The Vines

by Shelley Nolden

  Stunned, she stood stock still, staring at the surface she’d been bound to minutes earlier.

  Finn’s stomach lurched. They couldn’t ask her to lie back down on that, so he scrambled to his feet and righted the examining table. After testing its sturdiness, he extended his hand to her.

  “Hurry, we’re losing him!” his father yelled, breaking Cora’s trance.

  She looked at Finn, and he could see her fear.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you; I promise.” He squeezed her hand.

  Exhaling slowly, she sat down on the rusted metal which creaked and wobbled beneath her trembling frame. He lifted her legs onto the footrest and grabbed the needle now connected to the tubing.

  She shrank away from it. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Do you want me to?” Finn asked, though he doubted he could properly insert it into her vein.

  “I’ll do it!” Rollie shouted.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, her teeth chattering.

  “Would you rather be asleep?” Rollie stood up. “As God is my witness, I swear no harm will come to you. Though you may need a breathing tube.”

  Slowly, she sat up. “Okay, but first, I need to say good-bye, in case . . .”

  Rollie backed away and signaled Finn to do the same.

  Cora bent over Kristian’s still form, whispered into his ear, and kissed his forehead.

  Suddenly comprehending that the two had a history together, he wondered what had happened between them that made her so forgiving now.

  With renewed poise, Cora climbed back onto the table. “Don’t worry: I’ve got something.”

  Rollie nodded and took the needle from Finn.

  From her pocket, she removed the vial of chloroform, which she must have recovered while searching for the needles and tubing.

  With an uncharacteristically peaceful expression, she gazed into the palm of her other hand. Finn strained to see the object, but her fingers had closed around it.

  She looked from Kristian to Finn, then laid down. After a whispered prayer, she removed the plug from the chamber, closed her eyes, and held it to her nose.

  Silently, Finn reminded her of his promise.

  Moments later, her hand slipped from its resting spot atop her abdomen, and her fingers uncurled, revealing an empty palm.

  Rollie inserted the needle, connecting Cora and Kristian.

  Though unconscious, she seemed to be smiling.

  Six days later

  March 27

  black sedan careened through the stale yellow light.

  Finn grabbed Lily’s coat sleeve and yanked her back into the pool of lamplight on the corner of the sidewalk.

  “Ouch!” she said, surprised.

  The surge of adrenaline had reminded him of the times he’d almost lost her, and he shivered in the misty rain. He longed to pull her to him. Instead, he didn’t even offer the now obvious explanation.

  Throughout their commute from the Bronx hotel where they’d spent the past six days in quarantine, she’d been seemingly oblivious to the bustle of evening rush hour. And quiet, worrisomely so. During their second stint in isolation, the few times Lily had answered his calls she’d only been willing to discuss Kristian’s health.

  According to Rollie, who’d run their diagnostics while caring for Kristian in the Tuberculosis Pavilion, Kristian had tested positive for Ebola, Rift Valley fever, and Spanish influenza—all three of Cora’s diseases without vaccines. To prevent the physical side effects of stress from hindering Kristian’s healing, Rollie had been keeping him in a medically induced coma while watching for symptoms to emerge.

  Although Lily’s aloofness since leaving North Brother was justified, it had exacerbated Finn’s own agitation. He’d taken for granted how open she’d always been with him. In comparison to his family’s secrets and evasiveness, Lily’s honesty and chatter had provided a welcome contrast. It was just one of the many reasons he loved—and needed—her.

  Now he’d likely lose her, right as his family was falling apart.

  Finn followed Lily across Madison Avenue, the mist glistening in the headlights of the waiting cars.

  In a few minutes, they would enter his parents’ warm, bright, deadly quiet apartment. Finn couldn’t do that with this wall between them.

  “Come here a sec,” he said, abruptly moving under an awning to escape the biting wind.

  Glancing in the direction of his parents’ apartment, Lily frowned, and Finn surmised that she was debating between two equally unpleasant alternatives: continuing there without him or having the conversation she’d been avoiding.

  “Can we please talk?”

  From her rigid jaw and posture, he knew her standoffishness would be hard to crack.

  During the past six nights, his hotel bed had felt achingly empty—a preview of life without her.

  More than anything, he wanted Lily to be happy and healthy. Remaining entwined with his family would threaten her chances at both. She needed to move on. If he dictated that decision, however, their split would be even harder on her. And, he knew, she would assume that he’d developed feelings for Cora.

  “I love you,” he said unintentionally. Too much to keep you.

  Her shoulders slumped, and she released a single, strangled whimper. “I love you too.”

  Ignoring reason, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

  She responded with an intensity that shocked—and guilted—him.

  “I don’t know if I can handle this stress,” she said, burying her head against the front of his jacket.

  Finn pressed his cheek against the damp hair atop her head. “You shouldn’t have to.”

  “It was so horrible, seeing her tied up like that. And you.”

  He hugged her tighter. His own brother, who soon might die because of Finn’s reckless retribution. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said, leaning away.

  “If I hadn’t lost my shit after he punched me, Kristian would be fine right now.”

