Tuna and pineapple pizza was an acquired taste. Isabel had sworn by spinach and anchovies. Even the thought sent a horrible tremor down her spine and made a smile dance across her face.
Sometimes the memories were good. Sometimes the memories were fun.
The typical teenage fights over clothes and boys had almost been blotted from her mind. The competition between them in medical school continued to hover around her. Isabel always had to be first to see their exam results. To see if she’d beaten Callie. But it had been a pretty even split. Both of them had excelled in different areas. Callie in planning, anatomy and biochemistry and Isabel in epidemiology, diagnostics and patient care. If things had gone to plan, they could have been a dynamite team.
Callie leaned back in her chair, her appetite leaving her abruptly. It always happened like this.
She was fine, she was focused. Then it would hit her again—what she’d lost. Just tumbling out of nowhere, like a granite rock permanently pressing on her chest.
The grief counselor had told her she’d get over it. It would just take time. But every year—particularly if there was an event that Isabel had especially enjoyed—it just seemed to shadow her all the more.
She turned her head to the right. The pile of paperwork about the type C containment building. The place that was currently having power issues. Would Isabel really have handled all this better? Would Isabel have been better organized than she was?
Would she handle Sawyer better than she was?
Her leg started to itch again and her hand automatically went to her scrub trousers and started scratching. She didn’t have time for this. She didn’t have time to be morose. She had a containment facility to sort out and there was no time like the present. Why should city hall officials get to sleep when she couldn’t? She took a bite of her pizza and lifted the phone.
* * *
The children were as settled as they could be. The parents had been calmed, and in the end Dan had decided to give Ben some sedation too. Nothing about this situation was ideal and the little guy had become hysterical when he’d realized there was a machine breathing for his brother.
Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief. His too-big scrub trousers seemed to have given up trying to stay in place, partly due to the missing elastic at the waist and partly due to being weighed down by the phone in his pocket.
What time was it in Atlanta? He looked at his watch and tried to count it out. But what did it matter? Violet had been trying to phone him for hours. Whether he liked it or not, it was time to call her back.
He lifted his hand. Then pressed it down again on the desk.
He couldn’t remember the last time his hand had shaken like that.
Come on. This was easy. It was one phone call.
So, how come the voices in his head had to will him on?
He took another breath and lifted his hand again, trying to ignore the shake. His fingers slipped and he missed the buttons.
Darn it. What kind of a fool was he?
Three-year-old kids could dial a phone—why couldn’t he?
Concentrate. Get this over with. It would only be a few minutes out of his life.
The first time would be the worst. Once he’d done it, the heavy weight pressing on his chest might finally lift and let him breathe again.
Stop thinking about it, you moron—just dial!
He pressed the buttons on the phone, praying it might automatically jump to voicemail.
He didn’t even hear the first ring. “DPA. Can I help you?”
“Violet Connelly, please.”
There was a few moments’ silence as the call was connected. He resisted the huge temptation to hang up and hide.
Hang up and go and find a beer.
“Violet Connelly.”
He could almost picture her in his mind, doing ten things at once with the phone perched between her shoulder and her ear. Even at this time in the morning she’d be multi-tasking.
“Hello?”
Patience had never been her strong suit.
“Hey, Violet.” His voice cracked.
There was a loud crash. All he could imagine was that her chair had just landed on the floor. “Sawyer? Sawyer?”
He cringed, guilt flooding through him. The concern and anxiety in her voice was crystal clear. He should have texted her hours ago. Why hadn’t he? Ten seconds. That’s all it would have taken.
Scrub that. He should have phoned her six years ago. Not just send the odd random text from an occasional phone.
“Yeah, it’s Sawyer.”
Some not very ladylike words spilled down the phone. The concern had quickly been replaced by anger. “‘Hey, Violet’? Is that the best you can do? Six years, Matt. Six years!”
“I know. I’m sorry but—”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? You’ve got to be joking. I’ve been trying to phone you for hours. Hours. You logged that call here hours ago, Matt. You must have known I would hear about it straight away. I’ve been trying to contact you ever since. I’ve been frantic.”
“Violet, please—”
“Please? Please?” It was obvious she wasn’t going to let him speak. Six years of worry and pent-up frustration were erupting all over him. “How do you think I feel? How do think it felt to know that after six years you phone the DPA and ask to speak to Callum Ferguson? Callum Ferguson? You must have known I would be here. You must have known the news would spread like wildfire. I don’t care that it’s about a smallpox outbreak. I don’t care that it’s the scariest outbreak we’ve ever dealt with. I want you to stop for five minutes and think about what that felt like for me.”
Wow.
One thing was for sure, she’d been waiting to say that for a long time.
If Violet could see him now she would see that for the first time in years he was hanging his head in shame. “Give me a break, sis.”
“Give you a break? Right now, I’d like to break every bone in your body.”
Ouch. Harsh. And definitely not Violet’s normal response. During the biggest potential outbreak in years, she’d just found her lost brother. She must be stressed up to her eyeballs. The added fact that no one knew he was her brother couldn’t be helping—and she wasn’t finished yet.
“Why haven’t you answered my texts? Why haven’t you answered my phone calls?” He could hear it now. The tiny waver in her voice. Violet never liked anyone to know when she was upset. He could almost picture the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
He sighed. “I’ve been busy, sis. I’ve got some really sick kids here.” He leaned back against the wall, “Plus I’ve got an invasion of DPA faces that I’d hoped never to see again.”
He stopped talking. He didn’t need to say any more. Violet knew exactly how he felt about all this. He’d never actually said the words to her, but his sister knew him better than anyone.
“You can do this, Sawyer.” Her voice was almost a whisper. A cheerleading call for him. After all this time she was still trying to instill confidence and strength into him.
She was the one person in the world who could chew him out one minute, then fight to the death for him a second later.
Family. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like.
“I’m just in the wrong place at the wrong time again, Violet. Story of my life.”
Silence again. She realized the enormity of his words. The price he’d paid the last time had almost destroyed him.
“Are you safe? Did you put yourself at risk before you realized what it was?”
It was natural question—a sisterly question—but it still grated. Especially when he’d been part of the DPA. “I was in the same room as the kids, breathing the same air. I took precautions as soon as I had reason for concern, but they didn’t have the appropriate masks.
I had to send the other member of staff away—she’s pregnant.”