Sobs racked Lacey’s frail body. Although the woman’s frustrations and pain were all too real and understandable, her lack of sleep and nutrition left her even less capable of coping.
“I’d like to give you a mild sedative for you to take before trying to rest. It’s mild enough that when Caden wakes up, you’ll rouse without problems,” Chelsea said, knowing the woman wouldn’t take anything that would keep her away from her son. “But it’s strong enough that you should be able to sleep.”
Eyes wide, Lacey shook her head. “I don’t want to take drugs.”
“This would only be short-term. Just something to take the edge off so you can rest. Sleep really is important, Lacey. Without sleep you aren’t going to be able to think clearly. Dr Westland might need your input regarding Caden’s care. If he does, you need your mind sharp so you can make good decisions. You said yourself that you weren’t thinking clearly,” she gently pointed out. “Fatigue can make your mind cloudy, and it’s easy to make poor choices when you’re exhausted. If for no other reason, rest for Caden’s sake.”
Tears still streaming down her cheeks, Lacey regarded her for a few minutes. “OK. I’ll take them. I don’t like the idea of taking medicines, but I like the thought of making a bad decision about Caden even less.”
Chelsea spoke with the young woman several more minutes, explaining how the medicine worked and when it was and wasn’t appropriate to take it.
After Georgia and Lacey had left, Chelsea remained in the exam room feeling emotionally exhausted, feeling vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to face her next patient. Not yet. Not without a minute or two to process the emotions running through her at Lacey’s pain and guilt. The woman needed counseling. Lots of counseling. But to have suggested counseling now would have meant pulling Lacey away from Caden’s bedside, and she would never agree. Not at this point.
Chelsea leaned her head against the wall, taking a moment to pull herself together.
She really couldn’t imagine the heartache and guilt Lacey was going through. Neither did she know if she’d said the right things, if she’d given her enough help. She’d check into what resources and support groups were available through Madison Memorial Hospital. Maybe there was a social worker who could get Lacey help while Caden recovered.
How would Lacey cope if the little boy didn’t pull through?
Chelsea shuddered at the thought of what might happen. No, she wouldn’t think of that. But she would make a point of ensuring Lacey had access to a crisis hotline and a good social worker, just in case.
She closed her eyes and said a quick prayer that Caden would fully recover.
“You OK?”
Chelsea looked up into concerned blue eyes that held the power to heal the ache in her heart and answer a lifetime of prayers. They also held the power to hurt her as no one else could.
“Jared.”
He placed his hand on her shoulder. Warmth and need spread through her.
Without thought she wrapped her arms around him, needing the comfort of feeling close to another person. To him.
Jared’s entire body stiffened, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from Chelsea. His arms slipped around her waist, holding her, yet he didn’t allow himself to relax into the embrace.
She looked so shaken. After three weeks of seeing her in action, he knew she was a great doctor but didn’t maintain professional detachment.
He felt completely unable to suggest she armor her heart. Not when, no matter how much he desired an impenetrable shield of professional detachment himself, he hadn’t figured out a way to armor his own heart. His involvement with Connie Black proved that. Lacey, too.
Hell, professional detachment was something even the most highly skilled and experienced of providers struggled with from time to time. The very essence of a person that led them into the medical field made them more susceptible to others’ needs, others’ emotions.
Speaking of Chelsea’s heart, he could feel her heartbeat against his chest, could feel her heat seeping through his clothes as she snuggled against him. His arms dropped, hanging at his sides, feeling like heavy tree trunks because he should push her away yet couldn’t.
Neither holding her nor pushing her away felt right, so he just stood there.
Who was he kidding? This caring woman against him felt right. Too right. Just as she had when she’d barely been seventeen and had kissed him, she made him want things he had no business wanting.
Which was as wrong now as wanting her had been then, just for different reasons.
So he let her lean on him, feeling awkward and t
otally removed from himself, because if he let the fact Chelsea pressed against him register completely, he’d be a goner.
Seeming to realize what she was doing, she pulled back and shot him an apologetic glance.
“Sorry,” she mumbled in a low voice, her cheeks rosy.
By not responding, he’d embarrassed her, which he’d never intended. He’d taken one look at her ashen face and had had to let her know he understood, had wanted to ease the burden on her heart. Instead, he’d set himself up to hurt her yet again.