here tonight because, as a board, we want to discuss your plans for the future with you.”
Taken completely off-guard, I blinked rapidly. “Ah . . . plans? You mean for administrating the wing, or for the new rooms . . .?”
The vice-president cleared his throat. “We’ve given you a lot of leeway over the past two years, Deacon. I’m sure you’re well aware of that. The first time you decided to go on a last-minute mission with that organization, we all figured it was because you’d worked so hard to make the wing a reality that you needed the break—and it was only for a few weeks. You had ensured you had coverage, and of course, Emma was coming aboard then, too.”
There were some murmurs of approval around the table. Emma was well-liked, it seemed.
“But then there was this last time.” The president regarded me over the top of her glasses. “You left town—well, to be more accurate, you left the country—without any warning to us or to your team. You didn’t give us any idea of how long you’d be gone, and you didn’t formalize your leave of absence for almost six months.”
“Any other board would have terminated your association with this hospital,” put in the vice-president. “The only reason we didn’t was . . . well, I suppose part of it was that we all know you, and we trusted that you had a good reason for being MIA. But a large part of our leniency was also thanks to the persuasion of your colleagues on the oncology wing, most notably Dr. Carson and Mira Hoskins. They promised us that they could keep things running until you came back, and they both assured us that you would, in fact, return.”
I swallowed. I’d had no idea that Emma and Mira had been put in the position of having to plead my case. “I’m very grateful to them for their confidence in me, and to the board for your patience and latitude.”
The president nodded. “I’m glad you appreciate both, Deacon. But at our closed session last week, we decided that we need more than your promise that this will never happen again.” She fiddled with the pen in front of her. “We all like you, Deacon. We’re enormously impressed with what you’ve done here, and we recognize that we’re very fortunate that you chose to realize your dream here in your hometown, when you could have gone anywhere. But we can’t allow emotion and friendship to override sense and the well-being of the hospital. That’s why we’re going to ask you to sign this addendum to your contract.” She nodded at the secretary, who passed me a single sheet of paper.
I took it silently and perused it quickly.
“Basically, it offers the hospital protection in the event you decided to undertake another long-term mission with the childhood hunger group. Signing this will require you to give the board advanced notice of any absences longer than two weeks. You’d also have to seek board approval of any future trips overseas with the philanthropic organization. If you violate this, your contract will be terminated.”
It was a slap in the face from the organization to which I’d given so much of my life. I stared at the printing, not sure what to say.
The president’s voice softened. “Deacon, this isn’t punishment. It’s not the board trying to slap your wrist. It’s just common sense, and if you stop and think about it, you’ll understand that. It’s what we’d do with any other employee. Actually, it’s more lenient than what we’d offer anyone else—and that speaks of our respect for you.”
She was right. What the board was doing—it was a safeguard, and I couldn’t fault anyone for that. Slowly, I nodded.
“All right. I’ll sign it.”
“Well, I take back what I said about boring meetings.” The cardiologist who’d been sitting next to me flashed me a smile as we left the boardroom. “Between the donation from Noah Spencer and the board laying down the law to you, I felt like I should have had a bucket of popcorn to enjoy the drama.”
I managed a stiff smile. “Glad you were amused.”
“Hey.” She caught my arm to get my attention. “I was just kidding. Trying to lighten things up.”
I sucked in a deep breath. Being rude to a colleague at the hospital was never a good idea, particularly right now when it seemed I was on shaky ground all around. “I appreciate that. Sorry, I’m just . . .”