Critical Care (16 page)

Smokey poked his head into the brisk dawn air and then yanked
it back through the pet door like a turtle escaping into its shell. He
turned toward Claire, black tail twitching and yellow eyes wide.

"Not quite there yet, are you?" Claire set her coffee cup on the
kitchen table next to her cream cheese bagel. She tapped the pages
of a printed outline and sighed. "Trust me, big guy. I completely
understand." She grabbed her red pen and made a check mark
alongside the words Interview for clinical educator position March 15.
Then drew an asterisk beside the next entry: New educator to be
announced at the April board meeting. It was the job Claire needed.
Not quite there yet.

She gazed through the glass door toward the deck, now rosy
gold with early sun. So different from last night's stars and firelight.
One root beer, one dance, one coffee . . . one kiss. Completely
unplanned. Claire's face warmed. Logan Caldwell had kissed her.
And I kissed him back. She still wasn't certain how it all happened.
She only knew that despite the fact that the kiss fit nowhere in
her plans, the moment itself had seemed a natural progression.
Had felt warm and wonderful and right. A moment shared with
the man who'd given her a sea of daffodils, laughter and dancing
after such a painful stretch of wilderness, and who somehow made her feel safe enough to talk about Kevin's death. The man who'd
shared a remnant of his painful past. Claire cringed at the image
of Logan as a boy holding that secret picture of Jesus and praying
for his mother to come home. He'd had to face the horrific pain,
the helplessness, of finally finding her in that Nevada coroner's
office.

Claire rubbed at her forehead, attempting to banish memories
of Kevin lying in the Sacramento trauma room, his blistered lips
and singed lashes, her own helplessness at being unable to ease his
pain, save his life. Then her heartbeat filling her ears, beating her
senseless as she panicked, screaming-

She felt a brush of warm fur against her ankle. Smokey, curving his body against her. She reached down and stroked above the
tuft of his missing ear. He leaned his head into her touch, butting
against her outstretched palm. Claire shook her head, thinking
again about the strangeness of a cat without a purr. And then it
struck her. Of course it made sense. The raccoon had taken it, along
with the ear.

"I get it, Smokester," Claire whispered, picking a bit from her
bagel and offering it to him. She sipped her coffee and lifted the red
pen. She added a handwritten line to the neatly printed column.
Talk to Erin about sta f f ng for the ER and urgent care. Offer to make calls
to agencies for temporary nurses.

She nodded decisively. Because working there myself is nowhere
in my plan.

Claire tightened the laces on her running shoes, took her dishes
to the sink, and glanced at Kevin's chrome-framed NFL wall clock.
There was more than enough time for a three-mile run, her favorite
opportunity to talk with God. Afterward she'd shower, change, and
get to the education office early.

As she picked up her jacket and reached for the door to the
deck, she saw the fire pit and paused. She needed to stop by the
ER to talk with Erin today, and Logan would be there working.
How awkward would that be? Could she stand in the emergency
department and act casual after ... Claire's breath snagged. I kissed
the medical director of the emergency department. A newly hired nurse
who was being considered for a key administrative position. Doing
what-fraternizing? Was there a policy? If Merlene found out ...

Claire swung the door wide and hit the deck running. Pace
yourself, Lord. You're getting an earful today.

Logan scraped the blade across the last of the shaving cream and
then splashed water against his face. Colder than socks on an Eskimo
clothesline. He smiled at his father's old saying. But that's what
Logan got for showering and shaving in Sierra Mercy's surgeons'
lounge. Although the alternative was to show up in the ER smelling
like he'd been wielding an ax against an oak stump since dawn.
Which he had.

He gazed into the mirror, imagining the complaint crossing
the chief of staff's desk on that one. "Dr. Caldwell is an insufferable
beast and smells like one too." Probably not worth it. Even if the
ax time had taken Logan a few millimeters closer to pouring his
house foundation, it hadn't helped him answer the question that
kept him awake half the night. What was he going to do about
Claire Avery?

He tugged a scrub top over his head, stowed the shaving gear
in his backpack, and headed out of the lounge toward the cafeteria. Coffee. Black. And out of a decent, fist-size mug, not a torturously small china cup. He shook his head. Claire had surprised him by returning that kiss but had been shy afterward, filling the
awkward silence with a steady stream of disconnected chatter.
About today's predicted weather, the chest tube demonstration
she'd be giving to the student nurses, and her speculation on
when she'd hear something regarding her upcoming promotion.
Logan chuckled, recalling her similar nervousness at Daffodil Hill.
If there had been a chicken on her deck last night, Claire would
have flattened it.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling of holding her in his arms.
How right it seemed and how unbelievably at ease she made him
feel. For the first time in so long. Why else would he have told
her about his mother? He'd given Beckah, his wife of nearly three
years, far fewer details. And he'd never told anyone about stealing
that page from the Bible storybook. Why Claire? Logan squinted,
remembering her face in the firelight, her words. "I understand....
I care." Was it possible there was something different about this
woman? Maybe so, but ...

He winced. She was also a Christian, same as Beckah. What on
earth was he supposed to do with that? She'd practically dared him
with the question, "You don't believe in God?" Who actually said
things like that? He needed to face it: beautiful or not, this woman
spelled nothing but trouble. Logan strode through the cafeteria to
the coffee station.

