Critical Care (26 page)

Logan glanced out his office window, thinking he could hear distant sirens. It didn't matter; if they were headed here, there was
nothing he could do about it.

It was a completely different situation with the e-mail message
on the computer in front of him. All he had to do with that was
delete it without opening it. Right now. What point would there
be in reading it? He'd already made his decision. He moved the
computer mouse for the second time, letting the cursor hover over
the line From: Rebeckah Caldwell. Subject: Re: wedding regrets.

Regrets. Logan frowned, thinking how ridiculous it had been
to use that wording in his brief note to Beckah. The invitation had
been worded something like "please respond with acceptance or
regrets regarding your attendance," and he'd done it quickly without thinking. But now, seeing Beckah's name alongside the word
regrets ... He'd delete the message and be done with it. He didn't
have regrets. Questions maybe. Once. But that was over now too.
He was moving on. Tomorrow Beckah would walk down the aisle
in Carmel and become someone else's wife. Good. She deserved
every bit of happiness that came her way. And his being at her
wedding wouldn't matter one way or the other.

Besides, he had plans for tomorrow. He'd take Claire out somewhere nice, somewhere that didn't involve hiking boots and fishing gear. He chuckled low in his throat. Or any risk of sitting on
a chicken. Out to dinner maybe, at that great place on the Sacramento River next to where the Delta King paddle wheeler was
docked. Rio City Cafe, the restaurant with all the windows and
decks, the delta breezes, fresh-caught salmon, crab cakes, steaks,
and those incredible St. Louis barbecued ribs. Claire might wear a
dress, pull her hair up the way he liked it, showing off her beautiful, graceful neck. And she'd sit close to Logan, smelling so good
and looking at him with those dove gray eyes. They'd talk and
make plans.

Logan glared at the computer. Why couldn't he delete the e-mail and get it over with? He needed to go back to the ER. Get to
work. The new nurse was pacing like a caged animal; Erin had had
her nose out of joint about something ever since she walked in. He
moved the computer mouse over the message again. What did he
think it was going to say? That Beckah knew he was a coward all
along and wouldn't show up? That she was glad she'd found someone better than him? That she'd changed her mind and needed
him to roar up on his motorcycle to rescue her? He clicked the
mouse and opened the e-mail.

Logan,

I understand.

Blessings,

B.

He hit the Delete button, battling an exasperating mix of disappointment and anger. She understood? What kind of cryptic
garbage was that? Understood what? What on earth did Rebeckah
Caldwell understand? That I don't?

No. Didn't matter. It was done.

Logan turned at a knock on his door. "Come in."

Erin stepped inside. "Sarah's late. It's only ten minutes by the
clock, but you know how early she always gets here. She usually
beats me by a few minutes. Technically that makes her forty minutes late. And I can't get her on the phone."

"You tried her cell?"

"No answer there, either."

"How'd you leave things with her yesterday when she went
home sick? Did she say she'd be here today?"

"I'm not sure I even asked. I only assumed." She crossed her
arms, staring at him. "You know as well as I do that Sarah has never voluntarily missed a day of work. I think I told her to take as much
time as she needed, but I never figured she would. If she did, I'd
expect her to call me. I'm worried."

Logan hesitated, then nodded toward the ER. "What's going
on out there?"

"Keeley and I are handling it. Just those same three night shift
patients waiting for lab results and two more signing in for triagea forehead laceration and a case of pinkeye. Nothing big. I think
we're okay until urgent care opens, but ..."

"But what?"

Erin took a deep breath. "I keep thinking about Sarah. About
how she's been working too much. Everywhere. Not just ER. How
she almost fainted the other day, how she was late for the first time
ever last week and then fell asleep at work yesterday."

"Fell asleep?" Logan shook his head. "You said she was sick and
had to go home."

"She didn't want you to know. I found her in the lounge with
her head down on the table. She said she had a cold and took an
antihistamine." Erin winced. "But I'm not sure now. What if it's
something serious?"

"It's ten minutes. Some people think that's nothing-remember McMuffin?" He smiled, trying to reassure Erin, despite his own
creeping doubts concerning how thin Sarah had become lately and
those dark shadows under her eyes. That sadness when she talked
about her family. "Some people think ten minutes late is on time."

"Not Sarah." Erin twisted her ponytail, her expression thoughtful. "My personal judgment hasn't been the best lately, and now
I'm wondering if I missed something with her. Remember all those
warnings Claire gave us about stress? And those symptoms that
they mentioned at the debriefing. Do you think maybe-?"

Ah, brother. Not this. "No, I don't," Logan said, cutting her off.
Sarah was a warrior, tough as he was. That was that. He stood and
grabbed his stethoscope. "Sarah's running late. Period. We'll give
her five more minutes, and we'll call her cell phone again. If she
doesn't show, I'll get one of police units to drive by her place."

The ambulance radio squawked in the distance, fizzed into static,
then started again as sirens began to wail from all directions.

