Critical Care: 1 (Mercy Hospital)

by Candace Calvert

  “So what do you think?” Claire asked, loving the way the deepening sunset glinted on the flecks of gold in his blue eyes. “Are you glad I brought you back here?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Logan answered, slipping an arm around her shoulders and returning to the view. Daffodil Hill, three hundred thousand fluted blooms dancing in the breeze, lifting their buttery faces to be kissed pink by the setting sun. A few yards away, the last straggling picnickers loaded baskets and blankets into cars parked along the rural roadside, one of the children tossing chips to a ragtag clutch of chickens.

  Logan chuckled. “And I’m glad you’re not wearing hiking boots this time.” His gaze traveled appreciatively past the hem of her spring dress to her ribbon-tied sandals. “If you take off running in those, I might have some hope of catching you.”

  Claire smiled, feeling the breeze lift a tendril free from her upswept hair. Hope. There it was again, the reason she’d been drawn to this spot the moment she’d first seen it and the reason she’d wanted to come here again tonight. The sight of those daffodils, even when she’d been so anxious and confused, buoyed her troubled spirit with a promise of hope. She had no doubt it was God’s plan from the very beginning, and he was making good on that promise. More than good. “I’m not running away. I’m completely happy right where I am.”

  “Even with your career sort of . . . sidetracked?”

  “Even with that. I finally figured out I need fewer spreadsheets and more prayer along the lines of ‘your will be done.’ I’ll be helping Renee for a while, but then I have a few new ideas I want to run by Merlene.”

  Logan laughed, drawing her closer. “I’m sure you do, Nurse Avery.” He glanced toward the deserted roadside and turned back to Claire, the tenderness in his expression making her heart melt. “Right now I have an idea of my own.”

  “Like?” Warmth rushed to her face as Logan tucked a finger under her chin, lifting it.

  “Like kissing you,” he whispered, his lips an inch from hers. “If . . .”

  “If?”

  “If you’re not going to leap away and sit on a chicken.”

  “Not dressed for it,” she murmured, smiling and closing her eyes.

  “Good.” Logan cradled her face and kissed her thoroughly, then leaned back, his hands still warm on her face. “Remember when I said I’m falling in love with you?”

  Claire nodded, smothering a grin. Like she’d ever, ever forget. Silly man.

  “Well, it’s true.” Logan inhaled slowly, his eyes earnest. “This feels so right, Claire.”

  “To me too,” she whispered, feeling that truth to the corners of her soul. “I’ve never been so happy in my whole life, and I—” She stopped, wincing. “Ouch. I think I got pecked.” Claire stepped away from Logan, squinting at a clucking shadow near her sandals. She frowned. “Chickens.”

  “Ah . . . good. That’s a relief. For a second there, I thought you were complaining about the kiss.”

  “Never.” Claire laughed, taking hold of his hand. “I’d love to prove that to you over and over. But don’t we have a dinner reservation?”

  “We do.” Logan led her the short distance to the road. “Which is good, since I’ll need plenty of strength for tomorrow,” he added as they reached the Jeep.

  “Tomorrow?”

  “I was hoping to talk you into spending some time with me.”

  “Oh. Nice sales job, McSnarly.”

  “Thank you.” Logan grinned. “I’m still going in to check on Sarah and Erin, but mostly I needed the morning to tackle that blasted stump again. No more stalling around. No more ax. I’m getting a heavy-duty tow cable, attaching it to my Jeep, cranking it into low gear, and ripping the thing out. I was hacking at that stump all night using my Jeep’s headlights.” He shook his head. “The answer was right there all along.”

  Claire smiled, remembering how, at one of her lowest points ever, she traced Kevin’s tree carving inches above her head. “For I know the plans I have for you . . . plans to give you hope and a future.” Could anything be more wonderful than that? “I know exactly what you mean. And a thought just occurred to me.”

  “What?” Logan asked, leaning against the Jeep’s door.

  “Maybe you could save that stump. Have it made into a table base or something. It’s a good reminder of what happened there this morning.” She raised her brows, and Logan’s expression—at once both solemn and joyful—touched her heart.

