Chapter 5
Hayden
“Miasma was thoroughly debunked by early scientists.” I stand at the podium before a small panel of graduate advisers explaining the premise of my graduate thesis. “While miasma led to things like better sanitation, germ theory was in direct response to the notion that the air could hold sickness.
“You’ll bring in the case of the choir…” Dr. Vera Cross, my graduate advisor, prompts.
“Absolutely, the tragic story of the Sagkit Valley Chorale in Seattle was the first indication we were dealing with something more than skin-to-skin transmission. They followed all the CDC protocols. They washed their hands, they social distanced, they cleaned all surfaces. Yet after that one rehearsal, fifty-two individuals were diagnosed with the disease and three tragically died.”
“What will be your contribution to the body of knowledge, Miss Bradford?” Dr. Becker, the director of graduate studies, makes notes on his legal pad.
He’s very old-school, and most of my fellow students are afraid of him. I welcome his questions. He’s a good professor, and he challenges us to tie up every loose thread.
“Kawasaki Disease is a rare syndrome that mostly affects children under the age of five. It’s a terrible disease that causes extreme cardiovascular damage and can ultimately lead to death.
” I swipe through my notes. “To this day, researchers still don’t know what causes it.
It’s not spread by person-to-person contact, however they have identified a pattern that coincides with the wind and dust storms sweeping from China into Japan, where the illness most often occurs.
Here on the west coast, Kawasaki outbreaks have been linked to weather patterns and strong winds coming off the Pacific Ocean. ”
My throat tightens as two of the professors mutter something under their breath to each other that doesn’t sound encouraging.
“It’s still highly theoretical,” I continue.
“I’m collaborating with a researcher at the Japanese Society of Kawasaki Disease, and if we were able to establish a link between air currents and the transmission of Kawasaki, it’s possible we could protect babies at these critical times and potentially save hundreds of lives. ”
Dr. Becker straightens in his chair, crossing his leg and fixing his dark brown eyes on me. “That’s quite an ambitious goal.”
“Yes, sir, it is.” I look down at my iPad. “Researchers have been trying to solve this problem for five decades. I hope I can do my part to help advance our knowledge so no more babies will die from this terrible illness.”
“I look forward to seeing what you’re able to learn.” He stands, and my shoulders relax.
Dr. Cross steps forward to take my hand. “Well done, Haddy. I’ve never felt so inspired.”
My lips tighten, and I watch as the three other members of my advisory committee close ranks to chat.
“I hope I didn’t over-promise. I don’t think I’ll find the cause, but I want to advance the ball down the field.”
“A football metaphor?” The older woman’s nose wrinkles with her smile. “If you take after your dad, you certainly will.”
Dr. Becker walks over, extending his hand. “Nice presentation, Miss Bradford. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t your mother Raven Bradford, chief meteorologist at KCLA?”
“Yes, she is.” I smile, knowing what’s coming next.
“And you’re an aerobiologist. I guess studying air currents runs in the family?”
“Mom always says understanding the weather can save lives, although she was hoping to be the next female Jim Cantore.”
He breaks into a chuckle. “What in the world is she doing in LA?”
“I guess you can blame me for that. She came here to be with my dad.”
“Of course.” He lifts his chin. “This research has a lot of potential. I’m glad to be on your advisory committee.”
“I’m glad to have you.”
We exchange a few more pleasantries, and I head to the lab where I’ll spend the majority of my time this semester. It’s a big white room with large computer monitors showing wind currents and tracking models.
It’s a lot like what my mom uses at the television station, and even if she is miffed at me for continuing the pageant tradition, she’s pretty stoked about my studies.
“How’d it go?” Timothy Grant walks up and leans against the counter where I’ve placed my iPad and phone.
He’s studying tickling. It’s the kind of research topic we get a lot of negative publicity for, but if the haters would dig a little deeper, they’d find out he’s actually working on something extremely useful in diagnosing autism in infants.
“They’re all pretty psyched about it.” I give him a smile, and he blinks at me a second like his mind blanked.
He quickly clears his throat, giving his head a little shake. “All you have to say is ‘saves the lives of babies,’ and people start throwing money at you.”
