by Julie Rowe
“I’ve seen worse.” He glanced at her with those bottomless, penetrating eyes as he lowered her tingling extremities.
“Such as?”
“Let’s have a look at your hands.” He held her right hand in both of his, rubbing and checking every inch. “A couple of winters ago our doctor arrived in a storm much worse than this. The plane landed, but the weather was so bad no one could go out to meet it. Unfortunately, once on the ground, the hydraulics froze up and it was stuck on the ice runway, unable to take off.”
He picked up her other hand, inspecting and massaging it. “By the time we got him and the two pilots inside the station, the doctor had to have a couple of toes amputated due to frostbite. He was only wearing one pair of socks.” Tom looked at her, his eyes serious. “You’re very lucky.”
Very lucky this gruff but gentle giant had come along when he did. She swallowed hard, thinking about what might have happened. “Thank you.”
A trace of anger flattened his mouth. “I should have been at the plane before you got lost, but it landed sooner than we thought. That’s my fault, but…” He fixed a fierce glare at her, but before he could say anything more, the doors swung open again.
Two women barreled through the doorway.
“We heard our doctor arrived.” The shorter of the two, dressed in grease-and oil-stained overalls, hurried forward and grabbed Emilie’s hand, pumping it up and down. “Hi, I’m Sharon.”
“I’m Carol, assistant chef,” the brunette wearing a huge apron said. “It’s good to have you on the Ice.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the, uh, warm welcome.”
“Yes.” Sharon laughed and clapped. “She’s got a sense of humor. I like you already.”
Carol just grinned and asked, “Hungry?”
“Tea would be a good idea,” Tom said. “Use my special blend.”
“Tea and cookies coming right up.” Carol bounced up and down on her toes. “See you at dinner, Doc.”
“Oh, please call me Emilie. I’m not one to stand on ceremony.”
“A sense of humor and humble,” Carol said, turning to smile at Tom. “I think we’ve got a winner here, boss.”
“I’m beginning to think the same thing,” he replied, his gaze slipping over Emilie’s face like a caress.
She stared back, uncertain and unbalanced by their candor and the heat in Tom’s eyes.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Sharon said. “Sorry for the in-and-out visit. See you at dinner, Emilie?”
“Sure, I look forward to it.”
“Tom, you want me to deliver?” Carol asked, following Sharon as far as the doors.
“No, I’ll pick the tea up.”
“Good enough.” She nodded at Emilie and left.
Emilie looked at Tom, whose serene gaze helped her catch her breath.
“Wow, is everyone as—” Emilie searched for the right word, “—intense as those two?”
His rich laughter wrapped around her like a warm blanket. “No, not everyone. You’ll find most folks who work here have independent, self-reliant personalities. Some like Sharon and Carol are dynamos, while others are quite calming to be around.”
“And here I thought only the weather was going to be overwhelming.”
“Antarctica, and the people who come here, aren’t like the rest of the planet. Gravity still works, but that’s about it.”
She chuckled. “Reassuring.”
“It’s not meant to be.” He paused for a moment, his expression serious. “One wrong step, one mistake can kill here. We live and breathe safety.” He raised one brow, as if waiting for a response.
Arrogant.
She studied the lines of his face. No, not arrogance, concern. She cleared her throat. “I took that wrong step.”
“You won’t repeat it, will you?” His sudden smile cinched it. He cared. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been looking forward to having a real doctor around.”
A complicated man. One with more than his fair share of compassion and good looks. Her cheeks grew warm. She wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. To hide it, she examined herself. “I’m looking forward to using all my fingers and toes.” She wiggled them experimentally. “What’s your prognosis?”
“Good news for both of us. There’s no frostbite, so you have your fingers and toes and I have my doctor.” He grabbed a digital thermometer off the counter behind him and stuck the sensor in her ear.
“Ninety-six,” he reported. “Not bad, but I think that cup of tea will finish warming you. Relax for a minute. I’ll be right back.” He smiled at her again and left the room.
Emilie stared after him. Her first hour at the South Pole and she’d gotten lost, been rescued, met a few of the characters she’d be working with for many months and been taken care of by a man whose drive and determination, while appealing, wasn’t even what she liked best about him. He’d handled her with a degree of gentleness that soothed deeper hurts.
For the first time since David died, she felt something other than grief—attraction and a purely feminine sort of fear. Feelings like that created the potential for pain, something she’d had more than her share of.
She looked down at her toes and wiggled them. “You look healthy enough.”
“Who looks healthy?”
Emilie glanced up. Tom stood just inside the doorway, two steaming cups in his hands. “My toes.”
He grunted and handed her a cup of tea. “It’s chamomile with a little sugar.”
“Oh, thank you.” Taking a sip, she savored it for a moment before letting it slide down her throat.
He watched it go down, then jerked his gaze back to her face, one corner of his mouth curving as if he’d thought of something funny.
“You look like you’ve got something to say,” Emilie said, taking another sip.
Tom took a drink from his own cup of tea. How civilized. Civilized and unexpected.
