ROAR (10 page)

Driven. The woman didn’t strike him as the type to sit back and take anything in stride. Of course, someone in her chosen profession would have to be driven to make it through medical school and to establish her career.

“Why did you choose plastic surgery?”

She swallowed before responding. “A girlfriend in high school was involved in a serious car accident that crushed most of the bones in her face.”

Kristoffer found it difficult to breathe for a moment as the accident that had taken Tori from him flashed across his mind. Only Tori’s face hadn’t received more than a few bruises. It was her brain that had been crushed. “Did she survive?”

“Yes, she did. And the surgeons did a wonderful job of reconstructing her face. No, not exactly the way she looked before, but when I saw what a difference each of those surgeries meant for her self-esteem, I decided that’s what I wanted to do.”

“I’m sure you’ve made a difference in a lot of lives, too.”

“Not so much at first, being one of the few plastic surgeons to join this humanitarian aid group and serving in places where there has been so much trauma has been extremely rewarding. Take Fakhira, for instance. While I know she needs much more reconstructive work, I was able to graft back on some of the facial skin that had been burned off by the acid.” She closed her eyes. “I was only able to restore very basic functionality, though; she still has so far to go.”

“She sounds like a survivor.”

She nodded before staring pointedly at his untouched soup. “Sorry. This isn’t the most pleasant dining conversation.”

He brushed off her concern. “Honestly, there isn’t a lot that can horrify me anymore. Besides, I’m waiting for my soup to cool.” To prove his words, he scooped up a spoonful of the chicken tortilla soup and lifted it to his mouth to test. “Just about right, now.” He swallowed, and the two of them ate for a while in silence.

When he’d finished the bowl, he brought the conversation back to where he’d wanted it. He was worried about the good doctor. “Does Brad Anderson know you’ve been sick?”

“Key word is ‘been.’ I’m fine now. You worry too much. Could we talk about something else?”

“Like what?”

“Have you spent much time in Norway?”

Why the change of subject? Had he struck a nerve—or confronted her with a truth she didn’t want to face? He’d humor her, for now. “Only summers. Mother didn’t want me to miss school, and traveling to my grandfather’s remote village was brutal and unpredictable in winter. Gunnar and I were both sent there every summer, though, during our early to mid-teens. Until FarFar died.”

“FarFar?”

“Sorry. The Norwegian word for the father of one’s father, although these days it can be used to refer to either grandfather.” He shrugged. “He was always FarFar to us. My grandfather’s place was along a remote fjord. Man, the adventures Gunnar and I had there.” His voice trailed off as he reminisced about some of their adventures. Life had been so simple then. Suddenly, he realized he wasn’t alone. “Beg your pardon. I miss those simpler days a lot. He was a great role model for me. Gunnar has been, too. I owe a lot to them both.”

“It’s important to have people like that in your life.” He wondered who she would credit as helping to shape who she’d become, but didn’t want to pry. “I’ll bet that was an amazing experience for two young boys cavorting in the land of Vikings.”

Kristoffer laughed. “What happens in Norway stays in Norway.”

“I can only imagine all the broken hearts left behind by you two,” she said. “Did you see much of Gunnar at other times of the year?”

“No. Not until I turned sixteen. My parents divorced, and I wasn’t very happy living with my mother. FarFar passed away the winter before. So early one June morning, I announced I was moving in with Gunnar, caught a bus, and headed west. He’d just graduated from college and was taking the summer off before heading to boot camp. I didn’t think he’d mind hanging out with me, although when I showed up unannounced on his doorstep, he busted my chops more than Mother did.”

“Where did Gunnar live?”

“Just north of Denver. He went to Colorado State in Fort Collins and let me stick around a couple of month then sent me packing back east to finish high school.”

He took a bite of his sandwich, wondering what else they might talk about. He really had become rusty at making small talk. Ah, yes. Her recent illness.

Before he could bring it up again, Pamela picked up the conversation where they’d left off. “I thought you’d always lived in Colorado.”

