On the other hand…
She’d let herself get all hyped up about the possibility of writing a book about Antarctica. She now had pages and pages of notes and had planned to take more today. Then, of course, there was Brent.
Brought back full circle, Mia sighed. No point in wishing they would have more time to explore this undeniable attraction. If the cessation of wind and sleet was any indication, she and Beth would soon be on their way home.
Trying to work up some enthusiasm for their imminent departure, she wiggled out of the sleeping bag and headed for the bathroom. She was washed and tooth-brushed and dressed in her jeans and wool sweater before Beth or the other two women so much as stirred.
She left them to their snoozing and followed the yeasty scent of fresh-baked rolls to the second-floor dining room. A scattering of Palmer residents and their stranded guests had beat her down. Including, she saw with a quick intake of breath, the station manager.
When he looked up at her entrance and did the crinkly-eye smile thing, Mia felt a sharp stab of regret. Departing Palmer Station now seemed more like a punishment than a reward for keeping a stiff upper lip during those scary hours in the lifeboat.
When she grabbed a cup of coffee and joined him at his table, he confirmed her guess that she and the others would soon be on their way home.
“The storm’s blown itself out.”
“I noticed.”
“I’ve been down in the comm center for the past half hour. Your cruise line is diverting an Argentinean icebreaker with a reinforced hull to pick up its stranded passengers and crew. With luck, you’ll be on your way back to Punta Arenas this time tomorrow morning.”
“Not till tomorrow? Good!”
She covered her involuntary exclamation with a breezy smile.
“That’ll give me more time to take notes. I might just get a book out of this experience yet.”
“You might at that. But you can’t give your readers a real feel for Antarctica unless you walk on ice.”
“Wasn’t that ice we were slipping and sliding around for the past two days?”
“Ice-coated rocks and walkways don’t come close to the real thing. Tell you what. I need to get with my key staff at eight and have a meeting with Jill to go over some modifications she needs for the outside aquarium tank at ten-fifteen. If the weather holds I could walk you up onto the glacier after lunch. It’s about a half-mile trek. An easy climb, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it. I think.”
He grinned at her dubious expression. “If you need more incentive, climbing Big Blue will qualify you to graduate from fingee status.”
Climbing anything with Brent was incentive enough but Mia made a show of giving in reluctantly.
“If you say so. Okay, Walker, I’m in.”
“Good. Meet me in the lounge after lunch. I need to give you a safety briefing before we go up on the glacier.”
WORD OF THE PENDING expedition spread during the morning. When 1:00 p.m. rolled around, a weak but determined sun had burned through the soupy haze outside and a group of six enthusiastic hikers had gathered in the lounge. Tiki was among them, excited about her chance to shed her fingee designation. Beth had planned to participate, as well, but got a better offer from Allen.
“He’s checking me out to see how I handle a snowmobile,” she confided to Mia. “Then we’re going to a penguin rookery on the other side of the island. I should get some terrific pictures for my blog. You can use them in your book, too. With due credit to the photographer, of course.”
“Of course. Have fun.”
“You, too.”
Beth departed with a cheerful wave and her camera zipped inside her jacket pocket. Mia then turned her attention to the slide show Brent projected onto the big-screen TV. If she’d harbored any foolish illusions that a stroll on the ice might not be all that difficult, he soon set her straight.
Two other station regulars besides Tiki had joined the expedition. Like Brent, they were experienced ice climbers and members of the Palmer Glacier Search and Rescue Team. They helped him explain basic safety precautions and demonstrate the required communications equipment. Then Brent showed detailed satellite imagery of the trail up to the glacier. Marked by flags flying from tall poles stuck in the ice, it looked to be about fifteen or twenty feet across.
“It’s absolutely essential everyone stays on the trail,” Brent warned. “We test it for crevasses regularly. The path is safe, or we wouldn’t take you up there. But it’s late in the summer and the glacier is melting under the snow, so we all need to exercise caution.”
Mia did a mental oooooh-kay and seriously considered wimping out. The fact that this was her last day at the station—and with Brent—kept her in the mix.
The experienced hikers made sure everyone slathered on plenty of sunscreen to protect against ice glare before rechecking cold-weather gear and walkie-talkies. Only after Brent was satisfied that everyone knew how to operate the communications equipment did he lead the way to the exit.
Mia squared her shoulders and braced for the wind and bone-biting cold of the past few days. Instead she stepped out into absolutely still air and a temperature that had already nudged up to a toasty thirty-three degrees.
“Whoa!” she breathed. “What a difference a day makes.”
Nodding, Brent made a sweep of the glacier behind the station. It gleamed a dull aqua in the slowly strengthening sunlight.
“This is the Antarctica that keeps bringing us back.”
Him, maybe. She wouldn’t put Palmer at the top of her list for vacation spots. Although…
As she followed him toward the sloping path, she had to admit the place had an eerie beauty all its own. The jagged mountains in the distance speared straight into the sky. They were skirted by glaciers that moved with imponderable slowness toward the sea.
