Conflicts of the Heart (28 page)

Then just when they were preparing to leave to pick up Michael, the phone rang. Dana took it in the kitchen a few feet from the patio, where Patrick sat sipping the last of his soda.

“Joel here. I want Michael to stay with me until next weekend.”

“You what?
He can't. Our deal was this weekend. That's it!” She paced the living room, wiping the perspiration from her brow with the back of her hand.

“No, Joel. Meet me in two and a half hours. If you're not there, I'll call the police.” She covered the receiver with her hand. “He wants to keep Michael with him all week
. “I know what you’re up to,” she said into the receiver, “and I don’t like it. If you jack around with me anymore, I won't let Michael visit you again until a judge orders it.”

“I've made plans for Michael this week,” Joel yelled back. “He's my son too.”

“Let me talk to Teal.” She said it as if it were natural for the woman to be sitting at Joel’s side.

“Teal, who?”
Joel sounded flabbergasted.

“You know perfectly well what Teal I'm referring to.” He laughed.

“This is no joke, my friend. Let me talk to her.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Teal’s not here.”

“We saw her at the Casa de Fruta.”

“You must have been having delusions, my dear. Teal wasn’t in my car.”

Dana placed her hand over the receiver. “Joel says Teal wasn’t there. Are you sure you saw her?”

Patrick nodded, and then glanced at the ceiling, as if wondering if he could have been mistaken. “I'm sure it was her.”

“Joel, let me call you back.” She hung up the phone. “Could you have made a mistake?”

He drew in a deep breath, and then slowly expelled the air through pursed lips. “No, it was her. No one else could look like her.”

Dana slumped into a chair at the dining room table and rested her head in her palms. “I can't believe this.”

As she lifted her head, the tears bubbled over her lower lids. He knelt beside her and ran his fingers across her cheeks. “My heart hurts for you.”

“Could you have made a mistake? What if that woman wasn’t Teal?

“I'm sure it was her.” He stood and pulled her up with him. “Call her. See if she's home.”

“No. I won't call her.” She covered her chest with her arms and shivered. “I don't know what to do.”

“Look.
As long as Michael's okay, isn't that the most important thing?

She nodded, bewildered. Patrick took her firmly by the shoulders
and lifted her chin with his fingers.

“Let Michael stay with Joel. Maybe he'll get his fill and not want Michael with him anymore. We'll be mediating all next week. You won't have to worry about picking Michael up every night. Let's try and get a contract by then.”

The first thing that raced through her mind was Patrick's encouragement to leave Michael with his father. This could help him get a contract sooner. She backed away.

“I know what you’re thinking. You can forget it. I'm only interested in Michael's well-being.”

She went to the phone in the dining room and called Teal. After several rings, she did finally answer.

“Hello.”

Without responding, Dana hung up and dialed Joel's number. After hearing his plans, she told him that he could keep Michael until next weekend.

Patrick went to her side and held her. “Tell me what's going on.”

“He said he made plans to take Michael to Six Flags, and they’re starting to get to know each

other
better. He didn't want to break away from him at this crucial point.” She shook her head. “I can't see him communicating with Michael. I can't see him taking time off work to take Michael to Six Flags, or any place for that matter. He's yanking my chain…or Teal is.”

Monday morning, exhausted from no sleep, Dana went to her office to get instructions from the board. They’d promised her ammunition to get a contract providing she held the mediator off for a week. She’d upheld her end of the bargain; now it was their turn. A strong offer for Patrick was in order so they could wrap up this contract and get back to normal. If the employees ratified, it substantially reduced Teal's chances of winning an election. Patrick could leave, and Dana would start over.

Maria poked her head into Dana's office. “Teal wants to know if she can see
you?”

She rose and leaned on her desk to steady herself. “Send her in.” Teal’s face was drawn; lines normally obscure stood out. She
looked her age.

“Good morning.”
Teal grimaced, obviously hiding something.

“Good morning. What can I do for you?” She hated the coldness
in her voice. Something had gone terribly wrong during their years apart. She didn’t know this woman. If Teal was a conniving liar, a sneak, why hadn’t she seen through her facade somewhere along the way? She hadn’t. They were like sisters. Now they were enemies. She sat.

“I want to know where the negotiations stand.”

“I wish I knew,” she said in a flat, cold tone.

Teal sat in front of her desk. “If you and Patrick are near a deal, I need to know.”

Controlling her urge to light into Teal, she sat squeezing a wad of paper under her desk. “The status of our talks has nothing to do with you. Your election is set.” Dana's mind wasn’t on union business right now. She thought of Michael, miles away, in an environment she knew wasn’t healthy for her son. She eyed Teal. “Have you seen Joel recently?”

Teal stiffened. “Why would I see him?”

“Someone told me that they saw you at the Casa de Fruta, Friday.” Teal jumped to her feet.

“He's a liar.”

“I didn't say, ‘he.’”

Her face turned a lovely bold crimson red. “Did Joel say I'd seen him?”

“No. The more I think about it, the more I think you have.” She paused, never taking her eyes from Teal’s, who squirmed nervously in her seat. “If I find you involved in my personal life in any way, you’ll live to regret it. I know you think you have enough on me to hang up my career, but believe me, if I want to get nasty, I can do more harm to yours than you can to mine.” She rose. “Don't make me do it.” Moving quickly around her desk, she took Teal's arm, lifted her from her slouched position, and led her to the door. “Now, why don't you leave my office before I call security and have you removed bodily.”