“I guess I’ve been here long enough to shed most of my Connecticut accent.”

“I didn’t think Connecticut folks had accents, at least not the ones I’ve met.”

“I think those of us closer to the Rhode Island or New York City borders tend to have more pronounced accents than those in the middle of the state.”

“Which border were you closer to?”

“Southeastern, in New London. Near Rhode Island and just north of the easternmost tip of Long Island.”

She nodded, although most people had no clue how far the island extended east. “I haven’t been to New England. Actually, with all of my traveling, you’d think I’d have seen more of my own country than I have. But I haven’t been to any state east of Colorado except during airport layovers.”

He found himself wanting to share with her his love of some of the places he’d been in the States, before realizing that wasn’t relevant. Now, where were they? “How do you handle languages when traveling overseas?”

“I studied French in high school and college, and it’s one of the official languages of Chad,” she explained. Kristoffer had no idea. Must have been colonized by France. “French also is the language preferred by the organization I work for. And I picked up some basic Pashto while preparing to go to Afghanistan the first time. Have you studied any languages?”

“I’m passable at Norwegian, mostly from immersion during my childhood summers, but took German in school. Not a lot of use for it, though, so I’ve probably forgotten it all.”

“It doesn’t take much for a language to fade. I also took a semester of German as an elective in college, but can’t remember much. I retained French much better.”

She nibbled at her salad, but had barely touched it. How did she expect to get better if she didn’t eat? Rather than having a salad, she ought to be eating steak.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” He picked up his unused salad fork and speared another anchovy before holding it up to her mouth. He wasn’t sure if she opened up willingly or if her jaw dropped in surprise. He realized how presumptuous he was being, but found himself worrying about her. “Good.” He’d almost said
good girl
, but caught himself in time. “You need to eat more.”

“I can feed myself.” She took the fork from his hand and proved it by stabbing an anchovy and popping it into her mouth.

He realized the innate dominant gesture of feeding her might also be misconstrued. Thankfully, she’d called him on it.

She swallowed another bite. “I was just lost in the conversation. If you’re in a hurry, feel free to—”

“I’m not trying to rush you. I don’t have to be anywhere until this evening. I’m just concerned after hearing you’d been sick.”

“Please, ignore Pierre. He’s a worrywart. It wasn’t nearly as dire as he must have made it out to you.”

He’d said she’d been in the hospital nearly two weeks battling the fever. Lord only knew what diseases were endemic to the region. Apparently, the vaccines she’d received to prevent them hadn’t covered everything.

After eating several more bites, she asked, “I suppose if you met your wife at Penn, she was from the East Coast, too.” She had a knack for deflecting the conversation away from herself.

“Midwest, actually. St. Louis.”

“Does she like it here?”

Stalling for the right way to respond didn’t occur to him, so he took another bite of his sandwich. “It’s been our home for a long time. Neither of us would want to live anywhere else.” Not that they hadn’t enjoyed trips to wine country in California once a year after honeymooning there. Tori had embraced life to the fullest—until her light and life had been snuffed out.

He needed a new topic of conversation—one that wouldn’t lead to thoughts of Tori. “What got you into humanitarian work?”

She swallowed before answering. At least she was eating again. “I was at loose ends mainly. Between jobs and trying to figure out what to do next. Then I saw a news report about the need for surgeons and other physicians. When I checked out the qualifications, I met all of them. Best move I ever made. I think fulfilling my need to serve was a big part of it.”

“Don’t you worry about your safety?”

She shrugged. “I take precautions, and we’re surrounded by security forces. Because we’re not taking sides in the conflict, we usually aren’t targets. We also make sure all warring factions are aware of our coordinates.”

“There’s such a thing as friendly fire. No one’s safe in a war zone.”

“True. But this is what I’m compelled to do. Just as Gunnar makes regular missions in the same region. It’s hard to turn your back on those in need.”

“There are those in need here, too.”

“I know. And when I’m tired of working with this organization, I’ll search for a way to help closer to home. I just didn’t choose the right practice to work with before and wanted to place some distance between us.”

