by Tina Beckett
The vivid image of Ben playfully pinning her hands above her head while they’d tussled on the bed sprang to her mind. The love play had been fun. At first. Then a wave of terror had washed over her unexpectedly, and though she’d known her panic had been illogical, she’d begun to struggle in earnest.
A frightened plea had caught in her throat, and as hard as she’d tried to say something, her voice had seemed as frozen as her senses. Ben had only realized she was no longer playing when she succeeded in freeing one of her hands and raked her nails down his face. He’d reeled backwards, while she’d lain there, her chest heaving, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. Understanding had dawned on his face and he’d gathered her into his arms, murmuring how sorry he was. From that moment forward he’d been careful to avoid anything that might make her feel trapped.
A little too careful.
His lovemaking had become less intense and more controlled. Only it had been a different kind of control than what they’d previously enjoyed, when Ben’s take-charge demeanor in the bedroom had been a huge turn-on. That had all changed. Tracy had mourned the loss of passion, even as she’d appreciated his reasons for keeping a little more space between them. Her inability to explain where the line between confinement and intimacy lay had driven the first wedge between them.
That wedge had widened later, when he’d tried to limit her movements during her pregnancy, giving rise to the same sensation of being suffocated. She’d clawed at him just as hard then, the marks invisible but causing just as much damage to their marriage.
The Ben of the present fingered the side of his face and gave her a smile. “No permanent damage done.”
Yeah, there had been. And it seemed that one patch of bad luck had spiraled into another.
“I always felt terrible about that,” she said.
“I should have realized you were scared.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
Even her father hadn’t realized their play sessions could change without warning. There’d always been laughter, but the sound of hers had often turned shrill with overtones of panic. A gentle soul, her father would have never hurt her in a million years. It didn’t help that her older sister had been a tough-as-nails tomboy who’d feared nothing and had given as good as she’d got. Then Tracy had come along—always fearful, always more cautious. Her father had never quite known what to do with her.
She was still fearful. Still flinched away from situations that made her feel trapped and out of control.
And now her mom and her sister were both gone. Her mom, the victim of a menacing villain who’d stalked its prey relentlessly—turning the delicate strands of a person’s DNA into the enemy. Passed from mother to daughter. Tracy had been running from its specter ever since.
Ben donned a fresh glove and picked up the slide he’d smacked against the table, checking it for cracks. Without glancing up at her, he said, “You look tired. I put the folding cot in the corner in case we needed to sleep in shifts. If I know you, you didn’t get much rest last night.”
“I’m okay.” He was right. She was exhausted, but no way would she let him know how easily he could still read her. Or how the touch of concern in his voice made her heart skip a beat. “It’s just warm in here.”
“I know. The air-conditioner in the lab is ancient, and the filter doesn’t let much of it through, anyway.”
Even as he said it, a tiny trickle of sweat coursed down her back. “It’s fine.”
He pushed the slide beneath the viewer of the microscope and focused on the smear. “How old are the samples?”
“Just a couple of hours.”
He swore softly as he continued to peer through the lens, evidently seeing something he didn’t like. He took the second slide and repeated the process, his right hand shifting a knob on the side of the instrument repeatedly. Sitting up, he dabbed at perspiration that had gathered around his eye with the sleeve of his lab coat then leaned back in for another look.
“What is it?” She felt her own blood rushing through her ears as she awaited the verdict.
It didn’t take long. He lifted his head and fastened his eyes on hers. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s pneumonic plague, Tracy.” Shifting his attention to the test tube in her hand, he continued, “And if you’re the one who took these samples, you’ve already been exposed.”
CHAPTER THREE
TRACY SAGGED AND swallowed hard, trying to process what he’d said through her own fear. “Are you sure?”
“Here.” He moved aside so she could look at the slide.
Putting her eye to the viewfinder, she squinted into the machine. “What am I looking for?”
“See the little dots grouped into chains?”
“Yes.” There were several of them.
“That’s what we’re dealing with. I want to look at another sample and do a culture, just in case, but I’m sure. It’s Yersinia pestis, the same bacterium that causes bubonic plague. I recognize the shape.” He rolled his shoulders as if relieving an ache. “Bubonic plague normally spreads from infected rats through the bite of a flea, but if the bacteria migrate to a person’s lungs, it becomes even more deadly, spreading rapidly from person to person by way of a cough or bodily fluids. When that happens, the disease no longer needs a flea. We’ll want to put you on a strong dose of streptomycin immediately.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll start on them as well, but just as a precaution.” Ben dripped a staining solution on another slide. “Most of the people who work in the lab are vaccinated against the plague, including Mandy. But I assume you haven’t been.”
“No, which means neither has… Oh, God.” She rested her head against Ben’s shoulder for a second as a wave of nausea rolled over her. “That town. I have to get back there. They’ve all been exposed. So has Pedro.”
“Pedro?”
“My assistant.”
Just as he pushed the slide back under the microscope, the lock to the outer door clicked open before Tracy had a chance to figure out how to proceed.
