Love Inspired November 2013 #2 (44 page)

There was a beat of silence, then another. His throat felt tight. “I do hear things, now and then. I have friends who work in the free clinics. They see girls coming in for treatment, always accompanied by men, never left alone.”

Evie raised her face, stricken. “There are those, too. Girls brought here with the promise of jobs and then enslaved. No one thinks it can happen in this city, but it does.”

“What about the police?”

“We can't get word to the police fast enough. By the time they arrive, the groups have decamped.”

Her words hung in the air between them. So many people needed help, desperately, and sometimes he didn't even know where to start.

“Thank you.” His voice was softer than he intended.

“For what? Failing?” Bitterness was written on every feature.

“For caring.”

She gave a small shrug and sat up a bit straighter. “Did you bring the current stats on the reported cases?”

He handed over the file.

She was busy studying the graphs and numbers. “This is bad.”

“I know. My grandmother's been praying like crazy. She's got the whole Women's Guild at St. James on the case.”

“I didn't know you went to St. James. I mean, I've never seen you there.” Then she paused. He knew what she was thinking. Just because someone's grandmother went to church, didn't mean they did. Usually grandmas held down the fort and everyone else went about their lives, sleeping late on Sunday and counting on the trickle-down effect of the prayers.

“Usually the early service.”

“Oh, I went to that one last summer when we were leaving on a trip. It was me and Jack and about forty old ladies.”

Too accurate to be funny, but he couldn't help chuckling anyway. “Right. Just me and the old ladies. My grandmother has trained them all to treat me like their own. We have a great time at coffee after.”

Evie let out a throaty laugh that made him want to scrap his plans for the day and do something better, more fun, just the two of them. But that wasn't really an option, in a lot of ways, no matter how that laugh tugged at him. Work was ramping up to round-the-clock shifts and Allison... Just the thought of his sister made him sit up straighter. All he could think of was how good Evie smelled and how that husky laugh made him want to take a day off work. He gave himself an internal shake. People reacted to stress in different ways, and he must be grasping at anything that wasn't related to pertussis or fragile sisters. This was a working relationship and it needed to stay that way.

Chapter Five

H
is heart thudding in his chest, Gavin took the stairs down from
The Chronicle
's upper floors at a quick clip. Everything would be fine. They would get the word out about the epidemic, Allison and Sean would settle in nicely and the Mission would get some big donations before the holidays. He let out a deep breath and paused in the stairwell.

It was a good thing Jolie had knocked. He had been about to make a fool out of himself, having an entire internal debate over whether to ask Evie out. So she had a heart. It didn't mean he had to get any closer. Keep it simple and everything will be fine. Gavin took the last flight of stairs slowly, the sound of his dress shoes echoing in the empty stairwell. Timing was everything, and now was exactly the wrong time. He pushed the long metal handle and exited into the lobby. If he was honest with himself,
never
would be an even better time.

Twenty minutes later, with a tray of hot coffees in hand, Gavin punched in the code to the top floors of the Center for Disease Control. The building was humming with activity and not in a pleasant way. Gavin didn't know if this epidemic was going to be something they could control. Babies got the first diphtheria, tetanus and pertussis vaccine at two months, and most of these babies were newborns. The older ones had one of the vaccines, but not the whole series. It wasn't enough to keep them from developing the disease if they caught it from an older sibling or a parent. The most fragile infants were falling victim.

At the first door, Gavin peered in and saw Tom's desk was empty. Piles of papers were strewn around. It reminded him of Evie's desk, which made him think of the way she'd covered her eyes during their impromptu “spot the difference” game. His lips tugged up.

“How many more cases?” Tom asked from just behind him. His voice was quiet, subdued. He reached around and took a cup of coffee from the tray, raising an eyebrow.

“Three more confirmed, total of eleven babies in the NICU, and there are two isolated in the emergency area.”

“Well, if we're trading bad news, Senator McHale is in your office.” Tom took a sip and nodded down the hallway.

Gavin felt like ice had dropped into the pit of his stomach. His first thought was of Allison, and the next was of Sean. The door to Gavin's office was almost closed, revealing nothing, but they both stood watching it anyway.

“He didn't say why he was here. I also didn't ask. I didn't figure he'd want to share his business with a lowly administrator.” Tom was more than that. He could run the whole local organization in a pinch. There were few things he didn't know, and that Gavin was connected to McHale in a very ugly way was one of them.

“He's been waiting about an hour.” Tom tossed the last bit over his shoulder as he wandered back to his desk, but the look they exchanged said it all. The senator never waited. Ever.

