A Kiss To Melt Her Heart

‘I’m Alex, the FTO.’

From her previous dealings and background reading Sophie already thought of Antarctica as the land of acronyms but she was struggling to keep track of them all and couldn’t remember what this one meant. She looked blankly at him until he qualified it for her.

‘The field training officer.’

‘Oh, right. It’s nice to meet you.’

‘I’ll be driving you back to Carey Station but you’ve got some time to kill first. I have to get the cargo squared away to take back with us.’

Sophie was surprised by Alex’s strong Australian accent—a Queensland twang, she thought—and she realised she had expected to hear foreign accents, the kind of thing that happened when you travelled to the ski fields and the lift operators and ski instructors had European accents, even though the ski fields were in Australia. She’d been fooled by the surroundings into thinking she was in a foreign land—and she was—but this part of it was being run by Australians. It was obviously going to take her some time to adjust and she had another nervous moment as she realised that it was very likely that nothing would be as she’d expected.

‘What do I need to do with my bags?’ she asked, as she saw them being unloaded from the cargo hold. She’d been allowed three bags with a combined weight of fifty-five kilograms and, having no real concept of what she might actually need but knowing it would be impossible to get anything she’d forgotten, she’d used every ounce of her allowance. In addition to her own luggage she’d also been given the survival kit, which she had hauled down the airplane steps along with her carry-on luggage. Even though she was now wearing most of the contents of the bag, it was still bulky and she hadn’t thought about the logistics of getting all her bags from the plane across the ice and snow to the buildings and to her transport. She had no idea what the procedure was.

‘Is that them?’ Alex pointed at her cases. Sophie nodded. ‘Just the three?’ She nodded again. ‘I’ll take care of it,’ he offered. ‘Give me your survival bag as well. I’ll stow them in the Hägglund and I’ll meet you inside the terminal when I’m done.’

Sophie didn’t argue as Alex took her survival kit and grabbed the first of her cases. She was relieved not to have to cart her heavy bags while negotiating the icy conditions.

She could see the over-snow vehicle parked a few metres from the plane. The Hägglund was an odd-looking machine and it reminded her of a childish drawing of a car crossed with a mini-tank. It looked like a box with windows set atop caterpillar treads, which Sophie knew would enable it to traverse the ice. Both the cabin and its attached trailer were square and boxy and painted bright red. Alex hoisted her bags into the attached trailer while Sophie headed for the building that he had indicated. It was difficult to walk in the cumbersome clothing, especially the heavily insulated bunny boots, and her progress felt slow and awkward.

When she finally reached the ‘terminal’ it turned out to be a rather makeshift building constructed out of several shipping containers, just as it had looked from the air, with a few minor modifications along the lines of some windows and a couple of doors. It also reminded her of a child’s drawing and it lent a surreal air to her surroundings.

Inside, the building was full of people who, she assumed, were summer expeditioners. They were milling around, waiting to get on the plane that would fly them home for winter, but despite the crowd it wasn’t any warmer inside the building. The only difference in here was that more people had their heads and faces uncovered.

‘Dr Thompson?’

She turned at the sound of her name and, recognising the Scottish burr of the man’s voice, she smiled as she greeted him. ‘You must be John.’ His accent was much more similar to what she’d expected to encounter. John was the doctor she had come to replace and while she had dealt with him before through the AMU, the Antarctic Medicine Unit, it had only been over the phone, never in person, and it was good to be able to put a face to his name.

He was able to give her a brief handover but Sophie was relieved to hear he’d left detailed instructions for her at the station. Knowing he had more pressing things on his mind—his daughter’s scheduled surgery—she insisted she would be fine. ‘Just make sure you call with an update on Marianna’s condition,’ she said, before saying farewell to him as he made his way to the refuelled aircraft.

Alex appeared at her side as the terminal emptied of people. ‘We’re good to go,’ he told her.

He kept up a steady stream of conversation from the moment she climbed into the Hägglund and she was grateful that he didn’t appear to expect too much in the way of replies from her.

