Critical Care (18 page)

Logan turned the bike in one last circle, beeped the horn, and then
braked to a stop in a puddle, waving as the old Toyota pulled away
from the hospital parking lot. Inside it, Jamie grinned from his car seat and waved back with both hands. Logan smiled. The little guy
was barely visible in a backseat crowded with flower arrangements,
balloons, and stuffed animals. He'd be missed at Sierra Mercy.

I'll miss him. Logan was once again aware of how this child
affected him. Drew him far beyond doctor-patient responsibility.
Not something Logan was used to and most likely a result of all
the rallying by the hospital staff or because Logan had also treated
Jamie's mother after the day care tragedy. Or because he makes me
wonder what it would be like if I had a ...

Logan shoved the thought away. He'd promised to say good-bye
to Jamie, and he'd done that. He glanced at his watch. And now it
was going on ten o'clock. The rain had cleared, and he had the whole
day off. He could zip up to Tahoe, hike along the river, eat a steak
on the deck at Sunnyside resort, and enjoy the quiet solitude. He
scanned the parking lot, and his gaze came to rest on Claire's SUV.
Her urgent care shift started in fifteen minutes. Since he was the one
who'd put her there, he might as well see how she was doing.

He parked the bike, slipped in the door beside the gift shop,
and was heading for the clinic when he passed the partially closed
chapel doors. He spotted Claire standing in a circle along with Erin,
Glenda, and some of the part-time ER registration staff. All with
eyes closed, praying.

He started to chuckle about Erin escalating her God huddles
to twice daily when instead he found himself watching Claire.
Her beautiful face seemed paler than usual, and a length of dark
hair escaped a clip to hang alongside her jaw. Dark lashes nestled
against her cheeks, and there was a tiny line of tension between her
brows as her lips moved earnestly. A knotted leather string with a
metal cross hung around her neck. The one he'd seen at her house
on the photo of her brother.

Erin began to speak, and they joined hands. "Father, you've
called us to be caregivers. Give us the skills to aid and comfort
those in our care so they might know your healing presence.
Make our spirits tender, our words compassionate, and our touch
gentle...."

Logan exhaled softly, realizing that he'd been holding his
breath. He inhaled again to ease an ache in his chest. To the left
of center and way down deep. If a patient described the sensation,
Logan would order a stat electrocardiogram and a five-grain dose of
aspirin. But this had nothing to do with his health. And everything
to do with his long, awkward struggle with faith. It was the reason
he'd lain awake last night thinking of Jamie. About how the child
pressed his small palm over that same spot on Logan's chest and
said, "Right in there." A little boy with Jesus in his heart counseling
a man who'd stopped praying long ago.

The stump won out over Tahoe, and after three solid hours hefting
the ax, Logan felt like a new man. His arms and shoulders ached
like he'd wrestled a wildebeest, but the moment he finally let go
of the ax, he had a much better grip on his priorities. If he was
going to have any peace of mind, he needed to make a couple of
important decisions. First, Beckah's wedding. It was in Carmel only
a few days from now. She'd invited him months ago and left at
least two messages on his machine. "Are you coming?" Logan wiped
his face on the sleeve of his thermal shirt and groaned. Could he?
That was the question.

He shook his head, picked up the sheet of house plans, and
walked to the outcropping of granite boulders that would one day
be part of his backyard. Thirty yards beyond, the earth dropped steeply away, affording a breathtaking view of the American River
gorge and the tree-studded western slope of the Sierra Mountains.
Dotted squares of apple orchards gave way to sprawling oaks, then
to stands of cedar and, as the altitude climbed, to lofty and majestic pines. His house would be contemporary, utilizing redwood
beams and stainless steel cable and slabs of local stone, with an
entire wall of energy-efficient glass looking out over a deck to the
view beyond. He'd let the acreage remain rustic and natural, a refuge for deer and California quail, with no lawn to mow or formal
plantings.

Logan smiled, remembering Beckah's very different idea of a
dream house-a midtown Sacramento Victorian fixer-upper with
shutters and gables, window boxes full of flowers, old family furniture, hand-stitched pillows ... and babies. Logan swallowed.
He hoped she'd have that now. All of it. That she'd start fresh,
remembering only the good parts of the years she'd shared with
Logan. What they'd had. Not what we lost. How was he supposed to
watch Beckah marry another man when he still didn't understand
why she left him?

Frustrated, Logan strode back to the oak stump and picked up
the ax; he'd chop until dark if he had to. Hack it down to the roots
and start quarrying the bedrock beneath. But by the time he lifted
the tool to his aching shoulder, he remembered that there were
two questions he'd come out here to answer. What he'd do about
Beckah's wedding and what he should do about Claire.

Beautiful Claire, the intelligent and determined educator intent
on protecting his own staff from him. The ambitious professional
with an unwavering career plan and the sensitive woman who fit
in his arms-and spoke to his heart-in a way he hadn't believed
possible. "I understand.... I care." Logan raised the ax a few inches from his shoulder, his brows drawing together. There was still the
issue of their conflicting views on faith. But maybe he could work
around that. Maybe they could find an answer.

He gazed out across his home site, imagining, like so many
times before, how it would be one day. But this time he saw scattered clumps of flowers rising among the rocks and grasses, yellow
daffodils swaying in the breeze. And Claire's beautiful smile. He set
the ax down. Some things didn't take a bushel of wood chips to
figure out. Sometimes you had to trust your gut and take a risk.

