by Tina Beckett
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “If it’s any consolation, you’re right. I enjoyed it too. You always were a great kisser.”
Some of the tension in his spine seeped away. Questions from four years ago resurfaced and he couldn’t keep himself from asking, “Then why were you always in such a hurry to leave?”
“Please, don’t, Ben. Not right now.”
And her response was exactly the same as it had been back then. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it—had just wanted to head off on her next adventure.
There was nothing left to say, then. “I’ll get some medicine out of the car and explain the dosage.”
She nodded. “I’m sure they’ll even let Miriam come home as there’s no evidence of pneumonic plague here. We’ll put her on the prophylactic dosage of antibiotics and she should be fine.”
Stowing his equipment in a large box and carefully stacking his microscope on top, all he could do was wish for a prophylactic dose of something that would cut through his current jumble of emotions and put him back on the road to normalcy.
Normalcy. Wow. If he ever found a pill that would restore that, he’d end up a very rich man.
* * *
Tracy could have kicked herself. She’d let him kiss her. On the mouth. Worse, she’d kissed him back. Crazily. As if she couldn’t get enough of him.
Her chaste little gesture of thanks had flared to inferno proportions in a nanosecond.
The chemistry between them was just as potent as ever. Something she never should’ve doubted. Something she should have been braced for and never allowed to happen.
And why on earth had she let herself be drawn into an argument about the past? Because she was trying to keep her distance emotionally? You sure couldn’t tell it from where she stood. Because the only message she’d been sending while perched on his lap had been more along the lines of throw-me-on-my-back-and-take-me-hard.
To allow that to happen, though, would only make things more complicated. Especially now. She could admit that she still cared about him, but it didn’t mean they could—or should—be together. If she thought there was a chance, she might try to explain what had happened all those years ago. But it wouldn’t do any good at this point. And the last thing she needed was Ben’s pity. Hanging onto the anger from the past might be best for both of them right now, because in another week or so they’d be heading in opposite directions.
Lying in her hammock, hours from the time they’d finally climbed into Ben’s SUV and headed back to town, she still longed to reach across the space and take his hand. Touch his face. Kiss his lips.
Why? None of it made any sense.
There were less than two feet separating them. Less at the foot end of the hammocks. And she’d never been more keenly aware of that fact than she was now. The village was still and quiet. The military doctors had taken up the night shift, leaving Tracy and Ben to get five or six hours of sleep, which was what she should be doing right now, rather than lying here staring at the ceiling. Luckily, Ben was facing away from her and couldn’t see her restless movements. He’d fallen asleep almost as soon as his body had hit the hammock, while she’d pretended to do the same. Was still pretending, in fact.
Just like she’d pretended that kiss today was the result of exhaustion and stress.
He turned unexpectedly, and Tracy clamped her eyelids shut, trying to breathe slowly and deeply, even though her heart was pounding out a crazy tattoo. The sound of a throat clearing, some more rustling and then a low, exasperated curse met her ears. She felt a rush of air against her and the movement of his hammock disturbing hers where they intersected at the bottom.
Soft footsteps. Another oath. Then the sound of a door quietly opening and closing. Just like the last three nights.
She waited for several seconds before she got up the courage to open her eyes again and peek.
Yep. He was gone. Where was he disappearing to each night? The restroom? If so, that meant he’d be back in a matter of minutes—which he never was. She pushed her fingers through the open-weave fabric of her hammock in irritation, squeezing the fibers tight. Instead of wondering where he was, she should be using this time to try to go to sleep.
Fat chance of that now.
She continued to lie very still, waiting, staring at the closed door on the other side of the tiny room.
But fifteen minutes later there was still no sign of him, just like on previous nights. Had he decided he couldn’t sleep? Yes, it was hot in the room—the fan doing nothing more than fluffing the balmy air—but it would be just as hot no matter where he went.
Did this have something to do with their kiss, earlier? If that were the case, then what was his excuse on the other nights?
Crossing her arms over her chest, she closed her eyes again and tried for the umpteenth time to go to sleep. Morning was going to come, and with it a whole new day of struggles and trials as they tried to care for their remaining patients.
Seven more days. That’s how long Ben figured it would take to get the epidemic under control.
And that’s how long she had to kick this stupid attraction to the curb and keep herself out of Ben’s bed.
Seven, very long days.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“CLEO’S RIGHT HERE, honey.”
Gently placing a moist cloth across Daniel’s feverish brow, Tracy nodded at the neighboring cot, where Ben was adjusting the IV pole.
The boy had finally regained consciousness, four days after being found in the field. His first words had been to ask about his sister. The plea had remained throughout the day, sometimes interrupted by bouts of coughing, sometimes gasped between harsh breaths, but he never relented. The question was there each time he rallied for a few moments. And it made Tracy’s heart squeeze. It was as if, even in his precarious state, he refused to believe Cleo was alive unless he saw it for himself.
