Chapter 12: Southern American Dilemma

Celeste sat dangling in the bosun's chair half way up the mast, camera in hand, and her entire concentration on the composition of a shot of the Gon Waki 2's bow as it skimmed through the South Pacific. She'd had this picture in her mind for days, and this morning, both the light and the weather were perfect for what she had in mind. Having selected her initial subject area, she was now exploring the various elements of the overall scene. It was Brandon's voice that broke her concentration.

"Mind telling me why you're way up there, Angel?" he called in a voice loud enough to be heard over the wind and waves.

"Just trying to get some shots of the bow from a different point of view," she replied, attempting to maintain her focus as she answered the Captain.

"Any chance you'd be interested in coming down to join me for breakfast?" he invited.

"Give me ten minutes," she pleaded, "then I'll be right down. Does Tracy have the coffee on yet?"

"I think she's coming down with something. She's a little on the warm side. I told her to stay in bed and rest up," Brandon passed on the information, "so I'm pulling galley duty. How do you want your eggs?"

"Eggs? Gawd, it's been ages since I've had one. Easy over – and the bacon crisp," Celeste enthusiastically endorsed Brandon's menu.

"Bacon? Where'd you get the idea we have bacon? Would you settle for Spam?" he teased.

"We have a dozen packages of bacon in the forward freezer," she snarled right back, "and I've made a point of keeping that pre-digested, imitation meat crap off this ship! Maybe I'd better come down now and take over my galley again. You're liable to poison me if I give you half a chance!"

Brandon chuckled to himself as he made his way below. The coffee was already perking, and it would only be a few short minutes before he'd have the rest of their meal frying. But before attacking the galley, he took the time to check on his sister.

"Feeling any better, Pip-squeak?" he enquired of Tracy.

"I'm shaking like a leaf while sweating like a stuffed pig. My head's plugged, I have a headache, and every muscle in my body hurts like hell. Does that answer your question?" she groused.

"Let me find some aspirin, and I'll get you some orange juice to wash them down with. You stay in that berth, Young Lady, until this thing breaks."

Brandon gently placed a hand on Tracy's forehead to check for fever, and was alarmed at how warm she was. Hopefully Celeste knew where they'd stowed the thermometer so that he could get a better idea of her temperature.

"Your hand's like ice," Tracy let him know, "but it sure helps the headache. Funny, because I don't ever remember getting a migraine before."

"Something tells me this isn't a migraine, Sis. You're hotter than a firecracker, and people with a migraine don't usually sweat while fighting a fever. Just for my own peace of mind, I'm going to search on the 'net to see if I can get some idea of what you've got. Until I do, I'd like you to stay in bed."

"You don't have to ask me twice," Tracy responded. "I don't think I could make it as far as the head right now. Even the smell of that coffee is making me feel nauseous, and you know how I love coffee."

"I'll be in the galley if you need anything," Brandon informed her. "Just call and I'll be here in seconds."

"Whatever this is, I hope you two don't come down with it. I would appreciate a bucket, though, in case this nausea gets any worse and I throw up."

Brandon left the room to search out the thermometer and a bucket, almost colliding with Celeste as she came down the ladder. From the look on his face, she knew that something was wrong, and asked him what.

"Tracy's got one hell of a fever," he quietly told her. "She's asking for a bucket, just in case, and I'd like to take her temperature while I'm at it. Could you find the thermometer for me? I have no idea where we put it."

Without further word, Celeste headed for the bathroom to retrieve the thermometer, meeting Brandon back in the aft stateroom once she had it. Gazing down at her sister-in-law, her heart went out to the younger woman, and she found herself reaching out for Tracy's hand in a show of support.

"If there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Sweetie, just let me know," Celeste re-enforced her support.

"Thanks, Sis," Tracy responded with a strained smile on her lips. "Just try to keep from getting whatever I have, and keep my silly brother from coming down with it, too."

"Maybe we should put the divider up again," Celeste suggested, with little enthusiasm for the idea. From the look she got from Brandon, he was even less in favour of the idea than she was, and let her know in no uncertain terms.

