Page 46 of Curious Hearts (The Healing Hearts #2)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Ali paced the hospital’s administrative corridor outside the boardroom, rehearsing key points of her presentation under her breath.

The sterile blue-gray walls and institutional lighting did nothing to calm her nerves.

She adjusted her blazer—borrowed from Fenna and a touch too short in the sleeves—and wished, not for the first time that morning, that she possessed even a fraction of Jessica’s natural composure.

“You’re going to wear a path in the linoleum,” Fenna observed, glancing up from the tablet where she was reviewing the data slides. “Sit down before you make yourself dizzy.”

“I can’t sit,” Ali replied, continuing her circuit. “If I sit, my leg starts bouncing so hard the whole room will think I’ve got some sort of neurological condition.”

Fenna closed the tablet case with a decisive snap. “Ali, we’ve been over this presentation a dozen times. The data is solid. The outcomes speak for themselves. And Yaya lit a candle for good luck, which according to family tradition means it’s already decided in our favor.”

Ali managed a smile at that. “I wish I had your confidence.”

“It’s not confidence. It’s certainty.” Fenna stood, straightening her suit pants. “Look, I’ve worked with these board members for years. Dr. Monahan might be a skeptic, but even he can’t argue with a twenty-two percent improvement in recovery times for pediatric patients.”

Before Ali could respond, the boardroom door opened and a stern-faced administrator gestured them in. “The committee is ready for your presentation,” she announced.

Ali took a deep breath, gathering her notes and the folder of supporting documentation. “Here goes nothing.”

“Here goes everything,” Fenna corrected with an encouraging smile.

The hospital board consisted of twelve members seated around an imposing mahogany table.

Dr. Monahan, the chairman, occupied the center position, his severe expression unchanged from their preliminary meeting three weeks earlier.

To his right sat Dr. Elizabeth Rosen, Chief of Pediatrics and one of their strongest supporters.

The remaining faces blurred together in Ali’s nervous vision.

“Dr. Ritchie, Dr. Ivers-Vargas.” Monahan nodded stiffly. “You may begin.”

Ali stepped forward, her throat suddenly dry as sandpaper. For a terrifying moment, her mind went completely blank. She glanced at Fenna, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“Thank you for the opportunity to present our findings,” Ali began. “As you know, the Healing Paws program has been operating at Denver Memorial for the past eighteen months.”

She advanced to the first slide, a simple graph showing patient recovery metrics. The familiar territory of data and methodology grounded her, and she found her rhythm.

“Our initial hypothesis was that structured animal therapy sessions would improve patient outcomes in pediatric cases by reducing stress and encouraging physical activity during recovery. What we discovered, however, exceeded our projections.”

Over the next twenty minutes, Ali outlined the program’s results, highlighting specific case studies where animal therapy had made measurable differences in patient recovery.

She moved from statistics to practical applications, explaining how the program could be expanded and standardized across additional hospital departments with minimal additional resources.

“The most compelling evidence comes from our work with long-term pediatric patients,” she continued, advancing to a slide showing a young girl named Lucia with a therapy dog.

“Lucia underwent three major surgeries over six months. Prior to participating in our program, her physical therapy compliance was below forty percent. After regular sessions with our therapy animals, that increased to ninety-two percent, with corresponding improvements in her recovery timeline.”

Dr. Rosen nodded approvingly. “The children are noticeably more engaged with their treatment plans when they know animal therapy sessions are scheduled.”

Ali felt a surge of confidence at the endorsement. “Exactly. The program serves as both motivation and in a small way, therapeutic intervention. It enhances existing treatment plans.”

As she reached the conclusion of her presentation, Ali noticed Dr. Monahan’s expression had shifted from outright skepticism to something more thoughtful. He was scrutinizing the data sheets with interest.

“In summary,” Ali said, “we’re requesting a two-year grant to expand the Healing Paws program to include additional patient populations and to develop standardized protocols that could eventually be implemented at other hospitals within the system.”

She stepped back, her part complete. Fenna moved forward to address the clinical operational aspects of their proposal, using her own cases and those of her colleagues to demonstrate the data in action.

When they finished, Dr. Monahan studied them for a long moment. “You’ve presented a compelling case, Dr. Ritchie. Though I remain concerned about the absence of a major donor this year. The grant funding will only go so far. The additional funding will need to be sourced elsewhere.”

“We’ve diversified our funding sources,” Ali explained, grateful for the hours she’d spent preparing for this specific question.

“While Vivian Porter’s contribution was significant last year, we’ve since secured commitments from three smaller foundations and developed a sustainable donation program. ”

“I see.” Monahan flipped through the budget pages. “And the therapy animals themselves—all properly certified, I presume?”

“Yes, all animals undergo rigorous training and certification,” Ali confirmed. “Each handler is also required to complete our specialized program to ensure consistent therapeutic approaches.”

Dr. Rosen leaned forward. “I’d like to address something that wasn’t in your formal presentation.

The emotional impact on our staff has been notable.

Nurse burnout is a serious concern in pediatrics, particularly in oncology.

I’ve observed a marked improvement in staff morale on days when therapy animals are present. ”

Ali nodded enthusiastically. “We’ve actually been collecting preliminary data on that effect, though it wasn’t included in this proposal. Healthcare worker wellbeing is a potential area for expanded research.”

The board members exchanged glances, and Dr. Monahan cleared his throat. “Thank you for your thorough presentation, Dr. Ritchie, Dr. Ivers-Vargas. The board still has input from fellow clinicians to consider alongside your proposal. We’ll be in touch later this afternoon with our decision.”

Ali felt her heart sink slightly at the lack of immediate approval, but she maintained her professional demeanor. “Of course. Thank you for your time and consideration.”

Back in the corridor, Ali slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. “That’s it? We just... wait?”

“Standard procedure,” Fenna assured her, though Ali noted a hint of tension in her voice. “They never make decisions on the spot, even when they’re impressed.”

“But they weren’t immediately dismissive,” Ali said, searching for reassurance. “That’s good, right?”

“That was outstanding,” Fenna replied, squeezing her arm. “You were brilliant. Professional, knowledgeable, passionate in exactly the right measure. I think you’ve got this in the bag.”

Ali wanted to believe her, but years of professional setbacks had taught her to temper her expectations. “We’ll see. Monahan still seemed concerned about the funding gap without Vivian’s donation.”

“But you addressed that beautifully. The diversified funding approach actually strengthens your position long-term.” Fenna checked her watch. “Come on, it’s going to be a few hours until we hear. Want to nip back to Yaya’s?”

Ali hesitated.

“There’s no point in standing here staring at the door.” Fenna grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

Ali could barely talk on the short drive to Yaya’s home on Milwaukee Street, too busy silently replaying every step of the morning’s presentation, hearing her words, picturing each one of the board’s expressions.

“Should I call Margo?” Ali asked suddenly. “Let her know we’re still waiting?”

“Give it another hour,” Fenna suggested. “The board has other proposals to review. It could be a while.”

Ali checked her phone periodically. No messages from Jessica yet. Her board meeting would be starting soon, and Ali sent a quick text.

Good luck today. Whatever happens, I’ve got your back. And possibly some cardboard boxes if we both end up unemployed.