piece of advice for you—watch out.”
“That’s profound, Harry. I would have been lost without those words.”
He rumbled past her and sat down on the edge of his desk.
“What?’ she asked.
“Ever since the bad press you got about Don’s death there’ve been grumblings on the board. Between Dr. Oki and I, we’ve managed to convince them it would blow over—and it has, thank God. Don’t stir things up now.”
“Oh that. Look, Penelope and I aren’t exactly best of pals, I’ll admit, but she did charity work for the hospital in the past and I don’t think she’s going to interfere in a good cause. I have to go through with this project.”
“Do we have a spokesperson yet?”
“No, not exactly. But I’m working on that. Tonight,” she reassured Harry with false bravado. Why had she waited this long to talk to Barry? It had seemed like there’d be plenty of time and she’d wanted to pick the right time, but that had never materialized. Now it was urgent.
“Have it your way. But the project has to be independent. No CMH staff allowed to participate. Directive came from you-know-who’s office today. Sorry Rox.”