"I promised my sister that we were all in this for the long haul," his stern tone came out, "and I'd rather be right here if she needs us, rather than on the other side of a wall."

"You're not going to be of much use to us if you get this," Tracy reminded her brother, "and if you both come down with it, I can't sail the Gon Waki 2 all by myself. Besides, it was me that promised, not you. As much as I love you, big brother, don't get all pig-headed on me. We need you healthy and able to sail the ship as much as anything else."

"She's right," Celeste affirmed before Brandon could object. "Captain's aren't supposed to get sick and leave everything to the crew."

Brandon took their advise into consideration as he slipped the thermometer under Tracy's tongue, waited for it to register, then read the results.

"A hundred and four," he reported, receiving a wince from Celeste as she reacted to the news. In response, she left the stateroom, returning a few minutes later with a damp cloth for Tracy's forehead.

"That isn't cold, is it?" Brandon enquired. "Wouldn't want to send her into shock."

In silence, Celeste laid the cloth on his arm to prove that it wasn't too cold. He reacted with a smile of approval, leaving Celeste to administer the cooling compress. Tracy smiled to her lovers as the relief from the compress coursed through her.

"Thanks, Sis," was all Tracy managed to get out as her body began to relax enough to allow her some respite. As Celeste continued to spread the comforting coolness over her sister-in-law's face and neck, Tracy drifted back to sleep. Only when the sounds of her gentle breathing informed the other two that she'd drifted off did either of them make a sound.

"Up on deck," Celeste ordered her Captain, and Brandon followed her out of the stateroom, up the ladder, and finally on to the aft deck.

"Where are we, exactly?" Celeste asked.

"If we went due east, we'd be just about at the border between Chile and Peru," he answered.

"I'm scared for her, Brandon," his deck-mate admitted. "We might want to think about getting her to a hospital if that fever doesn't break between now and sunset tonight. She's burning up, and there's nothing that we have on board that'll help fight whatever she's got."

Without a word, Brandon made his way below again, and was sitting at the navigation desk when Celeste joined him a moment later. As she looked over his shoulder, he was plotting a course for a small city on the coast of Chile. The intense look he gave her let Celeste know that her idea had been adopted in the manner that she'd hoped.

"Closest hospital is in a little place called Iquique," he passed on what he'd found. "It's not as big as Arequipa, Peru, which is forty miles inland, but it's right on the coast. From what I found on the 'net, the facilities there should be as good as any. It's the best I can do, Angel."

"Let's pray that your best is good enough. How long before we can get there?" she extended the conversation.

"If the wind holds, about this time tomorrow. Think she'll hang in there that long?" Brandon's worries came out.

"I hope so, Lover. I hope so," Celeste returned with as much worry as her Captain's voice had expressed. "You finish plotting that course. I'll go check on her, then help set and trim sails. Call me when you're ready."

Brandon spent the next number of minutes calculating their new course, taking into account the currents, wind direction and speed, and the most advantageous tacks that they'd use. When he'd finished, he quietly peeked into the stateroom and beckoned to Celeste that he could use her help.

"Any change?" he asked as they clambered up on deck in preparation for their first course change.

"About the only thing different is that she's resting quietly now," Celeste answered, her worry evident in the tone of her voice. "You take the helm, and I'll trim the jib," she offered before heading forward to man the jib sheets.

"Ready about?" Brandon called out as he spun the wheel to take them to their new heading, although it really wasn't a necessary warning considering his crew-mate's readiness and the sense of teamwork that had developed over the months.

"Coming about," Brandon warned as the mainsail's boom swung from one side of the craft to the other.

Celeste had the jib swung across the mast and set within short minutes, then waited for her Captain's instructions before trimming it to his satisfaction. Once the winds were again propelling the Gon Waki 2, she made her way back to the helm to stand beside the Captain, and to make note of the compass reading of their new course.

"We'll hold this heading until early tomorrow morning, then swing east to make landfall in Iquique," Brandon informed her. "You okay?" he added, his concerns for his crew member quite evident.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Celeste tried to ease his discomfort. "Just worried about Tracy. That fever came up all of a sudden, and if we don't get it down, she could be in real trouble. Not many people can handle anything over a hundred and five, and I have no idea how to get it down to something she can tolerate. I'm scared, Brandon. Really scared."

