“You’re terrified about circumstances beyond your control.” Mia’s empathy offered sincere comfort, insight that Heather appreciated.
“I am. I can raise my baby alone—except I hadn’t expected exposure to a devastating virus.”
“Do your parents live close? I’m sure they’d help.”
“They live in Houston, and they’ll be overjoyed with a grandchild.”
“You haven’t told them either?”
“I decided to wait until after my trip. My goals were to build confidence in my ability to function as a single mother.” Mom had often said Heather couldn’t function without organization, a schedule, and an idea of what would happen moment by moment. “My parents claim I mastered the art of order and levelheadedness. If I confessed my sketchy future, they’d be rattled.”
“Do you always put others before yourself?”
“Whenever possible, but I’m not always successful.”
“You love your husband very much.”
“Does it show?”
“Yes. Your face softened when you said his name.”
“Are you a counselor?”
“Just a wife, mom, and an engineer with life experiences. The three roles are a constant juggle. I’m a typical engineer but emotional at times.” Mia shoved a slight smile into her words.
Heather attempted to keep a professional facade. “Chad’s one fault is his career takes so much of his time. Unfortunately, he’s certain I’m holding him back.”
“Have you discussed counseling?”
“He refuses, doesn’t see a reason to prolong the inevitable.” She swung to Mia. “His words.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry to burden you. How are you? Are you nauseous?”
“My head hurts, but my stomach is fine.”
“Try to rest. Soon we’ll be bombarded with a team of medical personnel, doctors, and CDC disease detectives. My guess, they will be dressed in full containment gear.” Heather grimaced. “I keep talking on about trivial things. I’ll be quiet and stop bothering you.”
Mia dabbed at her nose, and red stained the tissue despite her tilted head. “I thought I’d run out of words to pray, but you, your baby’s health, and your personal problems will reach heaven’s gates.”
“Thank you.” Tears pooled in Heather’s eyes. Drat hormones. “God put us together so we could stay strong.” She held Mia’s hand . . . minus a glove.
The flight deck garnered the passengers’ attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, the ATC has ordered us to hold here for an additional thirty minutes. Once we have an update, we’ll get back to you.”
A sandy-haired man behind them in economy shouted obscenities about the delay. Nathan hurried from the galley to him. Heather refused to gawk. No point.
More time loss. More worries. The hours and days ahead loomed with a ghastly unknown—a nightmare.
CHAPTER SIX
THE TURBULENCE ENDED and Heather left her seat to assist with the sick again. What difference did it make if she was tossed onto the floor or inhaled the virus? At least she’d be tending to someone who needed care. Her head throbbed, but she blamed lack of sleep and stress. No other symptoms, and she’d rarely been plagued by morning sickness.
She hurried to Frankie in the rear. He held his grandmother’s blue-veined hand, small fingers wrapped around life as he’d known it. The poor child didn’t realize his grandmother had passed, and now wasn’t the time to tell him. His grandmother had been the second victim to receive an unresponsive diagnosis. Fever ravaged Frankie’s body, but no vomiting or nosebleed. His breathing appeared regular, and he responded to her tender whispers. She prayed he would celebrate his seventh birthday with his dad.
Heather longed to press Delete on life’s computer and return them all to the boarding gate.
She walked to the galley in business class, where Nathan stored bottles of water. The faces of those she passed told of their intense fear. Some mingled with anger. None resembled the granitelike features of a killer.
Hours had passed since they’d left Houston. Authorities on the ground had made critical decisions, but they were slow in implementing them. She didn’t want to fault the federal agencies involved, but still frustration mounted at the number of ill who suffered without medical attention. The doctor on board had his hands full.
A man who’d boarded the plane in front of her spoke to Nathan. He’d also volunteered with the sick from the beginning and needed supplies. Blood mixed with vomit stained the front of his tan silk sports coat. “Do you have any updates to share? We can’t go on like this to Germany.”
“Sir, the pilot will announce a decision soon,” Nathan said. “Until then, we remain in a holding pattern.”
The man glanced around them. “I understand, and it’s not my desire to be part of the problem. I see the sick throwing up and crying out for help, and I must take action.”
“You’ve helped tremendously by tending to the sick.”
“Has to be more I can do.” He drew in a deep breath and reached for a pair of plastic gloves and a roll of toilet paper. “I’m sure this will end soon.”
“Arrangements are being made. You can best serve everyone by encouraging them to stay strong.”
“It’s difficult to watch an epidemic with no solution.” The man moved to the nearest need.
Heather gathered more cleaning supplies. In her line of work, she longed to right the wrong, fix problems. She believed her emotional and professional skills could outmaneuver any of life’s roadblocks. Violent crimes were met head-on. Storms required an umbrella. Grieving people needed comfort. Stomachaches called for an antacid. Face it. Cuff it. Right it. But the tragedy on board this flight threatened her ability to survive emotional and physical paralysis.
“Look around at those on their devices,” Nathan said. “Trust me, the media know the misery here. If the person responsible is on board, he or she deserves to suffer more than the rest.”
She refused to reply, but his version of retribution resonated. Not godly, but honest.
He bent closer to her. “Tell me, will the plane be destroyed?”
“No, sir. There are no plans to eliminate us. The process on the ground takes time.”
Nathan had said nothing she hadn’t already processed. But she didn’t have authority to give him the information learned on the conference call. The woman FBI agent’s persistent demand to shoot down the plane fired across her mind. The federal agencies running with this ball didn’t care about the cost of landing the plane. They were concerned with the best way to treat the number of people who were critically ill.
Before Heather could assist another ill passenger, the pilot requested their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, thanks so much for your patience. ATC has directed us to prepare for a landing at John F. Kennedy airport in New York. Please return to your seats and remain there with your seat belts fastened for the remainder of the flight. Once we reach the gate, please stay in your seats and keep the aisles clear so health care workers can evacuate the sick. The current situation is frightening for every person on board. Please stay calm. Houston and Chicago airports are closed to outbound flights as a precaution.