Critical Care: 1 (Mercy Hospital)

by Candace Calvert

  Claire held her breath. She told herself that whatever would be would be, what came of Logan’s day in Carmel she’d accept. She’d be happy for him. She’d still feel love for him no matter what he said, but she would let him walk away if that’s what had to be done.

  “I went to see Beckah today,” he said, raising his eyes to hers again. “In Carmel.”

  She started to feign vague surprise but then decided against it. Today was about truth. Nothing less would do. “I know.”

  Logan raised his brows.

  “I mean, I heard you went. I was with Erin when you called this morning. But I didn’t know if you’d found Beckah. . . .” Her voice faltered.

  “I did. I found her.”

  “Oh.” Claire struggled against a lump that threatened to choke her.

  “Not that anyone was thrilled with a Harley pulling up to the wedding chapel, believe me. Especially that guy with the cages of doves.” He chuckled at the confusion on Claire’s face. “Beckah’s bird thing. But at least I caught her before the ceremony started.”

  Claire tried to smile, but her teeth were clenched too tightly. If Logan didn’t cut to the chase pretty soon, she was going to jump out of her skin. She summoned a whisper. “And?” You stopped the wedding? You told her you still love her? You . . . ?

  Logan sighed. “I told Beckah what I told you this morning. That I handled everything wrong from the beginning. With our marriage and especially with the baby.” His brows drew together, the look in his eyes achingly honest. “The truth is, I let my wife down when she needed me most. I told Beckah I didn’t expect her to forgive me, but I had to come tell her how sorry I am. Because I know she deserves so much more.”

  She tightened her fingers against his, her chest cramping. Yes. She deserves who you are now. Claire cleared her throat. “And what did she say?”

  Logan smiled, shaking his head. “She said, ‘God is good.’ That she’d been praying for me since we broke up and that my coming there today was her answer.”

  Claire’s heart thudded. “Her answer?”

  Logan nodded. “No surprise Beckah was light-years ahead of me on figuring things out. Figuring me out. She knew I wasn’t going to get a clue until I finally got things right with God.”

  “You told her?” she asked, genuinely surprised. Then realizing, of course, that Beckah would have seen that Logan had changed. It was so beautifully apparent. So awesomely perfect. Beckah would know Logan was becoming the man of faith she’d wanted all along. Claire’s throat constricted. What woman wouldn’t want him? But had Logan felt the same way about his ex-wife? Had he told her—?

  “I told her about you, too,” Logan said, beginning to grin.

  “About me?”

  “Yes, all about you.” Logan brushed his thumb gently across the top of her hand, his eyes warm. “She got an earful.”

  Claire’s voice emerged in a pathetic squeak. “How did she react to that?”

  Logan laughed. “Well, first, she said I’d given her the best wedding present she could have hoped for by coming there to talk with her. And that I should stop feeling guilty, because she’s completely happy now. Then she said there was nothing to forgive.” He smirked. “Unless I’d managed to scare her precious doves to death.”

  She felt suddenly dizzy with a warm rush of hope. “What did she say about me?”

  Logan took both of Claire’s hands in his. “Beckah said she was glad . . . I found someone to love.”

  Love? Claire’s eyes opened wide and then immediately filled with tears. Her heart swelled until there was barely room to breathe. Was this possible? Love?

  “It’s true, Claire. Even if it’s been only a few weeks, I know how I feel. I’m falling in love with you. You’re everything I’ve ever hoped to find in a woman. You make me believe anything is possible.” He frowned. “I know I’m not easy, and I’ve got a lot to learn about relationships. About God too. But I want all of that now. I’m hoping you’ll be willing to help me. . . .” Logan hesitated, his eyes searching hers. He reached up to brush a tear from her cheek and let his fingers linger along her jaw. “Please say I’m not scaring you with this. Say you’re not going to tell me to get lost. Tell me it’s possible you could feel the same way.”

  Claire smiled through her tears. “Yes. Oh . . . yes. Of course I’ll help you—we’ll help each other.” She trembled with the sudden rise of a million goose bumps. “I’m sure that was God’s plan all along.” She exhaled, her heart full beyond measure as she gazed into Logan’s eyes. “I feel the same way about you, Logan.” Thank you, Lord.

