Code Triage (32 page)

“I’m sorry. I’ll behave.” Sam glanced toward the phone on her bedside table. “I was expecting a call.”

“I heard how upset you were earlier about missing a call, Miss Gordon. And I promise you that I’m being very watchful. There haven’t been any calls. But it’s 4 a.m. Most folks are still snuggled down, of course.” She sighed. “I must say, I’m envious; I usually work evenings.”

Sam promised once again to be cooperative, lay quietly as the toothy nurse checked her temperature—103.1—and watched as she waddled back toward the nurses’ station. Sam stared at the antibiotic bag, carefully metering curative solution drop by drop, then glanced back at the phone. Nick hadn’t called even after she’d left the pathetic, fabricated message about Elisa. And two other calls. Was she right that he’d turned his phone off? Why would he do that? She shivered. Was he with Leigh?

She leaned back against the cooling blanket, submitting to its merciless and teeth-chattering chill, and hoped that the Tylenol and antibiotic would do their magic. She had to get well. And she needed a clear head, all the strength she could muster. If Nick was with Leigh, she would have to do everything she could to stop things from going any further. Her whole future depended on it.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Leigh opened her eyes to pale morning light, confused for a moment. Then she realized she was on the couch in Nick’s arms. Last night’s sense of amazement mixed with nervous uncertainty flooded back. She lifted her head from where it rested against his chest and looked at him. He was asleep, hair mussed, arm flung over his head. Pale sunlight spilled through the windows, glinted on his platinum wedding band, and played over black lashes nestled in the hollows of his eyes. His mouth sagged softly open as he breathed. He looked, somehow, boyish and solidly heroic all at the same time.

Heroic.
She glanced toward his gun on the mantel, remembering how he’d talked of the shooting. How hard it had been and how he’d raced to the hospital, afraid of losing Leigh. And then his sensitivity last night, when he’d understood her confusion; he hadn’t pressured her to go to bed with him. She smiled, remembering the expression on his face when he’d looked at the stairs. But then he’d told her he didn’t want that to happen until she knew she loved him, could trust him,
wanted
their marriage to work. Leigh’s stomach quivered as the nervous confusion returned. Could she do that? put all that had happened behind, trust that things would be better between them? look him in the eyes and promise that she’d love him . . . forever?

The doubts swirled. She’d insisted that Nick tell her the truth, but was she being as honest? with him . . . with herself? She’d tried last night. The truth was, it wasn’t the idea of making love that had stalled her; that intimacy had always been wonderful for them. It was everything else that came with it. How could she tell her husband that she’d never believed in forever when she saw it so plainly in his eyes?

Nick stirred, and his arms found her. “Good morning.” He lifted his head and smiled, warmth filling his eyes. “I thought I’d dreamed it all. But—” he stroked her hair—“here you are.”

She pushed herself up to a sitting position. “And you must be completely cramped—you’re too big to sleep on a couch.”

His chuckle was part yawn. “Yeah, well, don’t tell Buzz.”

There was a stretch of silence as awkward, she imagined, as the aftermath of a reckless one-night stand. She could feel the question hanging in the air between them:
What happens next?

“You’re off work today?” he asked, groaning a little as he dropped his legs over the edge of the couch.

“I’m going in for a few hours as a favor for one of the docs. And I need to check on Frisco; Patrice is away for the day and her sister’s not that experienced with horses. Other than that, I’m not sure what—” She stopped midsentence as he took her hand.

“I meant what I said last night. Everything I said.” His gaze moved over her face. “I’m not going to pressure you. I can stay with Buzz.” His thumb brushed over her hand. “We’ll . . . go on dates. Yeah.” His eyes lit. “I’ll take you to the places we’ve always liked, and we’ll find new ones, too. Places we never got around to, like hiking at Yosemite—the fall colors should be incredible—and up to Lake Tahoe for the first snowfall; down the coast, too. You always wanted to see Big Sur; we’ll pack a lunch and climb in the BMW, hit the coast highway . . .” He took a breath, watching her. “We’ll take it slow, Leigh; I promise. We’ll do it right. It’s too important.”

