She tried to nod, but her knees trembled and she suddenly felt weak. Taking a few steps, she sank into the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands.
“Naomi?” Rick’s hand on her shoulder was warm, when she was cold inside and out.
“I almost lost her.” Regret for every minute she’d wasted burned in the back of her throat. She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together, but kept remembering how she’d sent Rick back to the ICU when she really should have handed Emily’s care over to him. “I let my ego get in the way and I almost lost her.”
“What are you talking about?” Rick asked in an incredulous tone. “You did everything exactly right. It was your decision to put her on bypass.”
“Too late. I should have made the decision sooner.” She lifted her head, forcing herself to meet Rick’s puzzled gaze. “I should have asked you to stay. I’ve never done an open-chest case on my own.” The truth weighed on her shoulders like a truckload of bricks and she glanced down, noticing how badly her hands were shaking yet powerless to make them stop. “It’s my fault if Emily dies.”
Rick stared at Naomi, realizing she was completely serious. Her hands were shaking and she was truly upset. Pediatrics wasn’t an easy specialty, not when their small patients had so much life yet to live. But even so he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a surgeon take a patient’s outcome so personally. “No, it’s not. Five pediatric trauma cases is a major disaster. There were several adults we sent over to Trinity, too. You did everything possible to save each and every patient. If this young girl dies, it’s because a car landed on her, not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”
She shook her head, refusing to believe him.
His heart ached for her, and if they were handing out blame, he knew he deserved a large portion for himself. If he hadn’t convinced Naomi to switch shifts with him, he would have been the one in charge and would have stayed in the trauma room to triage patients. The seven-year-old with the crushing chest wound would have ended up as his patient. But he didn’t honestly think he could have handled the surgery very differently than Naomi had. Heck, it was always easy to second-guess yourself after the fact, dissecting every little thing you could have done differently.
“We’d better get over to the ICU,” Naomi said in a low voice, clearly struggling to pull herself together. “There’s still a lot of work to do.”
She was right. They did have a lot of work yet to do, but he couldn’t stand to see her beating herself up like this. Especially when she didn’t deserve it. He took her hands and drew her to her feet. Naomi was a tiny thing, her figure hidden by the baggy O.R. scrubs, but he could see silky wisps of her ebony hair escaping the edges of her cap. There was something about her that drew him to her, something he couldn’t ignore. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Naomi, you’re an excellent surgeon.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t meet his eyes and he knew she was simply being polite. She didn’t believe he meant what he said.
He had the crazy urge to fold her into his arms for a reassuring hug, but held himself in check. After all, he was her boss and he barely knew her, only having met her for the first time at their meeting that morning. He willed her to see he was telling the truth. “I’m not handing you a line, Naomi. I haven’t been here long, but this situation tonight would have put immense pressure on any member of the team. I’m impressed.”
“You wouldn’t be so impressed if one of the more experienced members of the team was here,” she pointed out. “I just happen to be the youngest and least experienced surgeon on staff.”
“No, actually, I’m most impressed because of how much you care.” Rick released her hands and took a step back, knowing he was treading on dangerous ground. For too long he’d been so lost in his own misery he hadn’t allowed anyone close. Hadn’t allowed himself to care about anyone except his sister Jess and his niece Lizzy. Yet suddenly, here with Naomi, he was feeling dangerously vulnerable. “You’re a trauma surgeon who truly cares. I think some of us tend to keep ourselves distant from our patients.”
She tilted her head, regarding him warily. “I guess I can understand. I mean, you’ve been treating pediatric trauma patients for years and after a while I’m sure it’s difficult to handle the loss.”
He swallowed hard, wishing he could tell her the truth. Was surprised he even wanted to. But he couldn’t force the words out of his throat. His wife and daughter were buried too deep in his soul to let them free. “Losing children is never easy.” He was impressed his voice was so steady when Sarah’s face was etched so clearly in his mind. “Now, come on, we have patients to see.”
She didn’t smile, but nodded and fell into step beside him as they headed out of the operating room and down the hall toward the pediatric ICU. She didn’t say much until they entered the unit, and then she began asking questions about the newest patients.
Together they made rounds, making sure all aspects of care were covered. They saw Tristan last, and he watched as Naomi approached his bedside. “Tristan, Emily is here at the hospital, in surgery.”
Tristan couldn’t respond verbally—they’d been forced to intubate him during the CT scan. The kid had a pretty severe grade-four liver laceration and multiple fractures. But Rick noticed the teenager clung to Naomi’s hand.
“Emily’s heart had a small tear next to it, and many of her ribs were broken, but she’s doing okay. You need to rest, Tristan, so you can be strong for Emily.”
The boy nodded and after a few minutes, Naomi reassuringly patted his hand and stepped back. After they’d reviewed Tristan’s orders, they headed down to the nurses’ station.
“Emily Brown is coming out of the O.R. in fifteen minutes,” the unit clerk informed them.
“I’ll stay until she’s settled in,” Naomi said.
Rick glanced at his watch, not surprised to see it was well after midnight. “Naomi, you can’t. You really need to go home and get some sleep. You’re on call tomorrow night, aren’t you?”
She nodded, fatigue evident on her face. “Yeah, I’m covering for Dirk. Another half-hour isn’t going to matter one way or the other. I want to see her before I go home.”
Suspecting more arguments would be useless, he gave up. He would have offered to take her call shift, but had a bad feeling he was going to be up most of the night as it was.
He helped himself to a cup of coffee and then headed down to bed fourteen, where Emily was due to be placed. The CT team had brought her out quicker than the promised fifteen minutes and he stood beside Naomi, watching as they settled Emily.
The young girl was stable, her heart was doing as well as could be expected. All they could do now was to wait and see.
“Go home, Naomi,” Rick said in a low tone. “I’ll be here with her all night.”
“I know.” She flashed a small smile and he was struck by how beautiful she truly was. His chest squeezed tight. “Promise you’ll call if you need anything.”
“I will.” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his lab coat as she turned and walked away, her shoulders slumped beneath the weight of her guilt.
He stood watching her leave, wishing she didn’t have to go. He liked working with her. Scary, considering he’d revealed more of himself to Naomi than he had to anyone else over the past two years, since he’d lost his wife and two-year-old daughter.
He shook his head. Since Gabrielle and Sarah had died, he’d kept his emotions in deep freeze. He’d stayed in peds because starting over in another specialty hadn’t appealed to him, but he kept himself emotionally isolated from everyone. It had been the only way he’d been able to survive.
Emily’s sweet face reminded him painfully of his daughter’s. Innocent Sarah, far too young to die. He blocked the image the best he