Free Critical Care by Candace Calvert

homemade gift.
"You're happy I brought you?"

    "Oh yes," she answered, letting go of his arm and at the same
moment wrestling another impulse to hug him. "Thank you."
She blinked, suddenly horrified that she might actually cry as she
remembered the dusty silk flowers on her brother's table, a failed
attempt to bring sunshine into that grief-darkened space. The sight
of these real blooms-the hopeful life in them-was almost more
than she could bear. Claire smiled at Logan despite the ache in her
throat. "I don't think you could have done anything nicer."
    He touched the tip of her nose and winked. "You ain't seen
nothin' yet."
    They wandered the grounds for nearly an hour, dizzied by hill
after hill of daffodils nestled amid weathered outbuildings and
rusty farm equipment. They shook their heads at the thought of
the owners rolling out this amazing carpet of blooms for decades,
free of charge, just for the love of it.
    Finally Logan shooed away a trio of speckled chickens and
plunked himself down on the grass to rummage through his backpack. "If we don't eat this," he said, gesturing for Claire to join
him, "I'm going to throw my back out from lugging it."
    She knelt, disarmed by the man despite her lingering misgivings. After all, he opposed what she'd done for his department
and saw no value in procedures set up to protect his staff from the
effects of stress. McSnarly. It still suited him.
    Claire settled on the grass, hiding a smirk as she remembered
an old adage. How did that go? "When you sup with the devil ... use
a long spoon"? Logan had been called that too. "What's in there?"
she teased, watching him produce a small zippered cooler. "Buffalo
wings, beer nuts ... chewing tobacco?"

    "No," Logan said, opening the lid and making a show of presenting it to her. He feigned a scowl. "I'm hurt you think so little
of me."
    I know nothing about you. Claire studied the artfully wrapped
California rolls, little strips of ginger, and the creamy green mound
of wasabi-all packaged for takeout by a Japanese restaurant she
frequented whenever she could afford it. "Sushi? You brought sushi
to a rodeo?"
    "I heard you liked it," he said as he produced two glass bottles
of spring water from the depths of his pack. "Besides, this isn't a
rodeo. It's a date."
    Date. Claire's face flushed. And there was no way that Logan
could have missed the reaction.
    He shrugged, his voice graciously casual. "But I'm afraid you're
going to have to deal with paper plates. And since I didn't think
of something as civilized as a tablecloth, you'll need to find a spot
without chicken droppings to sit." He handed her the California
rolls, then busied himself with uncapping the drinks.
    Claire's lips sank into the cool, sweet combination of rice, avocado, and crab, and she followed it with a sip of the lemon-infused
water he set in front of her. Why was she so nervous? She shut
her eyes for a moment, less in appreciation of the food and more
because she knew the answer to the question. She was nervous
because she hadn't been on a date in years. Two years. She groaned,
then raised her brows so Logan would think it was inspired by his
sushi. "Mmm. Wonderful."
    The awful fact was, the last date Claire could remember was
with one of Kevin's buddies-a gangly, sad-eyed engine company
volunteer. He'd taken Claire to her brother's favorite burger dive
about a month after the funeral, then drove her home early after he broke down over his order of onion rings. Grief date. And-sad but
true-way more than she'd even wanted. Then and since. It felt like
everything inside her that believed in love and happy endings had
died along with her brother that awful day in the trauma room. A
happy ending was what Kevin and Gayle were supposed to have.

    "So," Logan said, lowering his drink, "why nursing education?"
    "Oh, I ..." Claire hesitated, guarding her words so casual picnic
conversation wouldn't turn into painful revelation. She