Critical Care: 1 (Mercy Hospital) Page 22

  “You? Why are you saying that?” Claire lifted her spoon from her coffee, staring.

  “I should have seen how troubled she was. Here I am, spending all this time organizing Faith QD to offer support for the staff, and I miss something like that? I’ve already signed up for the next CISM peer counseling class, but maybe that’s not good enough. I mean, what kind of charge nurse am I, if I’m so blind I can’t see something like this coming with one of my nurses?”

  “You’re the best kind of charge nurse. Don’t do this to yourself.” Claire reached across the table and grabbed Erin’s hand. “I’m glad you’re taking the counseling course. That’ll be great. But you can’t blame yourself about Sarah. I counseled her after the day care disaster, remember? I keep going over that, but she seemed so tough, so together. And now in hindsight we’re all thinking about things we missed in her behavior and feeling guilty about it.” She paused as a waitress in a fringed doeskin vest refilled their cups, her gold nugget earrings swaying as she moved.

  Erin watched as Claire took the opportunity to peek at the display on her cell phone. She felt a twinge of envy; was she ever going to feel that way? ever find anybody she could trust? “Expecting a call?” she asked with growing curiosity.

  Claire’s gaze lifted. “Not exactly. Well, I’m . . . hoping.”

  Erin raised her brows, but Claire shrugged. The mystery man would stay a mystery for now, it seemed.

  “Anyway,” Claire continued, “what I meant was that we’re all pretty much undone by what happened with Sarah. If you’ll pardon my quoting certain unpopular stress pamphlets, we shouldn’t put unrealistic pressures on ourselves. We need to—”

  Erin wrinkled her nose. “You’re not going to mention petting sheep and eating corn dogs, are you?”

  Claire groaned at the reference to the chaplain’s rodeo therapy. “No. But we need to watch out for each other.”

  “And try to do things that feel good,” Erin quoted, smiling as Claire peered at her cell phone yet again. She tapped the phone. “So when are you going to break down and tell me who’s suddenly making you feel so good?” She grinned. “Come on now. It’s not like I can’t tell something’s going on.”

  Claire’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Erin, I don’t know if I should say anything. But I’m dying to tell someone how I feel.”

  “Spill it. Please. You have no idea how much I need to believe in happy endings right now.”

  A phone rang, startling them both. But it wasn’t Claire’s; it was coming from Erin’s purse. She dug it out, rolled her eyes as she recognized the number, then faced Claire, mouthing that she was sorry for the interruption. Erin turned her chair away, leaving Claire to her cinnamon roll.

  +++

  Claire chuckled after taking a sip of her coffee. The way Erin’s voice carried, everyone in the coffee shop could likely hear.

  “What?” Erin asked as if straining to hear. “Yes, I hear you. . . . Really? I can’t believe you did that. How’d it go? . . . Her last name’s Roberts. Keeley Roberts. Staffing should have her phone number. . . . What? . . . Yes, I checked with ICU an hour ago. They were taking another X-ray, but she’s doing fine. . . . Well, then, you’d better hang up. All we need is for you to have an accident too. . . . Okay. Talk to you later. Bye.” Erin disconnected, then turned back to Claire. “Forget petting sheep. After that call, I’m sure the flying pigs will be distraction enough.”

  Claire licked the icing off her fingertip. “Who was that?”

  “McSnarly.”

  Claire lowered her roll, a raisin falling to the table.

  “He wanted to tell me he’d found a way to reach Sarah’s father in Pollock Pines; apparently there’s some issue with his phone messages. So Logan sent the police to his body shop to tell him to get over to Sierra Mercy because his daughter needs him. Can you believe that?” Erin took a sip of her coffee. “And guess what else our doc is doing on his day off?”

  Claire opened her mouth and then closed it without saying a word.

  “Calling Keeley Roberts to apologize.” Erin raised her palms. “I’m serious. He’s on some strange campaign today. If I dared to hope, I’d say that sometime between yesterday and today Logan Caldwell met God on a mountaintop.” She stared at Claire. “What?”

  Claire shrugged and feigned innocence but couldn’t help smiling. “So,” she asked, her grin spreading, “did Dr. Caldwell say anything else?”