He was entertaining company, keeping her amused with stories from the ice and telling her what to expect. She was quite interested in how a rugby player from the warm climate of Queensland had adjusted to the indoor life at an Antarctic station.

‘We spend more time outside than you’d think,’ he responded. ‘The weather is cold but it’s often clear and fine. You’ll be able to get out and go exploring. Do you know how to ride a quad bike?’

‘No.’ Sophie shook her head.

‘No worries. I’ll teach you. That’s part of my role as the FTO. It’s my job to train the other expeditioners, including you, in station safety procedures, survival skills, how to operate snowmobiles, quad bikes and the like. I’m also one of your medical support team.’

Sophie knew that some of the expeditioners had done some basic medical training and were able to assist her in an emergency situation, helping with suturing, anaesthetic monitoring and acting as scrub nurses among other things, but as Alex talked she found herself becoming increasingly nervous as it really sank in that she would be the only doctor for hundreds of miles and solely responsible for all the crew at the station.

She was feeling quite overwhelmed. She’d thought she’d be excited but everything was far more foreign than she’d anticipated, including the landscape. The pictures and videos she’d seen hadn’t prepared her for the rather alien scenery that filled the windows. Vast expanses of ice stretched into the distance. She could see mountains of ice but the only thing that broke the expanse of white was the occasional rocky outcrop.

The landscape looked relatively flat but she could feel corrugations under the caterpillar treads of the Hägglund, making it seem as though they were going up and down over crests of waves. Alex told her that was exactly what happened. The wind formed the snow into drifts that then froze, making waves in the surface. In some places, where the ice rose up in thicker drifts that absorbed red light from the spectrum, the ice appeared more blue than white, but mostly it was a blinding glare that made her feel she needed to close her eyes even with her sunglasses on.

‘Doc? We’re almost here.’

Alex woke her as they approached the station. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep but the interior of the over-snow vehicle was warm and cosy, and despite the excitement of her new surroundings she was exhausted. She hadn’t slept the night before—she’d had to be at the airport by three-thirty in the morning and she hadn’t seen much point in going to bed first so she’d stayed up, double-checking her packing. She’d taken out clothes and put in a few nonessential luxury items that other women who had worked on the ice suggested she take—a nice dress, decent shampoo, a thick bath towel, sheepskin boots—and as much as she hadn’t wanted to miss anything on the seventy-kilometre trip from the airstrip to the station she’d been lulled to sleep by the monotonous sound of the diesel engine and the warmth of the cabin.

‘I thought you might like a first glimpse of your temporary home,’ Alex said, as they came over a crest in the snow.

The station was spread out before her. It was perched on the edge of a natural harbour and while Sophie had seen photos the scale still took her by surprise. Close to a dozen brightly painted buildings were scattered over the snow, as if someone had spilt a handful of children’s building blocks. The buildings were a collection of shipping containers welded together to form larger structures, exactly the same as the buildings at the airstrip but on a bigger scale.

Sophie knew the bright paint scheme—red, yellow, blue and orange—was to make the buildings distinguishable from each other in blizzard conditions. The colour each ‘shed’ was painted depended on its function, but the brightness of the paint made the buildings look out of place, a blight on the landscape and a stark contrast to the ancient, icy plateau surrounding her.

A large dock poked out into the harbour and parked on the dock and scattered between the buildings were dozens of vehicles—trucks, graders, snowmobiles and trailers. Antennae and tanks, for water and gas storage, she suspected, sprouted out of the ground between the sheds, competing for space on the ice.

Her nervousness kicked up another notch. This was the station, her home for the next few weeks, and the little outpost of civilisation looked even more alien than the landscape.

‘Welcome to Carey,’ Alex said, as he brought the Hägglund to a stop in front of the largest of the buildings. This building was painted bright red and it was one thing Sophie did recognise. It was called, not surprisingly, ‘the red shed’, and it housed the accommodation block, the kitchen and the medical centre, and it was where she expected to spend most of her time.

Sophie pulled her gloves back on, squared her shoulders and climbed out of the cabin as she told herself everything would all be all right.

