Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Even Camille’s ears perked up at the mention of the woman.
It didn’t seem possible that it could take so long for the name to register, but when Tabitha finally made the connection, her face paled a sickly shade of green, almost the color of seaweed washed ashore.
“Oh, Tabs.” Immediately, Ben steadied her, gripping her biceps to keep her upright. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you’d blocked that out.”
Camille understood why her sister would want to.
Tabitha had been a brand-new surgeon at the time, conducting her first solo surgery.
Even if she’d still required guidance, she likely wouldn’t have gotten any.
It was an all-hands-on-deck sort of situation, trauma after trauma flooding the ER with patients and emergencies.
And maybe it was the literal flooding that caused it, but when paramedic Maggie Billings climbed down from the back of her ambulance to wheel out her patient strapped to the stretcher, there was nothing she could do to keep from being crushed by the incoming rig that lost control.
It had slammed into her full force—pinning her between two pieces of steel—resulting in a gruesome injury that left her fighting for her own life while she had attempted to save others.
In the post-operative documentation, it had been these unavoidable injuries that ultimately claimed her life, not Tabitha’s lack of trying to save it. She’d done everything and then some. But it had been on her watch. In her OR. Under her skilled hand.
And it stayed with her somewhere deep inside, even if everything within her tried to suppress it.
“Hey, sis?” Camille interrupted. “I’m going to gather the flashlights from the upstairs bedrooms. Do you think you could help me?”
Of course, Camille didn’t need any assistance collecting the handful of flashlights, but Tabitha understood her sister’s request. They’d always had their own silent sort of communication, a sisterly language that didn’t often involve words.
“Yeah.” Tabitha’s head shook as if dazed. “Of course.”
“Great.”
But Tabitha didn’t move. With understanding eye contact, Ben practically passed Tabitha off to Camille, and the older sister tucked the stunned surgeon under her arm to guide her up the flight of stairs and into the first room on the left where the conversations taking place downstairs drowned out and only the soft patter of rain on the rooftop could be heard.
“Hey.” Camille wasn’t often motherly or even what people would consider tender, but one thing that brought out that side of herself was her sister.
And maybe that was because Tabitha was always so self-assured.
So confident. When Camille saw even a small crack in that composed exterior, it did something to her.
Scared her a little. “Hey, Tab. Why don’t you take a seat for a moment? ”
Nodding, Tabitha lowered to the foot of the queen-sized bed. The coastal blue quilt bunched under her legs, wrinkling the fabric around her, and without looking up, she started smoothing it out with her palms, over and over again, never quite satisfied.
“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but we’re going to.” Camille picked up Tabitha’s busy right hand, placed it in her lap, and sat down next to her, leg to leg.
“Before you start in and say, ‘you can’t save them all,’ I—”
“I wasn’t going to say that.”
“That’s what everyone says. I understand what they’re trying to do, but in what other job do people offer that sort of excuse?”
“A lot actually. Pro athletes can’t win all their games. Fishermen can’t catch all the fish. Mathematicians can’t solve all the problems.”
“But in those professions, we’re talking about making baskets and seafood and numbers. In mine, we’re dealing with lives. Real people with real loved ones. It doesn’t even compare.”
“Of course, it doesn’t. Not even close. You are in one of the most stressful professions out there, responsible for the most important sort of patient there is.
Life hangs in the balance daily in your OR.
That’s something I’ve never taken lightly, and I promise you, I will always try my best not to gloss over it with trite remarks that diminish just how significant your role is.
” Camille’s hand clasped her sister’s tightly.
“And I don’t think you should take your reaction to this storm lightly, either Tab.
Have you thought of talking to someone? Unpacking this with a professional? ”
There it was. The eyeroll she knew was coming.
“I thought we learned at the Villa that I’m not a huge fan of therapists.”
“I thought we actually learned the opposite,” Camille challenged, grin bordering on the edge of a smirk that curled her lips. “If I remember correctly, you did make some significant progress with one.”
“I realize it’s weird not to like storms—”
“It’s not weird. It’s understandable. Especially since you know better than anyone how unpredictable they can be.
But I’m more concerned with the fact that you blocked Maggie out.
That’s not like you. From what I know of you—and in my humble opinion, I’d like to think I know you better than anyone—you’ve got an entire mental log of each surgery, every detail, and every outcome stowed away up there for further analysis anytime you feel like torturing yourself.
” She tapped the side of Tabitha’s temple.
“I’m just a little concerned that Maggie isn’t in there. ”
“I know. I am a little, too.”
That’s all Camille needed for now, that acknowledgement that it was out of character.
They could unpack the rest of it later if Tabitha let them.
Camille just needed the reassurance that Tabitha wasn’t trying to be a hero, or even a robot.
That she allowed herself to be human. Allowed herself to feel real emotions. Fear. Worry. Whatever they might be.
“Thank you.” Tabitha leaned her head onto her sister’s shoulder.
“For?”
“Caring enough to notice.”
“Oh, sweet sister of mine. We’re all the family we’ve got, and I care about your well-being more than my own.”
Tabitha lifted her head. “We technically have Josh, too.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” Camille said through her teeth.
“I thought you had come around to accepting him into our family, Cami.”
“I’ve accepted him. I really have. But there are some things only sisters understand.”
“I’ll give you that,” Tabitha agreed. She looked out the rain-slick window, watching the rivulets of water skim down the surface in thick trails.
The skies were dimmer now, an opaque gray blanket that darkened even the ocean below, turning it almost navy.
“Have you heard more about the lost boat? Any idea who the passengers might be?”
“I have a feeling you’ll know their identities before anyone else is privy to that information.”
That unsure look returned to Tabitha’s features.
Camille didn’t like it. “Let’s hope they find them soon, so they even have the chance to come through my hospital’s doors.
Too many days out on that water without any signal, and with this storm rolling in?
I don’t even want to think through the possible outcomes. ”
“Then I suppose we better start praying for the best one imaginable.”