Critical Care (22 page)

Erin stood and left the bracelet lying on the bed next to her red
leather boxing gloves, sighing as she walked into the living room.
She pushed aside her roommate's newest stack of bridal magazines
and curled up on the couch, wondering if it was time to admit the
ugly truth. Erin was nearly thirty-two, and if she was ever going to
find someone to love, she was the one who had to change.

The froggy brotherhood hadn't been shy in offering plenty of
advice along those lines. Usually in a last indignant croak when
Erin broke things off. All she had to do was stop being so opinionated, independent, stubborn, judgmental, devoted to her family,
loyal to her friends, obsessed with her career, quick to lead a cause,
short-tempered, bossy, and religious. She glanced at her tabbed
Bible lying on the coffee table next to her newest study workbook.
Too religious? How on earth could she have a relationship with
someone who didn't understand that she was far from being the
Christian she wanted to be?

She thought of her starry-eyed and newly engaged roommate's
gentle advice. "Don't be so picky. Don't get riled up about the small
things-no one's perfect. Any counselor will tell you that successful relationships are all about compromise."

Compromise. Erin wove her fingers through her thick hair, lifting it from the shoulders of her hooded sweatshirt, and thought
about Brad's plans for Sunday. Compromise would mean someone else would sit beside her recently widowed grandmother at
church. It would mean missing her ten-year-old nephew's colorful account of the Scout troop pinewood derby and her pregnant
sister's photo from her first ultrasound. It would mean trading all
that for a smoky and crowded Reno breakfast buffet, followed by
three hours of shouting to make conversation over the roar of stock
car engines.

Erin let her hair fall back to her shoulders. Not that the Reno
races weren't exciting and fun, but Brad knew how important Sundays were to Erin. Her schedule only allowed her to be off every
other weekend, making that one family day all the more precious.
Didn't that matter? Was it impossible to find someone who understood things like that?

Once again she reminded herself of Brad's kindness to her
mother, his generous contribution to Jamie's fund, and his recent
questions about church membership classes. Then she reminded
herself that they'd been dating only a few months and that not all
men were like Dad.

She pushed the thought aside and then nodded decisively.
She was sticking to the promise she'd made herself. To have more
patience and leave judgments where they belonged-in God's
hands. Brad was trying, and so would she. She was going to risk
trusting him. Even if she had to go three rounds with her punching
bag every night to keep herself from a frustration meltdown. She'd
give Brad the benefit of the doubt.

Meanwhile, Erin had other problems to solve. She needed to go
over her grandmother's credit card statements. There was no way
Nana authorized those ridiculous charges. And then she'd reread
the RN resumes. She and Merlene finally had some qualified applicants for the ER position. Logan would find something wrong with
every single one of them, though.

Erin groaned. At her cynical worst, she wasn't even close to
being as picky as Logan. That poor man was never going to find
someone to love.

Logan watched the fading sun, sitting close enough to Claire that
he could feel her shoulder stiffening against his, and wondered
why in the world he'd spent the last ten minutes talking about his
ex-wife. He'd heard somewhere that was a huge taboo in dating. So
was he really that much of an idiot? To be sitting beside this beautiful and intelligent woman, after one of the best days he'd had in
years, after sharing his house plans, minutes from a spectacular sunset ... and end up talking about something as pointless as birds
in a shower? And the wedding on Saturday. Why had he done that?
More importantly, what could he do to make Claire comfortable
again?

"The sun's finally starting to move down," Claire said with a
second furtive glance at her watch. "Not much longer."

She's acting like she can't wait to go home. Say something. "I'm
glad. I mean, I'm glad you're here to see it with me." He smiled,
noticing that the fading sunlight was making Claire's gray eyes turn
sort of smoky lavender. "You're the first person I've ever brought
here to see it."

She smiled back, and Logan knew with a rush of relief that he'd
finally said something right. Telling her the truth feels right. Maybe
that was why he'd said those things about Beckah. Not that he was
planning to do it again.

"Well, then I'm glad too." Claire's smile widened. "Although-"
she lifted a brow, her voice taking on a teasing tone-"I'd half
expected to find a path worn by the feet of single women."

Logan laughed. "Yeah, maybe by the feet of a dozen nurses waving picket signs and shouting curses. All led by our chief of staff."

"You mentioned being called on the carpet. What was it
about?"

"Same old, same old. Another complaint from another nurse."
Logan ticked the specifics off on his fingers. "I'm insensitive, critical, expect way too much, and am completely unappreciative. I'm
the devil incarnate-" He stopped, hearing Claire's sudden laugh.

"Sorry," she said, pressing her cookie against her lips. "Really,
go on."

Logan frowned, feigning insult. "That was it. You think there
should be more?"

"No, not at all." Claire furrowed her brows like she was rethinking the quick dismissal. "Only that maybe . . . "

"Only what?" Logan prompted, realizing he cared what she
thought. Very much.

Claire pursed her lips and then exhaled. "I was going to ask if
you've ever considered easing up on your staff a little."

"Easing up?" He stared at her.

"Yes," Claire said, lifting her chin as she met his gaze. "Easing
up, lightening up, throttling back. Whatever you want to call it.
Put yourself in the nurses' shoes for once."