The wind whipped past her cheeks, making them ache with the cold after the warmth of the vehicle. She reached for the neck warmer and pulled it up over the lower half of her face.

‘Doc, welcome.’

A tall, solidly built man greeted her as he strode across the ground without a hint of the clumsiness she herself had felt as she’d negotiated the icy conditions. This man looked completely comfortable in the alien environment. He was dressed in a bright red cold-weather suit, identical to hers, but like Alex he had his head and face uncovered and exposed to the elements. The only concession he made to the conditions was in the form of sunglasses to protect against the blinding glare of the sun. Didn’t anyone else think it was cold?

He stopped in front of her and Sophie looked up, way up.

He was several inches taller than her and she stood five feet seven inches. His dark hair was cropped short and sprinkled with a little salt and pepper, and a dark, neatly trimmed beard covered the bottom half of his oval-shaped face.

‘I’m Gabe Sullivan, the station leader.’

So this was the man whose job it was to run Carey Station. This was her new boss.

He took his sunglasses off and extended his hand. His eyes were a dark chocolate-brown, kind and warming, and when he smiled at her, showcasing perfect white teeth framed by the darkness of his beard, Sophie forgot about being cold. Whereas Alex looked like a weekend surfer, Gabe Sullivan looked like a pioneer. Dark, rugged and strong. He looked like an explorer who was perfectly suited to this environment. He looked confident, like a man who could easily withstand the harsh elements of this climate, and as Sophie shook his outstretched, gloved hand she felt her nervousness recede as his gaze instilled confidence in her too.

Holding Gabe’s hand and looking into his dark-eyed gaze, she had an immediate sense that things would be okay. It was a bizarre feeling to get from a complete stranger, it was a ridiculous notion, but she saw something in his eyes, felt something in the strength of his grasp, that made her feel as though she had made the right decision. That this adventure would not be a huge mistake.

She could sense the strength in him and she could draw her own strength from that. In the same way that Danny had made her a stronger person she felt the same sense of security and confidence when she looked at Gabe. Standing here, looking up at him, she knew she’d be all right. She could do this. She was ready for the next stage of her life.

Alex had opened the back of the Hägglund and was removing her luggage from the trailer. Sophie forced herself to remove her hand from Gabe’s glove and break eye contact as she went to help with her bags. But Gabe was there before her.

‘We’ll get those for you,’ he offered.

‘I can manage,’ she said, even though she wasn’t certain that she could. Her bags were heavy and her stomach muscles complained every time she moved too quickly, let alone tried to lift something heavy.

‘Alex and I will do it,’ Gabe insisted. ‘You’ll have plenty of opportunity to help out once you get used to moving in your cold-weather gear.’

Sophie wondered if he was normally this chivalrous or whether he knew she’d recently undergone surgery but, either way, she didn’t bother arguing any further. It was nice to have someone look after her for a change so rather than debating the issue she graciously accepted his offer.

She did feel awkward in the padded overclothes and she suspected it would take some time for the bulky layers to feel comfortable. But even though her movement and her vision were restricted, she was grateful for the modern comforts. She couldn’t imagine surviving out here without this clothing. She was no intrepid explorer. She wasn’t really any sort of explorer. While Danny would have survived and thrived in these conditions, much like she suspected Gabe did, she knew she would be quite happy to experience the wilderness provided she had some twenty-first-century comforts.

Gabe and Alex retrieved her bags from the vehicle and Sophie followed them up the metal stairs to the red shed. She needed to steady herself with one hand on the rail of the steps, which were slick with a coating of ice, and she was glad she wasn’t trying to wrestle with her bags at the same time.

The two-storey building towered above her as Gabe stomped his feet on the steel grid at the top of the stairs to dislodge any snow and Sophie followed suit. Alex deposited Sophie’s bags beside her and excused himself, explaining he needed to return the Hägglund to the vehicle shed.

