Critical Care (24 page)

Despite the fact that he was no poet, they'd had a great time
this morning. Talking, laughing ... he'd even managed to pet the
one-eared cat without losing a finger. Best of all, being with Claire
again convinced Logan that she was good for him.

In fact, she may have already helped him make a big decision. He wasn't going to Beckah's wedding. The confusing pull to
be there didn't feel so strong now. Maybe it wasn't important to
understand why she'd left him. Seeing Beckah walk down the aisle
in a Carmel wedding chapel wouldn't accomplish that anyway.
She'd left him because she didn't want to stay. Period. Anything
beyond that would remain a mystery, the same as it had with
his mother. And it was okay. At twelve years old, there hadn't
been anything Logan could do about his mother. Except pray to a
God who didn't listen. There hadn't been anything more he could
have done to help Beckah after the miscarriage. Logan flinched at
the memory of Beckah's pale face and tearful voice. "Where's your
faith, Logan?"

How many times had he patiently explained that attending
church together would have been as futile as the counseling? that
it couldn't change anything? Some things just happened, that's
all. The important thing was to get past it. Trust yourself to get tough and move on. Logan put the bike back in gear and twisted
the throttle. He'd e-mail Beckah. That would be easier. He'd wish
her happiness-he did, absolutely-and that would bring an end
to it. It was good to finally make a decision.

Now all he had to worry about was the new nurse Merlene
Hibbert was trying to force down his throat. Logan smiled. And
how he was going to keep a professional distance when the beautiful educator walked into the ER later today.

Claire paused outside the ER, thinking how much had changed in
the scant two weeks since she'd first passed through these doors,
when the day care explosion forced her into action as a peer counselor. The day she'd first met Jamie, Erin, Sarah ... and Logan. She
remembered how furious he'd made her with his sarcasm, the way
he'd blown off Erin's concerns for her staff-"Tough comes with the
territory.... Do you see me crumbling here?" And then his dismissal
of Faith QD as a God huddle, along with his outspoken opposition
to the stress counseling.

She glanced at her briefcase full of CISM pamphlets, feeling a
wave of deja vu and an unsettling doubt. She'd come full circle,
and how much had really changed? She tamped the thought
down and pushed open the door. Things were better and she could
handle it.

The nurse at the desk was someone Claire hadn't seen before.
She was petite and probably in her late forties, with curly dark hair, a
pert nose, dark-framed glasses, and a warm, engaging expression.

"Hi," the woman said. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Claire Avery. Education department."

The nurse extended her hand. "Keeley Roberts. New kid on the block-even though I've been around that particular block more
than a few times." She shrugged. "But then I always say, to get
through it you've got to go through it." Her warm smile reappeared
and spread to her hazel eyes, making her seem at the same time
incredibly wise and a bit vulnerable.

Claire murmured agreement and grasped her hand, noticing
Keeley's artsy silver bracelet, etched with calligraphy and inlaid
with stones forming a pink-ribbon design. "Where's Erin?"

Keeley nodded toward Logan's door. "In with Dr. Caldwell."
She fiddled with a pen in her plastic pocket protector, her expression showing a twinge of anxiety. "Staffing issues. It's been a little
tense this morning, and-oh, here she comes."

"Hey, Claire." Erin closed Logan's door and strode toward them.
She snapped a salute to Keeley and watched as the nurse went to
check on one of the patients. Then Erin motioned to Claire to have
a seat beside her at the desk.

"Argh." Erin tugged at her ponytail and rolled her eyes. "Just
kill me now."

Claire glanced over the desktop toward the office door.
"Logan?"

"Of course." Erin reached for her coffee cup. "Although to
tell you the truth, the man walked in here this morning looking
happier than I've ever seen him. He brought donuts for everyone
and was singing-singing!" She laughed. "It was almost spooky. If
I didn't know better, I'd have thought McSnarly had a splash of
something extra to warm his coffee this morning."

"Uh . . ." Claire blushed and turned quickly, pretending to
watch Keeley check a patient's vital signs. "Is that new nurse his
problem, then? She seems so nice."

"Oh, she is. I almost did a backflip when I read her resume-both ICU and ER experience. And a great sense of humor, always a plus
in my book. I liked her the second I met her." Erin took a sip of her
coffee and glanced at Keeley. "She took almost a year off to care
for her terminally ill sister-breast cancer-then wanted a change
when she came back, a smaller hospital to sort of ease back in. A
good thing for all of us, I hope. So far so good with Logan and
Keeley. Not that we're out of the woods yet. But the reason Logan's
pouting right now is that Sarah went home sick. Merlene's willing
to give us a hand, but you know how he is."

"Sarah's sick?" Claire asked, thinking she'd have to catch her
another day for the final CISM check off.

"It's not like her at all. That's what bugged Logan most; he
thinks Sarah's invincible. Like he is. But ..."

"But what?" Claire asked, feeling a vague sense of discomfort.

Erin looked around and then lowered her voice. "She fell
asleep in the break room. Had her head resting on the table,
almost on top of her breakfast burrito. You know Sarah. She was
frantically apologizing, saying she'd had to take some cold medicine before work, then tried to make it up by offering to skip
lunch." She sighed. "The fact is, she spent over four hours helping
in the nursery last night-from midnight to four thirty-rocking
babies. Not that she admitted it. I only know because I happened
to run into the OB charge nurse as she was going off shift this
morning."

