Battling the Best Man: A Harmony Falls Novel, Book 2 (Crimson Romance) (5 page)

Let them talk
, he thought. He had bigger worries.

Without Valley Hospital System, Will couldn’t stop the chronically under-filled nursing home from bleeding money. Hell, he couldn’t even slow the bleeding without some of these women becoming unemployed. And then there was patient care. A week ago, he’d deepened the debt in order to get Lance Palmer to agree to take on the medical directorship left vacant by Dr. Render’s retirement. Will was paying double for half the services, because running a failing nursing home until it was bulldozed in favor of an urgent care so Mitchell Company, Inc. could bank the hospital’s payout and claim all assets profitable again wasn’t high on any doctor’s career achievement list.

He peeked into rundown rooms as he walked, nodding to the few coherent patients that remained. It sucked. It really sucked. Making sure everyone was happy was an impossible job.

“Have a good day, Mr. Mitchell,” Bess said, smiling at him overtop the reception desk.

“You, too,” he answered as he punched in the code to exit the building.

An ambulance screamed down Main Street, heading out of town toward Rileyville. He wondered whom the unlucky man or woman was, and then wondered if the injury was something that could be treated in a state-of-the-art urgent care. If so, he’d hear about it. Justin’s mayoral opponent Frank Cleed and his crew of supporters would be squawking about all the time the Mitchells were wasting, waiting on the perfect deal.

Well, they could bring it on. If there was one thing Will thrived on, it was competition.

• • •

Kory stared at the time, glowing larger than life on her phone screen, and then returned her gaze to the empty holding room, where she waited for her father to return from a CT scan. She missed her flight, and she couldn’t reschedule until he was stable. Her program director at the rehab center understood, but it brought little comfort. Kory knew too much about stroke to feel anything other than distinct fear.

Aside from concern for her father’s basic survival, she was worried about the stroke extending and the hemiparesis being permanent. He was a fifty-year-old roofer, for crying out loud. She couldn’t imagine him never regaining normal function. He’d rather be dead.

Her insides twisted until she thought she might throw up.

“Aunt Jeanie’s on her way.” Mom clutched the looped handles of her purse with both hands as she walked into the room. The gesture wasn’t enough to stop her hands from visibly shaking.

“There’s really no reason for her to rush over here,” Kory said. “There’s nothing she can do…”

“When she gets here, you can go.”

Kory blinked. “I’m not going until…well, until I say I’m going.” Usually, Kory was grateful for her parents’ near-overzealous support of her medical career. They’d pushed her and sacrificed so she could attend university and medical school in Chicago, and when she’d decided to stay there after initial training was complete, they’d never tried to guilt her into coming back or even visiting often; but honestly, not expecting her to stay and advocate for her father, who was having a stroke, when she was nearly an expert on the subject? It was kind of ridiculous.

“Thank you.”

And frustrating.

“Don’t thank me. It’s not some favor I’m doing you. He’s my dad. I’m staying.”

A clang from the hall announced his return before the foot-end of the gurney came into view.

Her mother rushed to his good side, gripping his hand, while Kory locked eyes on the doctor entering the room behind him.

“So?” she asked.

“Large right-sided middle cerebral artery infarct.”

Shit.
Kory closed her eyes, taking a moment to process what she already suspected.

“What’s that mean?” Mom asked.

“He had a stroke.” It was a flip answer, but it was also the easiest answer.

“Didn’t we already know that?”

“We assumed that, but now we have confirmation.” Kory opened her mouth and dragged in a shallow breath. “We also know it was severe.”

“Severe?” Tears pooled in Mom’s eyes, and Kory fought a fresh wave of panic. “But he’ll get better won’t he?”

“Better is a relative term.” Honest to God, she never thought she’d see the day when she wished she wasn’t a doctor.

“We’re going to do everything we can while he’s under our care, Mrs. Flemming.”

Kory glanced at the doctor who had a better bedside manner than she did. He was leaving out just enough to give her mother hope. Early on in her training, Kory decided compassion like that was a God-given talent—one she didn’t have. Oh, she felt sorry for people, but the medical puzzle and its ultimate solution kept her bothered more than the patient’s or their loved ones’ emotional states. Restoring a person’s healthy, functioning body had to take precedent over feelings.