"Me too, Angel," Brandon concurred. "Me too."

The atmosphere on board the sloop was quiet and full of concern for the rest of that day. Between the two active crew members, they split their time between manning the helm and nursing Tracy. By the time darkness set upon them, their concern overshadowed their hunger. At Tracy's insistence, Celeste whipped up a light meal for Brandon and herself. While she was busy in the galley, Brandon spent his time sitting with his sister.

"I want to take your temperature again, Sis," he insisted. Tracy accepted his request, allowing her brother to probe under her tongue with the thermometer. As he waited for the device to register, Celeste poked her head through the door to both check on her sister-in-law and to hear the results.

"One-oh-three point seven," Brandon read out, his expression mirroring his disappointment over such a small drop.

"Let me get some more sleep," Tracy groaned. "I'll be fine by morning."

Her brother leaned over to lay a soft and gentle kiss on her forehead, holding his lips against her heated skin for several moments.

"I hope so, Sis," he remarked quietly as his lips left her skin, "but just in case, we're heading for Chile and a hospital. We should be there by tomorrow morning. I don't know what you have, but I can't find anything that matches your symptoms. I'd really like to have you looked at by a doctor."

"And I'd like it if you two would go and get something to eat," Tracy shifted the conversation away from herself. "Feed this idiot, Sis – please? He's liable to do something silly like get sick himself if we're not careful."

"I'll look after our Captain," Celeste answered her. "Promise me that you'll let us know if there's anything we can do. I've got some orange juice in the fridge, and I want you to drink at least one glass before we eat."

"Yuck!" Tracy expressed her reactions. "That stuff tastes like it came out of the bilge!"

"Tasted just fine to me," Brandon gave his opinion. "When we were in Florida, you couldn't get enough of the stuff. So how about you humour me and drink up? You need fluids anyway, and the vitamins should help."

When Celeste returned with the liquid, Tracy managed to guzzle it down, but her facial expressions let the other two know that she sure didn't enjoy it.

"I may never drink that stuff again," Tracy vowed as she finished off the last of the juice in her glass.

There was little talk between Brandon and Celeste during their meal, for their thought were of Tracy's health and the severity of her illness. Physically she seemed quite lethargic, but her mind was as sharp as ever. How long that mental acuity would continue was still anybody's guess.

The two sailors took turns either manning the helm or trying to sleep, breaking up the night into two hour watches. By first light the next morning, the little ship was fifty miles off the South American coast and eighty miles from their destination. If the winds held and the current remained relatively constant, Brandon calculated that they'd be in Iquique late that afternoon. It wasn't as soon as he'd hoped, but as Celeste had reminded him, there was nothing they could do to speed their progress.

By four that afternoon, Brandon had found suitable moorage at a marina in the Cavancha district, a neighbourhood of Iquique. With the help of Celeste's fluent Spanish, they located a decent hospital within two miles of the marina. By five, Tracy awaited admittance to the emergency ward. The two others were forced to wait in the admitting office.

Just before seven o'clock, Dr. Galdames met Brandon and Celeste to advise them of Tracy's condition, and to give them his prognosis. He informed them that she was stable, but suffering from a viral infection that would require treatment with antibiotics, bed rest, and several days of hospitalization. As he left to return to the emergency ward, the doctor turned as though about to add something to his diagnosis, then paused silently before continuing out the door.

"What was that all about?" Brandon wondered to his shipmate. "It's as if there's something going on that he's not telling us. Damn, I hate it when doctors do that."

"Whatever it was," Celeste offered, "we're not going to find out until he's good and ready to tell us. We should find out when visiting hours are before we go. After that, I don't know about you, but I could use some sleep. Can we head back to the ship soon?"

Celeste woke to the sensation of two warm and sparkling eyes gazing at her. Searching for the perceived intrusion, she found Brandon propped up on an elbow, resting his head in the palm of his hand as he studied the woman laying beside him.