Ben had finally relented and offered to shuffle patients around so that the brother and sister could remain close to each other’s sides, despite the fact that he’d wanted patients placed according to severity of illness. Daniel was still gravely ill, whereas Cleo’s sickness had not ravaged her young body as much as those of some of their other patients. She said her head still ached, but she hadn’t worsened.
Daniel’s glassy eyes swiveled to the right. “Clee,” he whispered, shaky fingers reaching across the space and then dropping before he succeeded in reaching the other bed.
“She’s here, Daniel, but she’s asleep right now. We have to let her rest so she can be strong and healthy again.” Her gloved fingers brushed back a moist lock of hair, a rush of emotion clogging her throat. “You need to do the same. She’ll still be here when you wake up.”
If you wake up.
She immediately dismissed the thought. Daniel’s vitals had slowly grown weaker over the last couple of days, but he continued to fight harder than anyone she’d ever seen. And so would she. She’d come here to fight for these kids, against the military’s wishes…against Ben’s wishes. And she was going to damn well keep on fighting.
Maybe there was a message for her in there somewhere. But she was too tired to dig for it right now. Maybe later.
As if he sensed the direction of her thoughts, Ben came to stand beside her. “You need to get some rest as well. You look exhausted.”
“We’re all tired.” She reached up to wipe a trickle of perspiration from her temple only to have Ben beat her to it, using one of the dry compresses to blot her forehead. She gave him a weak grin. “You’d think after almost a week I’d be used to the heat. I travel down the Amazon all the time.”
They both froze, and Tracy wondered if he was remembering that last fateful trip.
Ben had accused her of neglecting their marriage, of being careless with their baby’s health. Had she? Had her own plight so blinded her that she’d taken unnecessary chances?
She’d never know. And there was nothing she could do to go back and change things anyway.
&n
bsp; Guilt gnawed at her, just as strong now as it had been back then.
“You’re good with them, you know.”
The change in subject made her blink. “With who?”
He nodded toward the kids. “These two.”
“I care about all my patients.”
“I wasn’t accusing you of anything, Tracy. Just making a statement.”
She considered that for a moment. The anger had been so strong at the end of their marriage that it was hard to hear anything he said without the filters of the past. Maybe she should start trying to take his words at face value. Maybe he could start doing the same.
She perched on the side of Cleo’s bed, her fingers feathering through the girl’s hair. A low sigh came from the child’s throat, and she snuggled into her hand.
Tears pricked very close to the surface but she ignored them as best she could. “I can’t imagine how they’re going to feel when they wake up and realize their mother is gone. For ever.”
Well, she took that back. She knew how that felt but she’d at least had her mom with her until she was a grown woman. These kids would never know how that felt. She wished there was some way she could take that pain from them.
“Sometimes a parent doesn’t have to die to be gone,” Ben murmured.
She glanced up at him, but he was staring through the dusty window across from them.
“Are you talking about your mom and dad?” Ben and Marcelo’s parents hadn’t been around much as they’d been growing up and both men carried some resentment about that. That resentment had carried over to Ben’s marriage.
Her traveling had been a constant source of arguments almost from the moment they’d both said, “I do.”
But Ben had been just as gung ho about his job when they’d met. She hadn’t understood exactly why he’d wanted to give all that up. Well, that wasn’t quite true either. When she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d been all set to let her office take over a lot of Projeto Vida’s off-site calls. Then things had changed.
And Ben had reacted badly to her need for space…for time to think. In reality, she probably should have told him sooner, but she’d still been reeling from the news and grieving over her mother’s and sisters’ deaths.
Ben’s eyes refocused on her. “No. Just talking in generalities.”
He was lying. But it was easier to let this particular subject go. “I forgot to ask. How’s Rosa?”
“Fine. Still at the house.”
She wasn’t surprised. The old housekeeper—who’d been widowed at a young age and had never remarried—had practically raised Ben and Marcelo. Of course Ben would keep her on. It was another thing they’d argued about.
Oh, not about Rosa still living there—Tracy loved her almost as much as Ben—but that he wouldn’t hear of the housekeeper having any part in raising their child. The early elation of finding out she was pregnant hadn’t lasted long.
When he’d asked about her plans for her job once the baby was born, she’d flippantly responded that Rosa would be thrilled to help during her absences—that she’d already asked her, in fact. Her words had been met with stony silence. Seconds later Ben had stalked from the room and slammed through the front door of the house.
Only afterwards had she realized how her comment might have sounded. She’d apologized and tried to explain once he’d come home, but she’d got the feeling Ben had heard little or nothing of what she’d said.
She sighed. “I miss Rosa.”
“I’m sure she misses you as well.”
Her heart aching, a silent question echoeing inside her head: And what about you, Ben? Do you ever miss me?
* * *
“Don’t move too quickly. You’re still weak.”
Tracy put her shoulder beneath Daniel’s arm and, with Pedro on his other side, they helped him walk slowly around the clearing in front of the house in an effort to ward off the possibility of deep vein thromboses from all his time in bed. Day five, and the patient who’d set off the frantic race to save a village seemed to have turned a corner—against all odds. Just yesterday they’d wondered if he would even make it. Somehow the twelve-year-old’s body was fighting off the disease when by most medical journals’ estimations he should be dead.
