Code Triage Read Online Free PDF Page B

to grab that big pencil and actually write, cookie , cookie , cookie .” She held out the treat and Leigh snapped it in half for her.
    “Ziplock therapy looks pretty impressive to me.” Leigh smiled, thinking once again how much she’d come to like this nurse–turned–assistant chaplain. Riley had only been at the hospital for about three months, but Leigh had already come to respect her dedication, compassion, and spunk. It had to be hard to leave what she knew—home state, profession—and start something new after life threw her such a cruel curveball. Six months post neck fracture and spinal cord injury and still unable to use her right arm effectively. Time wasn’t on Riley’s side anymore.
    She hadn’t given many details about her accident and Leigh hadn’t asked. She didn’t pry, either, about any personal situations she’d left in Houston. Or how she managed to end up with a job as a chaplain’s assistant two thousand miles away. Leigh wasn’t sure there had ever been an assistant chaplain assigned to the ER until Riley. But it was hard not to notice the impeccable styling of the clothes she wore. That, combined with the fact that Leigh had seen the Hale name listed prominently on the endowment plaques in the lobbies of several Mercy Hospitals, implied that this injured nurse had a privileged background. Her family had pull.
    Leigh pointed to the sling on her other arm. “How’s it going, by the way? With your right arm?”
    Riley sighed. “If I believed that doom-and-gloom neurosurgeon, I’d give up physical therapy and any hope of returning to ER nursing.” She bit into her cookie and smiled around it. “Good thing my hope comes from a far more reliable source.”
    Leigh nodded, glad Riley wasn’t one to press her convictions regarding faith. Even if she’d started conducting her own version of the hospital ministry started by Pacific Mercy nurse—and Leigh’s friend—Erin Quinn. Called “Faith QD,” after old medical terminology for “every day,” the fellowship invited staff to meet in the chapel fifteen minutes before their shifts, praying for patients, asking for God’s guidance during their workdays. Didn’t affect Leigh. Although she’d recently begun to speak to God in sporadic grumpy monologues, she’d given up on actual prayer this past year. It was pretty obvious that God had cut her loose.
    “You’re still going to physical therapy?”
    “Twice a week. But I’ve set things up so I can do the exercises at home too. Every night, for at least an hour. I’m not giving up.”
    Nick’s words surfaced, the vow he’d repeated so often this past year: “I won’t give up on us, Leigh.” She glanced toward the ambulance bay; he was still around here somewhere. She’d probably have to ask him to leave. She picked up her knitting—baby caps for an international charity—and turned back to Riley. “You sound like Linda Baldwin’s husband; he wasn’t going to give up on seeing his wife. That was quite a scene. Glad he wasn’t armed. I’m not up for a Code Silver.”
    Riley grimaced. “And I’m glad your husband was there to defuse the situation. He was calm and rational.” Her eyes met Leigh’s. “That must have been tough for you.”
    “Yes, well . . .” Leigh glanced away. She wasn’t sure if the chaplain’s concern was about Nick’s being here or the fact that he’d intervened in a situation far too close to her own. The hospital world was a small one; Leigh’s pending divorce wasn’t a secret. Nor, likely, were the reasons behind it. After her swift exit from San Francisco last December, people had to be wondering. And talking. The expectation of privacy was about as guaranteed as covering your backside in one of those hospital gowns. But the fact was that Leigh wasn’t at all like Linda Baldwin. She was moving on, moving away.
    She worked a few stitches, then looked back up at Riley. “All I’m thinking about now is finding a supplement that will