"Do I pass inspection?" she softly whispered, mindful of her lover's apparent concentration. Her question was answered with a warm and happy smile, although it faded moments later, replaced with an expression of concern and mild worry.

"She'll be fine," Celeste tried to reassure Brandon. "She's in good hands. We did the right thing to bring her here. Lord knows we'd never have been able to treat whatever she's got while out at sea; not with the medical supplies we have on board. We'd have to have a complete pharmacy to deal with whatever Tracy's got, and that's a little unreasonable, isn't it?"

"In the order asked," Brandon finally replied, "you definitely pass inspection. And as for a fully stocked medical locker, I wouldn't know what to do with one. If we're going to run into these kind of problems, maybe we should re-think this voyage."

"Brandon, are you listening to yourself?" Celeste admonished him, angry that he'd even suggest such a thing. "No matter what we do, this trip is going to have its challenges. Maybe something will come up that proves to be more than we can handle. Then again, maybe it won't. None of us remembered to pack a crystal ball, so we have no idea what the future holds. But I was under the impression that one of the reasons for making this voyage in the first place was to push ourselves to our limits. Taking the easy way out isn't going to change that, nor will it let us discover what those limits are. Tracy deserves that chance, too, just as you and I do. Playing it safe isn't the answer; for you, for me, or for your sister. As a guess, I'll bet that if she heard you talking like that, she'd beat you over the head – and I'd probably help her. There's nothing to re-think, my Love. When Tracy's ready, we carry on. Understand?"

Brandon spent a few moments in thought, rolling over in his mind what Celeste had said, and finally accepting her stance. She was right, he knew, and to confirm his agreement, he leaned over and softly kissed her lips. Celeste snaked a hand around his head, holding him to her until she felt him begin to pull away.

"At least one of us is still able to focus on the big picture," Brandon finally murmured lightly to her. "And you're right. If Pip-squeak were here, she probably would give me a good smack or two. It's funny, though. She and I were apart from each other for sixteen years, and I learned to live with that. But after the last year and something together, I really miss her when she's not here. I have no idea how I'd handle myself if we lost her, Angel. Weird, isn't it?"

"No. I miss her just as much as you do. Something tells me that being in love with her has a lot to do with it, for both us. If anything's weird, it's the fact that all three of us are in love with each other, and we make it work."

"You're getting too philosophical for me," Brandon made his excuses. "How about I make some coffee and something to eat, then we head back to the hospital. What time did they say visiting hours were?"

"Noon until eight," Celeste answered, "and I'd love bacon and eggs this morning. Easy over, and the bacon crisp. Any chance?"

"I'll check, but you might have to put up with powdered eggs. I'm not sure if we still have any fresh ones or not," he warned her, although his tone was light and his expression a lot more cheerful than it'd been short minutes earlier.

Over scrambled eggs and fried canned ham, Brandon and Celeste chatted about everything except what was really on their minds. It was as if they intentionally avoided the subject of Tracy's illness, and the effect it might have on the rest of the voyage. As soon as they finished eating, Brandon washed dishes while Celeste dried. His observation that whoever washed was always finished first was rewarded with a playful slap on the shoulder. He did, however, busy himself with a general clean-up of the galley.

The two arrived at the hospital shortly before noon. Brandon's attempts to find out from one of the nurses which room his sister was in were met with a blank stare and complete incomprehension. It was only when Celeste stepped in to ask in Spanish that they found out.

"Cuál es el cuarto Tracy Keelson en?" she enquired of the desk nurse, whose response was made almost instantly and cheerfully.

"Ella está en la habitación de dos doce," the nurse answered in a happy and helpful tone.

"Room 212," she translated for Brandon.

"It's a good thing one of us knows Spanish. I'd have struggled for hours if it wasn't for you," he let her know,

"Maybe I should teach you Spanish. Both of you, in case something happens to me," she smiled warmly as she made the suggestion.

"How many languages do you know?" he enquired out of curiosity.

"Let's see," she began to rattle them off, keeping track by using her fingers, "there's French, Italian, German, and a little bit of Dutch. Which one do you want first?"