Just like riding a bike ... I can do this.

Claire unwrapped the needle set, an 18 gauge-a large enough
bore to infuse IV fluids rapidly. This patient was more than a little
dehydrated. She glanced at Jada Williams, a twenty-three-year-old
who'd been sent to urgent care by her obstetrician because of persistent vomiting. Beautiful face, sweet smile-and almost as nervous
as I am.

"I'm going to do this as gently as I can," Claire reassured her.
"I'll explain everything. So don't worry." Her heart tugged as she
watched the mother-to-be bravely extend her right arm while keeping the other hand spread protectively over her barely rounded
tummy.

Jada's eyes, dark as a fawn's, lifted to Claire's face, and she
sighed. "I've had IVs before. I'm not really afraid. Only for my
baby. Over five months along and I'm still sick. It doesn't seem
right. My doctor says not to worry, that some women have this
problem, but ..."

"But mothers worry." Claire tore strips of paper tape. "That's
a perfectly normal feeling." She wrapped a tourniquet around her patient's arm, just above the elbow, stretching it taut and tucking
an edge under to secure it. Then pressed her gloved index finger
against Jada's skin, hoping-oh, please-to find a decent vein. Here
it comes, thank heaven. She reached for an iodine prep swab and
began wiping concentric circles across Jada's molasses-dark skin.
"You've had a recent ultrasound?"

Jada smiled, her eyes lighting up. "Yes. It's a boy. You should
have seen his daddy's face when they told us! He's so proud. He was
trying to get here today, but he's working three jobs right now."
Her smile widened. "Because there's this little house, and we're
hoping to buy it. It needs a lot of work, but it's got a backyard and
a bedroom perfect for a nursery-my husband's got all these big
plans."

"That's so great." Claire nodded, glad to see the smile replacing
Jada's earlier anxiety. "Trust me, I know all about making plans."
Plans that are supposed to keep me from being here right now. She
picked up the needle set and removed the cap. "Are you ready to
get this done? Your vein looks good, and I'm going to be as gentle
as I can. I promise you."

"I'm fine. I just want my baby to be okay."

Claire pressed her finger one last time against the vein, feeling
its spongy bounce under her glove, then carefully slid the needle,
bevel side up, through the skin and toward the vein. Please, let there
be ... She grinned, resisting the urge to shout with relief as blood
flashed back into the short length of transparent tubing attached
to the needle set. Proof it was in the vein. Like riding a bike ...

"Looks good," Claire said, securing the needle set with a strip of
tape and connecting the IV tubing. "I'm just going to finish taping
this; then we'll get these fluids flowing. So you and your baby boy
will be-" She looked up to give her patient a reassuring smile but stopped short when she saw Jada's eyes filling with tears. "What's
wrong? Did I hurt you?" Claire stood and moved close.

"No, I just . . ." She raised her other hand and pointed. "That
cross ... you're a Christian?"

"Yes." Claire's fingers moved to Kevin's pewter cross at the
neckline of her scrub top. "Is something wrong?" She raised her
brows, sensing that Jada's emotion came from far more than worry
over morning sickness.

Jada swallowed. "This will be my first baby, but ... it's not my
first pregnancy. I did something ..."

Claire's stomach sank and she nodded, understanding all at
once the source of her patient's pain. She exhaled softly, then
rested her hand on Jada's shoulder.

"I was young and scared, and I made an awful mistake ... a
choice I've regretted every day since. Now with this new child-"
her fingers spread across her abdomen-"I know what a precious
gift God's given me." Jada's tears spilled over, her eyes searching
Claire's. "Would you pray with me? It's not against hospital rules,
is it?"

"No," Claire whispered as best she could around the lump in her
throat. "Not against any rules at all." She smiled and patted Jada's
shoulder. "And better than any medicine we have." She glanced
at the drip chamber of the IV, feeling completely humbled; this
moment had nothing to do with clinical skills. Yet it had everything-everything-to do with care and healing. Thank you, Lord.

Claire joined hands with Jada and bowed her head.

Ninety minutes later, Claire scanned the clinic's exam rooms from
her desk at the nursing station: child with a fever in room one,
migraine patient in two, woman with urinary symptoms in three, four was empty, and a teen with mild asthma in five. Everyone in
a holding pattern after initial treatment.

She exhaled slowly. So far so good. She was on top of things, and
thankfully there had been no Code 3 sirens arriving at the ambulance entrance to rattle her nerves. Glenda, the nurse-practitioner,
was confident and efficient, and the nurse's aide more than helpful. Another hour, and Claire could go back to her office in the
education department. And call every single agency she could find.
Stay until midnight if she had to. She'd find a new nurse for the
ER, and Merlene wouldn't make her come back here. Claire was
pressing her luck. Even her most challenging task-starting Jada's
IV-had been without the pressure of emergency conditions. But
what if she were faced with another critical situation like Jamie's?

She looked up as Erin approached the desk.

"Thought I'd better do a welfare check over here," Erin said,
sinking onto a rolling stool beside Claire. "Make sure you're not
fainting or anything."

Claire froze, her eyes widening. "Why would I ... ?"

Erin continued, oblivious to Claire's discomfort. "Like Sarah."

"Sarah fainted?" Claire asked, concern mixing with a rush of
guilty relief that Erin hadn't been questioning her competence.