Читать книгу Her Hard To Resist Husband - Tina Beckett - Страница 11

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 São João 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.

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 São João 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 São João 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 São João 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 misgivings 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 São João 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?

“You sure you want to do this? The airport is on our way. We could still have you on a flight to São Paulo in a jiffy.”

She jerked in her seat, gripping the webbing of the seat belt before shifting to look at him. “I can’t just turn my back on the town. That’s not how I operate.”

Really? It had seemed all too easy for her to turn her back on him. But saying so wouldn’t help anyone.

They reached the entrance to the highway, and Ben sighed when he saw metal barricades stretched across its width.

The four-lane road—long under construction—was still not finished.

He coasted down a steep incline to reach the so-called official detour, which consisted of a narrow dirt track running parallel to the road. It looked more like a gully from water run-off than an actual street. As far as the eye could see, where the highway should have been there was now a long stretch of hard-packed orange clay that was impassable. At the moment trucks seemed to be the only vehicles braving the washboard tract Ben and Tracy were forced to use. Then again, there was no other option. Most things, including food, were moved from city to city via semi-tractor-trailers. And with the current conditions of the highway it was no wonder things were so expensive in northeastern Brazil.

“How long have they been working on this?” Tracy asked.

“Do you really need to ask?”

“No. But it was paved the last time I was here.”

They’d spent most of their marriage in Teresina, the capital of the state of Piaui. He’d rearranged his job so he could stay in one place. Ben thought Tracy had been willing to do the same. How wrong he’d been.

She had come off the medical boat and put someone else in her place, but that was about the only concession she’d made to their marriage. By the time he’d realized she was never going to slow down, he’d lost more than just his wife.

“Yes, it was paved, after a fashion.” He grimaced. “I think the shoulder we’re on is in better shape than the highway was back then.”

Ben slowed to navigate a particularly bad stretch where torrential rains had worn a deep channel into the dirt. “Well, some parts of it, anyway.”

“My car would never survive the trip.”

He smiled. “Are you still driving that little tin can?”

“Rhonda gets great gas mileage.”

His gut twisted. He could still remember the laughter they’d shared over Tracy’s insistence on keeping her ragamuffin car when they’d got married, despite the hazardous stretches of road in Teresina. To his surprise, the little vehicle had been sturdier than it had appeared, bumping along the worst of the cobblestone streets with little more than an occasional hiccup. Like the bumper she’d lost on a visit to one of the neighboring aldéias. She’d come back with the thing strapped to the roof. He smiled. When he’d suggested it was time to trade the vehicle in, she’d refused, patting the bonnet and saying the car had seen her through some tough spots.

His smile faded. Funny how her loyalty to her car hadn’t been mirrored in her marriage.

He cast around for a different subject, but Tracy got there first.

“How’s Marcelo doing?”

Ben’s brother was the new chief of neurosurgery over at Teresina’s main hospital. “He’s fine. Still as opinionated as ever.”

She smiled. “Translated to mean he’s still single.”

“Always will be, if he has his way.” He glanced over at her. “What about you? How’s Projeto Vida going?” The medical-aid ship that had brought them together was still Tracy’s pet project.

“Wonderfully. Matt is back on the team and has a baby girl now.”

Tracy’s sister had died years ago, leaving her husband, Matt, heartbroken. “He remarried?”

“Yep. Two years ago.” She paused. “Stevie … Stephani, actually, is great. She loves the job and fits right into the team.”

“I’m glad. Matt seemed like a nice guy.” Ben had met him on several occasions when they’d traveled to Coari to deliver supplies or check on the medical boat.

“He is. It’s good to see him happy again.”

Which was more than he could say about Tracy. Maybe it was the stress of what she’d been dealing with in São João dos Rios, but the dark circles under her green eyes worried him. He glanced to the side for a quick peek. The rest of her looked exactly as he remembered, though. Long, silky black hair that hung just below her shoulders. The soft fringe of bangs that fluttered whenever the flow from the air-conditioning vent caught the strands. Lean, tanned legs encased in khaki shorts.

And as much as he wished otherwise, being near her again made him long for family and normalcy all over again. He’d always thought she would bring stability to his life, help to counteract his tumultuous upbringing. His parents had drifted here and there, always searching for a new adventure while leaving their two young sons in the care of their housekeeper. In many ways, Ben had felt closer to Rosa than to his own mother, so much so that he’d kept her on at his house long after his parents had moved to the States on a permanent basis.

He’d thought life with Tracy would be different. That their children would have the close-knit family he’d always longed for as a kid. But Tracy, once the first blush of their marriage had faded, had started traveling again, always finding some new medical crisis to deal with, whether with Projeto Vida or somewhere else.

He could understand being married to your career—after all, he was pretty attached to his—but he’d learned to do it from one central location. Surely Tracy could have done the same.

Instead, with every month that had passed, the same feelings of abandonment he’d had as a kid had taken root and grown, as had his resentment. And once she’d fallen pregnant, she’d seemed more obsessed about work than ever, spending longer and longer periods away from home.

When he’d learned she was dealing with a yellow fever outbreak in one of the villages he’d finally snapped and called his old friend General Gutierrez—despite the fact that he knew Tracy been vaccinated against the disease. His ploy had worked. Tracy had come home. But their marriage had been over, even before she’d lost the baby.

So why hadn’t he just settled down with someone else, like Tracy had suggested a few hours earlier? Marriage wasn’t exactly a requirement these days. And why hadn’t Tracy finally asked for a divorce and been done with it?

Questions he was better off not asking.

“What’s the time frame for pneumonic plague?”

Her question jolted him back to the present. “From exposure to presentation of symptoms? Two days, on average. Although death can take anywhere from thirty-six hours after exposure to a week or more. It depends on whether or not other organ systems besides the lungs have been compromised.”

“Oh, no.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve brought packets of antibiotics in that black gym bag I threw in the back. Go ahead and dig through it and take a dose before we get there.”

Tracy unhooked her seat belt and twisted until she could reach the backseat. She then pulled out one of the boxes of medicine and popped a pill from the protective foil. She downed it with a swig from her water bottle then shoved a couple of strands of hair back from her temple. “You have no idea how glad I am that you were able figure it out so quickly.”

“I think I do.” Surely she realized he was just as relieved as she was. “Not everyone has the equipment we do.”

“Or the backing of the military.”

He ignored the bitterness that colored her words. “Part of the reality of living in a developing country. We’ll catch up with the rest of the world, eventually. Marcelo’s hospital is a great example of that. It’s completely funded by sources outside the government.”

“So is Projeto Vida.” She paused when they hit another rough patch of road, her hand scrabbling for the grip attached to the ceiling. “Speaking of funding, we’ll need to check with the nearest pharmacist to make sure they have enough antibiotics on hand. I’ll pay for more, if need be.”

“I was already planning to help with the costs.” He glanced over and their eyes caught for a second. When he turned his attention back to the road, her fingers slid over the hand he had resting on the emergency brake before retreating.

“Thank you, Ben,” she said. “For letting me come. And for caring about what happens to those people.”

He swallowed, her words and the warmth of her fingers penetrating the icy wall he’d built up over the last four years.

It wasn’t exactly the thing that peace treaties were made of, but he got the feeling that Tracy had just initiated talks.

And had thrown the ball squarely into his court.