"Smarty-panties!" Brandon admonished her for bragging, but that grin he wore let Celeste know that he was more envious than anything else. She returned his smile with one of her own, never saying a word one way or the other.

Entering the hospital ward, they were greeted with the sight of Dr. Galdames finishing his examination of Tracy. She lay quietly in the bed, connected to a complicated-looking monitor and several tubes. Celeste waited until the doctor was finished before engaging him in conversation.

"Cómo es ella, Doctor?" Celeste asked, receiving a look of raised eyebrows from Dr. Galdames at the fluency of her Spanish.

"Los antibióticos están empezando a funcionar. La temperatura ha venido abajo y con un poco de suerte, ella va a estar bien en pocos días," he answered her question, using Spanish as a sign of courtesy for Celeste's use of his native language.

"Creemos que el bebé debe estar bien. Nosotros hemos estado monitoreando el feto a través de la noche, y no hay indicios de complicaciones del embarazo, " he added, unaware that Brandon had no idea what had been said.

"El bebé? Que no sabía que ella era embarazada. Cuán lejos está?" Celeste enquired of him, her shock quite evident.

"Por lo que pude determinar, ha sido alrededor de trece semanas desde su concepción. Es esto un problema?" he answered, his concern evident from his worried look.

"No, no lo creo, pero el padre no sabe ... todavía," she tried to ease his angst.

The doctor's look of worry changed to one of understanding, accompanied by upwardly curving lips as a smile slipped over his face.

During the conversation, Brandon had been standing beside the bed, holding his sister's hand and gazing into her hazel-green eyes. There was a hint of dazed confusion in her return look that seemed unnatural and out of place. He decided to wait until Celeste and the doctor had finished talking before he enquired further.

"Brandon, would you give Tracy and me a few minutes alone?" Celeste asked when the doctor was finally out of the room. "There's something that she and I need to discuss."

"Is there a problem that I should know about? She isn't going to die, is she?" his worst fears came out in words.

"You're about as subtle as a shark!" he was put in his place. "But no, she's not going to die. Not for quite a few years yet. Now get! And close the door on your way out. I'll let you know when it's okay to come back in," he was ordered in a soft but insistent tone.

Once the two women were alone, Celeste turned to Tracy with a stern expression, but reached for her hand and held it tenderly.

"How long have you known?" was the only thing Tracy was asked.

"How long have I known about what? What do you mean?" Tracy tried to sound and look bewildered and innocent.

"You know damned well what I mean, Sweetie. How long did you think you could hide the facts from Brandon and me?" Celeste growled.

"Don't tell him. Please, Sis?" Tracy begged, her unspoken fear impossible to miss.

"No, I won't ... but you will! He's entitled to know," Celeste couldn't find the answer inside herself.

"No! Because as soon as he finds out, he'll turn us around and head back to the States. That's the last thing I want, and you don't want it, either!" Tracy pleaded with her sister-in-law.

"So what are you going to do about this?" The last part was a question, but one without any choice of answers.

"Sis, I'll do whatever it takes to keep my brother, both as one of my best friends," she voiced a decision that had been roaming around in her mind for days, "and as a lover. But I'm scared, Celeste!" Tracy bared her feelings in earnest. "What if he stops loving me? We're in the middle of nowhere, and I can't go through this all by myself! Where would I go? How would I survive? I need Brandon. I lost him once, and I won't lose him again!"

"You're not going to lose him," Celeste tried to reassure her sister-in-law. "Not if you talk to him, and you're honest with him. But you will, if you keep this from him. Trust me, Sweetie. The chances of him leaving you behind are about as good as the sun coming up in the West. He needs and wants you just as much as you need and want him. I know your brother. He's not Darren, and as I've found out, he's not Darryl, either. I know it, and so do you. Brandon never left you. All he did was get on with his life. After the last year, you and I are that life for him. So stop talking so damned crazy!"

Tracy took several minutes to consider what her sister-in-law had said, and gave herself the time to absorb those words. Celeste's argument sounded good, but she wasn't yet convinced that it was accurate.

