by Lara Lacombe
“Sounds good,” he remarked. But he doubted she heard him as she practically ran from the room.
Grant leaned back in his chair, toying with the urge to smile. Being around Avery again was like a dream come true, and he couldn’t ignore the feelings she’d reignited or his need to set the record straight between them. But the timing couldn’t possibly be worse. As much as he wanted to focus on his own needs and desires, he had a job to do. And as long as the people on-base were in danger from this mystery pathogen, his personal life had to take a backseat. He’d taken an oath as a doctor, and he wasn’t about to start ignoring his promise now.
No matter what his heart demanded of him.
Chapter 9
Avery stood in the middle of the bar, surveying the room with a critical eye. It wasn’t big, so far as square footage went, but she did have a lot of samples to take. And since everyone was busy taking care of the two new patients, she was on her own.
The fact that the men had survived the night was a minor miracle, and it gave her hope they might go on to make a recovery. The antiflu drugs hadn’t triggered a dramatic improvement in the patients, but their symptoms hadn’t worsened, either. At this point, Avery considered maintenance of the status quo to be a victory, and she knew Grant felt the same way.
She walked over to the bar, her movements awkward in the bulky blue suit. She’d worn it out of deference to Grant, who had insisted she take every precaution. His concern had touched her, and she hadn’t wanted to argue with him. Jennifer’s latest results had confirmed they were dealing with a new strain of flu, and given what she knew about that pathogen, it was unlikely an active, intact virus had survived in the bar. But it was better to be safe than sorry...
Working carefully, Avery organized her sample collection tools and began to methodically swab surfaces and gather material for testing. “Where are you hiding?” she muttered as she worked. The virus had to be somewhere, and all the evidence she had to this point suggested it was coming from the bar. But how? Hopefully, these tests would provide some answers.
The base commander hadn’t been happy about shutting the place down. On one level, Avery understood his frustration. The people here worked hard, and they didn’t have a lot of options when it came to socializing. The bar was almost like the heart of the base, hosting trivia nights, dart competitions, movie screenings and a lot of other activities that brought people together and gave them a way to unwind and have fun. Closing the place down was going to make for a disappointed group of residents. On the other hand, the enforced social isolation might save lives. Still, the commander had made it clear that unless she found a smoking gun, the bar wasn’t going to stay closed for long.
Avery moved around the room, the whir of the fans on her back loud in her ears. The battery-powered pack kept her suit inflated, but the noise drowned out any ambient sounds and made carrying on a conversation next to impossible. Fortunately, she didn’t have that problem, but a part of her wished Grant was here working by her side.
Yesterday’s events had left her more shaken than she wanted to admit. Seeing Grant helping Richard had triggered a burst of fear in her chest that had temporarily blacked out all other thoughts. She’d experienced a visceral, instinctive response to protect him, and even now the memory of their encounter was enough to make her shiver, despite the warmth of the plastic suit.
Arguing with him about the medication hadn’t helped her nerves, either. It was only through sheer force of will that she’d managed to sit quietly while he thought over her suggestion. If she’d given in to temptation, she would simply have forced the pills down his throat and fought about it after the fact. But she’d respected him enough to let him make up his own mind, or so he thought. Grant didn’t know it, but the entire time he was silently mulling over her suggestion she’d been scheming about ways to dose him with the drugs if he’d refused to take them. Adding them to his coffee, crushing them in his food—she would have found a way to make sure he was protected, even if he refused to protect himself.
It surprised her, this fierce need to keep him safe. The emotional magnitude of her response to him was almost the same as when they’d been dating, a fact that should have worried her. Instead she found it interesting, viewing it as a development that merited further investigation.
Really, the whole thing was all Mallory’s fault, she decided as she slipped a tube into the plastic rack and pulled out a fresh one for another sample. Her reply to Avery’s panicked email had made her look at the situation from a different angle.
I think it’s time for you to forgive the stupid mistake of a dumb kid. I can’t understand the pain you went through losing the baby, but holding on to your anger is only hurting you. You loved him once, Avery. I have to believe there was a reason for that...
Mallory was right, of course. And Avery had no doubt that Olivia would say the same thing, if she asked her. She had loved Grant once, and if she let herself think about it, she didn’t have any trouble remembering why she’d fallen for him in the first place.
The simple truth was that Grant was a good man. She’d known it ten years ago, when it had been easy to see the promise of his potential in the boy he’d been. But being around him now drove home the realization that he had matured into a selfless, thoughtful man. He truly cared about his patients, putting their welfare above his own. He hadn’t hesitated to help Richard, despite the man’s telltale symptoms when he’d staggered into the hospital. And he’d really struggled with the decision to take some of the antiflu drugs for himself, knowing that to do so might leave them with a reduced supply if other people on-base fell ill. She’d watched him yesterday, seen the emotions flickering across his face as he debated what to do. How many people would care so much about others, especially when their own safety was at stake?