He wondered what had happened. “I’m in awe of those with your courage and conviction.”

“I look at it as my job.”

“Yeah, that’s how Gunnar describes what he’s been doing since he joined the Army.” Didn’t make Kristoffer any more reassured about his cousin’s safety. “I’m going to worry about you now when you go back.”

“That’s sweet, but don’t lose any sleep over me.”

Too late
.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.” She smiled, but her green eyes shot sparks at him. Clearly, he’d struck a nerve.

If she only knew how much sleep he’d lost in the last few days thinking about her, although not exactly because he was worried about her. Until he’d spoken to the hospital administrator, at least. Still, he wasn’t her keeper. He held up his hand in truce. “No offense. I worry about my cousin going over there, too, even though I know he can take care of himself.”

Pamela glanced down at her too-full plate. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump down your throat. That was a knee-jerk reaction. I think you reminded me of my dad for a minute.”

Man, I must be getting old
. “I can only imagine how worried he is when you’re overseas.”

This time when she smiled, her eyes actually twinkled. “Yeah, typical overprotective father. Not that he, too, hasn’t been in some insanely dangerous situations before. But he never worries about himself. I’m glad he retired before anything bad happened.”

“Retiring to teach is a lot safer than what Gunnar did post-retirement.”

“I think danger is in Gunnar’s blood,” she ventured.

“Probably so.” Kristoffer tended to gravitate toward much less excitement in his life. Hell, there
was
no excitement in his life. Not anymore.

As it appeared they were finished with lunch, and he had no other business to discuss, perhaps it was time to wrap things up. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any reason for them to meet face to face on a project like this, although he tried to think of one.

Before he came up with anything, she spoke. “If you need any help tracking down sources for the equipment, let me know.”

“Actually, that might help a lot. Your medical knowledge will be invaluable in choosing the right equipment and supply companies.”

“Great!” She seemed as happy as he was they’d be able to continue to work together in person. “When should we meet again?”

“Well, Gunnar wants a detailed preliminary report next week, so why not tomorrow? Lunch or dinner?” He wanted to make sure she ate and more than a salad next time. “I know a great Greek place, if you’re into Mediterranean cuisine.”

“Love it. Lunch sounds perfect.”

He settled the bill and found himself looking forward to meeting again tomorrow. He told her the name of the restaurant. “Oh, one of my favorites!”

“Would you like me to pick you up?”

“No need. I have to run some errands, so I’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

“Bring your laptop, and we can do some research after we eat.”

*     *     *

Pamela was first to arrive at the restaurant the next day, having finished her shopping early. Once again, she’d rushed through her morning and was fueled only by two cups of coffee. But shopping had been a breeze. Finding everything was so much easier here than in Afghanistan. She’d never take American conveniences for granted again.

While waiting in her car, she leaned against the headrest. Even making those few stops had worn her out. She hadn’t returned home from the academy until nearly one and was so wound up it had taken more than an hour to drift off. After a fitful night’s sleep, she’d awakened early enough to make sure she could squeeze everything in before lunch. She might try to take an afternoon nap before class, but right now, she’d just close her eyes for a minute.

Knock, knock.

The sound of someone rapping on the glass of her window startled her, and she jumped. Turning, she saw Kristoffer with a worried expression on his face that quickly became one of relief.

How long had she slept?

Blinking the grittiness from her eyes, she reached for the door handle and exited the car, only to find herself lightheaded. She swayed.

“Whoa!” Kristoffer wrapped his arm around to steady her, holding on to her back and forearm.

Her stomach somersaulted. If she’d had anything to eat, she might have lost it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know I nodded off!”
How embarrassing!

“You had me worried when I found you like that. And now you almost passed out.”

“No. I just stood up too quickly.” She glanced at her watch, extricating herself from his arms. As nice as it felt to be held, she didn’t like showing any sign of weakness. She’d napped for almost forty-five minutes. Why didn’t she feel the least bit refreshed?