"Let me think about it for a day or two," she begged for time to reconsider her initial conclusions. "Just promise me that you won't tell him before I do."

"I'll give you one day," Celeste vowed, "and if you haven't made up your mind by then, I'll do it for you. Tracy, I've lived with the man for almost a full year, and in that time I've fallen as much in love with him as you have. I owe him my loyalty – just as you do. I refuse to see either you or Brandon get hurt. Hell, he's put his life on the line for both of us. Being as honest with him as we can is the least we can do."

Tracy spent a few more moments in silence as she mulled over her sister-in-law's argument some more. Despite all that had been said, she still had reservations.

"Okay," she finally conceded, "but I want that one more day. Give me that much, Sis."

"I will, Sweetie, but only one. In the mean time, can I call him back in here? You have no idea how badly he wants to see you. I don't think the man slept more than a few hours last night because of how worried he is about you."

Brandon returned at Celeste's beckon, immediately rushing to his sister's side and reaching for her hand. She smiled wanly in return, and he noted a dull glaze in her eyes. That was a result of the medications, he rationalized, but her discomfort left him with an unsettled feeling inside.

"Are you feeling any better?" he queried. "Gawd, Sis, you scared the hell out of me! I keep thinking about what we'd do if we were further west, in the middle of the Pacific. I mean, anything could have..."

"I'll be fine, Brandon," she tried to put his mind at ease. "They're taking good care of me, and the medicine is starting to work. Celeste tells me that you're not sleeping, though. You'd better take care of yourself, because we need you healthy – or would you rather be in a hospital, like me?"

"I'll try," he weakly promised before changing the subject. "You look worried yourself. Something on your mind?"

The light in Tracy's eyes dimmed, as the weak smile disappeared at the same time.

"I'm not ready to talk about it yet," she tried to duck his enquiry. "Maybe tomorrow, but not today. Okay?"

Brandon's expression let her know that he'd give her the time she'd asked for, but he wasn't happy about it, nor about the fact that she was holding something back. There was more than just a little irritation in his mind that she wouldn't, or couldn't be open and honest with him. He remembered the days of their youths, when Tracy would unburden herself on him, and wondered what had changed between then and now.

"Pip-squeak, there's nothing you can't tell me, you know," he tried to put her mind at ease. "This is me, your big brother, the guy that loves you. Are you sure you don't want to tell me what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she flatly declared. "I'm feeling tired, that's all. Can we leave this until some other time?"

Celeste's gaze shifted between her two lovers, torn by a sense of loyalty to both of them. That look of concern on her features didn't escape Brandon, either, but finding out what the cause was would have to wait until later. Right now, his first priority was Tracy's health and recovery.

For the next two hours, the three sat and chatted amiably, but avoided returning to the subject of Tracy's inner conflict. By the time they left, Brandon felt like he hadn't slept in three days, and his mood reflected that disquiet.

"She's keeping something from me," he confided in Celeste as they left the hospital. "I can feel it. Any idea what the hell's going on?"

Celeste struggled inside herself, wanting to tell her Captain that he was about to become a father, yet remembering her promise to Tracy. There was a momentary awkward silence between the two that alerted Brandon to the fact that even Celeste knew something he didn't, but she was no more ready to divulge the information than his sister had been.

"Off-hand, I'd say it's something that you and your sister have to work out. Whatever's on her mind, it's not my place to comment," was the excuse she eventually gave him. Brandon realized that he had no choice but to wait, although he didn't like that idea at all.

"That's a load of crap, Angel, and we both know it," his agitation came out softly, but in a firm tone. "You know what's bothering her, don't you? Tell me what it is."

"I ... I can't, Lover. I promised her that I'd wait until she tells you herself. Please, don't make me break my promise."

"Sounds like my crew's mutinying on me," Brandon growled to himself, then went on to vent his upset on Celeste. "Angel, the welfare of my sister, my ship and crew, and our relationship is on the line here. How long are you two planning on leaving me in the dark like this? I really don't want to pull rank, but if I don't get some answers soon, I will."