There’s enough money to cover the cost of treatment for everyone currently under Donnene’s care. All because of Corporal Perry’s hare-brained and downright desperate trust in some guy he met on the internet.
Once the people gathered in the clinic’s parking lot get over the first shock those who can help move the numerous stacks of cash inside. Arlene, whose thankless accounting job just became a different challenge altogether, takes a few days to set up a fund and a plan. The woman has a whole bag of tricks to stretch what money veterans have as far as it will go. According to her, they ought have enough for at least twenty future patients.
There were times after being forced to discontinue a regimen early when Donnene used to be perversely glad that her brother hadn’t returned from Afghanistan, that he didn’t have to come home and learn how little the changes made since Vietnam meant for far too many veterans. Now, she gets to invite back Corporal Sanweh and Sergeant Johnson.
It’s a miracle that keeps on giving. The five healthiest of Donnene’s lot complete their ‘tour’ and - two through their own efforts and three through what Donnene suspects is a whispered word into someone’s ear - quickly get into jobs. Private Mason, who was about to begin training as a medic when an IED blew off his leg, starts taking classes and helps out on weekends.
Getting severely injured local veterans into shape is still as back-breaking a task as it ever was. But everything is different after what her staff has dubbed ‘The Day of The Van’. Donnene sleeps easier. She sleeps more. Her husband no longer dreads asking her about her day. She leaves work with a smile instead of a scowl.
Patients turn into convalescents released and start ‘paying it forward’, or paying back, a little bit of their earnings into the fund. The count of future therapies covered that Arlene predicted rises to twenty-one.