expression as well, because he turned to see what had inspired it.
At his first glimpse of Emma, he seemed to freeze, a spontaneous smile of greeting half-formed on his face. It was almost, but not quite, a look of both surprise and gladness to see her. Then something else took control, and his smile vanished, replaced by look that was neither friendly nor unfriendly, merely neutral. face of a stranger, she thought, and that was somehow more than if he had greeted her with outright hostility. At least then would've been some emotion left, some remnant, however tattered, of a marriage that had once been happy.
She found herself responding to his flat look with an expression that was every bit as neutral. When she spoke, she addressed both men at the same time, favoring neither.
'Gordon told me about Debbie,' she said. 'How is she doing?' Hank glanced at Jack, waiting for him to answer first. Finally Hank said, 'She's still unconscious. We're sort of holding a the waiting room. If you want to join us.'
'Yes. Of course.' She started toward the visitors' waiting room.
'Emma,' Jack called out. 'Can we talk?'
'I'll see you both later,' said Hank, and he made a hasty retreat down the hall. They waited for him to disappear around the corner, then looked at each other.
'Debbie's not doing well,' said Jack.
'What happened?'
'She had an epidural bleed. Came in conscious and talking. In a matter of minutes, she went straight downhill. I was busy with another patient. I didn't realize it in time. Didn't drill the until ... ' He paused and looked away. 'She's on a ventilator.
Emma reached out to touch him, then stopped herself, knowing that he would only shake her off. It had been so long since he'd accepted any words of comfort from her. No matter what she said, how sincerely she meant it, he would regard it as pity. And that he despised.
'It's a hard diagnosis to make, Jack,' was all she could say.
'I should have made it sooner.'
'You said she went downhill fast. Don't second-guess yourself.'
'That doesn't make me feel a hell of a lot better.'
'I'm not trying to make you feel better!' she said in exasperation. 'I'm just pointing out the simple fact that you did make the right diagnosis. And you acted on it. For once, can't you cut yourself some slack?'
'Look, this isn't about me, okay?' he shot back. 'It's about you.'
'What do you mean?'
'Debbie won't be leaving the hospital anytime soon. And that means Bill ... '
'I know. Gordon Obie gave me the heads-up.'
Jack paused. 'It's been decided?'
She nodded. 'Bill's coming home. I'll replace him on the next flight.' Her gaze drifted toward the ICU. 'They have two kids,' she said softly. 'He can't stay up there. Not for another three months.'
'You're not ready. You haven't had time -- '
'I'll be ready.' She turned.
'Emma.' He reached out to stop her, and the touch of his hand took her by surprise. She looked back at him. At once he released her.
'When are you leaving for Kennedy?' he asked.
'A week. Quarantine.' He looked stunned. He said nothing, still trying to absorb the news.
'That reminds me,' she said. 'Could you take care of Humphrey while I'm gone?'
'Why not a kennel?'
'It's cruel to keep a cat penned up for three months.'
'Has the little monster been declawed yet?'
'Come on, Jack. He only shreds things when he's feeling ignored. Pay attention to him, and he'll leave your furniture alone.'
Jack glanced up as a page was announced over the address system, 'Dr. McCallum to ER. Dr. McCallum to ER.'
'I guess you have to go,' she said, already turning away.
'Wait. This is happening so fast. We haven't had time to talk.'
'If it's about the divorce, my lawyer can answer any questions while I'm gone.'
'No.' He startled her with his sharp note of anger. 'No, I don't want to talk to your lawyer!'
'Then what do you need to tell me?' He stared at her for a moment, as though hunting for words.
'It's about this mission,' he finally said. 'It's too rushed. It doesn't feel right to me.'
'What does that mean?'
'You're a last-minute replacement. You're going up with a different crew.'
'Vance runs a tight ship. I'm perfectly comfortable with this launch.'
'What about on the station? This could stretch your stay to six months in orbit.'
'I can deal with it.'
'But it wasn't planned. It's been thrown together at the last minute.'
'What are you saying I should do, Jack? Wimp out?'
'I don't know!' He ran his hand through his hair in frustration.
'I don't know.' They stood in silence for a moment, neither one of them quite sure what to say, yet neither one ready to end the conversation.
Seven years of marriage, she thought, and this is what it's come to.
Two people who can't stay together, yet can't walk away from each other.
And now there's no time left to work things out between us.
A new page came over the address system, 'Dr. McCallum stat to ER.' Jack looked at her, his expression torn. 'Emma -- '
'Go, Jack,' she urged him. 'They need you.' He gave a groan of frustration and took off at a run for the ER. And she turned and walked the other way.
Aboard ISS From the observation windows of the Node 1 cupola, Dr. William Haning could see clouds swirling over the Atlantic Ocean two hundred twenty miles below. He touched the glass, his fingers skimming the barrier that protected him from the vacuum of space.
It was one more obstacle that separated him from home. From his wife. He watched the earth turn beneath him, saw the Atlantic Ocean slip away as North Africa and then the Indian Ocean slowly spun by, the darkness of night approaching. Though his body was weightless and floating, the burden of grief seemed to squeeze down on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.
At that moment, in a Houston hospital, his wife was fighting for her life, and he could do nothing to help her. For the next two weeks he would be trapped here, able to gaze down at the very city where Debbie might be dying, yet unable to reach her, touch her.
The best he could do was close his eyes and try to imagine he was at her side, that their fingers were entwined.
You have to hang on. You have to fight. I'm coming home to you.
'Bill? Are you okay?' He turned and saw Diana Estes float from the U.S. Lab module into the node. He was surprised she was the one inquiring as to well-being. Even after a month of living together in close quarters, he had not warmed up to the Englishwoman. She was too cool, too clinical. Despite her icy blond good looks, she was not a woman he'd ever feel attracted to, and she had certainly never favored with the least hint of interest. But then, her attention was focused on Michael Griggs. The fact that Griggs had a wife waiting for him down on earth seemed irrelevant to them both. Up here on ISS, Diana and Griggs were like the two halves of a double star, orbiting each other, linked by some powerful gravitational pull.
This was one of the unfortunate realities of being one of six human beings from four different countries trapped in close quarters. There were always shifting alliances and schisms, a sense of us versus them.
The stress of living so long in had affected each of them in different ways. Russian Nicholai Rudenko, who had been living aboard ISS the longest, had lately turned sullen and irritable. Kenichi Hirai, from Japan's NASDA, was so frustrated by his poor command of English, he often lapsed into uneasy silence. Only Luther Ames had
