The Iron Quill (22 page)

My mom also thought it was a great idea, and with the place decided, we agreed to find a simple, but flowy dress. I imagined one that would look plain until it blew in the wind. I’ll admit, my excitement began to build, but I didn’t want to set the date until I was either rid of my new disease or resolved to accept that I’d have it forever. Under no circumstances could I stand there wondering about the what-ifs.

Even though my whole future was a what-if, I wanted to get back to the point where I ignored them all and let myself enjoy the moment one hundred percent, and right now, that wasn’t possible.

She thought that was a wise choice, but still convinced me to go shopping for dresses. And just so I’d be ready when the time came, we opted for a day out together on Wednesday.

In the meantime, Wes answered all of Dr. Carter’s questions and explained everything else, including my situation. Wes told me that he gave Dr. Carter all of the old journals and pictures from Dr. Thomas and let him sort through them in his study with privacy.

It didn’t take long for Dr. Carter to know what I knew, which was the truth. They agreed that he would stay with Wes until he transitioned into his own place, possibly even Dr. Thomas’ old residence nearby. When Wes decided to keep the house after Dr. Thomas died, he never imagined the purpose it might end up serving.

Everyone else was adjusting well, too. Dr. Lyon seemed to have a relatively ordinary response to Dr. Carter joining their team. One would think he’d have flipped or been shocked if he recognized the reunion that was happening in front of him, but he didn’t.

It was enough for Wes to explain how Dr. Carter had risked his career and life to help Wes escape and that Wes believed he could help the lab once they blended their knowledge. Dr. Carter worked day and night, obsessively learning his way around the lab and reading through their notes.

By Tuesday evening, I’d had my fair share of information overload. I was so happy to see Wes’ relief and excitement at having Dr. Thomas back. I could only imagine what that meant to him, but I also saw stress and fatigue.

I’d never seen Wes tired, and in just the three days since we’d been back from West Virginia, he’d become mentally exhausted. I figured out that he was spending time at the lab at night after he left me.

The first night of his doing that seemed normal since he needed and wanted to get Dr. Carter back on track, but after the second night, I took it upon myself to nip it in the bud. Wednesday morning, I made him come over.

My mom was off, because it was the day we planned to dress shop in the afternoon, so Wes and I went upstairs and lounged around on my bed. After a few minutes of absorbing his aura into my body, I broke the comfort of the moment.

“I don’t want you spending so much time at the lab now.”

He laughed, in a yeah-right way. “Sophie, the cure you need is my priority right now. We’re so close. I can’t let up on it.”

“What’s close? You keep saying close. What does that mean in medical terms? Are we talking months, years?”

He propped himself up on one elbow and kept his head cocked to the side. I could feel compassion and worry coming off of him in waves.

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“On if they can figure out the missing piece.”

“Which is? In layman’s terms, please?”

“Okay, well we’ve got the antibody mixture that will isolate the virus. It’s mostly from alligator plasma. We’ve replicated an agent that works like our white blood cells and when introduced into infected blood, it attacks the virus. The problem we are encountering is that the human body’s natural defenses may start to attack the antivirus serum, mistaking it for something harmful. It could lead to overactive white blood cells, which could lead to death. No oxygen in the blood, it wouldn’t be good. So we’re trying to create a barrier around the vaccine that won’t trigger the body’s natural defense to fight against it. That way the vaccine can do what it’s meant to do.”

It was times like this when I wished more of Amelia was showing through, because although I understood what he was saying, I wasn’t interested in diving into it. Maybe it was because I saw the whole thing as a wedge between Wes and me.

“You don’t have to be so consumed by this virus, you know. I’m not going to get sick from it for a while. I think we should worry about me getting hit by a bus first.”

He dropped his head back onto the pillow. “Not funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m serious, Wes, I just want to spend quality time with you. We’re so stressed now.”

