“You have my word.” She didn’t really see how she could promise any of that, but if it made him feel better, fine.
“One question, Mathilda.” Her professor sat back and propped one ankle over his knee. He wore slippers and board shorts; surfing was probably the next thing on his schedule. “Are you sure you’re yourself again? You seem…different.”
She was different. But it was hard to explain how. “I’m myself again,” she assured him. “I think I’m more myself than before. I can’t put it into words, exactly, but it’s like I’m Mathilda, magnified. All the things I loved and cared about before, I feel even more passionate about now. That’s why I’m so determined to go back to Nahele Camp.”
Ever since she’d woken up in the hospital, she’d felt so clear about who she was and what she wanted to do in this life. Before then, she’d been running from a life that didn’t appeal to her. She’d come to Hawaii because it was so completely different from everything she’d grown up with and everything that had been expected of her.
Part of her had never quite believed that she’d be able to stay. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the summons back to a life of wealth and privilege, with an aristocratic title thrown in for good measure.
That call had come, but she was still here in Hawaii. Imagine that.
The journey to Nahele took her longer than usual. Carlos drove her down to the head of the trail in Waipi’o. He chatted cheerfully about his new girlfriend, which was a relief. She’d been fearing the moment she had to tell him their occasional hookups were over.
It was Rory or no one for her. That was another truth that had come to her in the hospital. Now that she knew what the real thing felt like, she couldn’t settle for anything less.
Too bad she had no idea where he was. She’d looked. The hospital had good WiFi. She’d scoured the news for mentions of Lincoln Kerr and Rory Baker. Apparently the Kerrs were going through some drama, but none of it involved Rory. Searches for him turned up nothing.
She’d thought about traveling to Maui to ask around about the bunker, but that was probably top secret anyway. If Rory was traveling with Lincoln, he could be anywhere. Lincoln had multiple homes and properties all over the world. She couldn’t fly all over the place looking for him. She had a mission of her own to complete.
Since the research camp had recently been resupplied, she only needed to carry her own backpack through the jungle. Following her advisor’s very wise instructions, she took it nice and easy, which meant she arrived at the camp well after dark. Everyone was already asleep, and the only light came from the flicker of cinders in the lava ring fire pit. A nearly depleted pile of guava wood sat next to it.
A wave of deep contentment swept through her. It felt like coming home. This camp, this jungle, wasn’t literally her home, but in a sense she’d been born here. Her sense of herself had come to life in this lush, dynamic, fascinating green world.
She tiptoed across the camp to her old quarters, grateful that the others had left her tent available for her. It turned out they’d done more than that. They’d aired it out for her, tidied it up and even rehung the mosquito net. Her bed was made up with clean sheets. and a bouquet of vivid red anthuriums in a long-necked glass soda bottle sat on her makeshift desk.
She really was home.
The calls of the coqui frogs carried her to sleep on a stream of croaks and murmurs. Co-kee. Co-kee. Or was it Ro-ree. Ro-ree. Smiling, she drifted off.
She slept through the rooster’s wake-up calls, which registered as train whistles in her dreams. When she finally opened her eyes, she stretched her arms over her head and smiled at a bright green gecko clinging to the outside of the mosquito net. As she watched, it snapped up a gnat.
“Get those bugs, little guy. Enjoy your breakfast,” she told him.
Lord, it was good to be back.
Outside, she discovered that she’d slept so late that almost everyone was already out for the day. In the yurt, she found only Robert, who greeted her with a wide grin and a hug.
“You don’t look so bad,” he told her.
“I’ll take that sort-of compliment. Thanks, I feel fine. Is that coffee?”
“From my cousin’s farm in Kau.” He poured some into her favorite mug—the one with the rainbow—and handed it to her. “Good to have you back.”
“Thanks for the letter. I wouldn’t be here without that.”
He lifted his mug to her and they both drank.
“So what did I miss? What’s been going on here?” She sat in one of the plastic armchairs and prepared herself for a lengthy rundown of two months’ worth of gossip.
“Same same,” he said vaguely. He drained his mug and set it in the sink. “Gotta go. Already late. We’ll catch up later, yeah?”
She watched in amazement as he took off like a shot, the door of the yurt banging behind him.
That was very unlike Robert, who loved to talk story above all else.
She didn’t get much out of Sasha, either. After a long welcome hug, and a complete interrogation about her medical condition, Sasha too hurried off on some urgent, if vague, mission into the jungle.
Alone now, Mathilda made herself some eggs and furikake rice. As she ate, she surveyed the whiteboard with the weekly rotation of chores. Her name wasn’t included, maybe because they weren’t sure how much she could handle. So she wrote her own name in, making sure to relieve everyone of at least one task for the week.