“Are you going to be trouble, Dr. Saunderson?”
“Who, me? I would never.”
He laughed then tilted his head and pursed his lips. “I’m just wondering what brings a big-time doctor like you to this little piece of paradise. Your file says you’re qualified in emergency medicine and surgery. Usually we get either a science nut with five different experiments tucked into his lab coat pockets or an adventure addict who wants to sleep outside in an igloo he’s built with his own hands.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? You know how to build an igloo?”
He winced. “That was a complaint, not a suggestion.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’m here to work.” She paused. “And honor a promise to complete a single research project.”
One of his eyebrows rose in question.
“I promised my husband I’d finish something important to him, an experiment on very special bacteria.”
“It must be some experiment for you to be separated from him for eleven months. Or are you one of those professional couples who enjoy time apart?”
“Enjoy?” Emilie blinked at the sudden agony shooting through her chest. It sat directly over her diaphragm like a thousand-pound weight, forcing the air out, making it impossible to take in another breath. She closed her eyes and knew it would take years, maybe a lifetime, before that burden would lift enough to allow her to truly breathe without pain again. It didn’t matter, she had to find a way to keep going. “My husband is…” She knew in her head that talking helped, but every time she said it aloud, the words cut into places already bloodied and bleeding. “I’m not married anymore.”
Tom’s expression didn’t change. He nodded at her left hand. “You’re wearing a ring.”
She glanced down, shocked to see a teardrop hit the back of her hand. “Old habits.”
“Just got divorced?” he asked, straightening as he stared at her face.
He wasn’t going to leave it alone, damn him. “No.” The tears wouldn’t stop. They dripped onto her hand, hot and heavy, like the words stuck in her thro
at. “My husband died last year.”
Tom winced and rocked back on his heels. “Ouch. I’m sorry. Damn…I read about him in your personnel file, but there was no mention of…I’m so sorry.” He put his tea down and grabbed a couple of tissues from a box on the nearby desk.
“Here,” he said, handing her one, then wiping her face with the second.
Emilie froze, not knowing if she should back away or lean toward him. One movement invited comfort while the other rejected it. Neither option felt right.
She held herself still and met his gaze. “Thank you. I’m sorry my emotions are such a mess.”
“The stress of your arrival has a lot to do with it.”
“You mean my own stupidity in getting lost and almost dying only an hour ago?”
He grunted. “Yeah, that.” He studied her in silence for a moment, then said, “I need to know how tough you are. Because when the sun finally goes down after its last two-week-long sunset, life here can get intense. And strange.”
Taking one last dab at her eyes, Emilie dredged up a smile and pasted it on her face. “I can hack it. I’ve spent months working in the Arctic with no problems.” She cleared her throat, desperately clinging to her purpose here. “So, where did my stuff go?”
Tom nodded uneasily and drew in a stiff breath. “Your duffel and backpack are in your room.”
She nodded, thankful he didn’t insist on discussing her private life right then and there. Today, the pressure of one more word would have been enough to shatter her.
She took a better look around the room they were in. That was all she needed to do, just keep moving forward and focus on the job. “I take it this is the medical center.”
“Yep, I’m afraid this is it.”
Hemmed in by an exam room, the two-bed ward along the back wall and diagnostic equipment and medical supplies everywhere else, the room looked more like a supply closet than a clinic.
“Looks like I’ve got one, and only one, of everything.”
“Just about.”
“The weird and wonderful is normal, right?” she replied, trying to show him she’d recovered from her emotional outburst with a smile.
He angled his head toward the doors. “Come on, I think you’re ready for a tour. Then you can get set up.”
“So, you’re pronouncing me cured from foot-in-mouth disease?”
He chuckled. “Cured and officially station doctor.”
“Speaking of official, I’ve seen your job description, but I’d like to hear it from you. What does the station manager actually do?”
Tom led the way out and down a hallway. “What I don’t do is a shorter list.” He paused. “Basically, I keep the peace and this place running. I’m the go-to guy for all things mechanical, electronic and power related. I make sure the scientists are happy and not getting into fights over scheduling of equipment, allocation of supplies and placement of personnel.” He ambled along like he owned the place, but then again he sort of did. Nice long, strong strides.
“Sounds like you never get a break.”
“I do, I just have to be creative about it.” He pointed at the doors along the hall. “This is the science section. We’ve got a large number of scientific studies and experiments running from biological to astrophysics. More than half the crew are scientists, or beakers, as we like to call them. The rest of us are just Polies, because we work—”
“At the South Pole,” she finished.
He slid her a lopsided grin that made her belly flip-flop. “You’re fast.”
“Any other lingo I should know?”
“Quite a bit. But I’m a good teacher.” He winked. “You’ll catch on.”
He opened a door to reveal a smallish room packed with exercise equipment. “Here we have the gym and sauna.” He showed her the inside of the sauna.
“Coed or are there different hours for men and women?”
“A little of both,” he said with a smile that told her he enjoyed the use of it. “We also have an improvised hothouse where we grow some vegetables and a kitchen the likes of which Emeril would kill for.”