  “He was only there in the first place because of me.” She shook her head in frustration. “Do you know the worst part?”

  He tensed, waiting for her to continue. There had been so many worst parts.

  “When Rollie announced that the project was over, I was disappointed. It’s so wrong, but throughout all this, I couldn’t help but think that maybe, eventually, they’d find a way to cure cancer with her immune system. I was even fantasizing about us starting a family.”

  Wishing he could fill the hollowness he knew she felt because of her infertility, Finn slid his hand between her coat and sweater to rub her lower back.

  “In that moment,” she said, sobbing, her face hidden against his jacket, “I was as bad as Kristian.”

  Finn stepped back to look into her russet, reddened eyes. “Don’t ever think that. You’ve been through so much. It’s natural that you didn’t want to lose a reason to hope.”

  She returned her head to his chest, and he rubbed her back again.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said, her voice muffled, and Finn’s hand froze.

  “I’ve always felt uncomfortable around your dad, even before last summer.”

  Cocking his head in surprise, Finn waited for her to continue.

  “When you’re not around he asks me really probing questions, about my childhood, our relationship, stuff like that. I’m sure he assumed that I thought he was just making small talk, since he didn’t know you’d told me about the project. But given what I did know, it always felt too intense.” She bit her lip, coated in a cinnamon-smelling gloss. “While I’ve got my own legit reasons for not wanting to get married, the vibes I get from your dad haven’t helped.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you liked him.”
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  Lily sighed. “It’s complicated. Most of the time, the way he treats me is what I always wanted from a dad. And you were so happy that we got along. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know,” she said, brushing back her windblown hair. “I’m sorry. Right now, though, I’m not just worried about your family’s screwed up values. I’m also worried about myself. I still find myself wondering what it would be like if your brother and dad succeeded. We could have a family then. Two kids? Or three? Is that sick?”

  “No, not at all,” Finn choked out. “We should be parents.”

  She wiped her eye, smearing her makeup. To Finn she looked no less stunning.

  He held her chin in his hand. “Let’s do it.”

  Immediately he regretted the comment. A child would fix nothing. Not to mention: he should be helping her realize that she should move on, not giving her more reasons to stay. He shifted gears: “You are nothing like them. You’re a good, kind, beautiful person.”

  “But not as beautiful as Cora,” she blurted out, then cringed. “That came out wrong.”

  Finn gripped her shoulder. “I told my dad that Cora loves me so that he’d remember she’s human, too. I was desperate to get him to stop. It’s not even true.”

  “I gathered that’s why you said it. But it’s got to be true! She’s just as much a woman as me, and all the reasons I’m attracted to you, she must see, too. And she’s so lonely. How could she not love you?”

  “Because I’m a Gettler,” he said, thinking of his brother, now at her mercy. Although he was furious at Kristian, he couldn’t simply dissolve the bond they’d developed over Finn’s lifetime. The thought of Kristian stuck on that island, separated from his family while pathogens festered within him, made Finn feel queasy.

  “He might be okay,” Lily said, evidently sensing his distress.

  “I hope so.” Finn wiped the light rain from his forehead. Rollie had told them that Kristian’s body might be compatible with her immunities, given their matching blood type. Right now, Finn didn’t want to think about the alternative.

  “It doesn’t matter if Cora loves me or not. I love you.” The words had escaped before he’d remembered that he shouldn’t be convincing her to stay with him.

  Fully aware of all the reasons he shouldn’t, he leaned down to kiss her, and tasted cinnamon.

  She responded passionately, then abruptly pulled away. “I know you love me, not her. The fact that she’s so contagious means she’s not a threat, which makes me feel guilty. Again.”

  “Lils, you’re the only one for me,” he said automatically, wrapping his arms more tightly around her. But she’ll be better off without me, he reminded himself and loosened his hold. “I want you to be—”

  “If Kristian survives,” Lily said, cutting him off, “you won’t be able to walk away from Cora. She’ll need you on her side.”

  Finn felt the onset of a headache. Lily was right: now that he understood his true role within his family, he couldn’t shirk the responsibility.

  “Your relationship with her won’t—can’t—stay platonic,” she said, staring past him.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “One of two things will happen: either you’ll fall in love with her, or this project will poison your soul, like she warned me. It’s happened to all the other men in your family.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  “Is it? From what I’ve seen of your family’s obsession, the only thing that’ll keep you from losing sight of her humanity is love.” She stepped out from the doorway, and a sharp wind whipped her hair across her face.

  He wanted to dismiss her claim, but what valid counterargument was there? His dad had been a genuinely good man, and yet he’d caved to the temptation of a cure at any cost. Sylvia had been able to keep Rollie in check for only so long, and Finn wouldn’t have that support even initially if Lily broke up with him, which she should do.

  “Let’s go,” Lily said. “Your parents are waiting.”

  Finn wanted to draw her to him for a final kiss but stopped himself.

  She must have sensed his hesitation; she turned on her heel and left the shelter of the awning, her figure only briefly illuminated by the lights on the next storefront.