Not many, she admitted. She swabbed the nozzle of one of the beer taps and made a mental note to check with the bartender if there were any filters in the line connecting the tap to the kegs. Disassembling the whole system would take time and would create more work for her, but she couldn’t afford to cut corners. She sighed and lifted her hand to her face, wanting to rub her temples to ease the growing pangs of a developing headache. But the plastic shield blocked her and she dropped her hand with a muttered curse. The long days were catching up with her, and the desiccated, cold air didn’t help—her sinuses burned and her eyes were so dry they stung every time she blinked.
Grant had warned her it might take some time to acclimate to her new environment. Since Antarctica was essentially a frozen desert, he’d advised her to increase her water intake and to take it easy for the first few days. But she’d been so busy working she hadn’t had the luxury of relaxing, and unless coffee counted as water, she’d fallen woefully short in that respect, as well. She’d just have to snag a bottle when she got back to the hospital to drop off these samples.
And after that, she was going to find Grant.
Did he still want to talk? Or would he take a page from her book and shut the conversation down? It was no better than she deserved, but she hoped he would at least listen to her. She owed him an apology, and it was ten years overdue.
Did he ever think about their baby? She pondered the question as she finished packing up her supplies. Part of her hoped so—the idea that she was the only one who missed that little life struck her as wrong somehow. Even though the baby had been there and gone in the blink of an eye, it had left an indelible mark on Avery’s soul.
The first few months after the miscarriage, her thoughts of the baby had drowned out everything else, leaving her unmoored in the sea of her grief. But as time had passed, she’d found her footing again and moved forward. She still thought of the baby often, almost every day, in fact. But now she didn’t feel a stab of pain every time she considered the life he might have lived. And she always imagined “him,” picturing a little boy with Grant’s hazel eyes and mischievous smile.
She could see him now, playing catch with Grant, t
he afternoon sun warming them both as they tossed a baseball back and forth in the yard. Grant would make a great father, and she knew without a doubt he would have been excited and eager to teach their son all the things a little boy should know, like how to fish, how to camp, and how to catch bugs and other creepy crawlies. The thought of the pair of them—one tall and broad, in the prime of his life, one short and slender with the promise of strength to come—made her smile, and the soft weight of contentment settled over her.
It would have been a great life, she mused. Grant probably would have been happy, as well. But fate had had other plans for them, and while she wasn’t unhappy with her current situation, there was a family-shaped hole in her heart that could only be filled by a husband and kids. But if she was being honest with herself, not just any husband would do; Grant was the man for her, and it was time she stopped fighting that fact.
If she thought about the situation logically, it was clear she was only setting herself up for further heartbreak. She had no way of knowing how Grant felt about her—it was entirely possible he’d moved on and didn’t want anything more to do with her. Sure, he’d kissed her the other night. But that might have been just a physical response on his part. Much as the idea bothered her, he might have kissed her to scratch an itch, not because he still had feelings for her.
But...he’d been so tender and gentle. The kiss had started out with an almost frantic edge, as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from her for another second. But as the minutes had ticked by, their embrace had transitioned into something that went beyond the mere physical. The sweet pressure of his mouth on hers, the soft, almost hesitant caress of his hands... Those weren’t the actions of a man who was only after the pleasure of release.
Avery had to believe Grant still cared about her. Even though she’d done her best to forget him and move on with her life, she hadn’t been able to remove him from her heart. Given how serious they had been about each other, it wasn’t unrealistic to think Grant might have a soft spot for her now. And even though her rational mind knew there was no way they could be together—thanks to his nomadic lifestyle and her need for stability—at the very least she could ask his forgiveness and they could part on good terms. She’d carried around her hurt and anger for too long. It was time to set them aside and truly move on.
It wasn’t going to be an easy conversation, and her stomach tightened a little at the thought of giving voice to feelings she’d buried long ago. But she owed it to herself, and to Grant, to bring the old pain to the surface. She’d punished them both long enough with her silence.
*
“Dr. Jones? I have the latest test results.”
Grant took the folder from the nurse with a smile of thanks and pushed the computer keyboard forward to make room on his desk. He already had an idea of what the numbers would look like, but it would be nice to have confirmation for the report he was writing for the base commander.
Richard and Bradley were holding steady, and he had noticed small signs of improvement in their conditions when he conducted his morning exam of the men. Their breathing seemed less labored, and their oxygen saturation levels had gone up compared to yesterday’s numbers. They still had a long way to go before Grant would feel comfortable pronouncing them on the road to recovery, but it was important to celebrate any positive change, incremental though it might be.
He glanced over the test results, happy to see improvements in their blood chemistry. The chest X-rays also showed a subtle reduction in the amount of fluid in the men’s lungs. Overall, they were headed in the right direction, and if they kept it up, Richard and Bradley might just survive their brush with death.
As long as he didn’t run out of the antiflu drugs.
