Tracy Wolff - About the Baby

“Of course he does.”

Even as they joked, the panic coalesced in her stomach, turning into a deep and churning sickness. Five years ago she would have leaped at the chance for this assignment. Hell, she probably would have been vibrating with excitement over it even two years ago. But right now it seemed a lot more like a punishment than a reward, a lot more like she was heading into hell rather than being given the prime assignment of her career.

If this thing was a mutated Ebola, changing its infection patterns, then this was it. This was her smallpox. Her hepatitis. Her AIDS. This was the case epidemiologists waited their whole career for and few ever got the chance to see.

So why did she feel like throwing up? She wasn’t afraid. She knew how to be careful, how to protect herself. But just the idea of going into Eritrea, of dealing with all the problems there—caused by this disease as well as centuries of war, famine and neglect—made her sick. She didn’t want to hurt anymore. Didn’t want to get knee-deep into this thing only to be pulled out before she could help, really help.

She knew she didn’t have it in her to walk away in the middle of this thing. Not again. Knowing she could help but being unable to do so would crush her completely.

Beside her Lucas stiffened, aware of her distress. Somehow it only made things worse. It was bad enough to admit to yourself you were a coward, but to have your best friend know made it different, somehow. Worse.

“You still there, Kara?”

The fact that her boss had called her by her first name told her that, not only was Lucas aware she was a basket case, Paul had a pretty good clue, as well. There wasn’t much softness in Paul, so if even he was questioning her mental health…

“Yeah, I’m here, Paul.”

There was another pause, this time on his side. “You okay to go, Kara?”

The sudden doubt in his voice had her straightening her spine and toughening up her own voice. She wasn’t even close to being okay, but it wasn’t as though she had a choice. Not if she wanted to be able to look herself in the mirror tomorrow. Those people needed help.

“I’m perfectly fine and definitely ready to go.”

Lucas let go of her hand, made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. She glanced over at him and caught the disapproving look on his face before he could banish it. It made her panic worse, but she refused to let herself be swayed by it.

With Lucas looking on like that, she knew there was no way she’d be able to finish her discussion with her boss. She turned her back on him and walked a few steps away.

“I’ve got this,” she continued, forcing steel into a reassurance that she was far from feeling. “But you have to promise me that barring a full-on revolution, you’re not going to pull me out in the middle of this.”

“Steward—”

“No, Paul. I mean it.” She put it in terms she knew he would understand. “This is the case I’ve been waiting my whole career for. You can’t put me down in the middle of it and then pull me out when it’s convenient for you. I can’t work like that. I won’t work like that.”

“You’ll work how I tell you to work!” he snapped, but then his voice softened. “Look, I know what happened in Somalia was bullshit, but you have to get past it. Eritrea is a whole different game.”

She wanted to laugh, but nothing was funny. Eritrea and Somalia, Ethiopia and Sudan, they were all the same game. All different sides of the same dice. And the Western world had spent the better part of two centuries rolling that dice just to see what number would come up. She was a fool to think this would be any different, but she had to. She had to believe it or there was no way she’d be able to get on that airplane.

Her prolonged silence must have made Paul nervous, because his voice was hesitant when he asked, “Steward? Are you still there? I didn’t lose you, did I?”

For long seconds she considered not answering, just letting the call drift away. But then where would she be? Where would any of them be?

“I’m still here.”

“Good. Okay, then, I’ll see you at ten. In the meantime, I’m going to put pressure on the Eritrean government to give me all the stats and info they have.”

“Which won’t be much.”

“No. But I’ll try to have a decent report together for you by the time you take off.”

“Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you. And Steward…”

She braced herself for words of comfort she didn’t know if she could handle hearing. “Yes?”

“Don’t screw up out there.”

She laughed. She should have known better than to think Paul had gotten in touch with his softer side.

“I’ll do my best.”

She hung up the phone and dropped it back into her bag. Then just stood for a minute gazing out into the night.

She wasn’t ready to look at Lucas. She didn’t know if it was because of that strange, magical kiss they’d shared minutes before or whether it was because he could so easily see through her. She’d thought she’d shored up her defenses pretty well before seeing him, but in one evening he’d shattered them and had her blubbering like a baby. She was afraid if she turned to face him now it would be an instant replay, and she couldn’t take that. She’d already cried all over him like some kind of high-maintenance whiner. Doing it twice in one evening was just a bad idea.

Besides, if she faced him, she’d have to think of something to say and right now her mind was blank.

Lucas didn’t seem to be suffering from the same affliction, though. “Ebola?” he asked. “A mutant strain of Ebola?”

“Maybe. We don’t know yet. I probably shouldn’t have had that conversation in front of you.”

“Yeah, because I’m going to go blabbing to the whole medical community about this.” He clasped her elbow, and when she still didn’t face him, he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her until there was no place else for her to look but into his eyes.

“You really think you’re in shape to do this kind of thing?” he demanded. “This isn’t a simple assignment, Kara. If you take it, you’re in it for the long-term and you know it.”

“It’s not a choice, Lucas. I’m the one Paul assigned. I have to go.”

Lucas cursed then, something low and vile and violent. “You know that’s not true. You can beg off if you want to. You just got back, for God’s sake. You need time to rest, to get your head back in the game. Hell, you were just talking about leaving the CDC.”

“Yes, talking about it. I hadn’t decided yet—and I still haven’t. Until I do, I follow Paul’s orders. Anyway, my head is already in the game, thank you very much. I can do this. I have to do this, and you telling me I’m not up for it only undermines me.”

“You know I think you’re brilliant. That’s not the point—”

“It is exactly the point,” she snapped. Then relented with a sigh. “Please, let’s not do this. Is flying out barely forty-eight hours after I got back an ideal situation? Not at all. I know it. Paul knows it. And it actually goes against protocol. But emergencies happen and this is what I do. I’m the best suited to go. And none of us wants to be sitting here in six months, looking at a worldwide Ebola epidemic because the CDC didn’t send in the right people.”

She bent down, picked up her shoes. “Now, if you could take me home, I would greatly appreciate it.”

For long seconds Lucas didn’t answer and she was just beginning to wonder if she was going to have to catch a cab when he said, “Come on. Let’s go.”

He started toward the exit without waiting for her—which was a totally un-Lucas thing to do. It illustrated just how angry and frustrated he was with her. Which bothered her, but it wasn’t like there was anything she could do about it. Frankly, she had other, more pressing things to worry about.