  Rollie opened the apartment door.

  He looks ten years older. Suddenly overwhelmed by their situation, Finn didn’t greet him.

  “C’mon in,” Rollie said, his voice equally aged.

  Finn moved so Lily could enter first and shrugged off his jacket.

  The spacious living room looked immaculate, only possible through Rollie’s recent absence.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  “Asleep in the bedroom.”

  “How’s she handling it?” Finn asked, nervous that Sylvia blamed him, despite Rollie’s reassurances to the contrary.

  “Not well.” Rollie studied his age-spotted hands. “Hannah should be here soon. Milo’s at swim practice, thankfully.”

  “Shoot,” Lily said, smacking her forehead. “We forgot soda. I’ll grab a liter from the deli.”

  That morning she’d offered to engineer a way for Finn to talk to his father alone. In response, he’d invited her to be part of their conversation. “Finn,” she’d replied, “I don’t want to.” His throat constricting, he’d nodded, relieved yet saddened that she was distancing herself.

  Closing the door behind her, Finn turned to his dad, who’d moved to the windows facing the East River.

  “How’s Kristian?”

  “The same. No symptoms yet.”

  Finn released his breath. “When they do start, you’ll call the CDC, right?”

  “If it becomes clear that Cora’s antibodies aren’t helping him, then yes, I will.” Rollie rubbed his chest. “Maybe I should’ve involved them long ago. I’m so ashamed of myself. You’ve shown me this mantle is too much for one family to shoulder.”

  The knot in Finn’s stomach loosened. If his brother did recover under the CDC’s care, and they assumed authority over Cora’s case, maybe his family could find some form of normalcy. And he and Lily could stay together.

  Alternatively, if Kristian died, how would any of them ever move forward?

  “Finn, there’s something I need to tell you,” Rollie said, running his hand down his pants leg.

  Weary of any more bad news, Finn clutched his arms to his chest. “What?”

  Rollie lowered himself to the couch and indicated that Finn should sit in the recliner across from him.

  “There’s a reason I’m hopeful that Kristian will remain symptom-free, even though that didn’t occur with Ulrich’s test subjects who received her blood.”

  Finn felt his own blood chilling. “Go on.”

  “There’s no easy way to say this,” Rollie said, fidgeting with a coaster on the end table. “Kristian is Cora’s son.”

  “How could you?!” Finn roared and stood up.

  “No, no, no.” Rollie put his hand up. “He’s not my son.”

  “Then whose?”

  “Urich’s,” Rollie said in a bitter tone.

  Speechless, Finn dropped back to the recliner.

  Numb from the shock, he listened to Rollie explain Ulrich’s theory, ensuing experiment, and its incomplete conclusions.

  “So, he might be like her, and we never knew it,” Rollie said. “Or he might begin showing symptoms any time now.”

  “That’s why you allowed the transfusion,” Finn murmured. “Does Kristian know?”

  “Not yet.”

  Finn recalled the message that he’d passed from his mother to Cora, as well as the inscription she’d picked for the watch. Now they made sense. As did Cora’s reaction.

  The room felt crushingly small. The urge to run gripped his muscles.

 
A shocking realization hit Finn, forcing his spine ramrod straight. “He’s not my biological brother.”

  Rollie’s hand drifted to the scar on his jaw. “He’s your uncle. You are my only son.”

  Finn’s throat constricted. He looked at his dad anew. “But you always favored him.”

  “Not true. I had to keep a closer eye on him, given how much time Ulrich spent with him. They did so much together, like baseball games and Cub Scout camping trips, that I always marveled at the fact that neither he nor anyone outside our family figured it out.”

  “Why’d you keep it from him?”

  “We were certain that if he found out, he’d test his limits. Now, this week, I find myself worrying about that once again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? All this time.”

  Finn knew the answer. No child could be expected not to divulge such a destructive truth during an argument with a cocky, older brother.

  “I’m sorry. I love you so much,” Rollie said. “I’m sorry I haven’t been a good enough father to you.”

  Although he had been fully attentive and supportive when home, the man had so often been absent. And while Rollie’s sky-high expectations for Finn had been flattering, each time Finn had fallen short, it had hurt that much more. An apology now couldn’t undo the past. Finn thought of Lily and her relationship with her dad. He wished she were beside him now. So effortlessly, she’d coolly rebuffed Leonard’s request for forgiveness.

  Conversely, looking at his frail, defeated father, Finn felt sympathy. And because Finn believed himself to be a good Christian, an obligation to forgive him. Yet he did also feel anger.

  “Given Kristian’s predicament, we obviously can’t mothball this project. It’s embarrassing to have to ask this, but I need you to keep me from crossing that line again,” Rollie said, looking toward the bedroom.

  Finn twisted to see his mother on her scooter in the doorway. Her cheeks were wet with tears.

  “See, sweetie, you didn’t fail,” Rollie said to her. “Look at him.”

  “Not with him,” she slurred. “With Kristian.” She looked at her hands, folded in her lap. “And with Cora, when she begged me to give her son back.”