Critical Care (23 page)

Claire took his hand and they walked over to stand beside the
granite boulders, their surfaces now shadowy in the diminishing
light. Below, the sunset's last colors glinted on the surface of the
American River like metallic threads in a little girl's hair ribbon.
Lights began to dot the banks above.

"It's beautiful," Claire said, very aware of her hand inside Logan's. "The sunset, the river, your house-this whole day." She
blinked against unexpected tears and looked at Logan. "Thank you
so much."

Logan let go of her hand and brushed a strand of hair away from
the side of her face, trailing his fingers gently along her jaw. "You,"
he said, tracing his thumb across her chin, "are the very best part of
today." Logan leaned down and touched his lips first to the side of
Claire's face and then lightly to the corner of her mouth, the warmth
of the connection making her breath catch. Then he leaned away
just far enough to look into her eyes, as if asking for permission.

Somehow Claire managed the barest nod, and when Logan
kissed her again, she wound her arms around his neck, feeling his
silky curls under her fingers. His arms slid around her waist, drawing her close as the kiss deepened. And she returned it measure for
measure.

Logan waited as Claire unlocked her car door, then took hold of
her hand, thinking once again how perfectly this woman fit in
his arms. In my life? He didn't want anything to ruin the chance it
could be true. Blast, he didn't even want to let her go right now.
"So," he said, squeezing her hand, "these big plans you have for
your career-that's all local, right?"

"Local?"

"I meant you're not planning to climb the nursing education
ladder in, say, Phoenix?"

"No," she said with a short laugh. "Not that my folks haven't
been trying to finagle that, trust me. But it looks fairly certain I'll
get the educator position at Sierra Mercy." She sighed. "At least
that's my plan. I've been praying about it forever."

Praying. There was still that faith hurdle and ... He looked at
Claire, realizing that she'd said something. "I'm sorry. What was
that?"

"I said it helps me."

"What?"

"Praying."

Oh, boy. Logan shrugged. "That's good. I'm ... glad."

"And uncomfortable?"

Logan opted for the truth. "You mean about the subject of
prayer?" He saw Claire nod. "No, prayer doesn't make me uncomfortable. I see it all the time with our patients. And there's Erin, of
course. She's waving prayer around my ER like a personal battle
flag. Not to mention advertising it on T-shirts. You haven't seen
me trying to stop her, have you?"

"No." Claire smiled, watching him intently.

"But I'll be honest. I'm okay with God, but for me prayer
doesn't work." Logan rubbed his brow. "Beckah started going to
church after we broke up. She said things like 'Let go and let God.'
You've heard that?"

"Sure."

"Well, I get the concept. But for me, letting go is giving up. I
don't do that very well. It's like in the ER: a heart fibrillates, and
I shock it with electricity; a severed artery cuts loose, I clamp it
off before someone bleeds to death; a patient stops breathing, so I
breathe for him. I do something always. I don't let go. I don't solve
it with prayer. By blindly trusting that ..." Logan let his words trail
away, sure he'd said more than Claire wanted to hear. Aware too that
he may have sealed the deal against her ever seeing him again.

Suddenly she stepped close and wrapped her arms around him,
burrowing her face against his chest.

"Hey, what's that for?" He chuckled against her hair, relief
washing over him.

"It's a good-night hug, Dr. Caldwell. We both have to work in
the morning."

She stepped away, and Logan had a hard time reading her
expression in the darkness. He needed to know what she was thinking. "Those plans that you've been praying about," he said, already
missing the feel of her in his arms. "I was wondering if there's any
room in there for me?" He tipped his head to get a better look at
her face. "May I see you again, Claire?"

Her quick smile made his heart race. "Yes. But right now we'd
both better get home. I have to do a final critical incident followup with the ER staff tomorrow. And I hear the doctor in charge is
an impossible beast."

Logan frowned. "Hey. C'mon now. Am I really that bad?"

Claire's lips curved into a smirk. "Jury's still out."

Sarah shivered inside the darkened phone booth and wished she'd
thought to wear a sweater. She pressed the receiver to her ear and
listened to the distant rings, knowing she wouldn't notice the
cold-even if this gum-sticky and littered phone booth froze completely solid-once she heard her father's voice. Daddy, please.

She nodded, her chin quivering. The chances were better from
a pay phone. No caller ID for her mother to screen. More chance
that she'd think it was a telemarketer and continue to watch her
TV show, yelling for her father to pick it up.

The rings continued ... four, five, six ... and then Sarah heard
the message-her mother's voice-saying no one was home, have
a nice day, and God bless you.

Sarah closed her eyes, holding the receiver against her chest
as the line went dead. She needed her father more than she ever
had before. It was almost Emily's birthday. And she wasn't sure she
would make it this time.