“Sophie, the medicine we’re working on is only a start. It’s meant to attack the early stages of a virus. The more infected cells there are, the harder it will be for the medicine to isolate them. If it doesn’t isolate all of them, then the virus will keep replicating until the body shuts down.”

Yikes.

I rolled onto my back and stared at my ceiling. So if I were going to beat this at all, I’d have to get the medicine soon.

“Well, okay,” I sighed. “I believe you’ll find the cure. Let’s say you find it in six months. But what if I die in three months from something else? We will have wasted so many hours stressing over this that we’ll miss out on the little moments.

He put his palm on my stomach and shook me gently. “I don’t like hearing you talk like that.”

I rolled toward him. “But it’s reality Wes. It
could
happen. And I want no regrets.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “I get it. You’re right. We’ll find the cure, but I won’t lose sight of us in the process.”

With that, he leaned over, rolling himself on top of me and started kissing me. At first it felt like a calculated comforting gesture, but it quickly ignited the hormones that had been dormant for a few weeks. My body easily remembered how good he felt pressed against me and how his mouth moved with mine.

This is what I’d missed and this is what I wanted more of.

“Wes?” I murmured between a break in the rhythm.

“Uh huh?” he responded, burying the bridge of his nose in my neck.

“I’m tired of stopping with you.”

With his nose still rubbing against my throat, I felt him inhale. “Me, too.”

“So what do we do about it?”

“We do it,” he murmured.

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

“Me, too,” he replied, regaining eye contact with me.

I took it he was fine with the clarity issue. “When?” I asked suddenly feeling nervous.

His words flowed out with ease. “Whenever you want.”

I couldn’t stand to receive his burning stare, so I closed my eyes and kissed him again. Unable to come up with a logical response to his invitation, I thought of the only thing to say that would put him on the defense.

“My mom and I are shopping for wedding dresses today,” I blurted out.

He pulled his head back and assessed my surprised-at-my-own-comment expression.

“Really?”

I nodded. “Unless you’re taking back your offer.”

“No,” he answered back, appalled. “So tell me what I’ve missed.”

The light in his eyes returned. It had been a while since I hadn’t seen the hints of worry. Now, it was pure, undistracted gleam.

I told him how my mom thought it would be something good for me to focus on and how she wanted to see a love story come true. Then I told him how I wanted it simple and at the Overlook.

“I think it’s perfect,” he said. “I’ll be there whenever you tell me to.”

“Well, it’s not all about whenever
I
say. When you want to do it is important, too.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow if you want to. I don’t care when or where,
or
whether you wear your flip-flops and shorts. It doesn’t matter to me. I just want to see you happy.”

I looked into his eyes and found myself the way I wanted to be. Happy.

We lay around for a good while longer, just glad to spend time together, and then my mom took me to the bridal shop, and he snuck off to the lab.

We were greeted as soon as we arrived by an older woman with silver hair and skin so tan it looked like leather. She turned out to be the owner and had more energy than someone in her twenties.

“Who’s the bride?” she said tilting her head back so she could get a good look at me through her glasses.

“She is,” my mother proudly boasted with her arm around my shoulder. I was taller than my mom, so the gesture was unnatural, and clearly done to make me feel like the center of attention as she gave me a small shove forward.

At first the woman assessed me, pausing on my midsection, and it occurred to me that she was taking in my body, possibly wondering if I was pregnant or not.

Nope. Just living for the third lifetime and wanting to capitalize on this one early.

I smiled and then she clapped her hands.

“You have a lovely figure,” she said. “What do you have in mind, my dear?”

Even though I knew what I wanted, my first instinct was to shrug my shoulders, because this experience was completely foreign to me. Thankfully, my mom spoke up on my behalf.

“We brought a few pictures. Maybe you can try to find her something similar.”

“Ah,” she took the magazine ads. “Let me see what I can do. And you can call me Clarra.”

“Thank you, Clarra,” my mom answered sincerely.

Clarra left us free to browse while she disappeared down a row of dresses.

Despite my previous style selections from the magazines, my mom pulled out dresses for me to assess while we waited. My responses were easy.

