A Beautiful Fire (Love at Lincolnfield Book 4)

by Colette Dixon

  Harper closed the door of her rental car and peered up at the curved glass towers that held the CDC’s high containment lab as well as the classroom where she’d meet the epidemiologists and begin her EIS training. She was familiar with the campus from her trip to aid in the Ebola case, but a wave of homesickness swept through her.

  She ached for Jakub.

  No matter the professional goals she’d come here to achieve, her personal life was a failure. His parting words stayed with her like some kind of witch’s hex. She hadn’t trusted him enough to include him into her career conundrum. Could it really have been so simple—that if she’d just answered the phone that night and explained the decision, things would have turned out differently? He wouldn’t have overreacted and instead would have supported her?

  As she walked through the halls, passing uniformed medical personnel of the Public Health Service and civilian workers alike, she reminded her wandering thoughts to stay on task.

  Miles met her in the lobby and escorted her to the classroom, kindly helping to break the ice since she was entering the program a bit late. If he harbored any bitterness for how things were left after their dinner date when she was last in Atlanta, Miles didn’t let on. He walked with a fluid grace, wearing a button down and tie along with perfectly creased slacks.

  A woman in a low bun and a stiff green skirt jacket uniform combo passed them in the corridor. Miles saluted her with a twinkle in his eye. The woman’s expression warmed, then she gave them both a smile.

  “Ever think about joining up?” Harper asked Miles after the woman strode past. The offer to join the Public Health Service, a branch of the military, was on the table to all EIS trainees and CDC employees. “I hear the retirement benefits are amazing.”

  “Ironies abound with the following statement, but I cherish my freedom too much.”

  Harper smiled. “I completely understand.” She didn’t want to be tied down by the military. She needed her freedom to find a way to orchestrate her phage center. She may have lost the grant monies this time, but she would not give up on her dream.

  Miles gave her an appreciative smile. He could be warm, funny, charming even at times. But she had zero interest in Miles. She remembered what Jakub had said on their first date. You can’t control who you fall in love with. She’d had every intention of continuing a relationship with Jakub while in Atlanta before he’d flipped out on her. Then he’d been the one to break it off.

  Have a nice fucking life.

  The words still stung.

  She grasped at rationalizations: if he couldn’t understand what she needed in a partner, how important her career was to her, then so be it. He wasn’t the man for her after all. It shouldn’t have been a huge surprise given their differences. Que sera sera and all that.

  She always hated that song.

  People had way more agency to control their own destinies than that sentiment allowed. No matter what Jakub Wojcik professed about love.

  She didn’t believe in meant to be. The philosophy didn’t hold up. Especially not in regards to a teenage boy getting taken out by a drunk behind the wheel of an Audi. There was so much in this world that was not meant to be.

  Then again, here she was, on a path she felt was her destiny. But that wasn’t really true, was it? More like a path she’d bent to create her own destiny.

  No—all the ways she tried to convince herself to let go of Jakub, that things were left the way they were meant to be, rang false. If she wanted him in her life, she could exercise free will and do something. But the speed, the vitriol with which he’d let her go still stung.

  In an auditorium that could seat about two-hundred, Miles introduced Harper to Drs. Khan and Badrigal. Square wire glasses sat atop Dr. Khan’s long nose. Dr. Badrigal wore her black hair in a tight bun, adding severity to a stern countenance. The grip of her handshake hinted to a determined nature and a healthy workout routine.

  “As soon as I heard her grant fell through last week,” Miles said to the trainers, “I knew I had to convince Harper to come on board. You may remember she assisted with Dr. Morden’s case not too long ago. We’re lucky to have her expertise.”

  They exchanged niceties after which Dr. Khan handed Harper an orientation binder. Harper took a seat and began to leaf through the orientation material as the rest of her class began to trickle into the room.

  The next few days were a blur of lectures and lab procedures. She retreated to her room at night with a sort of restless ennui. To break up the sedentary stretches, she went for a run, sometimes in the mornings and sometimes in the evenings.

  That Friday she went to dinner in Atlanta with a couple of fellow trainees, Badrigal, Khan, and Miles to a Cuban joint that specialized in pork sandwiches.

  Miles couldn’t pass up the opportunity for food-borne pathogen pork jokes as the group took their seats in the large corner table near the kitchen.

  When the chatter died down, Miles leaned close to Harper and spoke in a volume loud enough for her ears only. “Settling in okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “So, tell me. Do I have any hope of you staying in Atlanta for good?”

  She knew what he meant. He was fishing for whether she was still interested. “Definitely not. Can’t stand the heat.”

  Neil, one of the trainees who came from a global health program out of Minnesota said, “Good thing you didn’t come last week. There was a record heatwave.”

  “I lucked out then,” Harper said.

  The waitress brought everyone’s drinks, took their order, and left.

  Neil downed a good portion of his margarita in one gulp then leaned close to her. “So why did you start the program late?” He mopped the beads of sweat on his upper lip with a napkin. “Sorry, that was a bit forward. Didn’t mean to pry.”