There was no denying the medication was having a positive effect—Grant was convinced it was the only reason Richard and Bradley were still alive, as their initial clinical presentation had been almost identical to that of the men who had died during the first outbreak. Grant hadn’t had a stockpile of antiflu medication then, and he was forced to wonder if something so simple could have saved the four patients he’d lost.
He finished typing his report and sent it off to the base commander. The man had asked for frequent updates on “the situation,” as he called it, and Grant was happy to comply, even though it created more work for him. The last thing he wanted was to antagonize the commander. General Anderson had final say over all incoming and outgoing base traffic, and Grant needed the man on his side so they could bring in additional shipments of medication.
Speaking of which... He started a new email, putting in an official request for more antiviral medication. He didn’t think there would be any delay in the approval process but given the unpredictable nature of the weather, it might be several weeks before a shipment could arrive.
I hope we can wait that long...
“Hey.”
He glanced up to find Avery standing in the doorway, her hair still damp from the shower. She and the rest of her team had implemented a rudimentary containment strategy in the hopes of preventing the spread of the pathogen to uninfected people, and part of the plan involved showers after patient encounters or any work that might involve the pathogen. He knew she’d spent the morning collecting samples from the bar. Had she found something already?
“Hey, yourself,” he said, rising from his chair and waving her inside. She took the seat across from his desk and he sat again, noting the lines of fatigue around her eyes and the pale cast to her skin. She was clearly exhausted, but was that the only thing going on?
His clinical instincts tingled and he took a closer look at her face. Her lips looked dry and cracked, and her eyes had a slightly glassy sheen that signaled fatigue. “Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded, brushing aside the question. Grant frowned, then rolled his chair over to the small refrigerator in the corner where he kept a personal stash of drinks and snacks, for those times when the cafeteria was closed. He grabbed a bottle of water and placed it on the desk in front of Avery. “You look dehydrated. You should drink more.”
A faint smile flickered across her lips as she eyed the bottle. “Thanks,” she said. “I was actually just thinking about that while I was collecting samples. Being in the suit always makes me thirsty.”
“Great minds think alike,” he said lightly.
She twisted the cap off and took a sip. “I ran into Jesse on my way to your office. He said our guys are holding steady.”
“So far, so good.”
“Do you think they’ll make it?”
Grant lifted one shoulder in a shrug, the casual gesture belying just how worried he was. “I don’t know. But I’m cautiously optimistic.”
Avery fiddled with the label on the bottle, sliding a fingernail under one of the corners. “Still no sign of any new cases?” She began to peel the label off in thin strips and placed the paper on his desk, making a tidy pile of small curls. She seemed nervous, but why?
“None that I’m aware of,” he responded.
She frowned, clearly unsatisfied by his answer. “You seem disappointed,” he observed.
“I am,” she said. “I mean, I’m glad no one else is sick,” she hastened to clarify. “But something about the pathogen transmission seems off to me.”
“What do you mean?” Grant leaned forward, a frisson of unease tickling his spine. He had assumed the lack of new patients meant they had gotten lucky, but Avery made it sound like something unnatural was going on. But what could that be?
“Don’t you find it a little odd that there hasn’t been a single instance of person-to-person transmission in either of the outbreaks?”
“I suppose,” he said slowly, considering her question. “I just figured the bug must not be very contagious.”
“Maybe it isn’t,” she said, leaning back in the chair. “There are some strains of avian influenza that are highly lethal but not very transmissible. But even with those strains, there are still a few cases that develop
due to contact with the patient. Why aren’t we seeing that here?” She lifted her hand and rubbed her forehead, wincing a little as if the contact caused her pain.
“I’m not sure.” Worry began to gnaw at the edges of his thoughts—maybe things weren’t as under control as he had thought. “What exactly are you saying, Avery? I thought the lack of spread on the base was a good thing. Why are you second-guessing that?”
She was silent a moment, staring at the water bottle as if it held all the answers in the world. Then she shook her head. “I’m not sure. It just doesn’t feel right to me, for some reason. But I’m pretty tired,” she added, giving him a halfhearted grin. “So maybe I’m just tilting at windmills here.”
Grant opened his mouth to respond, but she went on. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” He blinked, a little put off by the sudden change of subject. “What’s on your mind?”
Avery returned her focus to the water bottle and began attacking the label again. Her nervousness was back, and Grant found himself wanting to hug her. He didn’t know what had her twisted up inside, but he hated to see her worried.
“The other night, after we...kissed.” Pink spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and he felt his own skin warm at the memory.
“Yes?” Was she going to tell him why she had started crying? He had been meaning to ask her about it, but between Richard’s appearance and the discovery of the other patient, there simply hadn’t been time.
“You said you wanted to talk. Did you mean about our breakup?” She met his gaze, a guarded look in her blue eyes as if she was afraid of his response.
“Well...” For a split second, he debated lying to her. If talking about their past was going to hurt Avery, he didn’t want to do it. But if she didn’t want to have the conversation, why had she brought up the topic?
“Yes,” he said, deciding to take a chance. “That, and other things.”