“Assuming you like to cook.”
“You don’t?”
“I don’t do domestic.”
“Cooking can be an adventure.”
She frowned. “I never gave it a lot of thought. David wasn’t home much and when he was we were both busy. We ate out, ate separately or forgot to eat. I’m pretty sure we had a kitchen, but it didn’t see a great deal of use.” All that had been about to change. David had been as excited as she for the baby’s arrival.
“Well, hobbies are essential to your sanity down here, and you can’t work all the time. If you want to try something new, how about I introduce you to the head chef? Maybe you can squeeze a couple of cooking lessons out of him.”
“If I want to learn how to cook.”
“If you want to learn how to cook,” he repeated with a nod.
Did she? A vision of the two of them having dinner together solidified in her mind. Candlelight, wine, soft music. She immediately shook that picture out of her head, but the momentary melancholia it left behind lingered. “If I want to learn to cook,” she whispered. And suddenly it didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
As a hobby. Something new.
Chapter Two
David lay on the ground in front of her gasping for air, his lips blue and eyes sightless.
“No!” A scream escaped her throat.
It wasn’t the rustling of leaves on a forest path in her ears but the silence of a dark room.
Trembling, Emilie wiped the tears from her face as cold reality swept over her. David was gone and nothing could bring him back.
She sat up, thrust the nightmare, and its lingering tentacles of sorrow and remorse, out of her mind and pushed out of her sleeping bag. Sweat coated her skin, and as soon as she hit the icy air of the station, she shivered.
Her room was the skinniest she’d ever seen, barely large enough to accommodate a twin bed, chest of drawers and tiny student desk. She quickly pulled on the requisite three layers of clothes, silk long underwear, cotton over that and jeans with a turtleneck sweater and jumped into thermal rubber boots.
Work. She needed to immerse herself in work. That was what she was here for. Better start with breakfast first. And coffee, strong coffee.
She locked her door and headed down the hall, the smell of frying bacon leading her to the cafeteria at the other end of the station.
“Thank God,” she croaked as soon as she saw the full pot sitting, hot and steaming, on a table near the entrance. She filled a cup, closed her eyes and took a reverent sip.
“Our doctor likes her coffee,” someone said.
Emilie opened her eyes. The room was half-full of people, most focused on eating or chatting. Tom and three other guys sitting at a table a few feet away were watching her drink. “This is black gold,” she said, tipping her cup back again. “The fountain of youth.” She inhaled deeply. “Do I smell food?”
“Help yourself,” Tom said with a nod to the buffet line.
Emilie loaded up on eggs, bacon and hash browns, then turned to see him waving at her to take an unoccupied seat at his table. She put her tray down and held out her hand to a fellow who looked like a surfer with his mop of blond hair and wide smile. “Hi, I’m Emilie.”
“Tyler, mechanic,” he said.
“Bob, power engineer,” said the older, balding man next to him, also shaking her hand.
“Stan, we met yesterday.” Across the table, a fortyish man with salt-and-pepper short hair gave her a respectful nod.
“I remember. You have a distinctive voice.”
“That’s a diplomatic way of putting it,” Tom said. He leaned toward her and stage-whispered, “He sings, or at least, he tries to.”
“Better than you any day, Tommy.”
Tom grinned but otherwise ignored Stan’s comeback. Instead he asked Emilie, “Feeling okay?”
“Yes, thank you. Better
than I expected.”
“This place is good at surprising people.” He flashed her a conspiratorial grin.
“So I discovered yesterday. The hard way.” She glanced around the table and found that she had the attention of all the men. “I got really confused out there.”
“It happens more often than we’d like,” Stan said.
“We need to rig up some kind of beacon or guide wires.” Tom frowned. “This is the third time someone’s gotten lost between here and the landing strip this month.”
“I don’t know that a beacon would work,” she said. “I couldn’t see more than a foot in front of me.”
“Good point.”
“We’ve got all kinds of useless junk left over from the old dome that could be recycled. Maybe we could create a trail to follow,” Stan suggested. “I’ll work on it.” He turned to Emilie. “Question, do you sing?”
She blinked at the rapid change of subject. “Sing?” Something else she’d never had time to do, though she loved music.
“Tom and I have a little group that gets together for regular jam sessions and we need a singer.”
“Well, I—”
“Or just come and listen, if you prefer.”
“If you’re interested in something a little quieter,” Bob added. “The chess club meets here after dinner most days.”
“And I,” Tyler said, making a show of stretching his arms behind his head, “entertain the ladies.”
Emilie laughed along with the others. “That must keep you busy.”
“But not out of trouble,” Bob said, rolling his eyes.
“Nah, that’s my job.” Tom gave her a hormone-charged smile she felt all the way to her toes. “Ready for your first full day?”
Emilie nodded, consciously shoving her attraction for him to the back of her mind. “I have a million questions. What’s your schedule like today?” She picked up her fork and began eating.
“My daily check-in with all departments, but after that, I blocked off the rest of the morning to help get you up and running.”
She released a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Thanks, I think I’m going to need it.”