Chapter Three #2
“Since I heard about this deployment. When Justin Pitman sent me down here, with orders from the director of the CDC, he gave me strict instructions. We were to work with the army, not against them. Apparently, he had quite the meeting with your guy Briggs back home. Now, I see absolutely no reason why that can’t happen.
But I also know some things need to be straightened out ahead of time. ”
Norah bit her lip in frustration. She had no idea where the old man was going with this line of thought, and frankly, they didn’t have a lot of time to play politics right now.
“Although Pitman left me in charge, and Briggs agreed with this idea, I’m too old and tired to be taking the lead on anything anymore. That’s why I want Norah and Chase to run the operation down here together.”
A gust of air escaped from Chase, who was leaning against the edge of a nearby table. Norah sat on a folding chair just a foot away from her, each occasionally glancing at the other.
“You want what?” Chase asked, stepping away from the table and closer to John.
“I want you and Norah to work this together.”
“But…” Norah rose from her seat, wringing her hands. “That’s impossible.”
“Oh? And why is that?” John asked, his tone implying a degree of knowledge beyond what was clearly a professional conflict between the two.
“Because…because you can’t have two people in charge. Especially not a military doc and a CDC doc,” Norah said.
John’s freckled forearms were crossed over his large belly, and his face suggested the subject was not up for debate.
“Sure, we can. And we will. I don’t see any good reason you two can’t work side by side on this. Do you?”
Norah allowed herself to look at Chase for the first time since their meeting earlier.
Her expression was stern and fierce, like so many times Norah could remember.
It was a face that said she was pissed and nothing was about to change that fact.
Norah held her gaze, and Chase seemed to soften a little, until a version of something resembling a small smile emerged on her lips.
Norah was always good at talking Chase down—disengaging her.
Chase burned hot, and when the temperature got too high, Norah would settle her back down.
Evidently even time didn’t change some things.
The entrance to Norah’s tent was splayed open when Chase got there, as if she were expecting her.
Maybe she was. It took Chase over two hours to work up the nerve to walk the short distance to the army’s camp after their meeting had disbanded.
She told herself she was too engrossed in the most recent numbers rolling in from the CDC to bother with the meeting, but that was pure bullshit.
And if Norah’s expression earlier was any indication, she was still far too angry to approach Chase.
“May I come in?” The greeting felt uncomfortably familiar to Chase. Inappropriate almost. But what could she say? Hi. Sorry I messed everything up so many years ago. Want to work on this outbreak thing together?
Norah’s shoulders visibly tensed as she turned from the desk she’d rigged out of a plastic shipping container and a trash barrel.
“Of course.”
Chase remained near the entrance, unsure how to position herself. Sitting felt too informal, but standing felt defensive. Should she just take a knee or something? No. That was weird too.
“Have a seat.” Norah gestured to the cot next to her, its sheets perfectly tucked in hospital corners. “Just, you know, take your boots off.”
Chase stared at her, a coy smile finally sneaking its way through. “There she is. That’s the Norah I know.”
Norah held her gaze, her own eyes narrowed and scolding, until they softened just slightly, her full lips Chase used to know so well loosening into a grin.
“Yeah, well, I’m still me.”
“I sure hope so.”
Chase exhaled, allowing the muscles in her neck and back to release with her breath as she moved to the perfectly made cot and sat down.
“I figured you’d show up here eventually.” Norah moved her gaze from Chase’s face down to her mud-covered boots and pointed with her chin. Chase immediately pulled at the laces and tossed the boots out the door.
“Well, since we’re going to be coworkers and all.”
“Listen.” Norah’s tone grew cold, and she turned her back to Chase again. “I don’t like this any more than you do.” In fact, she was quite sure she liked it far less than Chase did.
“And who says I don’t like this?”
“You shouldn’t. It’s awkward. And weird.
And icky. And I refuse to let it muck up what we’re working on here.
” Norah reached up, gathered her long brown hair into one hand, and clipped it to the top of her head, leaving the bare nape of her neck, already sun-kissed from a day down South, painfully exposed to Chase.
A shudder raked Chase’s arms, one that left goosebumps in complete juxtaposition to the summer-like air around them, and a part of her, a visceral part she had clearly forgotten to dispose of fifteen years ago, struggled not to reach out and touch her.
“Norah. About before.” It felt like a foolish way to start broaching the past, but how did you start a conversation about the biggest mistake of your life?
Fortunately, or unfortunately—Chase couldn’t decide which—she didn’t need to continue. Norah spun around with gusto, her cheeks flushed and shining, as if desperate to stop her.
“Don’t. Let’s not do this. Not now.”
“Then when?”
“Never, actually. Never works best for me.” Norah looked away, leaving no room for Chase to continue the conversation.
“We can’t just not talk about it. What are we going to do? Work side by side for God knows how long and just pretend? Pretend we were never…us?”
“That sounds absolutely perfect. Now, do you have anything to contribute to H7J1 right now?”
“Norah.” Chase’s voice emerged as nothing but a sad whisper.
“Chase. The past is the past. There’s no need to rehash it.”
“Don’t you work with enough epidemiologists to know that history always repeats itself?” Chase wiggled her brow. It was impossible not to flirt with Norah. Not when all they’d ever known was an “us.” Even so many years later, they were anything but strangers.
The fire that flashed through Norah’s eyes told Chase her charming one-liners were not going to be met with anything except a brick wall.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Chase flopped back onto the cot, the comfort of being in Norah’s force field again taking over.
“Don’t flirt with me. I’m your boss. You’re my subordinate.” Norah’s words were stern, but her cheeks were flushed an even deeper pink, and her lashes fluttered just a bit faster than usual.
“Your subordinate?” No. Too easy of a setup. They weren’t there yet. Blatant sexual advances felt unwanted. “I believe John said we were equals.”
Norah rolled her eyes. “What does John know? And besides, who died and put him in charge?”
“Jesus. I believe it was Jesus, actually. Since that’s about how long John’s been working in the field.”
Norah let out a spurt of laughter, and Chase’s heart ached a little. She used to love making Norah laugh that way—pure, uninhibited. Everything Norah did was so precise, so perfectly planned, and something about making her laugh just felt so real to Chase.
“Fine, so we’re equals. That doesn’t change the fact I want to keep this completely professional between us. And that starts with not bringing up the past.”
“We have to talk about it at some point,” Chase said.
“No. We really don’t. What happened between us is ancient history.”
“Maybe for you it is. But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t spent every day of the last fifteen years thinking about it.”
Norah shot her hand up in the air and held it there.
“See? That. I don’t want to hear any of that, Chase. No more. It’s finished.”
But nothing in Norah’s eyes told Chase anything was finished.