special status during this session. We are all just folks struggling
through a rough situation." He smiled gently. "So forget your rank
and be a human being first."
Claire looked over at Logan and heard him sigh. The corners
of his mouth drew downward, and his expression read "touchyfeely ... shrink-to-fit."
He met her eyes before penning something on the paper. And
underlining it.
Chaplain Estes cleared his throat. "The next phase of Critical
Incident Stress Debriefing is about to begin. We'll ask each of you
to tell us who you are, what your job was at the scene, and what
happened there."
Suddenly the room felt warm, and Claire thought about taking
off her jacket. It was lightweight but she was still perspiring. Was
the heater on? Her breathing quickened and she shifted uneasily
in her chair. Her throat constricted. Then, without warning, she
started remembering the Sacramento trauma room, hearing the
sirens, smelling the smoke, the sickening sweet scent of burned
flesh and ...
Her pulse began to pound in her neck and her mouth went
dry. She grasped the edge of the table, fighting a wave of dizziness.
This was a huge mistake. She shouldn't be part of this team. How
could she get out of here?
The chaplain's voice seemed to echo from a tunnel, and Claire
struggled to hear, filled with a dread she couldn't name. "We also
ask that you recall your first thought during this tragic incident
once you stopped functioning automatically."
First thought. My first ...
Claire closed her eyes, but the horrible image of the hopelessly
burned firefighter remained. Along with the clear memory of her
first anguished thought: Oh no, that's my brother!
The session took more than two hours, and Claire made it to her
final pamphlet-dispensing duty with the help of a hasty bathroom
break. Today was proof she'd been right. She needed to stay away
from the ER and all the memories it stirred up. As soon as things
ended today, she'd be out of there. For good.
Elaine smiled at the ER staff. "Please remember that most reactions to stress are normal. Don't try to hold yourself to impossibly high standards-give yourselves permission to feel lousy for
a while." She nodded. "But remember that your employee benefits
include counseling services if that need arises. And please look through the pamphlet. It has some great tips for dealing with
the first forty-eight hours: exercise, keep busy, write down your
thoughts, listen to music, eat regular meals even if you have to
force yourself. Do the things that feel good to you."
Claire glanced across the table at the sound of Logan's fingers
drumming on his motorcycle helmet. Then, with what looked like
a smug smile, he folded the paper he'd been writing on into crisp
quarters.
"I want to remind you about the 4-H fair and rodeo this weekend," the chaplain added, standing. "The hospital is manning an
information and nurse recruitment booth. I think Claire's going to
be volunteering there?" He acknowledged Claire's nod and then
continued. "Take your families, why don't you? Pet the sheep, eat
a corn dog, enjoy the music, dance, and laugh. Laughing is good
for our souls."
The room emptied and Claire gathered her things, scooping
up her folders but leaving the CISM pamphlets in neat stacks on
the table. She wasn't going to need them anymore. All that was
left was to-
Oh, boy. Logan was walking toward her. Claire's heart slammed
against her ribs, completely without warning. He stopped in front
of her. His dark brows scrunched, and he exhaled softly. There was
nothing brash about his expression, no hint of any biting sarcasm
to follow. And for some reason Claire felt an unexpected wave of
sadness. This was likely the last time she would see more than a
glimpse of him. She held her breath.
Logan's eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. He took half a step
forward until he was so close that she could smell the scent of
leather mixed with a trace of the familiar
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