by James Cook
Instead he stood over his newborn daughter and watched her sleep for a while. She fidgeted, tiny hands grasping and flexing as she did the baby equivalent of chasing rabbits. Strange how a person only eight weeks old could change everything about a person. Kell became interested in biology from sheer wonder as a child. Some people looked to the sky in awe at all the things that vastness contained, but he was always fascinated by the mysteries found in the smallest parts of living creatures.
Every cell a puzzle, every strand of DNA a conundrum waiting to be tinkered with and explored.
Yet here before him lay an enigma even he couldn't wrap his mind around. He and his wife made love, and then followed the meiotic dance that created an entirely new human being. It was so simple, so basic, yet that one primal act of creation moved forward with time to make his daughter. She would be her own person in the end, a collection of small mysteries of her own.
Feather-gentle, he ran a finger over her fine hair.
“She's been sleeping for an hour,” Karen said from behind him.
The tendon in Kell's jaw twitched, his only sign of surprise. Five years together had given his wife a good working knowledge of his reactions. It was a game of hers, to constantly try to get more than an involuntary twinge from him. Karen sometimes called him 'Buddha' for his unshakable calm.
If only she could have seen him a few hours before.
She put a hand to the back of his neck, using him as a fulcrum to pull herself high enough to kiss his cheek. He trembled as she did it, the stress of the day finally becoming too much.
Karen put a hand on his shoulder lightly and turned him to face her. She wasn't short, but even at five foot eight she had to crane her neck to look him in the eyes. Hers were hazel flecked with gold, a striking match to her deep tan skin. Her mother was from South Africa, her father American but ethnically Indian. Both of them were lawyers, and their beautiful daughter, she of the almond-shaped eyes and wavy black hair, had followed in their footsteps.
“What's wrong?”
Kell considered the question much longer than absolutely necessary. It wasn't that he didn't trust his wife—she was a lawyer, after all, and knew how to keep confidence—but she also knew about non-disclosure agreements, of which he was under at least half a dozen. Beyond that, the work he did was cutting-edge and frankly dangerous to know about.
So, he compromised.
Kell sat on the edge of the bed. “I can't tell you the details, honey. But basically I've been put in a position where I had to choose between letting someone else deal with a complicated problem they might screw up, and taking it on myself.”
Karen nodded as she sat next to him in her fluffy red bathrobe. “I assume that this has to do with your research?”
Kell nodded. “Of course. Sinclair has always wanted me for only one reason.”
She put a hand on his leg. “You've always been able to trust your staff with tough problems. What makes this one different?”
“This time there could be...larger implications. You know I've always been strongly against creating potential weapons or pathogens. That's not what I'm dealing with, but a screwup could be just as bad. Maybe worse.”
Her fingers tightened on his leg. “And you think you're the right man to fix it?”
Kell nodded again.
Karen gave his leg a slap. “You're damn right you are. No one has been working on this as long as you. Your own professors handed Chimera over to you when they couldn't figure it out. You're not just the right man for the job, baby. You might be the only man for it. If safety and diligence is important here, I can't think of anyone on the planet better suited to the task.”
Kell smiled at her, but it was weak. Which led her to slap him on the back of the head. It was gentle. Mostly. Then she pointed a finger in his face, and he knew she was getting serious.
“Look, Kell. Just because I've been on maternity leave and not carrying around a metric ton of stress doesn't mean I'm gonna let you get away with self-pity. You might be in a tough spot, but you didn't make it. You got handed a mess; you know you're the one who should clean it up. Not because you made it, but because anyone else runs the risk of just screwing it up worse.”
She leaned over and kissed his shoulder. “So stop moping about it. That's not going to do you any good. Sleep on it, deal with it, then move forward. It's not like you have any choice.”
“I know, Karen, I just worry that...ah, Jesus it's hard to even explain without telling you everything.”
She rolled her eyes. “I don't need details to know you shouldn't be worrying yourself to death over something you have to do and can't change. Maybe me saying that won't make it better, but I promised your momma I'd set you straight for the rest of your natural life. You knew that when you signed the papers, and look; you managed to live with that decision just fine.”
Kell couldn't help laughing. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. Her lips tasted like raspberries—her favorite lip gloss. She must have put it on as soon as she hopped out of the shower. Though he'd fallen for her hard many years before, it was small gestures that kept him falling in love in little ways every single day. It got him through the lonely nights when she was stuck at the office. It kept his hand steady and mind sharp when dealing with potentially dangerous organisms with a penchant for unpredictable mutations.
“You're right, of course,” Kell said, running a hand over his shaved head. “I'll get on with it. I'll probably bitch about it for days, but you're used to that by now. And let's face it, you aren't going to divorce me over that. You only do what Mom tells you because she makes you dinner twice a week. You won't give that up.”
She poked a finger into his slight paunch. “Well, one of us could suffer without for a while.”
Laughing, he slid his own hand under her robe and across the damp skin of her belly.
“Maybe I could do with a little exercise instead,” he said.
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