“You're doing a pretty good job of it yourself, honey.” Teal shook her arm loose from Dana's grip.
“Okay, girlfriend, you want to play hardball. Let's play.” At the door, she turned back to Dana. “Watch your backside.” Then she stuck her nose in the air and left.

Following her board's instructions, she doled out small increments of money and benefits, working to get a contract as cheaply as possible, all the while consumed by thoughts of her son.

She hoped Michael enjoyed himself, she would be glad for him. Although, she couldn’t deny she wanted him with Ruta where she could see him after work. Going home to an empty apartment left her feeling hollow. No matter how difficult it was raising Michael, her life without him would be meaningless. Not since the collapse of her marriage, had she experienced the loneliness now.

Had she been wrong to allow Patrick to sneak into her life, knowing they only had a few precious moments? Were her memories of a brief love affair going to be worth the feeling of emptiness and loss when he left for New York?

At two in the morning, drained, tired of the process, she gave the mediator everything the board had approved, her last, best, and final offer.

Dana awakened Tuesday morning to the phone ringing at 8:00. She forgot to set the alarm.

“Hello.” Her voice cracked. “Dana, Gil here.”

“I overslept. I wanted to call you first thing this morning and let you know I gave them my final offer. They weren't happy.”

“Can you come right in?”

“An hour okay?”

“How about thirty minutes? The board is on their way in to meet with us.”

“What's going on?”

“The nurses have started picketing around the hospital for public support. They have signs. Every off-duty nurse is out marching. The entire media has called for statements. I want you to handle them.”

Patrick had pulled the plug. He'd warned her. “I can't believe he did this. They were taking my last, best, and final back for a vote. They must have called an emergency meeting during the night.
Patrick's running scared over two eighty-one.”

“You're right. Patrick had meetings in the auditorium this morning, starting at six. How much notice do they have to give before calling a strike?”

“Two weeks.”

“Hurry in.” Gil hung up

In a flurry, she yanked clothes from the closet, underwear from the bureau, showered, dressed, and left for the hospital.

Patrick wanted to use the media. No wonder he refused the confidentiality clause. He would play the press for public sympathy, an old trick to get a contract fast.
The big-bad-rich hospital against the poor-overworked-underpaid employee.

She arrived at the hospital to find the media swarming around Patrick, posed amidst a sea of white uniforms. Dana's heart sank.

Inside, she went directly to Gil's office. “The board’s waiting.” He guided her by the elbow into the inner sanctum.

“We need a plan, quick,” he ordered in a clipped tone.

“Another one they can refuse.” She glanced around at the board members already seated and eating

The smells from bacon, toast and coffee from the buffet set up along the wall should have been inviting, but they weren’t. Peter Sorenson, the big florid man from Senya Bank stood in line heaping his plate. Carter Givens, the oldest member of the board, waited behind him, nervously tapping his fork on his empty plate. The only friendly face in the room was Sal
Morton’s, the newest board member who took her side during their last meeting. They all wore scowls that would scare the wits out of any novice. This wasn’t the first time she went nose to nose with a resistive group of board members.

Through the open blinds, she saw nurses, the media, and off-duty sympathizers from other departments marching outside. Patrick led the pack. They were smiling and laughing. He'd been her enemy, her friend, her lover and now, again, her enemy. Weary of the whole picture that played out before her, she walked over to the buffet table, poured herself a cup of coffee, and went to her seat next to Gil at the boardroom table.

Sal Morton asked, “They must have been insulted by our offer.”

She nodded, sipping the steaming coffee. “They did have a good laugh. Even our own team enjoyed it. The mediator said if we didn't give a decent increase and improved benefits, they'd strike.”

“Aren't they afraid of Local two eighty-one?” Sal then turned to Peter Sorenson, “Maybe we should have listened to Gil and encouraged two eighty-one.”

The board was going off on a tangent, not facing the issues they had to deal with. All Dana needed was a little more money, a few carrots to dangle before them, and she could stave off a strike and settle this contract
.

“My gut feeling is they're doing this as a solidarity move to show two eighty-one that PNA has strength.”

“I got a note from Mitchell they aren't meeting again until we make a better offer.” Gil frowned. “Did you tell him that it was your last, best and final?”

She nodded.

“Why’d you give everything in one sitting? I thought we were going to hold them until the election was over.” Gil glanced out at the marchers. “No wonder they're demonstrating. They think it's all over.”

“Isn't it?” she said with finality.

Gil glanced around the table for direction.

“H
ow could I expect them to play when my package was a joke, even to our own team? How could I expect them to game play with me over a minimal offer? It doesn’t work like that.

“That's your job!” Sorenson bellowed.

Her nerves tensed. Gil hired her because he believed in her. Her experience as a negotiator spanned ten years, settling tougher contracts than Templeton's. Her first thoughts were to listen and do what she was told, but then that’s not what she was paid for. Her job was to advise the board, so advise them that she would. She rose from her seat, planted her fingertips on the table, leaned in, and searched each board member's eyes for a flicker of empathy. These were her enemies, not Patrick Mitchell. What he asked for wasn’t unfair.

“Gentlemen.”
Only her strength could win this board over. She cleared her throat. “After all the time I've spent sorting through these proposals, I know we must come up with a better offer. Local two eighty-one isn’t the panacea. They'll eventually organize the whole hospital. The last thing we need is a strike. PNA will strike. Patrick Mitchell has a lot at stake. If you want this place to settle down, I suggest you raise the ante and let's get a contract. If you give me eight percent, I'll shoot for a two-year contract. I'll offer four this year and four next. I have an addendum from our insurance company to upgrade the health plan to include dependents. Accounting is doing a work-up for me right now. It'll be ready in two hours.”