The guard pushed his way inside, glancing from one to the other, his eyes narrowing in on her face. She sat up straighter.
“Problema?” he asked.
Instead of lunch, he only held a coffee cup in his hand.
A tug on the back of her shirt sent a warning Tracy read loud and clear, Don’t tell him anything until I’ve taken another look. The gesture surprised her, as he’d always been buddy-buddy with the military, at least from what she’d seen over the course of their marriage.
Still holding one of the slides, he casually laid it on the table. “We need to run a few more tests before we know anything for sure.”
“No need. Our doctors have isolated the infection and will take the appropriate containment measures.”
Containment? What exactly did that mean?
Her brows lifted in challenge. “What is the illness, then?” Maybe he was bluffing.
“I’m not at liberty to say. But my commander would like to speak with Dr. Almeida over the phone.” He gave Tracy a pointed stare. “Alone.”
A shiver went over her. Alone. Why?
What if the government doctors had come to a different conclusion than Ben had? What if they were assuming it was something other than the plague? People could still die…still pass it on to neighboring towns. And Sao Joao dos Rios was poor. How many people would lose loved ones due to lack of information?
Just like she had. She knew the pain of that firsthand.
She’d lost her mother. Her grandmother. Her sister—although Vickie’s illness hadn’t been related to a genetic defect. The most devastating loss of all, however, had been her unborn child. Ben’s baby.
All had died far too young. And Tracy had decided she wasn’t going to waste a second of her time on earth waiting around for what-ifs. Movement, in her eyes, equaled life. So she’d lived that life with a ferocity that others couldn’t begin to understand.
Including Ben.
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Genetic code might not be written in stone, but its deadly possibility loomed in front of her, as did a decision she might someday choose to make. But until then she was determined to make a difference in the lives of those around her.
Or maybe you’re simply running away.
Like she had with Ben? No, their break-up had been for entirely different reasons.
Had it?
She pushed the voice in her head aside. “Why does he want to talk to Dr. Almeida alone?”
“That’s not for me to say.” The guard nodded towards the bag. “Those samples must be destroyed.”
“We’ll take care of it.” Her husband’s voice was calm. Soothing. Just as Zen-like as ever. Just as she imagined it would have been had she told him about the life-changing decision she was wrestling with.
And his icy unflappability drove her just as crazy now as it had during their last fight.
How could he take everything in his stride?
Because it was part of who he was. He’d grown up in Brazil…was more Brazilian than American in a lot of ways.
As Ben stripped the tape from around the door and sanitized his hands before stepping into the hallway with the guard, Tracy sighed. She never knew what he was thinking. Even during their marriage he’d been tight-lipped about a lot of things. But as aloof as he’d been at times, she’d sensed something in him yearning for what he hadn’t had when growing up: the closeness of a family.
It still hurt that she hadn’t been able to give that to him. That even as she was driven to work harder and harder by the loss of her baby and by whatever time bomb might be ticking inside her, she was gradually becoming the very thing he despised in his parents.
Her sister had died never knowing whether or not she carried the defective gene. It hadn’t been cancer that had claimed Vickie’s life but dengue fever—a disease that was endemic in Brazil. She’d been pregnant at the time of her death. Her husband had been devastated at losing both of them. As had she. But at least Vickie had been spared the agonizing uncertainty over whether or not she’d passed a cancer gene down to her child.
As much as Tracy had feared doing just that during her pregnancy, she’d never in her weakest moments wished harm to come to her unborn child. And yet she’d lost the baby anyway, as if even the fates knew what a bad idea it was for her to reproduce.
Her vision suddenly went blurry, and she blinked in an effort to clear her head from those painful thoughts. As she did, she realized Ben and the guard had come back into the room and were now staring at her.
“What?” she asked, mentally daring him to say anything about her moist eyes.
Ben’s gaze sharpened, but he said nothing. “I need to leave for Sao Joao dos Rios. Do you want me to drop you off at the airport on my way out of town?”
“Excuse me?”
Why would she need to go to the airport? Unless…
No way!
Her hands went to her hips. “I’m going with you.”
Both Ben and the guard spoke at once, their voices jumbled. She caught the gist of it, however. Evidently Ben had been invited to go but she hadn’t been.
Outrage crowded her chest. “I’m the one who took the samples. I’ve already been out there.”
“And exposed yourself to the plague in the process.”
“Exactly.” Her hands dropped back to her sides, palms out. “I’ve already been exposed. And I’m a doctor, Ben. I’ve spent my life fighting outbreaks like this one. I should be there.”
His voice cooled. “It’s not up to me this time.”
“This time. Unlike the time you sent your goons into that village with orders to send me packing?” She almost spit the words at him. “My assistant is still in Sao Joao dos Rios. I am not leaving him out there alone.”
Stepping around Ben, she focused on the guard. “I’d like to speak with your superior.”
The man blinked several times, as if he couldn’t believe she was daring to defy whatever orders he’d received. “I’m afraid that’s not possible—”
Ben’s fingers went around her upper arm and squeezed. “Let me talk to her for a minute.”