Gabe pushed open the door. It looked heavy and exactly like a door one would find on a freezer room. As she stepped through it she could see that was precisely what it was. As Gabe closed the door softly behind her, she noticed an immediate increase in temperature for, despite the sunshine, the outside temperature remained well below freezing. She understood the point of the freezer door now—it wasn’t to keep the cold in but to keep the cold out.

She found herself in what looked like a large mud room, similar to the drying rooms she’d seen in ski lodges. Around the edge of the room were open-fronted lockers with hanging space and shelving. Gabe directed her to one with ‘Doc’ written above it. ‘You can keep your outer layer of clothes here—boots, jackets, pants, gloves.’ His voice was deep and sounded like it held a smile, Sophie felt as if she could listen to him for hours. ‘The shed is heated to around twenty degrees Celsius,’ he continued, ‘so you don’t need much more than a layer of normal clothing once you’re inside. If your clothes are damp or wet, make sure you hang them with some space between them so they dry effectively. Take your linings out of your boots if they are wet. If your socks are dry leave them on, otherwise change them.’

Sophie nodded and looked around, taking in the surroundings, as Gabe brought her bags into the room and then began to strip off his outer layers of clothing. Sophie hesitated before following. She wasn’t sure exactly how many layers she was supposed to discard. He had mentioned normal clothing but stripping down to one layer would leave her standing there in her thermal underwear. She didn’t think that was what he’d meant.

She looked to Gabe for guidance. His waterproof jacket was hanging on a peg above his boots. His waterproof pants came off next, followed by a fleecy pullover and his long-sleeved shirt. Sophie wondered how many more layers he was going to remove until she realised he had finished and was now standing, waiting for her, dressed in a simple black T-shirt and a pair of jeans.

She could see now that her first impression of him being solidly built had been correct. It was impossible to judge people’s sizes accurately when they were encased in their cold-weather gear but now that he was standing in front of her in civvies she didn’t have to imagine what he looked like. His shoulders were broad, his chest was muscular and his stomach was flat. His jeans hugged his thighs, showing off his long, lean legs. He was an impressive-looking man.

Realising it was probably inappropriate to be taking stock of him like this she averted her eyes and continued removing layers until she was clothed in her sweatpants and T-shirt. She was still wearing her thermals but she wasn’t about to remove another layer and stand before Gabe in her underwear. She wasn’t that confident and, if the truth be told, undressing at all in front of him was making her feel a little nervous. She’d taken off enough clothing for now, she just hoped it wasn’t going to be much hotter inside the shed proper. She might regret her modesty.

Once she’d finished discarding clothing, Gabe opened the next door that led further into the red shed. ‘Can you hold this for me?’ he asked.

His voice was deep and smooth and matched his physique. He exuded a sense of calm while looking like a man who was used to being in charge, used to being listened to, used to having people follow his instructions. She supposed that was appropriate, given that he was in charge of the station, but Sophie got the sense that he wasn’t a man you wanted to disappoint.

She held the door as Gabe picked up one of her bags and slung it over his shoulder, before grabbing the two remaining bags and leading the way out of the drying room.

‘Let me take one of those,’ Sophie protested. All she had to carry was her virtually empty kitbag.

‘I’ve got it,’ he replied. ‘I know you’ve only just had your appendix out. I don’t want to jeopardise your recovery by letting you lift and carry things you don’t need to. You’re far too important on this station to put you at risk.’

Sophie didn’t argue any further. Gabe was twice her size. He had removed his shoes but he was still an inch or two over six feet tall and much heavier than she was. If he was going to insist on lugging her gear, she was happy to let him. She was willing to admit relief at not having to cart her suitcases.

She didn’t ask how Gabe knew about her recent surgery. As Station Leader, he would have his finger on every pulse. She knew that the Human Resources department in Hobart would have prepared a file on her and that Gabe would have read it. The file would detail everything he might need to know, from her qualifications to the results of her psych tests to her next of kin. He would know how many years’ experience she had as a doctor and that she was widowed. He would have read all the reports but he didn’t mention any other personal details.

