Code Triage (37 page)

“Did he swallow something?” Maria squinted at the film.

“It happens sort of the way pearls are made,” Caroline explained. “Minerals from water and food—the alfalfa hay—form a little ball in his stomach. Then it grows bigger and bigger until it causes problems.”

“Surgery’s the only solution?” Nick asked, stepping up beside Leigh.

“Yes—he’s already being prepped. We should have him ready in a few minutes. He’s young, in good shape, and hasn’t been obstructed long, so the outlook is encouraging.” The resident glanced at Maria. “It’s going to be several hours, though. And then he’ll be in recovery after that. Your horse won’t be up for visitors, I’m afraid.”

“That’s okay.” Caroline slipped her arm around Maria’s shoulders. “We’re going to ride home in the front of the ambulance.” She smiled at Dr. Hunter’s assistant. “And we’ll find a place we can park that big rig while we get a hamburger. And a milkshake.”

Maria tugged at the hem of the resident’s scrub top. Nick smiled; the little girl was making up for lost time with her questions. She blinked at the doctor. “Can Tag stay? He’s Frisco’s brother.”

The resident’s brows rose and he grinned. “I guessed that right away. Dr. Hunter already asked us to fix up a stall next to Frisco’s.”

“That’s right,” the vet assistant added. “And it’s not far from where a very famous cow lives. The fistulated cow—she has a sort of ‘window’ in her side. So students can learn about her stomach compartments.” He smiled at Maria’s incredulous expression. “Would you like to see?”

The assistant led Caro and Maria out the doorway, and the surgical resident pulled the film from the viewer. “I’m going to get scrubbed for the OR.” He turned to Nick and Leigh. “Unless you have any more questions?”

“How long will Frisco be here?” Nick asked.

“Hard to tell until we see how he does. I’d plan on at least three days. Maybe up to five. We’ll know more after he’s out of surgery. Are you folks going back with the others?”

Nick spoke first. “No. We have a car. We’ll be staying.” He felt Leigh’s eyes on him, heard her exhale.

She hugged her arms around herself. “I know he’s already sedated, but is it possible to see Frisco for a minute, before . . .” Her voice caught. “Would that be okay?”

“Absolutely. Follow me.”

They walked through a corridor to one of the surgery suites. Through the window, they saw a team of people in green scrubs attaching monitors, adjusting IVs, and preparing instruments. Frisco, obviously sedated, was tied head and tail to what appeared to be a huge . . . “What is that?” Nick asked, his gaze moving over large bands supporting the horse’s belly.

“A hydraulic table,” the resident explained. “It’s sort of like a car lift—can’t put a thousand-pound patient on a table very easily. After Frisco is anesthetized, he’ll be intubated. Then the table moves into a horizontal position and we’ll slide him onto the surgery table.”

Leigh nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “I never thought he could look small, but . . .”

Nick slid his arm around her shoulders. “Where can we wait?”

In fifteen minutes, they’d found the picnic table in a grove of oak trees. And only moments later Nick was straddling the bench, holding Leigh as she cried. From the heartbreaking sound of her sobs and the way she clung to him, he guessed it was about far more than her horse.

+++

“I think . . . ,” Leigh said, finally moving away, “I’m finished now.”

He brushed a strand of hair from the side of her face, letting his fingers linger there for a few seconds. His tenderness almost hurt. “I’d like to offer you a tissue, but all I have is this shirt covered in dried horse slobber—and some from his donkey brother.”

She tried to smile and her eyes filled again. “What I need right now is for you to listen.” Her expression grew serious. “Will you do that?”

“I’m right here.”

And you’re there, God. I know it now. Help me find the words.
She took a slow breath. “Remember how Maria told you families should always help each other?”

Nick nodded.

“Well, she told me something, too. While you were asleep. She said . . .” Leigh’s throat tightened and she swallowed. “She talked about the night her mother died. She said that Jesus was there with her. That he’s always with us. Because we’re his family. And that we don’t have to be afraid. He’ll always be here, no matter what. Forever and ever.”

Nick took her hand.