“Nobody’s throwing money at me yet, unless you count the International Princess Woman Scholarship Program.”
He huffs a laugh. “I still can’t get over that. I mean, obviously you’re beautiful, but princess, whoa. Unexpected.”
“Right.” My lips press into a frown. “Let’s just keep it between us, okay?”
The only reason Timothy even knows about my pageant money is because he saw the letter sitting on my desk in the lab and asked. And I’m a terrible liar. If someone asks me a difficult question, I completely freeze up and blurt the truth.
“My lips are sealed.” He does a little zipping movement in front of his mouth. “Want to head out and grab a beer? It’s quitting time.”
“Can I get a rain check?” His brow furrows, and I explain.
“A while back my cousins and I set up this standing date night to be sure we spend time together each week. It sounds silly, but we’re all so busy with all our jobs and Mav’s games.
Monday seemed like the best night, because you know.
Monday. When he’s not playing, of course. ”
“Rain check accepted. Maybe we can try again Thursday?”
“Oh…” My lips twist. “Thursday is game night.”
“As in…”
“It’s when Gigi and I go to watch him play when he’s in town, because you know. Thursday.”
“I’m not sure I do know.” He laughs, but it seems less convincing the second time.
“They’re the two days nothing much happens. Monday’s the first day of the week, and Thursday is the day before the weekend starts amping up.”
He nods, “I concede to your scientific approach to the weekdays. How about Friday, then?”
“Yes!” I hold out my hand for a shake.
He takes my hand, and my shoulder lifts at the way he caresses it. Did I just agree to go on a date with Timothy?
“Drinks on Friday,” I reiterate just to clarify.
I’m not sure dating him is such a good idea, especially since we share a lab space.
“TGIF.”
Scooping up my things, I head for the door before things get weird.
“I have the fish bowl!” Maverick marches into the living room, using his announcer voice as he raises a plastic bowl filled with little slips of paper. “Who’s doing the honors tonight?”
“I think you put Pepper X in dinner tonight.” Gina complains, eating another spoonful of Ben & Jerry’s Fudgy Flan. “My tongue is still burning.”
“I told you it was just jalapenos,” he argues.
“Who puts jalapenos in hummus?” Gavin emerges from the kitchen where I assume he finished loading the dish washer.
I did not offer to help with clean-up tonight. After our horrifying encounter in the hall this morning, I haven’t even looked at Gavin Knight all day, and I’m still a little pissed at Maverick for putting him on the second floor with me and Gina and not warning us.
It’s always been just us girls up there, and he knows Spanky is a towel thief. Gigi blames it on the way we used to laugh when he was a puppy and stole all our things. He still thinks it’s a game.
“It’s pretty good, isn’t it?” Maverick joins his friend behind the couch.
“It’s different.”
A tingle passes over my shoulders at the sound of Gavin’s chuckle, which I immediately dismiss. I’m a grown woman and a scientist. So what if he saw me naked?
Gigi hops onto her feet on the couch, looking up at them. “I think Gavin should do the honors, since it’s his first Monday Movie Night!”
“What do I do?” I’m not looking at them, but I can feel every time his eyes drift to where I’m holding Patsy under my chin and pretending to be completely absorbed in checking my social media.
Of course, it’s all pictures of me flying through the air like a doofus off the parade float straight into his waiting arms. That, or people reenacting me flying off the float accompanied by strings of laugh-crying emojis.
Sometimes I hate this timeline.
“Now, open the paper to see what you picked,” Maverick explains. “If we all hate it, you can put it back and draw again, but we all have to hate it.”
“Somebody won’t hate it,” Gina argues. “They put it in there!”
“Majority rules,” our cousin replies.
“It says… Jurassic Park.” Gavin looks at each of us, and it’s like a thermal laser when his eyes glide over me. “Everybody good with that?”
My cousins all agree, but I don’t look up from my phone.
“Haddy!” Gina finally shouts. “Would you stop looking at your phone and pay attention?”
“Jurassic Park is fine,” I answer, still not looking at them.
Gigi exhales a noise, but Maverick has the remote in his hand to pull up the movie.