Claire sank back against her pillow, smiling as the dawn brushed
her windowsill melon pink, like paint on a fresh new canvas. She
buried her fingers in her sleep-tangled hair and sighed, awed by
two things. First, that she'd now spent a consecutive sunset and
sunrise with Logan Caldwell filling her thoughts. Second-even
more amazing-the fact that for the first time since she'd started
whispering that prayer for healing, Claire had begun to feel it being
answered.

Last night, when Logan kissed her and held her close, the
emptiness in her chest had eased, its painful hollowness filled
by something new. A warm and achy-good feeling. But ... She
glanced at the open Bible on her bedside table. How could someone
live without the comfort and connection of prayer? She thought
of Jada's heart-tugging need that day in the clinic. Could Logan
be okay with God without ever praying to him? Could a lonely,
motherless boy become a man ... a husband without believing
that God listens? And could I love a man who-?

Claire's eyes opened wide and her stomach fluttered. Love?
Where did that come from? She shook her head. Love was nowhere
in her plans. Brushing her teeth and getting to work? Absolutely.
It was time to get moving.

Ten minutes later she pulled on navy yoga pants and a matching
hooded sweatshirt, then slid into her flip-flops and padded toward
the kitchen, stopping when she heard insistent tapping at the front
door. She crossed to the door and swung it open, stunned.

"Good morning." Logan stood on the porch, wearing a University of California sweatshirt over faded jeans and looking like
he was barely awake, with dark beard stubble, mussed hair, and his
eyes half-lidded. He held a cardboard tray of coffee and a huge deli
sack, and when he smiled, Claire's knees went so weak she had to
steady herself on the doorframe.

She smiled back and managed to speak, her voice a breathless
squeak. "Logan, this is so ... early."

He nodded, grinning like a proud ten-year-old. "I know. I took
a chance you'd be awake."

"And that I'd be hungry?" She eyed the bag in his hands, sniffing appreciatively at the aroma of steaming coffee.

Logan laughed. "Not much risk there." He raised his brows.
"So, am I coming in?"

"Um, sure." Claire walked ahead of Logan into the kitchen,
her mind a complete jumble-thinking her hair must look a mess,
grateful she'd brushed her teeth, planning what she'd say, what
she shouldn't say, and telling herself not to get her hopes up that
Logan's coming here meant any more than-

She stopped and turned to him. "Why are you here?"

He blinked and pointed to the deli bag he'd set on the table.
"Breakfast?"

"I mean, don't you have to be at the ER in ..." Claire glanced
at Kevin's football clock. "Twenty-five minutes?"

Logan repeated the proud smile. "I got the night doc to stay
over for a couple of hours."

"But . . ." Claire stared at him, a man who was always early
for his shifts, had been rumored to spend the night in his office,
shower and shave in the surgeons' lounge, and didn't trust anyone
to fill in for him.

"Because," Logan said, stepping closer to gently grasp Claire's
shoulders, "I didn't want to wait hours to see you again." He took
a breath, the look in his eyes warm and honest. "I couldn't wait.
There's something about being with you that feels good, Claire.
You make me feel kind of optimistic about things. I can't explain
it. But I haven't felt that way in a long time. I like it." He shook his
head, chuckling. "I'm not making any sense, am I?"

Perfectly wonderful sense. Claire nodded, afraid to speak over
the lump in her throat. She moved into Logan's arms, sighing as
he hugged her close. That amazing feeling was there again, warm,
new, and tender. But fragile too, like a glistening spray of bubbles
from a child's party wand. She didn't want to do or say anything
that might end this feeling. Tears threatened as the truth hit her.
Lord, help me please. I think I'm falling in love.

Then Logan stepped back, cradled her face in his palms, and
kissed her thoroughly.

Logan let the motorcycle idle at the edge of Gold Bug Park. He still
had thirty minutes before he was expected to take over at the ER.
Claire had shooed him out after breakfast, saying she needed to go
for a run before work. Probably true. And had nothing to do with
his bumbling attempt to express his feelings. "You make me feel kind
of optimistic about things."

Logan's groan bounced off the inside of his helmet. Had he
really said something that idiotic? Idiotic but true. Claire did make him feel hopeful, and she couldn't know how important and
incredibly rare that was at this particular moment in his life. What
he'd wanted to say to her was much more romantic and spontaneous. But way too corny. He'd wanted to tell her the moment she'd
opened the door that she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever
met. That he'd lain awake for hours remembering the way the
sunset had seemed to change the color of her eyes, and ... Logan
shook his head. Never could have pulled that off. Better to hand a
hungry woman a ham and cheese bagel.