  “Yes, you’re right. Let’s do that.” Logan looked toward the hills of blooms barely visible in the fading light, then grasped both of Claire’s hands in his own. “Come with me tomorrow, and we’ll look at those house plans together. I’ll buy deli and we’ll have a picnic right in the middle of the building site. I want to hear what you think about everything. Every detail. Because once that stump comes out, I’m telling the contractor to move forward with things. Fast as he can.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close enough that she could feel the soft thudding of his heart. “I think we should plant some daffodils,” Logan added, his lips against her ear.

  Claire’s breath caught. His oak stump. My daffodils. Faith, hope . . . love.

  “So what do you think?” Logan asked. “About the flowers. Good idea?”

  “The best idea I can imagine,” Claire whispered, smiling despite a rush of tears. Happy, hopeful, amazing tears springing from joy beyond anything she could have planned. She was never surer about anything in her life.

  Heal my heart. Move me forward. . . . Oh, thank you. Thank you, Lord.

  Epilogue

  October

  Claire licked frosting from her finger and glanced at Erin, sitting across from her at the nurses’ lounge table. “I can’t believe we’re eating cake at nine thirty in the morning.” She chuckled at the look on her friend’s face. “Okay, scratch that. Of course I can—we’re nurses.” She picked up the card she’d been reading and studied the enclosed photo. A chubby, smiling two-month-old African American baby dressed in a 49ers jersey—and the obvious center of attention at a housewarming party.

  “Who is this baby?” Erin asked, peeking at the photo as Claire set it down.

  “Charles Avery Williams. Future fullback.”

  “Avery? As in . . . ?”

  “As in . . . an honor from a grateful patient.” Claire smiled at the memory of Jada Williams that day in urgent care when they’d joined hands and bowed their heads. “And proof of the power of prayer.”

  “Well, amen to that.” Erin leaned back and propped her feet on another chair, grinning and sifting her fingers through her hair. “I can’t believe you showed up today. It seems like you’ve been in classes, studying for classes, or on the road to a gazillion more classes ever since they crowned you Disaster Queen.”

  Claire snorted. “Emergency preparedness coordinator, thank you. And I’m hardly the queen. More like royal lackey. Yesterday I actually inventoried the county’s entire stockpile of biodegradable toilet tissue.” She wrinkled her nose. “But Sierra Mercy is footing the bills for my classes, and—” she pinched her fingers close together—“I’m this close to getting the CISM trainer’s certificate. Then I can start teaching those peer-counseling workshops myself. Get a few more nurses trained besides you and improve staff resiliency against critical stress. Plus, I’m still working on that plan to make Faith QD part of it all.”

  Claire’s smile faded as she glanced at the message piped in pink buttercream across the remains of the sheet cake. Good-bye and Good Luck, Erin. Her throat tightened and she told herself not to cry. “I still can’t believe you’re leaving.”

  Erin nodded. “Monday. Right after we clean up from the garage sale and get Nana’s goldfish cozy in his new travel tank. I don’t want my grandmother within a hundred miles when they pound that Bank Owned sign into her lawn.” The familiar mix of anger and pain flickered in her green eyes. “As far as I’m concerned, the loan company that got her into this subprime mess is as guilty of scamming her as .
. .”

  “Brad?” Claire asked, knowing Erin’s heart had to be hurting from that betrayal, no matter how many times she shrugged it off.

  “Except that I’ll never prove it. But he sure does put a face on all this ugliness. At least we got those credit charges reversed.”

  “And thank goodness your grandmother still owns the home in Pacific Point.”

  “Cottage.” Erin clucked her tongue. “Meaning it’s so small I might have to sleep with my feet out the window. I’m not even sure where I can hang my punching bag, but I’ll figure it out. On the plus side, there’s a view of the ocean . . . if you use binoculars and squint at this teeny space between Arlo’s Bait & Moor and the surfboard shop.” She laughed, then nodded. “Iris Quinn needs to be there. So we’re going.”

  “She must have great memories of that house.”