“Just because Gav saw you naked, doesn’t mean you have to give us all the silent treatment.” Gigi grouses, and I glare at her. “Well, it doesn’t!”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment. I had a pretty tough day. I’d like to decompress.”
“What made it so tough, Hads?” Maverick sits on the floor in front of my chair and leans his back against it.
I reach out to thread my fingers in his thick dark hair, and give it a sharp pull. “For starters, no one warned me a guy was on our floor.”
“Ow!” He laughs, pulling his head forward. “I didn’t know you were planning to flash him!”
“I wasn’t.”
Gavin walks around to sit on the other end of the couch from Gina, which puts him closer to where we are. My skin prickles with heat, but I keep my eyes on the opening scene of the raptors being delivered to the park.
“It’s so much like Jaws.” Gigi’s knees are bent, and she has a pillow on top of them to hide her eyes. “The way the girl gets yanked all over the ocean?”
“I’m getting more Indiana Jones vibes,” Mav counters. “What about you, Princess?”
My lips twist and we watch as the movie shifts to the archaeologists in the field. I know what’s coming with the pile of poop, and I remember my reference to miasma this morning.
“This movie made me want to be a scientist.” My voice is quiet, and I feel Gav’s eyes drift to me.
“You wanted to shove your hands in massive piles of poop?” Maverick leans his head back to look up at me.
“I have never done that once.”
“But you are the super poo—”
“Maverick!” I yell, pushing his head. “Shut up.”
Gigi falls to the side on the couch laughing. “You are so dead, Mav.”
A smile is on Gavin’s face as he watches us. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“You’re not.” My throat tightens, and I feel my face heating.
“Well, I think it’s pretty cool that you’re a scientist.” Gavin’s tone is warm.
“Thank you.” I still don’t make eye contact.
We continue watching the film. Gigi buries her head in the pillow when the T. Rex pushes the kids around in the car, when the raptors chase the kids in the kitchen, when they barely escape the island. Of course, we tease her.
“We’ve watched this movie a billion times.” Maverick stands, stretching as it ends. “I can’t believe you’re still hiding from dinosaurs.”
“It’s scary!” Gigi stands, and Spanky trots up to her side.
I stand as well, and Patsy stirs in my hold. “I’m taking her out. Want me to take Spanky, too?”
“Please!” Gigi clasps her hands before catching the bannister and trotting up the stairs.
“Come on, bad boy.” I snap my fingers, and the white puff ball jogs up to my side.
To my dismay, Gavin stands as well, following me. “I’ll help you.”
“I don’t really need help.” We walk through the kitchen to the back door, and I walk across the wooden deck to put my tiny guest on the grass.
She hops more than walks, and I can’t help a smile. “She’s so tiny!”
“Hey,” Gavin touches my arm, and it’s like a little shock. “I’m really sorry I saw you naked this morning. It was a total accident.”
“We really don’t have to talk about it.” I blink up at his blue eyes, which are stupidly gorgeous.
“If it helps, you have a really nice body.”
A flash of heat fills my stomach. “It doesn’t help,” I answer quickly.
My face is red, and I angrily fight against my involuntary physical response to him. It’s simple biology, as I well know being a scientist. I can control it.
“Your breasts are perfect.” A naughty glint is in his eyes.
“Please stop talking.”
“It was like one of those movie scenes when all of a sudden, a perfect rack flashes across the screen. Like Airplane! Or what was that high school movie with girls in the showers?”
I know exactly what he’s talking about. My mom is a total movie buff, and I was raised on old films.
“They don’t do that anymore.”
“Doesn’t mean little boys don’t know how to track them down.”
My eyes slide to his. “I take it you tracked them down? That sounds right.”
Player.
“You bet I did. There’s nothing better than perfect breasts. They’re works of art.”
Patsy is hopping back to where we stand after doing her business. I walk forward and scoop her off the ground. “I’m going to bed now.”
He laughs, a full-throated hearty sound I don’t want to like. “I’m just messing with you, Haddy. Can’t we be friends?”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
He puts his hand on the porch railing, leaning forward. “Maybe I’ll grow on you.”
“Good night, Gavin.” I turn on my heel and head to the door, the noise of his chuckle echoing behind me in the night.