Chapter Thirteen
Before she could get the words out, John’s voice boomed outside of Norah’s tent.
“Delivery.”
“Did you order DoorDash?” Chase asked. Her tone was lighter, and Norah knew she was probably as relieved as Norah was that Stevens was on the mend, and that Norah herself seemed to be turning a corner that evening.
“Two shrimp po’boys and fries, a vanilla milkshake, and a probably expired flu test I found in my supplies. Just for kicks. I’m leaving it out here, so put down whatever you two are working on and get it before the milkshake melts. This cost me thirty dollars of my own damn money.”
Chase smiled at Norah and walked to the door of the tent. “Thank you,” Chase shouted after the shadow of his retreating footsteps.
The milkshake was already fairly liquid from the hot summer night, and Chase handed it directly to Norah.
“Here. Think you can try some?”
“I think so.” Norah’s stomach still turned with hot acid, and waves of nausea periodically gripped her, but she knew the gesture would make Chase feel a lot better.
Besides, it did seem like her fever was starting to break, and her breathing felt a little easier since the morning.
She took a small sip, letting the sugar coat the back of her throat, the cold soothing the burning in her chest.
“You look better,” Chase said hopefully.
“I think I am.”
“Remember when you were in the hospital with pneumonia?” Chase’s eyes grew dark and distant at the memory, and Norah could see just how scared she’d been.
“Kind of. It was a blurry few days.”
“I really thought I was going to lose you. I sat with you every minute of the day and night. I didn’t even like leaving you to go to the bathroom. Hell. I didn’t shower until they got you off the oxygen entirely. I’m glad you don’t remember because I must have smelled just awful.”
Norah chuckled, took another sip of the milkshake, and placed her hand on Chase’s knee. “I don’t remember much from it, but I do remember you. Even when I was asleep, or so sick I couldn’t open my eyes, I remember you there. You were my safe place, Chase. You always were.”
A flood of tears to her dry eyes took her by surprise, the stinging bringing her back to the present moment.
She was there, and so was Chase. Their story might not have ended the way she’d hoped.
They might not have ended up with the happily-ever-after Norah had dreamed of.
But they were here. Together. And Chase was somehow still her safe place.
“I loved you so damn much. You know that?”
Norah turned away quickly, rubbing her eyes.
“I know.” She cleared her throat. “Hey. Want to try this? It would be wild if I just had the flu, wouldn’t it?”
It was more of a way to change the subject than out of actual interest in testing herself, but Norah thought it would distract Chase from reminiscing about their past anymore that night.
“Might as well.” Chase shrugged and opened the flu test. “Expired a month ago, but I’m sure it’s still fine. It’s not quite flu season yet, but who knows?”
She took the swab out of the package and twirled it in Norah’s nostril.
“Okay. You aren’t swabbing my brain here,” Norah said with a groan, her eyes watering all over again.
“Stop whining, will you?”
As they waited the required fifteen minutes for the test to run, Chase insisted on listening to Norah’s lungs again and retaking her temperature.
“Last dose of Tylenol was at two p.m. 99.6,” Chase said triumphantly. “Your fever’s gone. That’s a really good sign.” Norah was so charmed by Chase’s enthusiasm that she didn’t have the heart to remind her that she, too, had gone to medical school.
“I told you, I feel better.”
A timer on Chase’s phone interrupted her mid-bite of her sandwich. She rushed to the flu test that lay on the table, her mouth still full of food.
“You’re kidding me.” She held the test strip in her hand just staring at it, squinting in deep concentration, until she pushed it in Norah’s face, laughing. “Look! It’s positive! You have Flu B. Norah, it’s the goddamn flu.”
Chase’s laugh reverberated through the tent and seemingly out into the woods through the quiet night.
“No.” Norah began laughing along with her, not realizing how scared she’d really been until that very moment. “Who gets the flu in September? In the bayou? What kind of infectious-disease doctor am I?”
“I just…I’ve never been so relieved in my life,” Chase exclaimed.
“Will you swallow your food first before you spit it all over me?” Norah asked teasingly, enjoying the light that had returned to Chase’s beautiful green eyes she loved so much.
“I love you,” Chase said, shaking her head incredulously. “You don’t have to say it back. I don’t care. It’s enough just to love you. Just to know you’re still here, next to me.”
Norah held her gaze, wanting so badly to take Chase’s sweet, hopeful face in her hands and kiss her like nothing else mattered, like nothing else had ever mattered between them.
“Thank you for being here,” she finally said. It was all she could manage in the moment, but she had so much more to say.
It was near midnight when the blanket of fatigue wrapped around Norah so tightly she had no choice but to lie back down and fall asleep, close against Chase. She could wait to tell her about the clinical trial in the morning.
Their days in the bayou had all blurred into one giant mess of data points and infection statistics and terror and exhaustion, and, Norah had to admit, more than a little bit of enchantment, to the point where she had lost all concept of time.