"In their . . ." Logan hesitated, telling himself to go slowly.
Whatever he said here could be very dicey. There was more at stake
than the doctor-nurse relationship.

"I haven't forgotten what you said about the buck stopping
with you," she continued, spreading her hands. "It's obviously true.
As a doctor, you're ultimately responsible for a patient's outcome.
But have you considered that the nurses feel just as accountable?
That we're as much under the gun in a critical situation as you are?
Maybe more than you are?"

"More?" Oh, boy, here we go.

"You bet. Think about it. You have a critically ill patient, and as
a doctor, you make an assessment and a treatment plan-granted,
a brilliant plan-then you give orders and walk away. Who's left
at that patient's bedside? Who's injecting complex drugs into his
bloodstream, watching for dangerous side effects and all the while
trying to say something, anything, to ease the fear in that poor
soul's eyes? Trying to convince him that it will be all right, when
you know that at any given moment something could go wrong."
Claire sighed and looked into Logan's eyes. "Nurses. You'd be lost
without them."

Logan raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, truce. I'm not about
to argue with that. In fact, Erin and Sarah are among the best
nurses I've ever worked with. I'm not kidding when I say I'd like
to clone them. But ..."

"But what?"

"It's competence I'm talking about. There's a huge difference
between being there and being competent to be there." Logan
scrunched his brows. Surely Claire could understand that; she'd
worked ER herself. "Take that nurse who was working the day of
the day care incident."

"The one who threatened to quit?"

"Yes. And you want to know why? Because she couldn't handle
it. Because I told her to get a grip or get out of my department."
He shook his head, feeling the anger return. "The paramedics are
off-loading this little girl who's been trapped in a burning building,
who's just stopped breathing. Stopped breathing. They're trying to
control her airway; we're scrambling to get things going, and then
this nurse starts panicking. Wailing like a civilian. And becomes
completely and totally useless to me. I'm trying to save burn victims, and I've got a useless nurse! You understand what I'm saying,
don't you?"

Claire didn't answer, and when Logan turned in his chair, he
saw that her face had gone completely pale. Her eyes were wide,
pupils dilated. What's wrong? What did he ... ? Oh no. Burn victims.
Her brother.

"Yes," she whispered. "I understand."

"Claire, wait." Logan twisted his chair so he could reach her
and took hold of her hands. "I'm a fool," he said, rubbing her cold
hands gently between his. He had to make this better. "I'm sorry. I
should have thought about your brother before I said that."

"No, don't." Claire slid her hands away from his and shut her
eyes for a few seconds. Then she took a deep breath. "Don't apologize, Logan. Please. Just listen. I need to explain something."

Claire couldn't believe what she was doing, but she had no choice.
Having this conversation without explaining felt like continuing
a lie. She took another breath and let it out slowly, but her insides
kept trembling. "I was that nurse. I panicked too. Back then."

Logan leaned forward again, started to reach for her hand but
stopped himself. "It's not the same thing. You shouldn't have had
to see your brother like that." He glanced away for a second, a
muscle on his jaw tensing. "No one should have to see someone
they love like that. You couldn't be expected to function as a nurse
in that situation."

Claire wanted more than anything to stop there. To let it rest
and move into Logan's arms for the comfort he so obviously wanted
to give her. But she couldn't. There was more to say. Confessions
of incompetence to the doctor who hates that above all things. Claire
muttered under her breath, "It wasn't only that day."

Logan's forehead wrinkled with confusion. "Meaning?"

"I panicked over and over. Every ER shift I worked from then
on. I couldn't keep my hands from shaking. I'd walk over to the
medicine cupboard and completely forget what I was there for. I'd
jump out of my skin every time I heard a siren. I was ... useless.
Exactly what you called that other nurse just now." Claire's lips
tightened as she struggled against a surge of anger. Where had that
come from?

Logan winced, and Claire was instantly sorry. What am I doing?
What had she been about to do, compare Logan to the Sacramento doctor who'd shredded her confidence after Kevin's death? That
was completely unfair. The only things Logan had done were ...
wonderful. He'd given her a day like she hadn't had in years, made
her laugh, brought her up here to show her his house and the sunset. And now she was trying to spoil it?

Claire squeezed Logan's hand. "I'm sorry," she said, managing
a smile. "All that was a long time ago, and none of it had anything
to do with you. Really, I'm sorry, Logan."

He brushed his thumb across the top of her hand, and the
tenderness in his expression made Claire's heart ache. "There's nothing to apologize for," he said simply. Then he turned and pointed
toward the range of mountains turning pink, purple, and orange.
"It looks like we're about to have that sunset I promised you."

Claire felt Logan's arm slide around her shoulders. Then the
thought hit her: She'd just told him things she hadn't told any
other person. Painful parts of her past she'd been afraid to tell anyone but God. It seemed so impossible, yet at the same time completely natural. And as comfortable as Logan's warmth beside her.

They watched silently as the sun slipped behind the mountains
and dusk began closing in around them. In minutes, it would be
dark and Logan would drive her back to her car. Claire didn't want
the day to end. She turned at Logan's voice. He was standing.

"C'mon," he said, offering his hand. "Let me show you the
lights on the river."