The Vines by Shelley Nolden (ebook and pdf reader .TXT) 📕

“I’ll admit: my top priority is healing my mother.”

“I won’t ask her to inject the Lyme bacteria,” Lily said, shaking her head.

She reached for her coat and purse, and he came around the desk and touched her shoulder. Although the brotherly gesture had never bothered her before, her entire body tensed.

“Your reasons for wanting this puzzle solved are not as selfish as you think.”

Lily shifted out of reach, yet waited for him to continue.

“I know why you’ve been holding out on Finn.”

You are so wrong. She busied herself with putting on her jacket.

He slung his stethoscope over his shoulder. “You’ll make a great mom, regardless of whether your children come the old-fashioned way. If we can harness Cora’s immunities, you won’t have to worry about leaving them motherless.”

To cover her ears, she zipped her collar to the top. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Likewise.” He motioned for her to go first.

She hurried past him, and her stomach lurched at the antiseptic smell and polished floor of the corridor.

“Promise me one thing,” he said.

The glow of the fluorescent lights bounced off the metallic garland and ornaments hanging from the ceiling. She spotted the sign for the elevator and sped toward it.

His footsteps sounded behind her.

She jabbed the down button.

“There will come a time when you’ll question my loyalties.”

The elevator dinged, and she stepped inside and swiped at the panel.

“Please remember”—he reached to prevent the elevator from closing—“that I always put family first.”

The doors met; Lily was finally alone.

1966–1967

Invasive species begin their slow strangulation of the island

October 1966

he rock struck Cora’s finger instead of the nail. Ignoring the sting, she continued bolting the plywood to the two doors she’d taken from the nurses’ residence. Soon dawn would arrive, and with it enough light to chance the voyage she’d begun plotting seventeen months ago, the day after Kristian was born. Although she’d longed to believe that everything would be fine, trusting Ulrich was something she would never do.

A tugging on the cord tied to her waist shifted her attention to Kristian at its far end, playing among three cartons in the tall grass. By sunrise, their makeshift raft needed to be at the edge of the dock, with those provisions lashed to it.

He climbed atop one and clapped in self-praise.

“Good job!” To please Ulrich, she usually spoke to Kristian in her rudimentary German. But from now on, she vowed, her son would hear only English.

“Sehrrrrr groß.” He raised his arms above his head and wobbled. She tensed, ready to scoop him up in a hug if needed, but he regained his balance.

“Soooo big,” she translated and grabbed another nail.

“Mutti,” he whined, and she knew that in addition to wanting her, he was missing his blankie.

To create the impression that a patrol had picked her and Kristian up, she’d left it on the ferry dock near a US Coast Guard cap. Ulrich wouldn’t be fooled so quickly; she knew he would search Riverside. So she’d packed enough provisions for them to hide in the small forest on South Brother for three days. Hopefully, by then, Ulrich would have concluded that the coast guard had taken them. Any longer than that, even with sustenance, she wouldn’t have the strength for the return journey. Measles, typhus, smallpox, and typhoid fever hadn’t taken pity on the thousands of indigents sent to Riverside; they would show no kindness to a mother protecting her young son.

Kristian ran to her and pointed at the amalgamation of boards. “Boot. Im Wasser.”

Barely a toddler, he already loved the river as much as she detested it. “We’ll push the boat into the water as soon as Mommy’s done.”

A month ago, he’d ridden on one for the first time. Afterward, when Ulrich set him on the dock, he’d cried. Cora, who’d been pacing along the seawall, had rushed to him, expecting—hoping—to see fading symptoms of her illnesses. Instead, she’d learned that their perfectly healthy boy hadn’t wanted the excursion to end.

Kristian wedged himself between her and the raft.

Although she would love to cuddle him, there was much to do. She found a stick and set him in the grass. “Dig for night crawlers, my little bear,” she said, using the English version of her nickname for him for the first time. She tousled his blond hair and tried not to think about what would happen if her plan failed.

During Ulrich’s last visit, she’d overheard him telling Kristian that next time Vati came, Kristian would get to ride in a boat to the big city.

Naturally, the statement had meant nothing to the boy, but it had meant everything to her. Ulrich had said it while kicking a ball with him on a patch of lawn shielded from the river by the buildings. Grab your baby and run! her instincts had screamed. After Kristian’s fourth clean blood test, Ulrich had stopped wearing his containment suit around their child. Without the mask that usually concealed his face, it had become even more evident to Cora that he coveted the boy.

But she did so even more. Du bist mein Ein und Alles. You mean the world to me; you are my everything. Daily she repeated that simple German phrase to her son.

In the week since his pronouncement, she hadn’t wept once. There was no time for tears. Ulrich always visited on Tuesdays, when he wouldn’t be missed at Lab 257, so she knew he would return today.

She rose to drag the raft onto the dock, and Kristian toddled toward her, the knees of his corduroy trousers already dirty and his arms outstretched.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“Decke,” he whined. His hand, lost without the threadbare blanket usually in its clutch, fluttered along his side.

Unable to bear the preview of how he’d react to losing her, she pulled him close and lifted her shirt. He latched onto her breast, and she settled onto the ground. Although they could barely afford the delay, a full tummy should subdue him for the crossing,