Claire walked out of the Human Resources office, frustrated. The
director wasn't in. Something about an unplanned early meeting,
and then she'd be attending a systemwide training session. Claire
nearly jumped when Merlene Hibbert called her name.

The nursing director marched toward Claire, a no-nonsense
look on her face. It was uncanny how the woman could sneak
up so soundlessly; no wonder the nursing students toed the line.
Claire squared her shoulders. If she'd had gum in her mouth, she
would have spit it out. The woman was that intimidating. But
when Merlene reached Claire, she smiled. For about two seconds.

"Busy morning, too many people out sick," she said in her singsong cadence. "I've a mind to make a few house calls, take some
temperatures, see how legitimate these illnesses are, you know?"
She eyed Claire's scrubs. "Aren't you in urgent care today?"

"Yes, at ten," Claire answered, wondering if Merlene were about
to take her by the scruff of her neck back to her assigned building.
Except that only two weeks ago this building was her proper workplace. And still my plan. "I was hoping to catch the HR director to
confirm the agenda for the meeting on Monday."

Merlene nodded knowingly. "You mean the decision about the
new clinical educator. You're a bit anxious, are you?"

"Yes," Claire admitted. "I know there are only two applicants,
but-"

"Three. Now that Renee is back."

Claire's stomach tensed at the mention of the nurse who'd held
the position until three months ago. She wants her job back? "Renee
Baxter? I thought she moved to Washington."

"Oregon. Except that she didn't. Her husband decided not to
take that job." She shook her head. "Too rainy. And he didn't know
this before?" Her expression warmed. "But I believe that Renee is
only interested in half-time hours. Between you and me, administration's impressed with you. You're the only one of the three
applicants with CISM training, and then there's your willingness
to help out in the ER."

"The clinic," Claire corrected, her voice sounding as breathless as she suddenly felt. She struggled against a queasy rush of
dread. "Only urgent care. Not the ER. And today's my last shift
because they've found someone else." She took a breath and let it
out slowly, willing herself to stay calm and focused. Stick with the
plan. Lord, you know my plan.

"Nevertheless, you've made quite an impression," Merlene said
confidently. "In fact, I put in a special word for you."

Claire's shoulders sagged with relief. "Oh, thank you. That
means a lot." She turned her head for a moment toward sounds in
the distance-sirens?

"Perhaps there would even be a possibility of a shared educator position. You could work part-time in education, part-time in
the ER?"

"But . . ." Claire's stomach sank again. How on earth could
this be happening? After all her hard work? all the planning and
praying? She had to make Merlene understand. Stop her from suggesting this impossible-completely horrifying-idea to administration. Back to the ER?

"No, that isn't what I'd planned for. I don't work ER anymore.
I can't-" Claire stopped and stared upward, certain she'd misunderstood the page. It repeated and her heart rose to her throat.

"Claire Avery to the emergency department stat. Claire Avery
report to ER."

By the time Claire had jogged across the campus to the outside
doors of the emergency department, the overhead announcement of Code Triage had been made, meaning they were working
a multicasualty disaster. What type she had no idea, but another
ambulance, its siren screaming, was rounding the curve into the
parking lot as she hustled up the ramp to the doors. Metal scoop
stretchers leaned against the brick entryway, and red biohazard
bags-overflowing with bloodstained gauze pads, IV packaging,
and cardboard splints-littered the entrance. Trauma. What origin?
How many victims? Why did they page me? Claire hurried through
the doors and into chaos.

Erin, holding an IV bag aloft, greeted her with a groan of relief.
"I've never been so glad to see someone in my life." She stepped
out of the way as a medic dragging a scoop stretcher-its buckles
clattering against the floor-charged by them and headed back
outside. "Motor vehicle accident on the overpass," she explained,
raising her voice. "Sounds like four cars. A stalled school van with
eight kids-minor injuries, thank heaven-and three other cars. So
far a few fractures, a head injury who's conscious but needs a CT
scan." She shook her head. "I guess the last car is still hanging over
the guardrail. They're trying to stabilize it. There's supposed to be
at least one victim pinned inside. No word on his condition."

Claire nodded, her hands clammy. She pushed down a wave
of nausea, her mind whirling. "So, you need me to open urgent
care early."

"No," Erin said, nudging Claire to the side as a firefighter
rushed past carrying a crying child. "I need you in the ER with me.
I need everybody I can get. Sarah didn't show, so it's just Keeley
and me. Logan's shouting orders faster than an auctioneer." She
glanced past Claire toward the ambulance bay. "Argh, there's the
Channel 13 news van. C'mon, let's get in there."

"Erin, I . . . " Claire choked. Please, God. How could she do this?
How could she refuse? What i fI panic? Claire looked into Erin's eyes
and nodded. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

Erin wedged the IV bag against her shoulder and reached out
to squeeze Claire's arm. "Great. You're saving my life here. And I'm
still praying that Sarah will show up any minute."