McHale had visited the CDC before. It was part of his election year rounds. Gavin had been struck by his utter arrogance. There were people who loved power. It happened in every profession. Unfortunately, McHale was determined to keep his power at any cost. Anything that made him look bad was blacklisted, no matter the reason. And an uncontrolled pertussis epidemic could certainly be considered a negative.

Allison was another. She'd ruined his presidential aspirations once. Revealing that he'd fathered a child out of wedlock and refused to acknowledge him might be the final nail in his political coffin.

Gavin steeled himself before opening the door, resisting the urge to knock. It was his office, after all. McHale was sitting behind Gavin's desk, looking right at home. His dark hair was perfectly combed, manicured hands casually flicking through a stack of papers. Gavin wasn't overly territorial, but if he hadn't already had a bone to pick with the man, he certainly would have at the sight of McHale reading his personal notes.

“Finally back.” The man didn't even have the good grace to pretend he hadn't just been rifling through Gavin's desk. He took one last peek and then tossed the stack down. Expensive suit perfectly pressed, silk tie straight as an arrow, a light tan that was more California than Colorado. He'd aged well since the last time they'd been in the same room. Or hadn't aged at all, really. Politicians and celebrities seemed to hang at thirty for a few decades before they got wrinkles like the rest of humanity.

Gavin itched to straighten the papers, but he was so angry he forced himself to remain perfectly still. If he started moving toward the desk, he might just keep going until he grabbed McHale by the tie.

“How can I help you today?” He was proud of his easy tone and wished he could force a smile to go with it, but that was too much to ask of any man.

“I need copies of every outreach program, every vaccine push and every community education session you've put together. This outbreak is unfortunate, but it's spreading unchecked.” He leaned forward, black eyes narrowed. “That's your job, in case you didn't know. And when you don't do your job, it makes me look like I'm not doing my job.”

Gavin had known what was coming, had prepared for it, and it still made his blood pressure skyrocket. McHale wouldn't know one end of a graph from another; the papers wouldn't do him a bit of good. He was blowing hot air. And Gavin was in no mood to be bullied.

He bought a few seconds to calm himself by slipping off his coat and hanging it on the rack behind the door. His face felt hot, his collar too tight. He lowered himself into the guest chair. “I can do that. And we're starting a new series in
The Chronicle
tomorrow.”

“Better be a good series. But is
The Chronicle
the biggest paper? What about
The Daily?
” McHale leaned over the desk, long fingers laced together in a contemplative pose. “Anyway, whichever one you put it in, you've got to be working day and night. Make sure everyone knows that this office is doing something, not just testing samples and visiting the hospitals. I don't care if you have to go door to door. These numbers are way too high, and if it spreads from Denver to other places, they'll come looking to see who let it happen.”

Of course they would. And there wouldn't be any support from McHale, clearly. If Gavin hadn't already been working on
not
hating the guy, he would be now.

“Well, if I'm out going door to door, they won't be able to find me. Maybe the lab crew can give them a statement.”

The placid expression vanished from McHale's face. “This isn't a joke,” he barked, eyes angry slits.

“I'm not laughing.” Gavin stood up and stepped closer to his desk. “You may be concerned about how this makes us look, but I'm trying to save lives. I won't play media consultant when there's an epidemic.”

The senator may have been pushing fifty but he was still fit. He stood up so quickly it looked like he'd bolt over the desk. “Those papers are here to make us look good, when we need them. You think this is all about keeping babies healthy? It's not. You're funded by the government, which is run by politicians. If people think you're inefficient, they complain to me. I get enough complaints and we'll cut every program you have down to nothing.”

The words thumped and rumbled around in his head like shoes in a dryer. “I'll give you the files and a copy of the story that's running in
The Chronicle.
” He didn't offer more.

He stood silently, debating. Gavin waited, watching emotions flash over McHale's features. Anger, frustration, cold calm.

“Fine. And if I hear anything negative about this office, anything at all, I'll be back. Use some of your time to cover your backsides. Even if it takes manpower away from reaching the at-risk people in this city.”

Gavin's muscles tensed from the base of his skull all the way down his spine. “You're telling me to take people off the regular task force and put them on media outreach, just so we can look good?”

Walking around the desk and standing inches away, his pale blue eyes cold and calculating, McHale said, “If looking good keeps your office open, then I would think you would be on board.”

They stood nose to nose, Gavin refusing to blink. He clenched his fists and willed himself to speak calmly. For Allison's sake—for Sean's sake—he kept his cool.

“Looking good should be keeping the pertussis from taking over the city. I don't care if the public thinks I sit here and watch football all day. I'm going to do my job to get the preventative measures in place and try to stay ahead of the storm. The rest will have to wait.”