  “Only that he was planning to check on Sarah when he got back into town.”

  Claire’s smile faltered. “Back into town?”

  “Yes, and that’s the weirdest thing of all. He was on his bike on Highway 1, a few miles outside Carmel.”

  “Carmel? Why would he . . . ?”

  “His ex-wife’s wedding. He said something about having to talk to her and ‘finally make things right.’ Imagine it: your guests are all gathered, you’re wearing this great dress, and the organ starts to play. It’s your second chance at happily ever after. Then up roars your ex-husband on a motorcycle, and—” Erin halted. “Claire?”

  “I . . . ,” Claire whispered, rocked by confusion. She’d seen Logan just a few hours ago, and he said he’d call her. Yes. He had. And now he’s with Beckah? Her stomach lurched. She’d almost told him she was falling in love with him.

  Erin leaned across the table, her eyes filled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re sure?” Claire asked, telling herself Erin could have misunderstood. Even if Logan had been talking about Beckah, even if he always talked about Beckah, even if . . . No, don’t let this be true. “You’re sure he was going to Carmel?”

  “Yes,” Erin said, and then the confusion on her face slowly changed to understanding. She pointed to Claire’s cell phone. “Uh-oh. . . . He was the call you were expecting? I can’t believe this. You and Logan?”

  Claire nodded, then shut her eyes to quell the flow of tears. She wasn’t going to cry; this was humiliating enough without sobbing in public. “We’ve been going out, and it’s been great.” She opened her eyes. “Was great. Now I don’t know what’s happening. Logan showed up this morning just after dawn and—like you said—was talking about mistakes he’d made and how he needed to make up for them. Actually you weren’t too far off about God and the mountain.” She smiled despite a second rush of tears. “So that part’s all good.”

  “That part’s great. But you mean he didn’t say anything about going to the wedding?”

  “No. He was talking about his marriage and how he’d fouled things up. All of a sudden he just took off. Said he had to do something, had to hurry to get there in time.” Claire decided not to say Logan promised to call. Right now it sounded like a bad line from a soap opera.

  Erin was quiet for moment. “I don’t know what to say. Except that in the time I’ve known Logan, he hasn’t gotten close to any women. Despite what some people say, deep down I honestly think the man has a wonderful heart. So if he’s opened up to you . . .”

  Claire took a slow breath. “He has about a lot of things. And he is wonderful. More than wonderful. He brought me daffodils, showed me the sunset on his building site, took me fishing, and made me laugh. He said I make him feel optimistic about things, that he wants to be in my life.” She bit her lower lip. “Remember when you were talking about finding a guy who gets it?” She tapped her fingers over her heart. “One who understands that it’s what’s in here that counts?”

  Erin nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “I think Logan’s one of those. And Lord help me, I might be falling in love with him.” She sighed, her throat aching. “I’d started feeling hopeful for the first time in so long, but now . . .”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Tears welled up in Erin’s eyes. “Maybe it’s no big deal that Logan went to Beckah’s wedding. Maybe he . . . um . . .”

  Claire tried to smile, touched by Erin’s support. “Maybe he likes those little bags of candy-coated almonds?”

  “Yes!” Erin laughed, swiping at a tear sliding dow
n her cheek. “Now you’re talkin’. And goose pâté, organ music, all that fancy Carmel la-di-da. Logan’s a fool for that stuff. Plus, he’d never pass on the chance to get dressed up. Coat, bow tie, paisley cummerbund, patent leather loafers . . . the whole GQ thing. Right?”

  Despite herself, Claire smiled at the ridiculous image. Thank you for sending me this amazing friend, God. “Except that when Logan rushed out of my house this morning, he was wearing plaid flannel, work boots, and was completely covered in sawdust.”

  Erin grinned. “Well, that settles it. They’ll never let him in!”

  Their chuckles faded and they were silent for a few moments. Then Erin reached over to pick at Claire’s cinnamon roll, catching her eye. “His will be done,” she said very softly.

  “Yes,” Claire whispered, trying not to look at her cell phone.