He depressed the spigot on the coffee urn, filled his cup, and
then nodded to convince himself. He ought to be glad Claire's
mind was set on taking the job in the education department way
across the hospital campus. Otherwise she'd be joining the God
huddle with Erin, and before you knew it, his entire staff would be
praying instead of working.

Frankly he didn't need that kind of aggravation. He had enough on his mind with building the house and convincing the
chief of staff he could play nice with the employees. Plus Beckah's
wedding at the end of the week. A familiar wave of confusion
washed over him. He took a gulp of coffee hot enough to blister
his lips, frowned, and checked his watch. Still early. Enough time
to visit Jamie.

Logan headed out the door and down the hallway, passing
Merlene Hibbert as she gave animated directions to a volunteer
balancing a huge vase of red roses. He finished his coffee in the elevator and arrived on the pediatric floor within a few minutes. Jamie
grinned as he walked in, and Logan's chest squeezed unexpectedly.
This kid was exactly what he needed right now.

"Doc Logan!" The three-year-old waved from his bed and then
turned to his mother to share the excitement. Though his facial
bandages were gone, Jamie's blond hair, clipped away in spots to
accommodate burn care, still stuck up in tufts like fledgling feathers.
"Mommy, it's Doc Logan. He rides the motorcycle, 'member?"

"Hey, little buddy." Logan winked at Carly, noticing that the
young mother was no longer in a wheelchair. Her lower leg, injured
in the explosion, was encased in a bulky orthopedic walking boot.
Only a few dabs of burn ointment dotted the side of her freckled
face, and her eyes were bright and far more hopeful than when
he'd last seen her. Some of that due to Erin's Little Nugget Victim
Fund, he assumed. He made a mental note to make another donation today.

"They're saying I might be able to take Jamie home tomorrow,"
Carly said. "He's healing faster than we thought."

Logan laughed as Jamie raised his little palm in a high five.
He smacked his hand gently against the boy's before facing Carly.
"And his asthma?"

"Not a peep."

Logan smiled at Jamie and lifted his stethoscope from around
his neck. "Okay if I take a listen, pal?"

"Yep." Jamie stretched tall as Logan pressed the plastic disc to
his chest.

Lungs clear, heart strong and regular. Logan watched the child's
curious blue eyes. "Want to hear something cool?" He took the
rubber earpieces from his ears and eased them into Jamie's, then
replaced the stethoscope over the child's heart. "Do you hear that?
that soft thumping inside there?"

Jamie's eyes widened and a sweet smile lit his face.

"Know what that is?" Logan asked.

"Uh-huh." Jamie beamed with confidence. "It's Jesus."

Carly chuckled as he lifted the stethoscope away from her son.
"It's part of our bedtime routine," she explained. "Jamie has this
favorite Bible story picture book. Since he first began to talk, he's
pointed at it and said, 'Jesus is in there.' So I started touching my
finger first to his chest and then to mine, saying, 'Jesus is in here
too. He lives in our hearts."'

"'Cause he loves us and would never-ever-leave us." Jamie
reached out and pressed his small, warm palm against Logan's
chest. "Right in there, Doc Logan."

Sarah glanced across the ER toward Logan's still-closed office door,
then checked the clock on the wall above it. Logan, Erin, and
Merlene had been in there more than twenty-five minutes. Not a
good sign, but Sarah could have predicted Logan's reaction to the
male nurse the agency sent them this morning. Erin asked Sarah
to show the man around the department, and she had-after he finally arrived twenty minutes late with no apology and a mouth
full of fast-food breakfast.

She guessed that this nurse, no doubt doomed to be called
McMuffin from this day forward, would be sent packing within
the hour. Dr. Caldwell had been surly and silent since the minute
he hit the doors this morning. Though Sarah had done her best
to get the new nurse oriented, the man had already made several
serious errors in judgment and seemed unfamiliar with even basic
ER procedures. Logan was beyond irate.

Sarah chewed at a fingernail. She was prepared to stay as long
as needed; if Merlene filled in on the clinic side, they could pull
the clinic RN over here. Sarah could skip lunch, no problem. That
would cover things decently until the evening shift came. But what
about tomorrow? What would they do about that? Sarah wished
she could think of something to help Erin with staffing, but ... She
pressed her fingers to her forehead, hating that her brain still felt
fuzzy and haphazard. One and a half of the prescription pills and
she still hadn't slept longer than three hours. But she'd manage.

"Sarah?" Claire peeked through the doors to the ER wearing
one of her crisp suits and carrying the briefcase she'd had stuffed
with pamphlets that first day. The day they'd lost the little girl,
Amy Hester.

No, stop. Sarah forced a smile and waved, watching Claire glance
warily around the room, empty now except for an elderly woman
awaiting a CT scan and one of the hospital engineers replacing a
wall oxygen valve.

"I'm looking for Erin," Claire said. "Is she here yet?"

Sarah nodded, and Claire walked toward her. She stopped, as
everyone had this last hour, to stare at the enormous bouquet of
red roses sitting at the nurses' station desk. "Wow. Who ... ?"

"Erin's. From Brad the cad." Sarah smiled at the look on Claire's
face. "He apparently stood Erin up last night. But he's also promised to toss in a hundred bucks for Jamie's fund, so between that
and the flowers, our car salesman might be forgiven. The jury's still
out." She sighed and swept a hand over her hair, trying to remember if she'd put on makeup this morning. Claire looked so fresh and
pretty in that soft gray suit. Did I even take a shower?