“Know what your problem is, Gavin? You think if you work hard, the public will see it. But honestly, the average American isn't that perceptive. They have to be told when someone is doing their job. And part of your job now is to make sure they know how hard this office is working. You need me to make it official and put it in your job description? I'm sure I can get the director to do that.”

With those finals words, he turned on his heel. As his hand reached the door knob, he paused. Gavin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“I know your sister's back in town. She should have stayed in Florida.”

Blood was rushing in his ears. “She needed to be near family. Her son—your son—is growing up fast.” He was surprised at how calm he sounded.

McHale's eyes glittered with anger. “Don't ever say that again. She ruined my chances for a party nomination. She won't destroy my career.”

In two steps, without his brain giving directions, Gavin crossed the room. He was twenty years younger and six inches taller, and rage was fueling his every movement. He wanted to wrap McHale's tie around his fist and pull him in close. Through sheer force of will, his hands stayed where they needed to be: by his sides. “She didn't ruin your chances, you did. And Sean is a child, an innocent victim. You need to reevaluate your priorities.”

For several seconds they breathed the same air, locked in furious silence. Then McHale turned on his heel and walked out.

Breathing heavily, Gavin tried to get control of his anger. Wasn't it enough for Allison to be estranged from the father of her child? Did he have to be a power-obsessed politician concerned only with his own image?

Falling into a chair, Gavin stared unseeing at the stack of papers on his desk. His chest ached at the thought of Allison in the same city as McHale and not even getting a phone call. What a waste of a man. She'd wised up as soon as she'd found out she was having Sean. But her little boy deserved better than that.

Between a rock and a hard place, that was his life. McHale above him, pertussis creeping up from behind, and all the time there was his nephew, a little guy who never asked for any of this drama. Time to call Evie, see if she could put in some lines about the disease prevention center working overtime. Hot anger swept through him. He hated to even think of trying to spin the facts. This wasn't how he wanted to spend his time.

Was it possible to run an article that made McHale happy and still got the information out to the public? It would be an article that was three quarters sunshine and one quarter lifesaving, ugly facts. Journalists spun a web of words that changed opinion, sometimes regardless of the reality. It made him sick to even consider their expertise to sway public opinion. But McHale was going to be watching the pertussis outbreak very closely for any negative comments from the community.

Gavin took a steadying breath. Evie seemed like she walked her faith. Only time would tell if that was true. Meanwhile, he needed to focus on Allison and Sean and getting the epidemic under control.
Help me remember,
Lord, the only opinion that matters is Yours
.

* * *

Evie felt the slam of a very small body against the back of her knees and tried not to pitch forward. She grabbed the bike rack to her left and let out a yelp.

“Sorry, Evie! Jaden, give your auntie some warning.” Stacey was trotting up the sidewalk, obviously left behind when Jaden saw Evie and made a break for it. Her rounded tummy was her only handicap, but that had been enough to give him a head start.

“It's okay. I was just surprised.” Evie twisted around and rubbed the top of Jaden's knitted hat. His arms were wrapped firmly around her waist, and he was grinning up at her, one front tooth missing.

“Do you see it, Aunt Evie? Do you?” He opened his mouth wider and wider, pointing with one mittened hand.

“Buddy, your mouth is open so wide I can see your lunch. But if you're talking about that gap in your teeth, I would bet that somebody lost a tooth.”

“It was me! I'm the one!” He let go long enough to jump up and down. Huge brown eyes were even wider with excitement.

Evie shot a glance at Stacey, grinning. Her cousin was three years younger than Evie and about ten years further down the road to domestic bliss. Every now and then Evie caught the slightest sir of jealousy in her heart. Okay, maybe more than a slight stir. More like a full-blown green-eyed monster attack. The pretty blonde had lucked out first try and was married to her high school sweetheart. Another baby was on the way, who would probably have Stacey's blond hair and Andy's big brown eyes, just like Jaden did.
Blessed.
That was the word Evie would use for her cousin's life.

“Let's head over to the park before it gets any colder. I heard the temperature is going to drop this afternoon.” Stacey handed Evie a deli cup of what smelled like vanilla chai.

“Wow, how did I miss this?” Evie took a sip, almost scalding her tongue.

“You missed it when Jaden tackled you.” Stacey fell into step beside her as they walked toward the city center park. Lots of moms and dads and kids around on a freezing Saturday, but Denver worked that way. If you couldn't handle the cold, you'd better stay inside or, better yet, move to Texas. The city didn't stop for a few inches of snow, or even a few feet. It was just normal to look up and see snow on the mountains. And the streets and the cars.