“No . . . .no . . . .um, no . . . uh-unh . . . nope . . . no . . . and no.”

Seven dresses later, she asked me to stop being so close-minded.

“We’ve already agreed to find what I want. It’s not that those dresses aren’t nice. They’re just not for me.”

Her shoulders sank. “Fair enough.”

Just as I was about to say something light to cheer her up, Clarra returned with an assistant holding two dresses.

“What do you think of these?” she asked while the assistant held them up.

I pointed to the cream one on the right. “I like that one.”

I knew without having to think about it that it was perfect for the look I was going for.

“It is pretty,” my mom said. “You should try it on.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to minimize the experience, I agreed. Clarra swept me into the dressing room. “Let me know if you need help,” she cooed. While I changed out of my clothes and into the dress, I could hear Clarra and my mother talking about the details.

I slipped it over my head and felt the soft, thin chiffon slide down my body. It felt so light and carefree. Exactly how I wished to be. It was strapless, so I took off my bra, and once I finished zipping it up the side, I stared at myself in the mirror.

The dress was a pale vanilla color, fitted through the bodice, and hanging gently in long, thin layers of nearly see-through chiffon. The only detailing was in the tiny row of pearl beading that circled the dress below my bust and the uneven hem that hung like upside-down rose petals.

With even the slightest breeze, this simple dress would blow beautifully. It was perfect. When I stepped out, my mom immediately dug in her purse for a tissue.

“Do you like?” I asked.

She dabbed both corners of her eyes. “It’s perfect on you.”

“It sure is,” Clarra added proudly as she approached me with several clips. “Step up here, dear.” She turned me toward a small platform and gave me an encouraging push. With me now a good two feet higher, she pulled my dress tight and clipped it in the back. Surprisingly, her adjustments made a big difference. I had thought the dress looked good before, but now it brought out every detail of my upper half in a way that made me feel beautiful.

“Perfect,” she said. “Now, would you like to try on the jewelry and shoes?”

“Actually, no jewelry.” I wanted to wear my necklace that matched the bracelet Wes had bought me for Christmas. But I did agree to the shoes and ended up choosing a pair of cream ballerina slipper-style shoes that would be comfortable when walking on gravel at the overlook.

In a little over an hour, my mom and I were walking out of the store with my dress ordered and scheduled to arrive in four to six weeks.

The time struck me, because I’d be nineteen in eight weeks and having just had a taste of how I felt wearing that dress, I said a silent prayer that Dr. Lyon and Dr. Carter would find that cure soon.

I
worked the rest of the week, and on the weekend, Wes invited me over for dinner with Dr. Carter. Can you say awkward? He was still a little shell-shocked about everything, but he and Wes had gotten to know each other all over again. Me? Well, we still felt like strangers.

I supposed it would be easier for them to reconnect when Wes could answer all the questions about their past. But I was just as clueless as Dr. Carter was.

Our conversation started in the living room while Wes was in the kitchen. Dr. Carter initially started asking me questions about my life, how I’d met Wes, and how Wes had told me about the past. He found it interesting, and the way we had both come to terms with everything gave us something in common. Trying to think of other ways to connect, I refocused on that puzzling dream where Dr. Thomas showed me a formula on the pages of his journal.

It seemed like something he’d like to know, so I told him everything I saw. He was quiet, so I added, “I’m certain it was the formula to Wes’ serum, but wherever he put it, it seems long gone.”

He looked at me and then studied his glass. I waited for him to say something enlightening or exciting, but he just quietly reflected and replied, “As it should stay.”

I stared at him, a little shocked that he showed no interest in recovering the magic serum.

At that point, the aroma from the kitchen became too strong to ignore. I excused myself to go see what Wes was up to when Dr. Carter spoke my name, prompting me to turn back.

He cleared his throat. “We’re going to fix what they did to you.”

I’d heard Wes say it, Tom say it, and my mom, but hearing him say it, too, made me believe it even more.