"Yikes." Claire shook her head.

"And yesterday she was late. Not very late, but Sarah's always
early."

"She went home willingly today?"

Erin grimaced. "I didn't give her much of a choice, I'm afraid.
When she balked, I had to mention patient safety. I can't put my department at risk. I was gentle, I promise you, but I could tell she
had a problem hearing that. I promised not to tell Logan she'd
fallen asleep. That girl lives to please him."

"You're right." Claire reached into her briefcase, pulling out a
bundle of pamphlets. "When I talk with her, I'm insisting she takes
one of my health tip sheets. Will she be here tomorrow?"

"She'd better be, or Logan will have a fit. And-" Erin stopped,
glancing over the top of the desk. "Heads up. Here he comes."

"Ladies." Logan approached the desk.

Claire struggled against another blush. This man made her
senses swim. How on earth was she going to make it through her
last urgent care shift tomorrow?

"Dr. Caldwell." Claire smiled, aware that she'd seen him at
dawn, unshaven and sitting at her breakfast table, petting her
cat ... kissing her. And how great he looked now, his scrubs the
same color as his eyes, a stethoscope draped casually across his
broad shoulders. Those little crinkles starting to form as his smile
broadened...

"I see you brought your pamphlets," Logan said, pointing at
the bundle in Claire's hands.

"Yes." Claire lifted her chin, once again feeling an odd sense of
deja vu at having come full circle. So much had changed and yet
so much remained stubbornly the same.

"She's doing a last follow-up with the staff," Erin explained,
leaning toward Claire in an obviously protective gesture. "To make
sure everyone's okay. It's required."

"Healing the healers?" Logan asked, his gaze moving back to
Claire.

"That's right," she said, unblinking. Counseling and prayer too.

"Well," he said softly, his eyes holding hers, "can't hurt, I suppose." He picked up a reflex hammer and walked toward one
of the patient gurneys.

Erin's breath escaped in a snort. "`Can't hurt'? I'm telling you,
there was something in that man's coffee."

Erin stopped at the red light and hit the speed dial on her cell
phone one more time. Brad was working at the dealership, but
he usually kept his phone on his belt. It rang once, twice ... She
glanced at herself in the rearview mirror and decided she liked the
new shade of lipstick after all. It looked great with her hair. It was
a delicate coral pink called New Dawn, pleasing, like her whole
new attitude toward the relationship with Brad. Pleasant, agreeable, nonjudgmental, sweetly patient.

Why isn't he answering the stupid phone? She growled and jabbed
the End button, then stepped on the accelerator when the light
turned green. She'd drive over there, even if the traffic on Highway
50 was miserable this time of day. It would be worth it to surprise
Brad.

Erin turned up the volume on the Subaru's radio and sang
along with the music, feeling her spirits lift. Brad really was a nice
guy, and he had a point that Erin should lighten up and have more
fun; she did get too intense. But maybe that came with the territory from watching her mother pull herself out of the hole after
so many painful disappointments with Dad, and ... No point
in dredging up the ugly past. Having more fun could be a good
thing.

She laughed, thinking that it sounded like one of those tips
in Claire's pamphlets: "Do things that feel good to you. Reach
out. Eat right." Well, Erin was going to do all of them, starting tonight. She'd surprise Brad and invite him out to dinner. And
she was going to be far subtler about church. If he wanted to take
the membership classes, she'd be thrilled, but she wouldn't push
it. Some things took time. Meanwhile, she'd knock Brad's socks
off by showing up unexpectedly, with killer lipstick and a whole
new gentle attitude of trust. I have to trust him. She'd pull into the
dealership, packing a great big New Dawn smile.

Only, when she arrived twenty minutes later, he wasn't there.
Erin crossed her arms and looked at the young salesman behind
the desk. "But his car's here."

The man-Evan, according to his badge-nodded. "He borrowed the new Denali. Sweet vehicle. Heated leather seats, DVD
entertainment system, rearview cameras-"

"Where'd he go?" Erin interrupted.

"Some meeting, I guess." Evan frowned. "You don't exactly ask
the owner's nephew-"

"Can you reach him?" Erin blurted, ignoring her new promise
of patience.

"No, and I've been trying," Evan explained, twirling a key ring
on his finger. "I had a customer who wanted to see that Denali, but
it looks like Brad left his cell phone locked in his office."

"Well, I'll leave a message with you then, and ... Oh, never
mind. Thanks."

She was halfway to her car when the idea came to her. Why
not? Brad never locked his car, and he'd no doubt be back in plenty
of time to go out to dinner. She'd leave him a note. A really sweet,
agreeable, and fun note, telling him she'd like to see him tonight.
She could already imagine his surprised expression.

Erin slid into the Corvette and found a sheet of paper in the
glove compartment. But no pen or pencil. None in her purse, either. She rooted around in the passenger-door pocket. Nothing. Then
slid across to the driver's door, slipped her hand into its pocket
and ... bingo, a pencil. Along with a wad of torn papers. No, they
looked more like ... checks?

Erin flattened one of them out and read what she could. Her
heart nearly stopped. No. How can this be? Heart pounding, she
scooped everything out of the side pocket and spread the pieces of
torn checks on the car seat. Four checks. Along with an envelope.
Labeled in her own writing: Little Nugget Victim Fund.