Her throat constricted. “I’ll . . . try,” she whispered, knowing—and hating—that her vow of honesty wouldn’t let her say more. “I do want a chance.”

“That’s all I need to hear.” He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs gently brushing her skin, and bent close, kissing her tenderly. Then touched his lips to her forehead, the tip of her nose, her chin, and—

Caro cleared her throat dramatically, and they turned.

“So,” she said, arms crossed and sleep-tumbled hair trailing across the shoulders of her long pink nightshirt, “I have one burning question for you two.”

Leigh held her breath.

“Give it to us,” Nick said, sliding his arm around Leigh’s shoulders.

Caro grinned, the single dimple appearing beside her mouth. “Does this mean omelets?”

+++

Riley hadn’t counted heads, but she was certain that this was the highest attendance she’d ever had at a Faith QD meeting. Evening shift staff had come from several departments: nurses from pediatrics, ICU, surgical intensive care; kitchen workers; and security, of course. She glanced toward the table by the altar. There must have been fifty candles burning for Cappy. It would be the first time he’d missed a gathering since she’d begun them. Even a few of the victims had filed quietly into the chapel: the pregnant nurse—on crutches because of the wound in her calf—and her coworker, the bearded man with the Care Bears scrub cap Leigh had treated for bruised ribs. His wife, the volunteer, stood by his side.

Riley had expected—prayed—that the Golden Gate medical staff would find some measure of comfort here. What she hadn’t expected was to see Leigh Stathos walk in. Riley glanced at her, standing between the pregnant nurse and a female security guard, and thought once again that she looked different today. Something had changed. She had a feeling it was for the better.

Riley spoke to the gathered group. “Are there other special concerns today? for patients or for yourselves as caregivers and support staff?”

The nurse on crutches shifted her weight and winced against obvious pain. “I’d like us to offer a prayer for the parents of our peds patients. One of the fathers called me this morning. He . . .” Her voice cracked. “That poor man actually apologized for not coming to my aid that day. He said he’d been awake all night thinking that he should have done something. He’d gathered his little boy up after the shooting started and hid in the bathroom. He sang songs to keep his son distracted from the sounds of screaming. He feels guilty. And I feel awful for him.”

A gray-haired cafeteria worker spoke up, her eyes tear-filled behind her glasses. “My staff is having a hard time.” She reached up and tucked a stray hair into her elastic-edged cap. “Cappy was on that special diet, and even though his wife brought his lunch, he’d come in and load up a tray—sometimes ten or fifteen dollars’ worth. And he’d take it out to those homeless folks down on the corner across from the Laundromat; you know where I mean.” She sniffed and glanced down. “It’s going to be hard.”

Riley waited, hearing a few other sniffles.

“Those officers, too,” a guard said. “We should pray for them. I was at the other end of the parking lot by the gunman’s car when it all went down.” He swallowed. “They had a lot of guts, and sometimes police officers get a bad rap. I’m grateful they were there.”

Riley saw Leigh nod.

“I want to remind you,” Riley said, when no one offered more, “that the social service and chaplaincy departments will be holding debriefings starting today. Your individual department heads will be giving you more information. Meanwhile—” she looked from face to face around the circle—“I’m available anytime if anyone needs to talk. I’ll do anything I can to help. I thank you all, so much, for being here today to support one another. And now . . .” She bowed her head.

“Heavenly Father,” Riley began, “we’re grateful for . . .”

+++

“You’re surprised,” Leigh said once the others had gone and she and Riley were alone in the chapel. “Admit it.”

Riley smiled. “The last time I saw you here, you were expecting a lightning strike. ‘A jillion heavenly volts,’ I think you said.”

“I still wouldn’t stand too close to me, but . . .” Leigh’s stomach dipped and she realized that what she was feeling—what had compelled her to come to Faith QD, seek Riley out right now—could very well be hope. She pressed her fingers to her lips, felt tears gather.

