Healing Waves

Amelia

Bzzzz... bzzzz... bzzzz.

My cellphone vibrates in my purse as soon as I step through the hospital doors. Reaching into my bag, I see a text from my sister, Louise, right alongside a notification reminding me of my first appointment of the day: a meeting with the hospital director, Dr. Andrew Monte.

I head to the doctors’ lounge to drop off my things, sending a quick “I’ll call you at lunch” to my sister before setting off toward the administrative wing. Walking along the familiar corridors, a place that has felt like a second home for the last twenty years, I pass the memorial plaque in the main hallway. It holds a photo of Joe: former hospital director, brilliant doctor, and my late husband. A heavy sigh escapes me, bringing that familiar, lingering ache that has coursed through my veins for the past year.

Taking a deep breath to compose myself, I continue toward the director’s office and greet his secretary with a brief nod before tapping on the door.

“Come in, Dr. Black-Smith,” Dr. Andrew Monte calls out from inside.

“Good morning, Dr. Monte. How can I help you?”

“Please, take a seat. Can I get you some coffee?” he asks, standing up and gesturing toward the coffeemaker on the side cabinet.

“Black, please. Thanks,” I say, sitting down.

Dr. Andrew Monte is a tall man in his 50s and a highly respected surgeon. After Joe’s diagnosis three years ago, he resigned from his role as director to spend his remaining time with our daughter, handpicking Andrew as his successor. Despite their friendly rivalry during residency, both men held immense respect for each other’s work. Working alongside Andrew over the years has always been smooth, though seeing him behind Joe’s old desk still carries a faint, quiet sting.

I shift in my seat, curious to know why he asked to see me first thing on a Monday morning. Sensing my focus, he hands me a warm porcelain cup before I can even ask.

“I called this meeting because I have an offer for you,” Andrew begins, leaning against the edge of his desk. “I assume you’ve heard the merger rumors?”

“Yes, I’ve caught some gossip around the infirmary,” I reply, taking a slow sip. “Gossip spreads faster than test results around here.”

The merger between Oakridge Memorial Hospital and Sacred Heart Health Institute had been in discussion over our heads since Joe was still in charge. Sacred Heart, a family-run institute, had long wanted to combine forces with us to create a massive health network, blending their high-end resources with our strong ties to the public health system.

“Is it actually happening now?” I ask.

“Yes, Amelia, it is,” Andrew confirms. “However, the terms have shifted a bit since your husband’s time. They plan to retain all current staff, but Sacred Heart is expanding rapidly and investing heavily in new facilities.”

“That’s great news for the hospital, but I still don’t quite understand why you summoned me.”

“Because I have a proposal for you,” he says softly, his tone turning serious. “You’ve been here since your early days in medical school, building your entire career in these halls and impacting countless patients and students. Part of me wanted to keep this to myself, but it wouldn’t be fair to you. Sacred Heart specifically asked for you to lead their new Oncology expansion.”

He pauses, giving me a moment to digest the news despite the shock clear on my face.

“You know Sacred Heart operates with a strong corporate focus,” he continues. “They reviewed every department’s numbers, and despite oncology having naturally complex cases, they consider you one of our most valuable assets. You’re talented, empathetic, hardworking, and respected by everyone. Losing you would be a hit for us, but since we’re becoming one conglomerate, we’ll still collaborate often. Besides... I thought you might appreciate a change of scenery.”

I sit there, stunned, processing his words. Setting my coffee cup down on his desk, I take a slow breath before speaking.

“I’m deeply flattered by everything you’ve said, Andrew, but I can’t give you an answer just yet. I need to think about my daughter. Lila lost her father just a year ago, and her whole life is built right here: her school, her friends, and every memory of him. Where would I even be based? Sacred Heart operates everywhere.”

“It’s in Silver Bay. You’re originally from there, aren’t you?”

“I am,” I admit, my heart softening slightly at the sound of the name. “Maybe being closer to family would be a positive change... May I have a few days to consider it?”

“Of course, Amelia. Take all the time you need. Just keep in mind that if you accept, we’ll need to start transitioning your patients to other doctors soon.”

“Thank you for the opportunity. I’ll let you know as soon as I decide,” I say, standing up to shake his hand.

He rises as well, walking me to the door with a warm, encouraging smile.

Leaving his office, I walk back toward the oncology wing, exchanging quiet greetings with the nurses and staff along the hallway. Pulling my phone from my coat pocket, I look at the lock screen: a family photo of the three of us on the beach at Silver Bay before Joe’s diagnosis. Moving back near family could be the anchor we both need, but Lila is still drowning in her grief, and I’m terrified of how she’ll handle another major shift in her life.

Once I reach my office, I scan my schedule for the rest of the day. It’s a quiet Monday, which means I can actually leave early to pick Lila up from school. I send her a quick text: “Picking you up at 3 today.”

Knowing her, I won’t get a reply until her lunch break, if at all. Checking my inbox, I review the latest test results for a young lymphoma patient. Clean scans. The treatment worked. A small smile touches my lips as I lean back in my chair, thinking that maybe, despite everything, this will be a good Monday after all.