  +++

  Sarah squinted at the clock on the wall, trying to orient herself. Eleven forty-five . . . in the morning? She glanced out toward the nurses’ desk. Yes, day shift staff. She understood now why patients got confused in hospitals. It all seemed Alice-in-Wonderland surreal: fluorescent lighting, medication, sleep disturbance, eerie sounds, and strange dreams.

  Despite the pinching pain in her side, Sarah smiled. She’d stopped having the dream about Emily’s birthday party. The one she’d had over and over since her car collided with the guardrail, the dream with all that candlelight, the silver balloon floating overhead, and the man with the long hair who was watching her so intently with such loving and forgiving eyes. She finally realized that he reminded her of every picture she’d ever seen of Jesus.

  Sarah looked at the Bible Chaplain Estes brought early this morning. She hadn’t opened it, and she doubted she would anytime soon. But having it here made her think about Logan and how they’d prayed together last night for the babies they’d each lost. It felt right, and she hoped he’d found as much comfort as she had. That their babies were being watched over, and . . .

  Who is that? Sarah blinked, staring through the doorway at the man talking with the nurse at the desk. He was middle-aged and a bit overweight, wearing work twills and a nylon Windbreaker, not completely bald. But so much grayer than I remember.

  Tears filled her eyes and she waved, calling out with every ounce of her strength, “Daddy!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Claire sprinted the last quarter mile of Gold Bug Loop, welcoming the burn in her legs and lungs, far more tolerable than the painful confusion she’d struggled with since leaving the coffeehouse an hour ago. A complete jumble of thoughts. Images of Logan holding his ex-wife in his arms, replays of the conversation they’d shared at dawn, and endless analysis of his expression and tone when he’d said, “I’ll call you.”

  She sucked in a breath and pushed harder, pumping her arms, lengthening her stride, and telling herself to let it all go. Except that Logan hadn’t called, of course. And worse, he seemed to have turned off his cell phone after he’d reached Carmel. Did he find Beckah before the wedding?

  She didn’t know the answer. Maybe she never would because Logan had shut Claire out. And now . . . She slowed to a stop in front of Kevin’s oak tree, gulping air and fighting another alarming wave of nausea. She breathed slowly through her nose to dispel the queasiness that swept her since the other awful thought had surfaced. Her confusion hadn’t only been about Logan Caldwell. It was about God too. Claire needed to face the very real possibility that God was also shutting her out, that he had no intention of answering her prayers about Logan, her future, or even her brother’s poor lost cat. It was the only explanation for everything that had happened these past weeks. God had stopped listening to Claire as certainly and deliberately as Logan had switched his cell phone to voice mail. “Logan Caldwell. I’m not available . . .”

  Not available. Is that what you’re telling me, Lord?

  Claire swept her fingers across her dripping forehead, then dropped onto the cool grass, wiggling backward until she rested her back against the oak’s deeply creviced trunk. She blinked up through its branches at the noon sun, realizing that the familiar hollow ache in her chest had returned with a vengeance. That empty hopeless hole left by Kevin’s death. It wasn’t fair. None of this was in Claire’s master plan; it wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d been so careful to protect herself, her future—her sanity—since her brother’s death. She’d prayed for that every single day. But now she’d run smack into the worst irony of all: God chose to answer Logan’s prayer instead of hers. He met Logan at that oak stump and inspired him to search his heart . . . and find his wife.

  Claire sighed. She shouldn’t be surprised; she’d suspected that Logan still had feelings for Beckah. Even if he’d said all those things about wanting to be included in Claire’s life, about wanting to see her again. Even if he’d held her, comforted her as she talked for the first time ever about Kevin’s death, kissed her so passionately, made her believe that her heart could feel love again. Even if he’d given her daffodils . . . and helped her to feel hope.

  Oh, Lord, why? The ache in Claire’s chest became unbearable, and she blinked against a rush of tears. Why are you doing this to me?