  Logan took her face in his hands and touched his lips gently to the side of her face, then to each of her closed eyelids, her brow . . . and finally her mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her with warmth and tenderness. And then continued with a second deeper and more lingering kiss that threatened to take Claire’s breath away—until Smokey leaped from his perch on the back of the couch to land on Logan’s shoulder. They both jumped and burst out laughing.

  “Hey, careful there.” Logan lifted the one-eared cat cautiously into his lap. He stroked the top of Smokey’s head. “What’s the matter, champ? Feeling left out?”

  Claire chuckled at the sight of the infamous McSnarly making nice with her finicky cat. God was indeed good. Wait. She leaned closer, listening in disbelief. “Do you hear that?”

  Logan grinned, the crinkles appearing beside his eyes. “Miracle day. He’s purring.”

  +++

  “Aha,” Logan said a few minutes later, watching from the doorway as Claire filled a large earthenware mug with coffee. “Real cups. I almost got impaled with that toy tea set.”

  She looked up and laughed, completely at ease, and he remembered the first time he’d seen Claire in this kitchen, the night he’d driven her home from the Denim and Diamonds fund-raiser. She’d been so nervous, pacing around the room in those same pink flip-flops.

  Logan exhaled softly. Claire looked so beautiful in that long sweater and jeans, her silky hair spilling loose around her shoulders. She was an incredible mix of intelligence, strength, and rare innocence, a woman who’d endured so much heartache yet somehow remained warm, sweet, loving. . . . She might love me. Me. Logan’s breath caught, still trying to get his sleepless brain around the staggering thought. He’d do anything he could to make it work, to protect this woman and make her happy. Help me do things right this time. Help me be the man she needs.

  He crossed the kitchen to stand behind her and slipped his arms around Claire’s waist as she searched the silverware drawer. “Need some help?” he asked, brushing his lips against her ear.

  She sighed and turned in his arms, looking up at him, her eyes . . . troubled. Troubled?

  “No, but . . .”

  “What?” Logan’s brows drew together with concern.

  “You must be starving and I don’t have anything to offer you.” She shook her head. “Smokey got the tuna, the coconut cookies are gone, and I had the last of the soup. All I can find is jalapeño pickles, chai tea, some birdseed, and—”

  Logan laughed, pressing a fingertip against her lips. “Don’t say another word. I was hoping you’d let me take you out somewhere nice tonight. Someplace that doesn’t require a fishing pole.” He narrowed his eyes. “As a matter of fact, I was planning this great date when you stormed into my office to tell me I was a heartless loser.”

  “I didn’t,” Claire said, her face turning pink.

  “You did. And I’ll admit it knocked me sideways.” He raised his brows. “No one’s had the guts to take me on face-to-face before.”

  Her lips curved into a half smile. “I noticed you didn’t fight back.”

  “No,” Logan said, thinking how long ago that seemed and how it felt like he’d traveled so much farther than the miles to Carmel and back. “Probably because I knew on some level what you were saying was true. People had every right to complain about me. But the fact is—” he paused, glancing down to where Smokey had curl
ed himself around his pant leg—“I was making myself even more miserable than I was making everyone around me. And I probably would have kept right on doing that.” He bent down, kissed Claire’s lips gently, and smiled at her. “If it weren’t for you. You started the whole ball rolling, and now look, we’ve got miracles. Kind of like your cat.”

  “Hold it, McSnarly. You’re not going to start purring, are you?”

  Logan slipped his arms around Claire’s waist again. “Maybe.” He kissed her, enjoying her sweet response, and leaned back. “But I’m trying to control myself. Because I want to take all the time in the world to get to know you—to get everything right. You’re too important to do it any other way.” He stepped back and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Plus, I’m so blasted sleepy I can’t see straight. I crashed for a couple of hours last night in the ICU, then swung that ax until dawn.”

  Claire grinned, her eyes lighting. “And talked with God.”

  “Yes. That’ll wear you out for sure.” He smiled. “I rode my bike forever and then hauled on back here. I haven’t even shaved. I must look—”

  “Wonderful,” she said emphatically. “I’ve never seen anyone look so wonderful. But you really should go home and get some sleep.”