She was grateful for his help and his discretion. She followed him out of the drying room into a passageway. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact that he was carting over fifty kilograms of her baggage. He didn’t appear to be under any strain at all. His long-legged stride ate up the corridor and Sophie had to hurry to keep up with him.

‘You’ve missed lunch but the cook will rustle something up for you as I’m sure you’re hungry, and then I’ll give you a tour of the station,’ Gabe said over his shoulder. ‘Unless you need to rest, in which case I’ll show you straight to your room.’

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted along the corridor, teasing her taste buds. ‘Something to eat sounds good,’ she said, surprising herself. She had lost her appetite since Danny’s death and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually felt like eating. But suddenly she was starving.

Gabe turned and pushed open a door. He backed into a room and when Sophie followed she found herself in the mess hall. The kitchen equipment ran along the back wall to her left. Massive serving stations filled the centre of the room and several long communal tables were arranged between the serving area and the far wall. Sophie’s eyes were drawn to a series of enormous windows on the far wall and she forgot all about the smell of freshly baked bread. She forgot she was in the kitchen. She forgot Gabe had brought her here to eat. She forgot she was hungry.

The view through the windows drew her across the room. The windows looked out over the icy plateau and across the blue waters of Vincennes Bay, and she couldn’t resist a closer look at the harbour. She’d only caught a quick glimpse of the station’s landscape as Alex had delivered her to the red shed and she was drawn to the contrasting colours of the buildings, the ice and the water. The views were glorious.

Half a dozen armchairs with plump cushions were positioned in front of the windows and she could just imagine curling up in one and staring out across the ice. It would be a constantly changing landscape, depending on the weather conditions, and more than likely would be enough to keep her occupied for hours.

‘It’s incredible, isn’t it?’ Gabe stood beside her.

She nodded and spoke in a whisper that seemed to fit the majesty of the view. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to live here for the next few weeks. At the end of the earth.’

Gabe was smiling at her. ‘Just wait until you see Mother Nature in all her glory. It’s beautiful today when the sun is shining but if there’s a blizzard it will seem as though someone has pulled a snow curtain over the windows. Every day is different and at times the weather can, and does, change in a matter of seconds. It’s a beautiful but inhospitable landscape and, while you’re welcome to explore it, it’s imperative we make sure you’re equipped to deal with it. I’ll organise for Alex to give you some survival training as we can’t let you out there until we’re sure you’re ready, but right now I think the first order of business is getting you fed.’

Gabe introduced her to Dom, the station chef, who served her a bowl of minestrone with freshly baked rolls still warm from the oven. Sophie’s stomach rumbled as she quickly gathered her brown, shoulder-length curls into one hand, pulling them into a ponytail before securing it with an elastic band that was around her wrist. She flicked her hair back over her shoulder, picked up her spoon and dipped it into the soup. She bent her head and tasted it.

‘Mmm, this is fabulous, thanks, Dom. I think I’ll make you my first friend.’

She lifted her head and beamed at Dom and Gabe was stunned at the way her smile lit up her face and changed her from an attractive woman into a beautiful one. How did he get her to smile like that at him? He’d been mesmerised, watching her tie her dark curls back into a ponytail—he had always loved how women could so deftly change their hairstyles—but watching her play with her hair couldn’t compare to watching her face light up with a full smile. She had two dimples, one in each cheek, and the sudden flash of the matching pair completely blindsided him. She was a gorgeous woman even if, in his opinion, she was too thin. Seeing her tuck into Dom’s soup was a relief.

He knew that Sophie’s husband had been tragically killed only a few months ago and he’d had reservations about the Australian Antarctic Programme sending her down here so soon after the accident, but he’d been told that she’d passed all the tests and that they didn’t have any other options. She was the best choice, they’d said, and he just had to hope it worked out. The only trouble was that if things didn’t go according to plan, she became his problem, not the AAP’s. He was the one in charge down here. He was the one left to sort out any mess. But seeing her eat relieved some of his apprehension. That was one less thing to worry about. Maybe she was naturally thin or maybe she’d lost weight after her husband had died, but at least she was eating.