  She stood and crossed her arms, trembling as goose bumps rose on her damp skin. Chills, without the wonderful sense of well-being and peace that always came at the end of her runs. No endorphin rush—she hadn’t felt it the last several times she’d run either. God was denying Claire this small comfort too. The same way he’d ignored her desperate prayers. When she’d made plans to move forward with her new career, God allowed her to be sent back to the ER, a place he knew would fill her with pain and fear. And when she’d prayed for her heart to be healed, he let Logan come into her life instead. To mislead her into being hopeful again, make her feel safe enough to fall in love. Then God let it all end, leaving Claire as lost as her brother’s one-eared cat. Why? Had it been too much to ask?

  Her gaze drifted to the carved numbers and letters on the tree above her. The Scripture, her brother’s initials, Gayle’s initials. A future that never would be. Her throat squeezed tight and tears came again. Kevin was gone, Smokey was gone, and Logan was gone. God wasn’t sticking around either. He didn’t care about her plans or that her hopes were dying like that vase of daffodils back at her brother’s cabin.

  All she had left was the new job, a decision to be announced on Monday. It was the reason she’d come to Sierra Mercy Hospital in the first place. She’d wanted nothing more than to be clinical educator back then. Everything else and everyone else—Merlene, Logan, Erin, Sarah, and Jamie—had somehow come into her life and confused it. They’d steered her away from her plans, knocked her off track. And it all happened because God stopped listening to her prayers.

  Claire hugged herself to still the shivers and tried to take stock. Merlene put in a recommendation for her regarding the educator position; she was on Claire’s side. They had a new nurse in the ER, so her obligation there had ended. The timing was right to move ahead with the plans she’d made for herself. A clean break from the painful confusion of these past weeks—past years. There was no reason Claire couldn’t do that. It was what she’d wanted from the beginning, wasn’t it? The only difference now was that she’d be doing it all by herself. I can do it.

  If that was true, why did the thought make her feel so unbearably lonely?

  “Where are you, Lord?”

  +++

  “You look absolutely radiant, Sarah. But then, I heard you have a special visitor.”

  Sarah smiled at Erin through a blur of tears. She might as well get used to that; they just kept coming. “Yes. My father. He should be back in a few minutes. He wanted to hunt down my favorite ice cream—eggnog. I tried to tell him it wasn’t going to be easy in April. But right now I believe anything can happen. Did you hear Logan sent the police to his shop?”

  “I did,” Erin said, a faraway look coming into her eyes for a moment. “Our doctor’s on quite the mission today.” She pointed at the hospital-iss
ue Bible lying on the table next to a bandage roll and a Diet Coke can. “And it looks like Chaplain Estes is thinking along those same lines.”

  Sarah nodded, feeling a twinge of guilt for all the times she’d passed on Erin’s invitations to join Faith QD. “Even though I told him I wasn’t ready for that. Because I don’t deserve . . .” She sighed. “The truth is, I did some really bad things a few years ago. Hurt my parents. You can’t imagine how much. I’ve been so ashamed.”

  “You’re not sure God’s forgiven you?” Erin asked as she reached for Sarah’s hand.

  A tear trickled alongside Sarah’s nose. “I only know he’s intent on making me a complete crybaby.” She squeezed Erin’s fingers. “I’m not sure where I stand with God yet. But I hope you and Logan and Claire and everyone can forgive me for the trouble I caused. I’m so sorry.”

  “Now hold it. Listen to me.” Erin leaned forward, her expression intent. “I’m the one who should be sorry. Me. I’m in charge of that ER. It’s my responsibility to look out for my staff. My friends,” she added, her voice warm. “You’re a coworker and a friend, Sarah. And I should have noticed you needed help.”

  “Don’t apologize.” Sarah shook her head. “You’ve been great. I’m a tough nut to crack.”

  “Still, I think I’ve let too many things outside of work distract me. Stupid complications I’ve been trying to deal with.”

  “Like Brad?” Sarah asked, calculating by Erin’s immediate frown that she’d guessed right.

  “Yes. You can’t even imagine what problems he’s causing. I’m meeting him for lunch. Trust me, I’ll be loaded for bear. But before that, I have to finish straightening out my grandmother’s credit card account. I’m furious at the billing errors I’m finding. Like eleven hundred dollars’ worth of charges at some Nevada horse farm? Can’t wait to do battle on this one.”