“I’ve never believed in forever. I never trusted it. I told myself it was because of my mother, her failures at marriage and the way she left Caro and me over and over again.” Leigh shook her head and swiped at a tear. “I convinced myself I didn’t trust marriage, that staying at one job—in one place—for too long was stifling. Children were confining, and . . . that even God was the fair-weather type. I learned to protect myself, land on my feet, keep things as skin-deep as I could.” She clucked her tongue. “I think that was even the draw of emergency medicine at first. A career without a long-term commitment. All of my relationships had been like that. But then I met you.” She laid her palm along his jaw. “And you threatened all my rules.”

Nick winced. “Leigh, I—”

“Wait. Please. What I’m trying to say is that I fell in love with you. And I didn’t know how to handle it. You wanted everything. A wedding. A table. A family. And then you insisted that the God of Creation be smack in the center of all that. And I—” She stopped as he grasped her hands.

“It’s true,” he said, his eyes suddenly shiny with tears. “I pushed you. I was wrong to do that, Leigh. I made it about what I wanted, the things I’d never had. I shouldn’t have done that. But I loved you so much; I wanted to make it all right. And instead I made a huge mess of things. You were alone . . . after having a miscarriage. You were in pain. And when I found out about it today, I was so involved in myself that I didn’t even think how awful that was for you. I was selfish.” He grimaced. “In some ways no better than Kurt Dent—”

“No,” she said, cutting him off. “Don’t say that. You were right about so many things, Nick. But it scared me because . . .” Her voice broke. “I thought ‘forever’ was up to me. And I knew I couldn’t make it happen. I held myself apart from you because I didn’t think
I
would last. I didn’t think
I
had what it takes to make a marriage work, to be a mother. That’s why I pushed you away. Because of me, not you. I used everything as an excuse, my worries about the risks of your work . . . and finally, your affair with Sam.”

She saw the guilt on his face and shook her head. “I wasn’t there for you when Toby died. I didn’t tell you about the baby. I’d convinced myself our marriage could never work because we were too different. I’m not saying that what happened between you and Sam wasn’t wrong.” She searched his eyes. “I’m saying that I knew you were truly sorry, and I still didn’t give us a chance. That wasn’t fair. But the worst—the very worst—is that I never saw God in forever. I made it about me, and it can’t work that way. This past year has been hollow, horrible . . . lonely. I miss you. And I miss a baby I never thought I wanted. It’s like there’s been a hole in me that I can’t fill.” She blinked back tears. “You tried to tell me so many times that God needed to be at the center of our lives, but I wouldn’t listen. I guess I had to hear it in the back of a stock trailer. Running away with my horse . . . and you.” She smiled despite the tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Nick. With all my heart. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he whispered. “Ever.”

He cupped her face in his hands, kissed her closed eyelids, her cheek, and then tenderly covered her mouth with his own. He drew her into his arms and their kiss deepened. Her heart crowded her chest as she twined her arms around him, kissing him back, feeling his solid warmth, aching with the familiar dearness of him. When at last she broke away, she was breathless, giddy. She reached up to brush her fingers through Nick’s hair. “You have some little pieces of straw . . .”

He ran his thumb over her lips. “I probably smell like a stable.”

She kissed his fingertip. “Be careful. You have no idea how enticing that is to a horsewoman.”

“Good. I may never shower.” His brows scrunched.

“What?”

“What’s today?”

“Thursday, the second.” She heard him sigh with obvious relief, and warmth flooded through her as she read his thoughts. “Oh.”

Nick smiled. “We’re still married. For at least twenty-four hours.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s too late to call the court tonight. But tomorrow . . .”

She met his gaze, loving the look in his eyes, as if all his dreams had just come true. “Tomorrow we’ll wake up in a bed-and-breakfast as near to this hospital as we can find. I’ll kiss you good morning; you’ll graciously pretend I’m not wearing hospital scrubs to breakfast, and I’ll ignore your horse-bonding shirt. Then we’ll buy carrots for Tag and check on Frisco.” She melted as he bent close, his lips finding the hollow of her neck. “And after that we’ll be at our home in the city and you’ll make omelets for me. Every morning for the rest of our lives—with a dish towel over your shoulder.”

