Dad will hammer me with questions. Mom will bake brownies and tell me I need to eat more. I give it all of a week before I have to get out of there. I love my parents. Don’t think I could have asked for better ones. But I’m numb. Every damn day. The military is all I know.
Even with two Masters’ degrees, I’ve never worked in the private sector. And though some pompous ass named Smith from the CIA has called me every other day for a month, that’s thelastplace I want to go. Not after Gil’s death. After what happened to Trevor.
Hoisting my duffel, I stifle a grunt. One of the bullets tore through my rotator cuff. The physical therapist cleared me to resume all normal activities, but it still hurts like a son of a bitch if I move without thinking about it.
I need to go somewhere no one can find me. Dad used to talk about hiking the Maya Trail. He did it when he was eighteen. Came back and enlisted in the Air Force Academy after some transcendent moment of clarity.
I could get lost in Mexico. See if I find what I’m looking for. Escape. Purpose. Peace. Fifteen hundred miles? That’ll keep me busy for a while. Maybe by the time I’m done, I’ll know who Austin Pritchard, civilian, really is.
Chapter Three
Mikayla
After I secure the door to the greenhouse and step back into the air conditioned halls of the Smithsonian Environmental Research Center, I feel like I can take a deep breath again. The Blushing Note orchid only grows in high altitude climates with over seventy percent humidity, and the warm, wet air is hell on my asthma.
Almost a year ago, we obtained one of the plants for study—after contentious negotiations with the Mexican government—and I spend ten to fifteen hours a week now in conditions that could trigger an asthma attack with little to no warning.
We’ve separated the plant five times, grafted it to other, hardier orchids, but so far, our successes have been limited at best.
You’re training yourself, Mik. Acclimating in case this grant comes through.
At least two or three times a day, I have to repeat those words to steel myself before I head in to take samples, care for the orchids, or supervise my grad students who are mixing different soil combinations, testing out different types of fertilizer, and handling the cross-breeding.
I rest my back against the cool, white plaster wall for a minute and force slow, deep breaths. My daily inhaler works wonders, but it’s not a cure, and if I have to use my rescue inhaler, I’ll be jittery and useless for hours afterwards.
Li, one of my graduate students, rushes down the hall towards me, an iced coffee in each hand. “Hey, Dr. Mik. I brought you a pick-me-up.”
I’m so grateful, I’d hug her if she didn’t work for me. She’s young—all three of my students are—but so bright, eager, and driven that most days, I leave her in charge of the greenhouse after I finish the morning run down of the day’s planned duties.
“You’re a mind reader,” I say before I take a sip. “And a life saver. I have a meeting with Dr. Lowenstein in fifteen minutes to talk about next year’s budget. There’s no way I want to dothatwithout caffeine. Thank you.”
Li blushes and stares down at her bright red flats. “You were still sending emails at 2:00 a.m. I thought Corey was supposed to help you finalize the budget spreadsheets?”
“He had to fly back to Los Angeles last night,” I say. “Family issues.”
“Oh.” Li scuffs the ball of her dainty foot against the linoleum. No one talks about Corey’s home life, but everyone knows. His dad gets picked up for drug possession with intent to sell once a year or so, and Corey flies across the country to bail him out, then deals with the man’s verbal abuse for days.
“It’s all done and submitted now. Nothing to worry about,” I say as I force a smile.
At least I hope not.
Lifting her lab coat from the row of pegs outside the greenhouse door, she frowns, which is so out of character for her, I almost do a double-take. “I love this internship, Dr. Mik. When I graduate next year, I want to work here if there are any openings.”
“Oh, Li.” This is the most vulnerability I’ve ever seen her display. She and Isaiah—the third student I supervise—started dating six months ago, and they’re open and affectionate with each other when they think I’m too distracted to notice, but otherwise, they’re all business all the time.
My gaze drops to the iced coffee, and the corners of my lips turn up slightly. “I’d hire you in a heartbeat. Your work has been amazing from your very first day. I have to believe we’re going to get our full funding again. The work Brian Branch and his team at Johns Hopkins are doing shows real promise to help Parkinson’s patients. They’re depending on us. Weneedto continue this work. Keep breeding the orchid in our greenhouses, cross it with hardier varieties, do…somethingto keep it alive and existing in this world.”
I don’t need to tell her all of this. My sales pitch. It flows off my tongue so easily. Of course, I’ve practiced it in front of a mirror every night for a month. Now, the words are so second nature to me, I can’t stop once I start.
Li’s exceedingly polite, listening patiently until I realize what I’m doing and shake my head. “I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from your work. And the rest of your coffee. It’s Friday. Leave a little early. Go have some fun this weekend. And tell Isaiah to do the same.”
“Isaiah’s on his way in,” Li says, her cheeks pinking as she tries to hide behind her coffee cup. “I’ll let him know.”
I wish I felt comfortable reassuring her that she’ll find no judgment from me for moving in with him. I heard them talking a couple of months ago, agreeing they’d always drive in separately to “keep up appearances.” Her parents are even more conservative than mine from what I’ve gathered.
Raising my coffee cup and thanking her again, I head for my office to prepare for the meeting with Lowenstein. The drink helps steady my nerves, and the caffeine chases away the last of the tightness in my chest.
For the past two years, this orchid and its potential have been my life. I’ve seen the damage Parkinson’s can do to a person. My grandmother died from it, and just a few months ago, my mentor and boss revealed his own battle with the disease. Saving the Blushing Note and finding a treatment is more important to me than anything besides my family and friends. I can’t fathom a world in which I fail, and there’s no way I’m letting anyone take this work from me without a fight.