  While Logan hated the thought of leaving her, Claire was as right about this as she’d been about Sarah’s condition yesterday in the ER. “Okay, I’ll finish my coffee and do that. Get some sleep, clean up, and then I’ll be back. I was thinking we’d have a late dinner at Rio City Café on the Sacramento River. Get dressed up and have candles, soft music . . . all those romantic things,” he added, certain he was sounding corny but knowing he’d do anything that made Claire happy. Balance a tiny coffee cup, make a fool of himself doing country line dances, buy a hundred bouquets of flowers, hang the moon if she asked him to. “Anyway, we’ll make a real night of it. I don’t have to be up early for work. Do you?”

  “Work? Well . . .” Claire sighed. “No. Work definitely won’t get in the way. And your romantic dinner sounds perfect.” She handed him his coffee mug, then beckoned for him to follow her to the living room. “But if the rain lets up, I might want you to take me somewhere else first.”

  “Where?”

  She stopped and smiled mysteriously. “You’ll see. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he agreed, trying to suppress a yawn. “Nap. Mystery detour. Dinner. Sounds like a plan.”

  They drank their coffee sitting close to each other on the couch. Watching the fire, listening to a new country music CD, and saying very little. It felt warm and peaceful and . . . good.

  Logan propped his chin on his palm, watching as Claire lazily petted Smokey, then let his gaze drop to her Bible on the table. For some reason, it made him remember Jamie’s hand on his chest. Logan smiled. It all feels good. A lot like . . . coming home. He set his empty mug down, content to sit here forever but fighting a losing battle to keep his eyes open. If he didn’t get moving, he’d wind up sprawled out and snoring—nothing romantic about that.

  “I’m going to leave now,” he said, standing and pulling Claire up beside him. He folded her close in a hug. “I’ll power sleep,” he whispered in her ear, “and get back here as soon as I can. I miss you already.”

  He walked to the door, thinking aloud the things he needed to finish up. “I’ll call Erin on the way home. Tell her I’ve crossed Keeley Roberts off my apology list and make sure she has enough staff scheduled for tomorrow.” He shook his head. “Erin’s working overtime to help pay her grandmother’s mortgage. She’s one incredible woman. And scary—do you know she works out with a punching bag?”

  “I do,” Claire said, glancing at her watch. “Which reminds me. You should sleep first and call Erin afterward. Right now, she’s having a late lunch with Brad.” She grimaced. “I got the feeling your incredible charge nurse was spoiling for a fight.”

  +++

  Erin yanked her elbow from Brad’s grasp and spun around to face him. “You’re denying this?” She pointed at the credit card statement and carefully taped-together checks atop the picnic table, seething at his nerve. “I found those checks in your car!” She crossed her arms over her chest to still her trembling. And stall her fists. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  Brad glanced toward the small group of people at the next picnic table and then smiled at Erin. The sun, finally peeking through thinning clouds, glinted on his blond hair as he reached for her again. His voice was deep, soft, and smugly confident. “Whoa there. Easy, girl.”

  “Don’t. Don’t tell me to whoa, and don’t touch me.” She pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket. “Just give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the police.”

  Brad’s smile disappeared. “Because you don’t have proof.”

  “What do you call that?” Erin asked, slapping the checks and knocking a package of potato chips off the table.

  “Your word against mine.” A smirk tugged at his lips. “Do you have any idea how many of the boys in blue get great car deals from me? Besides, you haven’t lost anything. You said it yourself; the checks were stopped by the banks.”

  “But there was also over four hundred dollars in cash. Cash. Including nickels and pennies donated by Merlene’s granddaughter. Money for charity, to help a precious boy who was burned. I don’t understand how you could take his money and gamble with it. Is that what you did?” Erin blinked against a rush of tears. How could I have been so blind?

  “You’re forgetting I gave you a donation. A check for two hundred and fifty bucks. Not to mention flowers that set me back more than a few.”

  The roses. Erin grimaced against a wave of nausea. How could this be happening?

  “So, even if I borrowed the cash—which I’m not admitting to—what’s the big deal?” He gestured at her grandmother’s credit card statement. “As for your wild accusation about online betting, I’m guessing the police would smell the obvious there.”

