LITMIR.BIZ

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task. It was another way in which Rafe was different. From the time Gemma had started working at the clinic, she was an assistant to the doctors. Rafe didn’t make her feel like she was helping him. When they worked together, she felt she was pulling her weight and making important contributions.

      Gemma entered the room and Rafe glanced over his shoulder at her. “How can I help?” She had to speak loudly for Rafe to hear her over the venting in his suit.

      “We need samples from each of our patients,” Rafe said.

      He was accustomed to giving orders. His tone was mellow, but Gemma heard the edge and the command.

      Carter Saunders, a wrangler in his midforties, struggled to sit up. “Have you made any progress on a cure?”

      Rafe hadn’t told Carter about the break-in and fire at the clinic. They needed to keep their patients’ spirits high. Rafe had undertaken the project to make their patients more comfortable, setting up video streaming on-demand via the small televisions in the rooms and providing e-readers for patients. He’d also configured video conferencing software on laptops so patients could see and talk with their families during their extended time in isolation. His kindness touched her and his savvy with technology impressed her.

      “Every day, we’re getting closer,” Rafe said.

      “Can I bring you anything while I’m here?” Gemma asked Carter. Since the outbreak, the clinic had taken to serving food around the clock to their patients. The Dead River Café and the Blue Bear Restaurant were dropping off soup and meals for the patients and staff daily. It was an unexpected and welcome convenience. The clinic hadn’t been constructed to provide food service, and without an on-site kitchen, Gemma guessed she and the other nurses would be heating canned soups over Bunsen burners for their patients.

      “Some more water,” Carter said.

      “I’ll be right back,” Gemma said. She retrieved water from the small sink in Carter’s room. Though the patients had confirmed cases of the Dead River virus, they were confined to their rooms to prevent the spread of symptoms.

      Gemma sat with Carter for a few minutes, and as he dozed off to sleep, she and Rafe slipped from the room. The Dead River virus was exhausting for patients to fight. Some slept fifteen to sixteen hours a day. Keeping them hydrated and eating enough nutrients was a challenge.

      Rafe typed notes on Carter’s chart and Gemma moved to the next room.

      Tammy Flynn, their youngest patient, a six-year-old girl, was watching television in her room when Gemma entered. Her parents video-conferenced with her several times a day, but the separation was taking its toll. Tammy had grown close to Gemma and Gemma had “adopted” her as her temporary daughter.

      Thinking about what the virus was doing to families broke her heart. Gemma didn’t allow her patients to see her break down, but some nights, she returned home and did just that. The Dead River virus had brought so much heartache to this town.

      “Hey, Tammy,” Gemma said, coming to the girl’s bedside.

      “I have a gift for you,” Rafe said, entering the room behind Gemma.

      He handed Tammy a shiny pink gift bag. Tammy’s eyes grew wide and she opened it, pulling out plastic beakers and tongs and a pair of goggles.

      “This is awesome!” The little girl held up a plastic beaker with the tongs.

      “That’s really cool,” Gemma said, surprised at Rafe’s thoughtfulness. When had he had time to acquire such a gift and how?

      “I told you I would bring some lab equipment so you could help me,” Rafe said.

      Was she hearing the conversation properly? As distant and cool as Rafe was with everyone in Dead River, he had certainly allowed Tammy into his heart. It was touching and Gemma wondered how detached Rafe was able to stay.

      “Please show me what to do,” Tammy said, sounding excited.

      “We’ll set it up,” Rafe said.

      With a couple pitchers of water and some food coloring, Tammy was conducting her own study. She fell asleep with her beakers lined up on the slim table next to her bed.

      After they left the room, Rafe took notes on the laptop in the hallway to update Tammy’s case. The notes would be sent electronically to their record system in the main clinic and uploaded to the CDC at the end of the week.

      “That was really nice of you,” Gemma said. It wasn’t the first gift Rafe had brought Tammy or the other patients. The staff tried to think of activities to keep boredom and cabin fever at bay. Rafe had a knack for coming up with games for Tammy to play.

      “Danny helped me put it together,” Rafe said. “I told him about Tammy and he thought of it.”

      Danny was Rafe’s foster son. Rafe mentioned him often, though he didn’t delve into much detail about him. The few times Gemma had tried to draw him out, Rafe hadn’t taken the bait.

      “I’ll take Jessica’s blood sample,” Gemma said.

      Rafe’s hand on her arm stopped her. Even with layers of plastic between them, her skin prickled with desire. Rafe dripped charisma and a raw sensuality she couldn’t ignore.

      “Are you planning to tell her what happened?” Rafe asked.

      Jessica was Gemma’s best friend. They told each other almost everything. But Jessica was pinning her hopes on the staff at the Dead River Clinic finding a cure and if she knew how much they had lost that night, she’d be devastated. A blow to her morale was bad for her health.

      “No, not today,” Gemma said.

      Rafe nodded his approval. Gemma collected the supplies she needed.

      Jessica had lost ten pounds since being admitted. She was a tall, slender woman and didn’t have the weight to spare. Jessica smiled when Gemma entered the room. She put the television on mute. “Tell me you have some good news.”

      Gemma double-checked that her microphone was off so Rafe wouldn’t hear their conversation. “I dropped off Annabelle with Molly before I came to work. Molly was planning to meet Ellie and Amelia at the library for story time.”

      “She’ll love that.” Jessica closed her eyes. Like most of their patients, she’d been chronically tired, sleeping the majority of the day. It was difficult to see Jessica, who was normally active, being so listless. “How is Tom holding up?” she asked.

      Jessica’s husband Tom was struggling under the weight of his responsibilities of being a single parent while Jessica was in isolation. Gemma and her cousin Molly had stepped in to lend a hand, but he wouldn’t feel better until Jessica was home. “He’s doing the best he can.”

      Jessica smiled a weak half smile. “That bad?”

      Tom had confided how scared he was for Jessica and for their daughter Annabelle. He worried about his little girl becoming another of the virus’s victims. His worry wasn’t unique. Some parents had stopped sending their children to school because of that fear. “He loves you and he wants you to feel better,” Gemma said.

      “I know. I love him and Annabelle too. I’m trying. But this virus is like a flu that won’t quit.”

      Many of the virus’s symptoms were similar to the flu, which was how they had missed the severity with their first case. The flu wasn’t an emergency, not for someone otherwise healthy, as their first virus patient had been. This virus was new territory for them. “I uploaded new pictures for you to look at and a video of Annabelle reading a new book from school.”

      “Thank you for everything that you’re doing. Talking to my family and you is getting me through this.” At Gemma’s prompting, Jessica took a sip of the drink at her bedside. “Tell me what’s new with you. You tell me about my family, but you have a lot going on too.”

      Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s a regular revolving door of men at my place. Everyone’s

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