It wasn’t until she glanced at her smart watch at the crack of dawn that Norah realized the date—September 3rd.
It was her forty-first birthday. Although birthdays had never been particularly important to Norah, she did find it a little unsettling that she had very little idea she was now a full year older until that moment.
She stretched her arms high up over her head and then fussed with her hair until it was in its usual ponytail again, just grateful to finally feel almost back to normal after her bout with the flu.
“Just another day of trying to save the world,” she muttered into the air.
For a minute on waking, just like she’d done every morning for the last few days, Norah reached for Chase next to her.
But she wasn’t there. Why would she be? Their quarantine had ended, and although they’d continued to share the occasional hand brushes and whispers in the dark, and had even kissed a couple of more times, they hadn’t talked about anything more.
Norah had made sure of that. The humidity that had been strangling them since their arrival had lessened just enough to be tolerable, and Norah couldn’t help but notice a feeling of hope ascending inside her.
Maybe it was just because she was well enough to get back to work on H7J1, or maybe it was the dramatic turn for the better Stevens had taken.
(He was nearly ready to be discharged from the hospital.) No one else in their camp had gotten sick yet, and Norah wasn’t sure whether she had fate or luck or the universe or just good old-fashioned science to thank for that.
But she didn’t care. In the last week they’d implemented the new six-foot-of-space rule for anyone outside their individual “pods,” and she had to admit, the reading she’d been doing on the clinical trial was encouraging.
Norah still hadn’t told Chase about it, partly because the documents were far outside of Chase’s security clearance, but mostly because Norah wasn’t sure what to do with this information yet.
Norah laced up her combat boots and put on her oversized safari hat that she knew made her look relatively ridiculous but also served its purpose, and stepped out of her tent, fully aware that she was already looking for Chase.
It was like Norah sensed when she was nearby.
And she was seemingly always wondering if she was around.
Chase wasn’t close. But immediately upon stepping out of the tent, Norah nearly tripped over something directly at the foot of the entryway.
Sitting on the ground outside was a single, perfect orchid, tall and pure white, gleaming in the sun. A sealed box of Pocky candy leaned against it, and a small piece of paper was attached to it with medical tape. No one knew it was her birthday…except…
She knew immediately where the gifts had come from. A rush of warmth cascaded over her, and Norah knelt to pick up the card.
Fifteen years and I haven’t missed a birthday yet. Can’t start now. -C
Norah’s heart stuttered a little, and she couldn’t help but smile.
She looked around quickly, wondering if anyone was watching.
Of course, the sentiment wasn’t entirely true—Chase had missed plenty of birthdays.
But Norah knew what she meant. She knew, because despite the fact she hardly had time to remember her own birthday half the time, every year on December 15th, Norah thought of Chase. Even when they were worlds apart.
The orchid. Norah had nearly forgotten. A week after her brother died, when the world seemed to be crashing down around her, Chase had arrived home one random afternoon with an orchid she’d picked out from the tiny florist shop near the medical school campus.
Flowers had never been Norah’s thing. She found them too cookie-cutter to be romantic, and besides, most green things seemed to die under her thumb.
But for some reason, that day, Chase had passed the flower shop and saw the orchid in the window and just had to get it for her.
She said it was strong and beautiful, and stood out in a field of roses and carnations, just like Norah.
Norah felt her absolutely shattered heart try to piece itself back together and remembered tears instantly pouring down her face as she threw her arms around Chase’s neck and pulled her in as close as she could.
Two weeks later, Chase was gone.
But Norah had spent a month trying to keep that damn plant alive.
She set a timer on her phone and measured the exact amount of water it needed with a food scale, researched the best fertilizers and the perfect amount of sunlight.
When the last leaf shriveled, Norah cried and cried until she thought she might throw up.
Davey was dead. Chase was gone. And she couldn’t even keep the stupid orchid from leaving her.
It could have been a bitter memory. Chase had to have known she was taking a gamble on that.
But instead, Norah remembered the sweet smile on Chase’s face when she walked through the door that night.
She remembered the feeling that she wasn’t alone.
She remembered what it felt like to be so deeply, truly seen.
God damn it, Chase was smooth. She always had been.
But Norah had to appreciate just how much time had refined her charm.
If it had been anyone else, Norah would have assumed the move was some kind of cheap play to get in her pants again.
But she knew Chase. She knew everything she did when it came to Norah was done with intention.
And fucking hell did this confuse things even more.
The Pockys. They’d been cast to the side when Norah pulled the note off.
But she couldn’t believe Chase remembered that the weird Japanese chocolate sticks were her favorite candy.
And where on earth did she manage to get them in the middle of the swamp, during a global pandemic?
Norah decided not to ask any more questions.
Instead, she wanted to let herself revel in the sweetness of knowing everything that had made them “them” was still very much there.
Even if it couldn’t be anything more than that knowledge.