Page 37 of Airborne
“See how far your view goes when you breathe your last breath.”
Chad ignored the remark. “How many weeks is Heather?”
“Sixteen.”
She had confirmation of the pregnancy before he’d moved out. She hadn’t said a word. The baby was his child, although he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, and she’d hidden the information from him. The prospect drew a longing, real and vital. He paced his apartment. A baby scared him witless...
“Chad, say something.”
He turned from the phone’s camera and breathed in and out. “I’m shocked. What’s the baby’s sex?”
“Ask Heather.”
“I’d rather hear it from you. Our communication is edgy.”
Jordan frowned “Okay. A boy. I learned about her pregnancy from a CDC worker and requested a reputable ob-gyn, Dr. Natalie Francisca. No matter who the passenger, I’d ensure any pregnant woman on the aircraft received expert care.”
A son? Was his promise worth abandoning his wife and unborn child? Confusion assaulted him. Heather took precaution, and she wasn’t the devious type to trap him. Besides, unless she tossed the pills in the trash, sixteen weeks ago he still lived at the condo then. Or had she tricked him?
What mattered? His love for her pushed him to make a sacrifice, and he’d given his word, and what was a man’s word but his integrity?
“Are you going to talk to her?” Jordan said. “If you’re deaf, I can restate the importance of family.”
Chad pondered how to respond. Logic told him confronting her gave an illusion of them staying together. Not happening. “A baby doesn’t change my original outlook on the future.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “Are you an idiot? Heather loves you. She worked while you completed your first and second doctorate. Supported you before and after you were married. I remember she paid the rent on her apartmentandyours. A divorce is how you thank her? You’ve never complained about her. Now you’re successful, she’s pregnant with your baby, surviving exposure to a killer virus, and you aren’t sure if a family is in your future?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Makes me wonder if you have a negative IQ.”
“It’s taken me eight years to realize I’m not what she or a baby needs. They deserve a man who will love and be there for them. That’s not me. Neither will it ever be.”
Jordan huffed. “Got to go. Work’s waiting for me.”
“I’ll check back later. I’ll figure out a plan for Heather and the baby. Don’t tell her you talked to me.”
“I’m not playing your fool’s game. If she brings it up, I’ll tell her.” Jordan leaned back in his chair. “For the record, Heather is a remarkable and intelligent woman, quite capable of taking care of herself. Your actions make me want to strangle you. You’re a brilliant doctor, and the CDC is lucky to have you. But the world doesn’t revolve around the next scientific discovery by a man who doesn’t accept his humanity. Relationships matter.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HEATHER WALKED ALONGthe rocks of the island’s shoreline and deliberated Chad’s position with the FBI. Whatever lay ahead was in God’s hands, but she wished He’d send a text.
“Heather Lawrence.”
She turned to the scruffy-beard man and the pink-haired woman walking toward her. According to the manifest, she’d learned their names. “Hi. You’re Parker and Sonya Karey?”
“We are.” Parker peered at her down a long nose that nearly touched his mouth. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“Sure. How can I help?”
“We understand you’re FBI.”
Although Parker must have disagreeable as his middle name, he and his wife were victims of the contagion. They all shouldered the stress of sickness and death. “Right. What’s going on?”
“Earlier I searched online for information about you. Your husband is Dr. Chad Lawrence, owner of Lawrence Laboratory.”
“Correct.”