“How long will he be here?” Mom asked as she stroked her husband’s crippled hand.

“It’s hard to say,” the friendly doctor said. “Maybe one to two weeks.”

“Do you hear that, honey? You get a two-week vacation from those rooftops.” Her unconvincing chuckle echoed in the barren room. “I’m always on him to take a vacation,” she said, looking from the doctor to Kory. “Now he can’t argue.”

But he tried, in that gravelly, garbled speech of a stroke patient that Kory had come to know all too well. She caught a few recognizable words in the mix. Crew. Bills. Farm. The harder he tried to be heard, the more the left side of his face drooped.

Kory closed her eyes as sadness seeped into every pore. She roughed palms over her face and wondered where the doctor’s ridiculous optimism was now.

A moment later it returned.

“Vacations are good, Mr. Flemming.”

Kory opened her eyes and glared at the man. He was an idiot, dosing out false hope instead of information the family could use to prepare for what laid ahead.

“It’s not a vacation,” she said. “He’ll be here for two weeks, and then he’ll be discharged to a nursing home for rehabilitation. He’ll be in the nursing home indefinitely.”

Mom turned her head and gaped at Kory. She blinked a few times, and then she looked at the male doctor, as if she needed confirmation. “Is that correct?”

Kory ground her molars so hard her ears popped.

“That is correct,” the doctor said. “But I don’t want you to worry about it right now. Let’s focus on what’s going on here.”

Kory saw tears in her mother’s eyes, and she looked away to her father who was once again trying to speak. “He’s too young for a nursing home,” she said.

Any annoyance Kory felt over her facts being double-checked faded as memories of last night’s family dance filtered in. She would’ve danced longer and laughed louder if she’d known it might never happen again. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so hopeless. His life would never be the same. The stark truth pushed her stomach into her throat.

“Nursing homes serve people of all ages,” the doctor said. “And when we get to that point, Rileyville has some of the best in the area.” He nodded and stepped backward, like he was ready to leave.

Figured.
Toss the family some tidbit of hope and move on
—just when they were starting to fall apart under the weight of so many unanswered questions.

Kory stepped forward. “For the record, my father will go to Harmony Elder Care.”

“He can’t,” Mom said, glancing over her shoulder.

“What do you mean he can’t? You can’t take care of him yourself. He’s too big, and in-home care is too expensive, and…”

“Harmony Elder Care is closed to new admissions.”

Kory looked at the retreating doctor, who was now half in and half out of the doorway. She knew he had other patients to see. Heck, how many times had she done something similar, hurrying things along so she didn’t get swept up in an extra thirty minutes of emotional conversation? And because she’d been on the other side, she wasn’t going to let him leave…yet.

“Are they at capacity?” she asked incredulously. It was a rundown, private nursing home in a rural location where the county home had more than enough room for the bulk of the area’s low-income patients. There had to be a single bed available at Harmony Elder Care.

“Not exactly. As far as I know, they’re preparing to shut down.”

Kory shook her head. “That can’t be right.” Sure, the home wasn’t the most state-of-the-art or financially sound, but it was Mitchell-owned, and the Mitchells didn’t let things shut down.

The doctor took one more step back, and looked down the hall. Another detachment technique Kory was familiar with. “Maybe something’s changed,” he said. “I’ll ask our social worker.”

And he would. Only Kory knew he wasn’t going to dash down that hall and find the woman right away.

Part of her wanted to call him on it, but she kept her mouth shut. She had no use for him anymore. He could ask his social worker in his own good time. Kory would go straight to the source.

• • •

Will pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to Lou Sullivan complain about noise from the lumber mill that the Mitchells owned on Rural Route Five scaring water fowl from his land.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said, knowing he wasn’t going to put much effort behind the statement. Honestly, he had bigger worries now that Valley Hospital System had digested the nurses’ and aides’ benefit requests and made it clear they weren’t going to let the terms be named.

Fortunately, the half-hearted statement placated Lou as usual, and Will hung up the phone, eager to return to serious business. He hit the play button on his Bose remote and sighed as strains of Puccini fought against the worry, trying to drown out his depressing thoughts. But it was going to take more than opera to fix this mess.