“M-my sister?” His voice was thin and raspy.
“Cleo is at the cafeteria. You have some catching up to do, you know,” she teased. “Do you think you can handle the thought of sipping some broth?”
“I’d rather have beiju.”
The local flatbread made from cassava flour was typical up here in the northeastern part of the country. Tracy had missed the gummy bread in Sao Paulo, although she could still find it on occasion.
Pedro shook his head. “I think we’d better stick to broth for today, like Tracy said.”
Daniel made a face. “Not even beans and rice?”
“Soon,” Tracy said with a smile. “Maybe in another day or two, okay?”
His already thin shoulders slumped, but he didn’t argue as they led him over to the temporary mess hall the military had set up. The tent was divided into sides. Medical personnel and healthy villagers on one side and those with active infections on the other. Donning her mask, she ducked beneath the canvas door flap to deliver her patient.
Four long tables with wooden benches were mostly empty. There weren’t very many patients at the moment who were well enough to actually walk the short distance from their beds. Huge fans sucked heat from the inside and blew it out, keeping the place from turning into an inferno as the sun baked the canvas roof. In fact, more of the flaps were open today, a sign the military knew things were looking up for the stricken town.
A wave from across the space caught her eye.
Cleo, seated at a front table, smiled, her dark eyes lighting up as she saw them come in. “Daniel, you’re awake!” She motioned him over.
Tracy delivered their charge to the table and brother and sister were reunited—outside the sickroom—for the first time in over a week. Cleo’s smile wavered and then she wrapped her arms around Daniel’s neck and sobbed quietly. Tracy was forced to separate them gently when she grew concerned about the boy’s system being overloaded. Before she could ask the person in charge of meals for a cup of broth, one magically appeared on the table in front of them.
Cleo, who’d begun to recover more quickly than Daniel, had black beans and rice on her plate—and Tracy could swear that was a piece of fried banana as well. Her own mouth watered, so she could only imagine how Daniel felt. But he dutifully picked up his spoon and gave a tentative taste of the contents of his cup. Despite the liquid diet, he closed his eyes as if it were the finest caviar.
“Good?” she asked.
He nodded, taking another sip.
Pedro glanced at the serving area. “I’m going to head over and get in line before it closes. What do you want?”
“I already have Tracy’s food.”
The voice came from behind them just as a tray was plonked down in front of her. A creamy-white beiju, slathered in butter, was folded in half and propped up on a neat mound of rice and beans. And, oh! A whole fried banana.
“Not fair,” muttered Daniel, who looked longingly at the plate and sucked down another spoonful of his broth.
She glanced to the side and saw Ben, his eyes on Pedro as he set down a second tray beside hers. She gave her assistant an apologetic shrug. “Get something before they run out. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Ben waited for her to sit before joining her. Irritated, she realized she’d been looking for him all day.
“You’re supposed to be on the doctors’ side of the tent, you know,” she said, cringing as the words left her mouth. Great. No “Thank you” for the food. No “How are you?” Just a veiled accusation.
“Hmm. Well, so should you. I saw you come in and thought you might like an update on our situation.”
Our situation?
Oh, he meant here in town. He wasn’t referring to that disastr
ous kiss.
“Is that where you’ve been? With the military?”
“The guys in charge wanted me to fill them in. General Gutierrez is here and heard most of the news from his own doctors, but he wanted to make sure it matched the civilian report. The military’s reputation tends to be a touchy subject.”
“Since when?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished she could call them back. “Sorry. That hadn’t come out right.”
He ignored her and leaned around her back to lay a hand on Daniel’s shoulder, smiling at the boy. “I’m surprised to see you out of bed.”
Cleo blinked at him with huge brown eyes. “What about me? Are you surprised to see me, too?”
“Definitely. But very glad.” He then ruffled Cleo’s hair, which caused the seven-year-old to giggle. The happy sound made Tracy’s heart contract. The man was a natural with children. He should have lots of them. All swarming around him like a litter of cute puppies.
“I haven’t heard a peep about any so-called meetings. Why didn’t someone call me?” She wasn’t really peeved but needed to get her mind off Ben and his future children. Because it hurt too much to think about it. Not when she’d decided her previous pregnancy would probably be her last.
He glanced away. “I wanted to let you sleep in a little while longer. It’s been a difficult week.”
Come to think of it, no one had come to wake her up for her normal seven a.m. shift. Had that been Ben’s doing as well? Her heart tightened further.
He was a good man. He’d deserved so much better than what she’d given him.
She cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump that clogged it. “Thank you. You weren’t there when I woke up.”
Turning to look at her, he lifted a shoulder. “I’m an early riser. Always have been.”
Yes, he had been. But he hadn’t normally left their bed in the middle of the night and not returned. A thought came to her. Maybe he’d found somewhere else to hole up. A streak of something white hot went through her. She had noticed a couple of female soldiers eyeing him. But surely…
Daniel lifted the last spoonful of broth and leaned back with a tired sigh.