  Erin scrunched her brows. “Meaning?”

  Brad raised his palms. “That you’re looking for revenge, of course.”

  “Revenge?” Erin’s eyes widened, new dread churning her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

  “Give me a break. Do I have to spell it out?” He studied her face for a moment. “Look, you’re a beautiful, desirable woman. Fun, too, the few times I can get you a decent distance from work. And away from that church, but—”

  “I met you there,” Erin interrupted, frowning. “We met at church.”

  Brad shrugged. “I meet a lot of women at a lot of churches. Other places too.” He shook his head. “Fortunately they don’t perch on an iceberg like you do. A guy can only be so patient. Three months with no more than a few little kisses? What do you think I am, a monk? You can’t blame me for having something else going.”

  “I . . .” Erin fought a rush of dizziness, her face flooding with heat. Brad’s brows rose, a look of amusement spreading across his face. “I can’t believe this. You really did expect me to be that patient. Well, then, I guess we need to talk about—”

  “Wrong.” Erin lifted her chin. “We’re finished talking. Forever.” She snatched up the checks and credit card statement and stuffed them into her purse, holding it against her like a shield. “If nothing else, at least I know now that you’re nowhere near the kind of man I’m looking for. Nowhere even close. I was a fool to trust you.”

  Brad was silent for a moment and then pulled the Corvette keys out of his pocket, his eyes watching hers. For an instant, his expression seemed almost regretful. He sighed. “The man you’re holding out for doesn’t exist, Erin Quinn. You can trust me on that 100 percent.”

  Erin watched him walk away, not sure what made her soul feel sicker—that Brad was a liar, a cheat, and a crook. Or the bone-deep fear he was right: she’d never find someone to love.

  +++

  The best part was that she wasn’t afraid anymore. Sarah straightened in the bed and took a breath, grateful she needed very little pain medication and
that Inez had helped brush her hair and pull it back in a clip. She could almost see beyond the swelling in her left eye. In a few days the doctors would remove the chest tube and she’d no longer be confined to this room.

  But the real freedom, the wonderful sense of peace, had little to do with her remarkable clinical improvement. She glanced at the Bible on the overbed table. Even if she wasn’t ready to face God, she now knew with amazing certainty that her sweet, innocent Emily was safe in the arms of angels. That she’d be watched over for eternity. Nothing scared Sarah in the beautiful light of that. She could survive it all—long weeks of recovery from her rib fractures, the accident investigation, her already-scheduled counseling, and even the possibility of a disciplinary review by the California Board of Nursing.

  She sighed, pressing a flower-embossed get-well card against the front of her hospital gown. She looked up as a student nurse arrived at the doorway with a food tray. Sarah smiled. “Hey. Come on in.”

  “Here’s your supper,” the bright-eyed woman said, smiling back. “Bread pudding tonight.” She regarded the card in Sarah’s hands with a knowing look. “Someone special?”

  Sarah nodded. “It’s from my mother. Daddy signed her name.” She took a soft breath, remembering her father’s awkward but earnest explanation when he’d brought the card at lunchtime. “I bought it for your mother to send along to you. She wouldn’t sign it, but she read every word. Every single word. Then she said, ‘Oh, go ahead and take it to her. Can’t hurt.’” He’d winked at Sarah, then said, “That’s something, pumpkin. That’s our start.”

  Sarah chuckled at the student nurse’s puzzled expression. “It’s much better than it sounds,” she said, the ever-capricious tears springing to her eyes. “This card gives me hope. And there’s nothing better than that.”

  +++

  Claire stood, leaning against a tree and watching Logan as he surveyed the vista, that wonderful new warmth filling her chest to brimming. He’d dressed for their date in slacks, a crisp shirt, twill jacket and tie, arriving rested and freshly shaved. And at peace with himself finally. So different from the man who’d rapped on her door at daybreak, scruffy, intense, and so frantic to talk. Claire smiled at the memory. McSnarly in flannel and woodchips, all fired up from a long-overdue meeting with God. It still seemed surreal. So much had changed in such a short time. They were like two new people meeting in a familiar old setting. She sighed as Logan moved close, his lips brushing her cheek.