“What?” Riley asked, her voice gentle, interested. “What’s happened?”

“Nick,” she said simply, feeling it again . . .
hope
. “We’ve been talking. And I think it’s possible that we might have another chance together.”

“Oh, Leigh! That’s wonderful.” Riley wrapped an arm around Leigh, hugging her. “Tell me more. You’re stopping the legal proceedings?”

Leigh leaned away and smiled at Riley. “Nick and I are going to the court this afternoon, when I’m finished with work. But first he’s going to talk with Sam. Make sure she understands.” Something that looked like concern flickered across Riley’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really. It’s just that I stopped by the SICU this morning, and the nurses were saying she had a rough night,” Riley explained. “An unexpected fever. They had her on the cooling pad. It sounds like she was delirious for a while.”

“And she gave the staff a hard time, I’d bet.”

“You’d win that bet.” Riley grimaced. “She accused them of withholding calls from your husband.”

“He didn’t call. He was with me.” Leigh nodded. “He’ll tell her. She needs to hear the truth. Nick will see to that.”

“And meanwhile, you came here.”

“Yes.” Leigh glanced toward the altar, lit by the glow of Cappy’s candles. “There was a lull in the ER. And I wanted to be here for the staff, but I also . . .”

Riley stayed silent.

Leigh swallowed and her voice emerged in a whisper. “I’m meeting Nick in a few minutes. But right now I think I’d like to just sit here for a little while. Is that okay?”

“Very okay.”

Leigh hugged Riley once more, watched her leave, then walked slowly toward the front of the chapel. She pulled her stethoscope from around her neck, tucked it into the pocket of her white coat, and took a seat in the front row. Her gaze moved from the candles to the simple cross affixed to the wall above, illuminated now by light streaming through the narrow pane of yellow glass. She thought of how she’d waited for Caro outside these doors after the shooting and how Nick had been here. Seated right where she was now. She thought of Cappy and his wife, Antoinette and Harry, the Owens, and how they all had more in common than a solid, happy marriage. She thought about her friend Erin and her upcoming wedding to Scott McKenna and of how many times Erin had invited Leigh into the chapel at Pacific Mercy. The common denominator in all those success stories was faith. Undeniably.

Then she remembered running to seek the comfort of the stables yesterday and how she’d flung her arms around Frisco, wound her fingers in his mane, and cried. How lonely she’d felt. And how, after telling Riley she was going where even God couldn’t find her, she’d still raised her eyes to the sky and demanded to know, “Do you want to find me, Lord?”

Why had she done that? Why was she here now? She thought of Nick in the kitchen just hours ago, singing with that dish towel tossed over his shoulder as he made omelets. Laughing with Caro. Slipping his arms around Leigh’s waist as she did the dishes, nuzzling her neck, and whispering, “Bless you for this chance.”

She folded her hands and stared at her lap. Then cleared her throat. “If it’s not too late, maybe I should give you another chance too, Lord.”

+++

“I didn’t get your messages until a few minutes ago,” Nick said, alarmed by the flush on Sam’s cheeks and the shiny, glazed look in her eyes. Her hair was damp with sweat, lips pale. The nurses had said only that she had a fever, but it looked worse than that. He glanced at her IVs, saw a red medication label. “I’m on leave, and I was beat. I turned my phone off.” He saw her frown and quickly amended his words. “I called you—the nurses said you were sleeping and doing well.”

Sam licked her lips, drew in a breath, her eyes riveted to his. “When?”

“When . . . what?”

“When did you call?”

“I don’t know. Early evening. I’m not sure.”

She tried to lift her head and groaned with pain.

Nick stepped closer. “Sam, should I call the nurse? Do you need—”

“I need to know if you heard what I told you before I went into surgery.”

His stomach twisted. “I heard. And I know how frightened you were. So—”

“I love you,” she said, cutting him off again. “I didn’t say it because I was scared or because I’d been shot or because I was out of my head from blood loss.” She stared at him hard, the flush on her face deepening. “I said it because it’s true. I’m in love with you.”