“Are you begging, Mrs. Stathos?”

She shook head. “No. I’m counting my blessings.”

“Me too,” he whispered before touching his lips to hers again. In a kiss that tasted like forever.

Epilogue

April

“The . . . um, the Chihuahua is wearing a bow tie.” Nick gestured toward the silver-haired gentleman standing in the sand beside an elegant, redheaded woman about his age. The bride’s grandmother—was that what Leigh had said? He was playing catch-up as fast as he could but was still confused. The groom, a tall firefighter in a gray cutaway jacket, laughed beside him, his low rumble blending with the sound of the ocean waves.

“Jonah’s less formal at work,” Scott explained, the salty breeze lifting his short hair. “He’s a pet therapy dog.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “We’re just hoping he doesn’t start yodeling when they play the wedding march, right, Cody?”

“Could happen.” The best man, a blond boy of about eleven, grinned and a dimple appeared beside his mouth. “Better than you forgetting those verses. You should look at them one more time. Got your cheat sheet?”

“Right here.” Scott patted his breast pocket and his brows pinched together “Oh no—”

“Don’t panic, pal; I have it.” A tall man with dark hair joined them and clapped Scott on the back. He shifted a sleeping, cherub-lipped baby onto his shoulder and pulled a printed index card from his pocket. “You left it up at Arlo’s when we got coffee. Claire grabbed it.” He shook his head. “I used to pride myself on being the organizational head of my team, but marry a sharp ER nurse, and . . .” He grinned. “You’ll see.” He turned to Nick, offering his hand. “Logan Caldwell. You’re Leigh’s husband, right?”

“Nick,” he said, returning the firm handshake. “You’re from Sierra Mercy.” He shook his head. “I feel like I’m rolling to a call without a street map. Pacific Mercy, Sierra Mercy, Golden Gate . . .”

“So many Mercys,” Cody agreed, peering across the wood planking toward a makeshift altar at the edge of the seawall. Its driftwood arch was strung with shells and tinkling glass mobiles and flanked by buckets sunk into the sand and overflowing with white flowers and sea grasses. An elderly couple, the man’s wild white curls moving in the breeze, gestured toward them.

“Uncle Scotty, the Popps are waving at us. It’s almost sunset and I saw the bridesmaids lining up. There’s Pastor Mark. I think we’re ready to get married.” The small ensemble of musicians began anew with strains of Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons
, cello and violins mingling with tinkling glass and calls of gulls.

Scott glanced down at the card and started to walk, reading aloud. “‘. . . always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.’”

Always perseveres.
Nick smiled.

Logan cupped his palm protectively against the baby’s head. “We’d better get to our seats. I want to be sure Hope is settled. Erin insisted we bring her, but if she fusses . . .” His smile was conspiratorial. “I’m blaming it on the Chihuahua. You back me up. Who’s going to argue with a cop?”

“Deal.”

They sat behind the groom’s grandfather, his dog, and Erin’s grandmother and mother, on wooden chairs wrapped in white fabric that seated what was likely half of the city’s fire department and most of the staff in the Pacific Mercy ER. Probably a few police officers, too. Nick glanced up the cliff at the small building that overlooked the beach wedding, Arlo’s Bait & Moor. He shook his head; he’d never understand how that incredible wedding cake came out of a bait shop, but he agreed that Annie Popp served the best coffee he’d ever tasted. And even if he hadn’t learned who was who yet, put names to the faces, he absolutely understood how these friends—teammates—could come to feel like a family. They worked side by side in scenarios of unbelievable stress, matters of life and death; they struggled together, fought against each other, laughed, cried, prayed . . . loved, lost.

He’d seen all of that this last year. Felt everything from grief and despair to the most amazing . . . He turned to look as the music swelled and the matron of honor and bridesmaids, dressed in gowns he’d been told were “sea-foam green,” walked slowly forward on a wooden walkway laid over the sand.