As Mia trudged up the wide path, the only sound she heard apart from her own labored breathing was the rumble of the surf sweeping into the coves and inlets below. Just like along Rhode Island’s coast, she thought. Only instead of washing against a shore lined with expensive condos and the “cottages” of the superrich, this ocean encircled a continent almost untouched by human habitation.
She was listening to the tide’s restless ebb and flow when a thunderous boom split the air. With a startled shriek, she ducked and threw her hands over her head. She wasn’t the only one freaked out by the cannonlike boom. Tiki almost nose-dived into the snow at Mia’s feet.
“Look!” Brent shouted, pointing to an ice-bound cove some distance down the coast. “The glacier’s calving.”
Both women spun around just as a massive chunk of ice broke away from the main body. Transfixed, Mia watched the house-size piece crash into the sea. Tiki snatched off her gloves and fumbled for the camera in her pocket. She got off only a couple of shots before the grinding, howling noise died and the churning sea subsided.
“Oh, man!” she exclaimed, checking her shots in the viewfinder. “We just watched an iceberg being born. Is that cool, or what?”
Actually, it was pretty darn awesome! Mia had never witnessed a display of such raw, elemental power before. Moved in a way she didn’t quite understand, she fell back into line for the rest of the trek.
Standing on top of the glacier turned out to be another incredible experience. Palmer’s handful of blue metal buildings were the only man-made structures anywhere in a seeming endless vista of sea, sky and ice. When Mia made a half turn, the station disappeared from her line of sight. She could have been alone on the ice. Alone in the universe. The stillness was profound, the view so incredibly humbling and uplifting.
Brent stood back while Mia took in the primal essence of Antarctica. Her expression mirrored the same stunned amazement he’d seen on the faces of so many other first-timers. But he’d never felt the same jolt while observing those fingees as he did while watching her. Or the same raw hunger. It was there, deep in his belly, when he moved to her side.
> “Spectacular, isn’t it?”
“And then some. I understand now what pulls you back here.”
“You should think about spending more time here. The National Science Foundation funds programs for artists and writers, you know.”
She swiveled to face him. “Really?”
“Really. We had a professional photographer on station last summer. He got a NSF grant to do a black-and-white photo study of the various ice forms.”
Her emerald eyes filled with speculation. Just as quickly, it faded away. “I doubt NSF would give me a grant. I’m not an established author.”
“True, but you’re an established editor. Seems like a logical jump for me.”
Was he pushing too hard? Sounding too eager? Probably, but Brent didn’t care. All he knew was that he didn’t want this woman to drift into his life for such a short time, then drift right out again.
“Stop by my office when we get back to the station. I’ll show you the links so you can apply online.”
“You really think I should?”
Smiling, he gave the same answer he’d returned last night. “Oh, yeah.”
Then, of course, he had to follow up with another kiss. Something to cap her glacier walk. Something for him to think about after she’d gone.
“Got it.”
The amused comment brought both their heads around. Tiki had her camera aimed at them and clicked off another couple shots.
“I’ll e-mail the pictures to you, Mia. And to you, Brent,” she added with a wink.
THE DESCENT TOOK MUCH LESS time than the climb. Beth hadn’t yet returned from her excursion to the penguin rookery, so Mia detoured to the kitchen for some hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies.
Several of her fellow cruise passengers were in the galley. She shared a table with them and echoed their excitement over the projected departure for home in the morning. All the while she was mentally marshaling pros and cons regarding a much longer stay at Palmer.
Three or four months here at the station wouldn’t be so bad. If she got a grant, she could take a leave of absence from her job. Or even edit textbooks online while down here at the station. Either way, she would have plenty of time to work on her own book.
Uh-huh. Sure. Like that was the driving factor behind her sudden desire to check out this grant business.
She was still listing arguments for and against the idea when she headed for the administrative wing. Was she making a mistake? Jumping in feetfirst again? She’d known Brent Walker for what? All of three days? Less time than she’d known Don Juan before she let him make a complete fool of her. Yet here she was, thinking about rearranging her entire life so she could spend a few months down here at the bottom of the world with the man.
This time was different, though. Her instincts had been flawed regarding Don Juan, but everything in her said she could trust Brent. She believed that with all of her heart…until she was a few steps from his office and caught the exchange inside.
“This is her?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “Number 112?”
“That’s her,” Brent confirmed.
Mia’s insides cramped. Oh, no! Not again. Not him, too.
Her feet dragging, she took another step. A third. Saw Brent and another man hunched in front of his computer. While she writhed inside, the younger one let out a long, low whistle.
“Wow. That’s some sweet dimple on her…”
“Skip the editorial, Monroe. Just mark the Web site.”
Mia didn’t wait to hear more. Slowly, she backed down the hall and retreated to the dining room again.
Mercifully, the others had left. The place was empty except for the cooks at work in the kitchen. Mia nodded to them as she went to stand at the window but didn’t speak. She couldn’t. Raw emotion had her throat in a vise.
He’d marked the Web site. Tagged the salacious picture of her. That shouldn’t have hurt so much. But it did, dammit! It did.
Arms wrapped around her waist, Mia stared at the expanse of snowcapped coast. Her thoughts churned so wildly it took a moment for her to register the two small black specs in the distance throwing up rooster tails of snow. Beth and Allen, returning from the penguin rookery. Mia watched their progress blindly while she writhed inside. How stupid could one woman be? How gullible and naive and stupid?
