Critical Care (38 page)

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.

"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.

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."