Practically dragging her to the other side of the room, his stony gaze fastened on her face. “What are you doing?”
“I already told you. I’m doing my job.”
“The military wants to handle this their way. They’ll go in and treat those who aren’t too far gone and make sure this doesn’t spread beyond Sao Joao dos Rios.”
“Those who aren’t too far gone? My God, stop and listen to yourself for a minute. We’re talking about human beings—about children like Daniel and Cleo, who are now orphans. They deserve someone there who will fight for them.”
“You think I don’t care about those children? I was the one who wanted you to slow down during your pregnancy, to…” He paused for several long seconds then lowered his voice. “I care just as much about those villagers as you do.”
His surgeon’s scalpel cut deep. She could guess what he’d been about to say before he’d checked himself. He still thought her actions had cost the life of their child. And the worst thing was that she couldn’t say with any certainty that he was wrong. She’d worked herself harder than ever after she’d had the results back from the genetic testing—struggling to beat back the familiar sensation of being trapped. But that wasn’t something she wanted to get into right now.
“Let me go with you.” She twisted out of his grasp so she could turn and face him. “Please. You have pull with these guys, I know you do. Call the commander back, whoever he is, and tell him you need me.”
He dragged a hand through his hair then shook his head. “I’m asking you to walk away, Tracy. Just this once. You don’t know how bad things might get before it’s over.”
“I do know. That’s why I need to be there. Those two kids have already lost their mother. I want to help make sure they don’t lose their lives as well.”
She was not going to let some government bureaucrat—or even Ben—decide they were a lost cause. “I’ll take antibiotics while I’m there. I’ll do whatever the government people tell me to do. Besides, like I said before, my assistant is still in the middle of it.”
She couldn’t explain to him that she really did need to be there. This was part of what being alive meant—fighting battles for others that she might not be able to fight for herself. She took a deep breath. “Please, don’t make me beg.”
A brief flicker of something went across his face then was gone. “Listen, I know—” Before he could finish the guard appeared in front of them, tapping his hat against his thigh, clearly impatient to be gone. “We need to leave.”
Tracy kept her pleading gaze focused on Ben. He had to let her go. He just had to.
Ben swore and then broke eye contact. “Call General Gutierrez and tell him we’re on our way. Both of us.”
The man didn’t bat an eyelid. “I’ll let him know.”
Exactly how much influence did Ben have with these officials? She knew his salary came from the government, but to say something like that and expect it to be accepted without question…
She swallowed. “Thank you.”
Jaw tight, Ben ignored her and addressed the guard again. “We’ll follow you out to the village once I’ve destroyed the samples. We need to use my four-wheel drive to haul some equipment.”
The guard swept his hat onto his head before relaying the message to his superiors. When he finished the call, he said, “My commander will have someone meet you at the town square and direct you to the triage area they’ve set up. But you must hurry.”
Ben nodded. “Tell them we’ll be there within three hours.”
“Vai com Deus.”
The common “Go with God” farewell had an ominous ring to it—as if the man had crossed himself in an attempt to ward off evil. And pneumonic plague was all that and more. Its cousin had killed off large swaths of the world’s population in the past.
Despite her mis
givings about working with Ben again, a couple of muscles in her stomach relaxed. At least she wouldn’t have to fight this particular battle on her own.
Ben would be there with her.
And if he found out the truth about the genetic testing she’d had done before their separation?
Then she would deal with it. Just as she’d dealt with the loss of her baby and her own uncertain prognosis.
Alone.
* * *
As they hurried to finish loading his vehicle, a streak of lightning darted across the sky, pausing to lick the trunk of a nearby tree before sliding back into the clouds. The smell of singed wood reached Ben a few seconds later, followed by an ominous rumble that made the ground tremble.
Tracy, who stood beside him, shuddered. “Only in Teresina.”
He smiled. “Remember the city’s nickname? Chapada do corisco: flash-lightning flatlands. If ever lightning was going to strike twice in the same spot, it would be here.” He shut the back of the grey four-wheel-drive vehicle. “I’d rather not put that theory to the test, though, so, if you’re ready to go, hop in.”
She climbed into the SUV and buckled in, staring in the direction the jagged flash had come from. “That poor tree looks like it’s lightning’s favorite prom date, judging from the color.”
Scarred from multiple strikes over the years, it stubbornly clung to life, clusters of green leaves scattered along its massive branches. Ben had no idea how it had survived so many direct hits.
Their marriage certainly hadn’t been as lucky.
He got behind the wheel and started the car. “It’ll eventually have to come down.”
“Through no fault of its own,” she murmured. “It’s sad.”
Was she thinking of what had happened between them? It had taken every ounce of strength he’d had after she’d left, but he’d forced himself to keep living. In reality, though, she had been gone long before she’d actually moved out of the house. He’d accepted it and moved forward.
Right.
That’s why he was on his way to Sao Joao dos Rios right now, with Tracy in tow. He should have just shut her down and said no. General Gutierrez would have backed him in his decision. So why hadn’t he?