She could think of only one reason for Brent to bookmark that disgusting Web site. So he could return to it over and over again after she departed Palmer. Maybe…Maybe even boast to Allen and the others how he had almost bagged the good-time girl. Display the picture Tiki had snapped up on the glacier as proof.
Disgust ate at her insides like acid. Not with him. With herself for actually thinking he was different. For believing he’d seen beyond that disgusting photo.
Hot tears stung her eyes. Fiercely, she blinked them away. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t! Instead, she fixed her gaze on the two snowmobiles.
Thank God for Beth. Mia could talk to her. Work through this hurt and…
Her thoughts stuttered to a stop while her mind tried to make sense of the sudden disappearance of one of those snowy rooster tails.
She pressed her palms to the frigid windowpane and leaned closer. Her first, horrified thought was that the snowmobile had fallen into a crevasse. She almost sobbed with relief when she spotted the machine lying on its side. Relief morphed swiftly into anxiety when the rider didn’t crawl out from under the overturned vehicle.
Her heart thumped as the other snowmobile fishtailed around and halted. The rider climbed off, too far away and too bundled up to tell if it was Beth or Allen, and ran toward the other vehicle.
Mia didn’t wait for more. Shoving away from the window, she raced out of the dining room and tore down the hall to the administrative wing. She was only a few feet from Brent’s office when she heard the staticky cackle of a radio.
“Mayday! Mayday! Palmer Station, this is Allen Barclay. Come in please!”
CHAPTER FIVE
THE FRANTIC CALL FROZE MIA just outside Brent’s office. Her heart in her throat, she watched while he whipped the radio off his belt and keyed the mike.
“This is Brent. What’s the nature of your emergency, Allen?”
“Beth Harrelson’s Jet Ski hit an ice spur. It rolled over on her. She’s writhing in pain and can’t get up.”
Oh, God! Terror sliced through Mia’s veins. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Just stood there with her heart pounding while Brent barked out a swift reply.
“Don’t try to move her. I’m activating the crash team. We’ll get a GPS fix on your location and respond immediately.”
“You can see them!” Mia gasped. “From the dining room window!”
He jerked his chin in acknowledgment and flipped a switch on the console above his desk. His voice blared through the intercom a second later, sounding calm and in control despite his grim expression.
“Attention all personnel. The crash team should report to GWR immediately. I repeat, all members of the crash team should report immediately.”
He grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and pushed past Mia.
“We’ll bring her to the clinic in the GWR. You can wait there.”
“I want to go with you!”
“This is no time for amateurs on the ice,” he snapped over his shoulder. “Wait at the clinic.”
MIA HIT THE DINING ROOM FIRST.
Her face plastered to the window, she gnawed on her lower lip until a large tracked vehicle with Glacier Search and Rescue stamped on its side roared out of the GWR building. Two smaller vehicles burst out behind it.
Fear pumped acid from her roiling stomach into her throat as the three rescue vehicles raced toward the snowmobiles. Allen was down on his knees in the snow, his back to Mia. She couldn’t see Beth.
When the crash team reached the scene, five people rushed over to surround Allen. Mia kept her clenched fists against the cold glass and didn’t draw a full breath until she saw her sister eased onto a
backboard, strapped down and lifted into the tracked vehicle. Only then did she fling away from the window. Rushing down the stairs, she hit the exit door and ran along the wooden walkway to the GWR building.
Jill Anderson’s husband, Doug, was already in the GWR when Mia rushed in. As the senior scientist at Palmer, he’d maintained an open comm link with the crash team while ensuring everything was ready to receive the accident victim back at the station.
“The doc’s got everything he needs here to treat most emergencies,” he assured Mia. “X-ray equipment, a lab, a full pharmacy, two trained EMTs to assist him. They’ll take good care of your sister.”
Mia clung to that promise until the crash team carried Beth in on the backboard. A white-faced Allen Barclay had one handle of the board, Brent another. Beth was conscious, thank God, and responded to her sister’s welcome cry with what started as a smile but ended in a rictus of pain.
“I’m…okay.”
“Right. Uh-huh. You look just dandy.”
Mia tried to follow the stretcher into the clinic but Doug restrained her.
“There’s not enough room inside. You need to wait here until the doc checks her out.”
She watched anxiously from the doorway while the crash team laid Beth on the exam table, still strapped to the backboard. Three members of the team then exited the small clinic. The two trained EMTs remained inside to assist the physician. Brent was one of them. He gave Mia an encouraging nod before he shut the door in her face.
Allen paced the hall with Mia. Behind his bushy beard, his faced was twisted with worry and self-recrimination.
“I made sure I went ahead of her the whole way. Checked every foot of the track. But that damned ice spur was a few inches below the surface and I went right over it.”
They swung back and forth, with Mia trying to reassure Allen and him doing the same for her. Finally, the door to the clinic opened and Brent emerged.
“She’s okay,” he told the anxious group. “Pretty bruised and shaken up, but no broken bones or internal injuries that the doc can detect.”
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