  “I was waiting to hear whether or not I’d received a grant.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Your phage therapy center. Miles mentioned at orientation how your grant had fallen through. Fascinating stuff, phages. I recently read an article on the applications of phages for infected burns.”

  Harper’s breath fled her lungs. Miles had mentioned the grant falling through at orientation?

  Neil’s eyes glazed over as he focused beyond her shoulder, seeming to have moved on to other thoughts. “What do you think about the EIS’s call requirements? One hour to get to the airport. Quite a commitment.”

  He tugged at his collar and may have said more but Harper’s mind snagged on something Miles had mentioned when he introduced her to the trainers that didn’t sit right. As soon as I heard the grant fell through last week, I knew I had to convince Harper to come on board.

  But she hadn’t known the grant had fallen through until the day before she’d left for Atlanta. The day Miles had called her and offered his condolences.

  Harper dropped her napkin on the table and ignored Miles’s questioning gaze as she strode to the depths of the restaurant to find the restrooms.

  At the sink in the ladies’ room, she splashed water on her face in an attempt to cool her raging anger.

  Miles had known before she did about her not being awarded the grant.

  Something was rotten, and it wasn’t her pork sandwich.

  As their little group emerged into the muggy air outside the restaurant after dinner, Harper purposely fell into a stride with Miles.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” she said when they were a bit of a distance from the others.

  A winning smile leapt to his face. “Of course. We could grab a coffee.” He pointed to the coffee shop on the corner of the block.

  She winced at the idea of being in his presence longer than humanly necessary. “No, I mean right here. Right now.”

  Miles’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “What’s the problem?”

  She waved to her coworkers behind him who were saying their goodbyes and reaching for their car keys. “The problem is you knew about me not getting the grant before I did. Care to exp
lain?”

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about. How could I know that?”

  “Don’t play stupid with me, Miles. You said when you introduced me to Khan and Badrigal that you heard the grant fell through over a week ago. You waited to call me. Then you happened to call immediately after I discovered I hadn’t received the grant.”

  “Then I misspoke on the timing. A simple mistake, Harper.”

  “And Neil misspoke too when he said you mentioned how I lost the grant at orientation? Over a week ago?”

  Miles face froze, his lips parted open.

  “I don’t know what you think you’re trying to do here, but I don’t like it. Not one bit. I will not be manipulated.” She whirled and began to march over the brick cobblestones that made up the sidewalk of the quaint shopping district toward the corner.

  She needed to get away from Miles. Once she had some fresh air and distance, she’d order a car.

  “Harper, wait.” Miles was suddenly jogging alongside her.

  Her gut tightened. She wouldn’t be rid of him so easily. She may as well hear him out. She turned, crossing her arms in front of her.

  “So what if I heard about the grant before you? That doesn’t change the fact you belong here.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? You think you know where I belong? Your assumptions offend me. Not least of which is your assumption that I’m an idiot. There’s only one reason you heard about the grant before me. Because you were involved with my not getting it. There’s no way in hell I’m staying on here if you don’t admit that to me.”

  This sobered him. He looked pensively at the shop window behind her for a moment. “You promise you’ll stay?”

  Disgust curdled in her gut. No way in hell would she promise him anything. “I’m waiting.”

  “I’m sorry. I… You joked about my calling the Chancellor to put in a good word for the grant and that got me thinking how maybe I could influence the outcome. That buffoon doesn’t appreciate you. He most likely wouldn’t have given you that grant anyway. It’s for the best that you’re here.”

  “What’s best for me is what I choose is best for me. You had no right to interfere. You sabotaged my program, my reputation.” She wanted to vomit on him. Instead, she began to walk again, an evening breeze sweeping across her face, a welcome chill against the raging heat of her anger.

  “Harper.”

  She whirled around, long enough to lock eyes with him before she spit out, “From now on, you can call me Doctor Peters. And stay the hell away from me.”

  Bone-weary, twenty minutes later, she reached her hotel room and fell onto her bed. So much effort over the years she’d put into protecting herself from this very situation, from being bullied and manipulated by a man.

  Only days ago the decision to start the EIS training seemed so logical, imperative even to move her career forward. But now, she didn’t know what to do.

  She took a shower in an attempt to wash off her disgust. Lathering soap on her naked body, letting the water wash away the muddled thoughts along with her sweat, she realized there were some things she knew beyond a doubt.

  For one, she didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of Miles Dvorak.

  Wrapped in the hotel robe, she went to the window and looked out on the city lights of Atlanta.

  The second thing she knew for certain: she had to talk to Jakub.

  Jakub who hadn’t wanted to manipulate her, but who only wanted a little too forcefully to protect her. She wanted his strong arms around her, to be wrapped up in his sense of justice.

  When they’d fought, she’d bristled at his anger because of the memories it triggered.

  She was no fool. She knew that her dating criteria had always been an elaborate protection mechanism to avoid ending up with someone like her father. Jakub’s feelings had been raw because she’d hurt him. All along Jakub had been the opposite of her father. Jakub was a man she could rely on. He’d been there for her. He would continue to be there for her.