  Erin’s expression grew wistful. “Me too. I spent summers there for as long as I can remember. Fishing with Gramps, collecting shells, falling asleep on the sofa bed while listening to the ocean, and . . . hiding a starfish in my pillowcase.” She grimaced. “Don’t try it; they get pretty ripe.”

  Claire smiled, missing Erin already. “Sounds like good times.”

  “They were, especially during all the upheavals with Dad. Being there with Gramps and Nana felt safe, you know?” Erin twisted a strand of hair, her gaze drifting. “Peaceful. Like I could finally trust everything would be okay, and . . .” Her words faded and she shrugged. “Maybe we both need that now.” She brightened. “God did pretty well by you. Maybe he has a plan for me too.”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “Meanwhile,” Erin continued, “I’ve got that job at Pacific Mercy Hospital, where Nana worked when she was a student nurse. And since it’s the same hospital system, my pay and benefits stay the same. There’s still a second mortgage to pay on the beach cottage and—”

  Erin and Claire turned toward the sound of the door opening.

  Sarah peeked in. Her blue eyes were bright and she looked rested, with only the barest hint of a forehead scar remaining from the trauma she’d survived. “Hey, great. You made it, Claire. But get a move on, ladies. Urgent care’s due to open in twenty minutes, and there’s already half a dozen people in the chapel. You’re late.” She disappeared through the door, leaving Claire and Erin shaking their heads.

  “I’m still pinching myself that we’ve got her back,” Erin said with a sigh. “It’s so great that the driving citation didn’t affect her nursing license.”

  Claire nodded. “And the counseling’s been helpful. She seems much happier.”

  Erin grinned. “Yeah, well, some things haven’t changed—the woman can still pitch a Diet Coke can twenty yards. Let’s get a move on before we rile her.”

  +++

  Claire walked toward the front of the refurbished chapel, sneaking a glance back at the hallway door. No more stragglers, it seemed. But this group, on Erin’s last day to lead Faith QD, was already the largest to gather before a midmorning shift. Included were Merlene Hibbert, Keeley Roberts, Inez Vega, and almost a dozen other employees from several departments—most of them wearing Erin’s lamp logo T-shirts. And though Sarah was currently holding down the fort in the ER, even she had come to a Faith QD gathering recently. “Only observing,” she’d told Erin. “Seeing what all the fuss is about.” Claire smiled, thinking about the far-reaching possibilities. Hope was a wonderful thing.

  She looked toward the altar, her heart tugging as it always did when she caught sight of the hand-painted tile plaque depicting a sweet-faced angel holding an armful of purple flowers: Amy Hester Memorial Chapel.

  Erin gathered the group into a circle, and Claire took one last peek at the chapel doorway . . . then her heart leaped. He made it. Logan, standing on the threshold wearing his blue scrubs. And holding little blond Jamie in his arms. The boy’s mother, Carly, stood beside them, waving.

  “Got room for a few more?” he called out, grinning. “Guess who had a doctor’s appointment today?”

  When the hugging and laughter ended, they all took their places, joining hands around the circle and bowing their heads. Logan grasped Claire’s hand and she closed her eyes, feeling once again there was nothing as wonderful as hope, love . . . and the awesome power of the Healer’s heart.

  +++

  Logan settled into his deck chair and lifted his sunglasses to gaze out over the acreage, its trees turning burnished copper, red, and saffron gold in the late afternoon light. He turned to Claire. “So how many do you think that makes? We’ve been planting for hours, and—” He laughed. “Wait. Hold still.”

  “What?” Claire asked, sitting upright, batting at the air around her head. “Another wasp?”

  Logan smiled. “A smudge of dirt. Hold still, Gopher Girl. I’ve got it.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek and let it linger there, stunned once again that this warm and beautiful woman loved him. Even after six months, it still amazed him.

  “Gopher Girl?” Claire wrinkled her nose and swatted him with her gloved hand. “Very romantic, McSnarly. And highly unappreciative of the woman who just dug more than six hundred holes for . . .” She smiled, her eyes lighting. “Oh, Logan, we’re going to have the most unbelievable hill of daffodils in the spring.”