Georgiana appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were wide, and her lips curved down. Normally, his secretary was the picture of stoicism.

This day wasn’t going to get any better, was it?

“Did you hear about Ken Flemming?” she asked.

The last name caused an immediate, blinding headache. “No.”

“They had to take him by ambulance to Rileyville. He had a stroke. I guess it’s pretty bad.”

Will remembered the ambulance he’d seen racing past the nursing home. He closed his eyes on an inhale.

“Should I send something? Flowers maybe?”

He nodded as he opened his eyes. “Yes, please.” Georgiana started to back away, but he stopped her with his voice. “Did, uh, is, uh, Kory still in town?” He closed his eyes briefly again, because his reason for asking was incredibly shallow considering her father’s stroke.

“Yep. Joyce said the whole family’s over at the hospital.”

For a split second, he thought about delivering the flowers in person, bolstered by the news that Kory was here, but no matter what happened between them at the reception, seeing him wasn’t going to magically brighten her day.

“Thanks, Georgiana,” he said. “That’ll be all.” And he meant it.

The flowers would serve as both a peace offering and a get-well wish. Will had enough difficulties to manage without inserting himself into whatever was happening at the hospital.

“I don’t need you to turn around and drive home, Alice. I need to talk to Justin.” Kory dropped her head to the steering wheel of her father’s pick-up truck and fought a wave of guilt for calling to dump a load of junk all over her best friend’s honeymoon.

Alice huffed. “Fine, but I’m still coming home.”

“No.” But Kory was pretty sure the word evaporated into thin air.

She waited impatiently, tapping her foot at the sounds of rustling on the other end. Distracted, she gazed out the windshield at the hospital entrance. She had a fellowship to finish, research projects in the works, and a career to return to, but none of that seemed important now that she also had a father who was struggling after a major stroke and a mother who was beside herself with worry.

“Hey, Kory. I’m sorry to hear about your father. What can I do to help?”

“Thanks, Justin. You can start by telling me why Harmony Elder Care is closed to admissions.” Eventually, she would have to return to Chicago, and it would be easier to do so knowing she’d eased her parents’ burden at least a smidge.

“I’m sure you’ve heard Valley Hospital System is interested in purchasing the property, and building an urgent care. The back and forth has been going on for a few months now, but from what Will tells me, a deal is close, hence no new admissions.”

Will.
God, he was the last person she wanted to deal with now. Well, whatever. She’d work around him, and concentrate on what really mattered. Her parents.

“I need you to make an exception, Justin. You know my mother doesn’t drive since her seizures. How is she going to get to Rileyville every day to see my dad when I’m not here to drive her?”

“We can help. Alice can coordinate some sort of driving schedule.”

“Every day? Indefinitely? And what about the dogs? She’d need to be brought back a couple times a day to tend to them, unless a schedule could be made for their care. It’s too much to expect from people. It would be so much easier if you just let him come to Harmony until we see how his recovery progresses. The place is still staffed, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…”

“Then, what’s one more person? If he doesn’t get better by the time the home closes, then…” her throat contracted “…I’ll figure something out, but for the time being, having him close to home is the best thing for him and my mom.”

She was begging, wasn’t she? How many times had she weathered the pleas of a patient’s family, knowing they were asking for a miracle? Being on the opposite end was sobering.

“Okay.” Her relief was cut short when he added, “But Kory, I can’t make any promises. I’ll have to talk to Will first.”

If Will screwed this up for her…

“Thank you, Justin. I’m sorry to dump this on you during your honeymoon, but I appreciate the help. If you could keep me updated, that’d be great.”

Long after she ended the call, Kory sat in the truck, processing everything, avoiding the strange turn her life had taken. To think she’d come home for a wedding, the ultimate celebration, and now she had a gut-wrenching choice to make: take an official leave of absence from fellowship, delaying completion and boards, which would risk the dream job she had waiting for her in Chicago, or let someone else support her parents and oversee her father’s care. She’d always been focused and determined when it came to her academic and professional goals, but she couldn’t imagine returning to Chicago to treat other stroke patients when her father was in need of the same treatment here.