  Never would Jakub do something so awful as Miles had done. She knew that in her bone marrow. Jakub cared about her. He was a protector—it was his job, his life.

  And she wanted his protection. She wanted everything he had to give.

  He would understand how important her job was to her, she was certain, if they could just have a calm conversation. He was in a unique position to understand the demands of her career.

  She saw that his overbearing posturing the day they fought had been an overreaction to the idea of losing her. He’d lost a woman once, suddenly and tragically. Harper had been insensitive to that dark truth about him, a history that would probably lurk behind his fears and actions for some time. It was simply a very human response to grief.

  She fetched her phone from her purse. It was late. But a good friend wouldn’t care. She called Bev’s number and waited.

  In a sleepy, muffled voice, Bev answered. “Harper? God, what time is it? Is everything okay?”

  “I’ve made some terrible mistakes.”

  Bev’s voice became immediately alert. “About what? What happened?”

  “About Jakub. About trusting someone I shouldn’t have. And not trusting someone I should have. I left Jakub and went to Atlanta. I never should have left him.”

  Harper had nothing now. No phage center grant, and now that she was leaving the EIS, no way to make a splash by using the therapy in an epidemic outbreak. But none of that mattered.

  All that mattered was getting Jakub back.

  “Girlfriend, I’m glad you’ve finally found some sense. But you’re obviously talking to the wrong person. You need to call Jakub. Then call me first thing tomorrow. I know this is going to be good.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Long after dawn had crept in through the hotel curtains, Jakub still hadn’t answered Harper’s call or texts. She’d stayed up all night thinking about what she’d say to him when he did call, rehearsing the conversation over and over in her mind.

  His lack of response sent her mind spinning even more. She’d been too cold to him when she’d left for Atlanta, and now she’d lost him for good.

  She ordered breakfast from room service. When the food came, she retrieved her tray of poached eggs, orange juice, and the morning paper.

  After she arranged her food on the table by the window, she settled into the chair and opened the paper. She rarely read the actual printed news anymore but she was ready to think about something other than her imploding career and non-existent love life.

  In the Nation section, a headline caught her eye:

  California Blaze Devours 100,000 Acres.

  She sat straighter. What had Jakub said when he’d left her on the airport curb? I’m going where I’m wanted and needed.

  With desperate speed, she devoured the article. Two fire fighters had been killed fighting the blazes.

  She stood and began to pace.

  No. He couldn’t possibly be one of these men. She was overreacting. The most likely explanation was he was out on an emergency call and couldn’t respond. Either that or he was serious when he’d not so politely wished her to have a nice life.

  She could call Ritchie. He’d at least reassure her Jakub was safe in Illinois—as safe as a Chicago firefighter could be.

  She reached for her phone to search the number for his station when the phone vibrated like a rattlesnake, making her scream. Startled a second time by the sound of her own fright, she dropped the phone on the bed.

  God, she was being ridiculous.

  Slowly, she ran her hands over her face before sitting on the bed to retrieve the phone.

  The screen glowed with notification of a text.

  From Jakub.

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage. See? He’s safe. You’re just a sleep-deprived, Jakub deprived, nervous wreck.

  Relief and excitement rushing through her, she read his text.

  want love afraid not protect sorry so

  She b
linked at the bubble of his words on her screen. A dark fear niggled at her gut. The run-on words with no punctuation, no caps—almost as if he was drunk.

  Something told her this was so much worse.

  She thumbed the keypad furiously. Jakub, what’s going on? Are you okay?

  The sound of a housecleaning vacuum in the hall filled the air while she waited for his response.

  no

  Cold dread clamped down on her scalp. What happened?

  sorry

  She waited but when no elaboration came, she typed, You’re scaring me.

  was afraid lose lost

  She was not lost to him, and she needed desperately for him to know this. Enough texting. She punched the phone with her finger until she found his number.

  The first thing she heard when the call connected was a tsunami of static. “Jakub, are you there? Tell me you’re okay. What’s going on? Where are you?”

  “Fire jumped the control line.” His voice was calm but unanchored in a way that brought fear to burn in her throat. “It’s not looking good.”

  “You’re in the middle of a fire? What are you doing on the phone with me?” She stood up and moved to the hotel window, fighting down the rising panic. “Get yourself out of there.”

  “My man Rodrigo blew himself up trying to take out a tree on the control line but the fire jumped the line anyway.” His breath was labored. Like an asthmatic fighting for oxygen. “I now know what hell looks like.”

  “Where are you? Are you…trapped?” Desperation leapt to her voice but she forced it down.

  “Walls of fire on three sides. From the ground to the sky.”

  Oh, God, this couldn’t be happening. “Do you see any way out? You have to find a way out.”

  “I’m walking toward the darkest spot. It’s getting smaller and smaller.” His voice cracked and quavered.

  He was crying. Her strong, beautiful man was crying.

  “Stop walking and start running!” How could he even be talking to her? It was confounding that he’d answered the phone in such a situation.

  “Can’t run. Have to preserve my lungs.”