  He gazed upward at the nearly completed cedar home. “And maybe the rest of the roof too.”

  Claire laughed, tugging the brim of her ball cap down to shade her sun-pink nose. “You’re so picky,” she pronounced, spreading her arms wide. “We’ve got this gorgeous weather, leaves that knock your eyes out—” she grinned and tapped the glass tabletop in front of them—“an awesome oak stump table, the promise of daffodils, leftover pizza in the cooler—”

  Logan touched his finger to her lips, quieting her. He watched her for a moment, his heart crowding his chest until it was hard to breathe. “So you’re saying that you want for . . . nothing?” He smiled slowly. “Because I happened to pick something up today, and—”

  Claire’s delighted squeal cut him short. “It’s ready?”

  “Ready and—” he reached into the pocket of his denim jacket—“right here.” He lifted the lid on the velvet Mother Lode Jewelry box, loving the sound of Claire’s gasp when she saw the ring. “I think they got it exactly the way we wanted. See how they set those little gold nuggets around the diamond?” He looked up and saw her eyes filling with tears. “I know I already asked, but I want to hear you say it again. Will you marry me, Claire?”

  She nodded, tears spilling over her dark lashes, then flung her arms around his neck. “Yes, yes, and yes,” Claire murmured against his ear. “I love you, Logan.”

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her for a moment and then pulled away, holding her face in his hands. He kissed her tenderly. “I love you too.”

  Logan helped Claire pull off her gardening gloves and slid the ring on her finger. Then watched her hold it up to see the diamond sparkle in the sun, saying she couldn’t wait for them to show everyone at church on Sunday. And that they should take photos to e-mail to their parents, and . . . He laughed as she peppered his cheek with kisses, then told her, sure, go ahead and call Erin—he’d finish installing Smokey’s electronic pet door, then get the pizza out, and they’d sit around the oak table and watch the sunset.

  When he returned with the pizza box, she was still talking to Erin about wedding plans, about having Erin and Sarah as bridesmaids, asking if Erin thought Sarah might want to rent her cabin in the spring, and promising she and Logan would visit in Pacific Point.

  He pulled his chair close to Claire’s and took hold of her hand, listening to her laugh and chatter with Erin, getting a kick out of her excitement and knowing he’d never been happier in his life. Right here, where he’d found his faith and where he was building a house and a future with this very special woman. A friend, a soul mate, a helpmate—he smiled at the sight of Claire’s dusty work gloves on the table with his—soon a loving wife, and one day the mother of his children. Witho
ut any doubt, it was the answer to prayer.

  About the Author

  Candace Calvert is a former ER nurse who believes love, laughter, and faith are the best medicines. A multipublished author of humorous mysteries, she begins an exciting new direction with the debut of Critical Care. A mother of two and native Californian, she now lives with her husband in the beautiful hill country of Texas. Visit her Web site at www.candacecalvert.com.

  Book Discussion Guide

  Use these questions for individual reflection or for discussion within your book club or small group.

  Note: Book clubs that choose to read Critical Care, please e-mail me at Candace@candacecalvert.com. I’ll try to arrange a speakerphone conversation to join your discussion.

  1. In the opening scenes of Critical Care, nurse Claire Avery must counsel ER staff after a heart-wrenching disaster. This might be viewed as step one in God’s plan for her own healing. Why?

  2. Dr. Logan Caldwell is initially seen as critical, controlling, heartless. How does this impression change as the reader sees more scenes through his eyes? What motivates his behavior? Discuss.

  3. Critical Care utilizes symbolism through various motifs. For example, daffodils signify hope. In your opinion, what does Logan’s oak stump represent?

  4. Claire and the ER, Smokey and the raccoons—why are these conflicts strangely similar?

  5. Claire prays with her patient Jada Williams. Many hospitals today attempt to provide for patients’ spiritual needs. Have you (or a friend or family member) ever had a medical care worker offer spiritual support? offer to pray with you? How did (or would) you feel about that?