Critical Care by Candace Calvert Read Free Book Online Page B

and she'd be there. For some reason, that made the next
hours seem almost bearable. He smiled, remembering the beautiful
dark-haired woman and the way she'd gone toe-to-toe with him in
the ER yesterday, with that determined lift of her chin when she
faced him and the flush rising to her cheeks. Logan's smile faded
as he recalled the incident afterward in the temporary morgue.
Inez and the toddler. Claire's eyes filling with tears, followed by
her decision to call for a staff debriefing.
    He had no doubt she felt she was doing the right thing, just
as Erin did with her efforts to support staff with the Faith QD
meetings. The problem was that those things, no matter how wellintentioned, didn't work. He'd learned the hard way that there
was no pamphlet and no prayer with the answers. When bad stuff
happened, you had to tough it out and soldier on. Simple.
    That and keep Mountain Mike's Pizza on speed dial.

    Claire took one look and knew Logan had been out on the bike.
He arrived in the conference room at the last minute, wearing a
black leather jacket, motorcycle chaps over his jeans, sunglasses,
and the shadow of a beard. Along with a barely suppressed smirk
aimed directly at Claire. He sat down in the empty chair directly
opposite her.

    Great. Cat bite on her big toe and Goliath within spitting
distance.
    "I'm sorry," he told the social worker with a smile. He dropped
the sunglasses into his helmet. "I was halfway to Yosemite when I
got the voice mail." He stared into Claire's eyes.
    Yes, my fault-deal with it. Claire lifted her chin and stared back,
willing herself not to blink. Today was about doing what she could
to help coworkers at risk, then bidding farewell to this whole mess.
She'd shrink her world down to a comfort zone again, where the
worst that could happen was insomnia or a joust with a one-eared
cat that never purred. And then she'd move forward with her master plan.
    The heavyset social worker, Elaine Best, rose from her chair,
and Claire glanced around the table. All the involved ER staff was
here, including a security guard, Erin Quinn, Merlene Hibbert,
Sarah Burke, and Inez Vega. The registration clerk, her hair in a
single braid today, looked nervous but so much better than she
had last night. It was a relief to know she'd talked with both her
priest and a hospital social worker before she left the ER. Claire
was surprised to see her shyly wave at Logan Caldwell. And even
more so to see his return wink and warm smile. What was that
all about?
    "We are here because of the Little Nugget Day Care tragedy,"
Elaine began after introducing the CISM team, including Claire
and the hospital chaplain, Ric Estes. "This process is not intended
to be psychotherapy or to prevent and treat symptoms of posttraumatic stress. It is simply designed as a discussion to provide
emotional support."
    Claire stole a glance at Logan. His expression was unreadable,
but his fingers drummed soundlessly on the tabletop, like a man who'd rather be anywhere but here. He looked up, and Claire
refocused on the social worker.

    "When a critical incident involving a child occurs, 85 percent
of the personnel affected will develop symptoms of stress within
twenty-four hours," Elaine said, her gaze traveling the room. "Some
of you feel you can deal with this by yourselves. Maybe so."
    Sarah Burke nodded over the rim of her Coke can. She was in
scrubs again, and Claire wondered if she ever took a day off.
    "However," the woman continued, "we've learned that people
who try to handle everything alone take longer to do it. On the
other hand, people who talk about a bad incident eat better, sleep
better ..."
    Sleep. Claire's stomach tensed.
    "... remain healthier, stay employed longer, and have fewer
problems in their home life as well as in other relationships,"
Elaine finished.
    Logan began to doodle on a paper as Chaplain Estes, a balding man with a neatly trimmed beard, took over. "No one has any