As she eyed the bed, Marissa’s exhaustion cried for attention, but it was already after seven. Getting her cosmetics bag from her suitcase, she went into the bathroom. After washing, brushing out her hair and touching up her makeup, Marissa was ready. From her briefcase, she removed the sheets of information concerning Dr. Richter’s activities before he’d become ill. Clutching them to her, she walked down to Dubchek’s door and knocked.
He answered her knock and, smiling, motioned for her to come in. He was on the phone, apparently talking to Tad. Marissa sat down and tried to follow the conversation. It seemed the samples from the monkey had arrived and they had tested clear.
“You mean the electron microscopy showed no virus at all?” said Dubchek.
There was a long silence as Tad relayed the details of the outcomes of the various tests. Looking at her watch, Marissa calculated that it was almost eleven in Atlanta. Tad was certainly putting in overtime. She watched Dubchek, realizing the man had a disturbing effect on her. She recalled how unnerved she’d been when he’d turned up at Ralph’s dinner party and was upset to find herself inexplicably attracted to him now. From time to time he looked up, and her glance was trapped by an unexpected glint in his dark eyes. He’d removed his jacket and tie, and a
Finally he hung up the phone and walked over to her, gazing down at her. “You’re certainly the best-looking thing I’ve seen today. And I gather your friend Tad would agree. He seemed very concerned that you don’t put yourself at risk.”
“Certainly I’m in no more danger than anyone else involved in this,” she said, vaguely annoyed at the turn the conversation was taking.
Dubchek grinned. “I guess Tad doesn’t feel the rest of the staff is as cute.”
Trying to turn the talk to professional matters, Marissa asked about the monkey’s liver and spleen sections.
“Clean so far,” said Dubchek, with a wave of his hand. “But that was only by electron microscopy. Tad has also planted the usual viral cultures. We’ll know more in a week.”
“In the meantime,” said Marissa, “we’d better look elsewhere.”
“I suppose so,” said Dubchek. He seemed distracted. He ran a hand over his eyes as he sat down across from her.
Leaning forward, Marissa handed over her notes. “I thought that you might be interested in looking at these.” Dubchek accepted the papers and glanced through them while Marissa talked.
In a chronological fashion, Marissa described what she’d been doing since her arrival in L.A. She made a convincing argument that Dr. Richter was the index case and that he was the source of the Ebola, spreading the disease to some of his patients. She explained his relationship to Helen Townsend and then described the two medical meetings that Dr. Richter had attended. The sponsoring organizations were sending complete lists of the attendees, with their addresses and phone numbers, she added.
Throughout her monologue Dubchek nodded to indicate that he was listening, but somehow he seemed distracted, concentrating more on her face than on what she was saying. With so little feedback, Marissa trailed off and stopped speaking, wondering if she were making some fundamental professional error. After a sigh, Dubchek smiled. “Good job,” he said simply. “It’s hard to believe that this is your first field assignment.” He stood up at the sound of a knock on the door. “Thank goodness. That must be dinner. I’m starved.”
The meal itself was mediocre; the meat and vegetables Dubchek had ordered were lukewarm. Marissa wondered why they couldn’t have gone down to the dining room. She’d thought that he’d intended to talk business, but as they ate, the conversation ranged from Ralph’s dinner party and how she came to know him, to the CDC and whether or not she was enjoying her assignment. Toward the end of the meal Dubchek suddenly said, “I wanted to tell you that I am a widower.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Marissa sincerely, wondering why the man was bothering to inform her about his personal life.
“I just thought you should know,” he added, as if reading her mind. “My wife died two years ago in an auto accident.”
Marissa nodded, once again uncertain how to reply.
“What about you?” asked Dubchek. “Are you seeing anyone?”
Marissa paused, toying with the handle of her coffee cup. She had no intention of discussing her breakup with Roger. “No, not at the moment,” she managed to tell him. She wondered if Dubchek knew that she had been dating Tad. It had not been a secret, but it wasn’t public knowledge either. Neither of them had told people at the lab. Suddenly Marissa felt even more uncomfortable. Her policy of not mixing her personal and professional lives was being violated, she felt. Looking over at Dubchek, she couldn’t help but acknowledge that she found him attractive. Perhaps that was why he made her feel so uncomfortable. But there was no way she was interested in a more personal relationship with him, if that was what this was leading up to. All at once she wanted to get out of his room and return to her work.
Dubchek pushed back his chair and stood up. “If we’re going back to the clinic maybe we should be on our way.”
That sounded good to Marissa. She stood up and went over to the coffee table to pick up her papers. As she straightened up, she realized that Dubchek had come up behind her. Before she could react, he put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. The action so surprised her that she stood frozen. For a brief moment their lips met. Then she pulled away, her papers dropping to the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t planning that at all, but ever since you arrived at CDC I’ve been tempted to do that. God knows I don’t believe in dating anyone I work with, but it’s the first time since my wife died that I’ve really been interested in a woman. You don’t look like her at all—Jane was tall and blond—but you have that same enthusiasm for your work. She was a musician, and when she played well, she had the same excited expression I’ve seen you get.”
Marissa was silent. She knew she was being mean, that Dubchek certainly had not been harassing her, but she felt embarrassed and awkward and was unwilling to say something to ease over the incident.
“Marissa,” he said gently, “I’m telling you that I’d like to take you out when we get back to Atlanta, but if you’re involved with Ralph or just don’t want to…” his voice trailed off.
Marissa bent down and gathered up her notes. “If we’re going back to the hospital, we’d better go now,” she said curtly.
He stiffly followed her out the door to the elevator. Later, sitting silently in her rent-a-car, Marissa berated herself. Cyrill was the most attractive man she’d met since Roger. Why had she behaved so unreasonably?
4
ALMOST FIVE WEEKS LATER, as the taxi bringing her home from the airport turned onto Peachtree Place, Marissa was wondering if she would be able to reestablish a pleasant, professional relationship with Dubchek now that they were both back in Atlanta. He had left a few days after their exchange at the Beverly Hilton, and the few meetings they’d had at the Richter Clinic had been curt and awkward.
Watching the lighted windows as the cab drove down her street, seeing the warm family scenes inside, she was overcome with a wave of loneliness.
After paying the driver and turning off the alarm, Marissa hustled over to the Judsons’ and retrieved Taffy and five weeks’ worth of mail. The dog was ecstatic to see her, and the Judsons couldn’t have been nicer. Rather than making Marissa feel guilty about being gone for so long, they acted truly sad to see Taffy leave.
Back in her own house, Marissa turned up the heat to a comfortable level. Having a puppy there made all the difference in the world. The dog wouldn’t leave her side and demanded almost constant attention.
Thinking about supper, she opened the refrigerator only to discover that some food had gone bad. She shut the door, deciding to tackle the job of cleaning it out the next day. She dined on Fig Newtons and Coke as she leafed through her mail. Aside from a card from one of her brothers and a letter from her parents, it was mostly pharmaceutical junk.
