Melt

As if she’d asked aloud, her tall companion just ahead of her turned and smiled—not a suggestive smile, not a teasing one, just one of pure, unadulterated happiness. The almost-dimple became real in that whole-body smile. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him. Happiness bubbled up inside her, responding to the sheer joy on his face, and she smiled back. Her heart let off some fireworks, and she laughed aloud. The wind swiftly stole the sound.

“Come on,” one of the welcome crew yelled in her ear. “Move!”

Emma pulled her scattered wits together and followed them into the all-terrain bus bound for the base. As she entered, the guy inside checked her name off on his clipboard.

No one sat next to her, and for the entire drive, she had her nose pressed to the window, trying to make out things in the almost total white. The only thing she got glimpses of was the road markers. When they drove into the American base, she expected the gorgeous flirt to get off, but he didn’t. Was he staying at the same base she was?

Her info pack had said her destination was only another five or so minutes from the US base, and soon enough a collection of lime-green buildings came into view.

The excitement as they exited the bus was palpable. Base staff met them and waved everyone inside, instructing them to put their extreme weather gear on the hooks, their boots on racks. Then it was debrief time. Emma put her fingers to her face, her skin frozen to the touch and yet she hadn’t noticed, too busy trying to take in the reality of the landscape.

“Exciting arrival for you guys,” the base boss welcomed with a laugh. “We’ll get you all a drink after I show you round.”

He motioned for everyone to follow him as he took them on the grand tour. A small civilian base, its purpose was scientific research and it was wholly conservation-oriented—while they aimed to discover the unique properties within Antarctica, the ultimate goal was to preserve them.

The facilities were rudimentary but in great condition. The main congregation areas were in the one building—the mess, a bar, a small store selling personal items and chocolate, as well as a tiny library and a communications area. In outlying buildings were the dormitory wing and laboratories, storerooms, and workrooms.

Emma intently listened to their first safety briefing—there’d be in-depth training starting tomorrow. For now, she dutifully looked out the windows and noted the different colored flags marking paths, base boundaries, and no-go areas.

She glanced around the room—inside the warm mess hall it seemed a small, safe community, but they were perched on the edge of the most unforgiving environment.

She pulled out her sketchbook and chewed on the end of her pencil between taking some notes and a couple of quick sketches. Then she was handed an updated timetable and given directions to her bunkroom. A final glance back saw the gorgeous American heading in the opposite direction. She ignored the tiny disappointed tug deep inside. It was good he was gone, since she didn’t need either distraction or temptation. She was here to work.

Finding the right bunkroom, Emma knocked quietly before going inside. She’d just learned the rooms were kept in darkness around the clock, and you had to keep quiet as some people worked shift hours—up all night and sleeping all day. Inevitably, there’d be someone trying to sleep in the building.

“I’m Bridget, been here since November.” A woman leaned over from the top bunk, introducing herself softly. “My fourth summer down here. You okay with the bottom bunk?”

“Sure.” Emma smiled back. “I’m used to sharing a room.” Tons of other kids had stayed at Grandma Bea’s—but only ever for a few days. Emma was the only one who’d stayed more than a month.

“Lucky for you you’re not going to have to share much this week,” said Bridget. “I’m going out in the field for a couple of weeks, so you’ll have it to yourself. But don’t brag about it to the others or they’ll get jealous.”

“You’re a scientist?”

Bridget nodded. “A glaciologist.”

“What does a glaciologist do?”

As she unpacked her daypack, Emma asked Bridget about her work and life on the base. In turn Bridget asked her all about her trip down—it was that common denominator they had, drawing strangers close in an instant. Emma felt both proud and totally daunted as she explained her project. One of New Zealand’s wealthiest philanthropists had donated wads of cash for a new research lab to be built on the base. Part of his gift was for a mural to be painted on the vestibule wall—a reminder of home for the scientists. The commissioned artist was to then paint a matching mural back at his building in Christchurch after completing the one down here—to reflect life on the ice. There’d been a call for submissions and somehow, Emma’s work had been chosen. She’d entered only on the off chance—it was a place she’d longed to visit and the contest had given her a theme and deadline for producing some work. They’d actually liked her fine, detailed pencil work. She was a hyperrealist, not an abstract artist. She liked to magnify the miniscule, drawing attention to the beauty in the tiny things the eye could so easily miss—the contradiction of that with the mural format would be her biggest challenge ever.

She breathed deeply. Yes, now here she was amongst all these amazing people who achieved amazing things. No pressure at all.

Once unpacked, she walked down to the communications area and tried to call Grandma Bea to let her know she’d landed safely, but her old foster mother never answered.

Frowning, Emma wandered through the mess down the stairs to the small lounge and library area, lingering for a moment until she realized that the people on the sofa nearest her were engaged in a very serious—and deeply personal—conversation about a relationship gone wrong. One had been on the plane with her, the other she didn’t recognize. But they didn’t seem to mind that she, a complete stranger, was in a total eavesdropping position.

She walked to the other end of the library to escape overhearing. She barely noticed the wall of books, as the window claimed all her attention—the view was mind-blowing.

The wind had dropped, the snow had settled on the ground again, and now the sky was blue. She looked across the endless expanse of white ice. Mount Erebus dominated the scene, apparently still active because plumes of steam rose occasionally, reminding them this was a land not just of ice, but fire, too. In fact, fire was a very real threat to the inhabitants. She’d be learning more about how to deal with that tomorrow.

“My name’s Hunter Wilson,” a voice murmured in her ear. “I’m a project manager here for the rest of the summer, and it’s my second season on the ice.”

Casual again in jeans and tee with a hint of stubble and those smiling eyes, he left her as speechless as she’d been on that crazy descent onto the ice.

“Come on, aren’t you going to do the ritual intro?” he prompted. “You’ll get asked a lot, so you might as well get it perfect now.”

“Emma Reed, painter, first time. Only until Christmas Eve.”

“Really nice to see you again, Emma. Hell of a landing, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

“Met your bunkroom buddy?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Is she a beaker?”

“A what?”

“A scientist. A beaker.”

“Yes, she is.” Emma laughed. “Is that what they’re called?”

He nodded, that smile dancing in his eyes again. “There’s a whole other language down here. You’ll pick it up quickly.”

“Give me some more examples.” Intrigued, she turned to face him.

“Okay, let’s see.” He thought about it. “Well, there are city mice and country mice. City are those stuck at base, country are those out in field camps.”

“Got it. I’m a city mouse mostly.”