by Ava Miles
Actually, Arthur thought it was the best time for this one. “I imagine Michaela might enjoy the story. Right, honey?” He knew sick people could hear things. Even if they didn’t understand everything, the voice of a loved one had to be a comfort. He’d certainly felt that way when he’d been sick and scared in the hospital—not that he’d admit it out loud.
Sironka appeared with another chair and gestured to it.
He’d never been so relieved to sit down in his life. “As I was saying…”
He began to tell the story of their trek to the Valley of Stars, leaving out the scary parts. Sironka brought in another chair for Hargreaves, and they formed a half circle around Michaela. Boyd didn’t take his eyes off her face, and Arthur wasn’t even sure he was listening. But he kept speaking, his voice unwavering. When he reached the part about them finding the flower, Clara reached into her bag and drew one out.
She tucked it into Michaela’s hand. “It’s shaped like a star, sweetheart. I wasn’t sure if you knew that. Of course, the valley was so high up—and it’s so dark—you could see a million stars. The flower opens at night, and with the moonlight on them, it’s like the stars fell right into the valley.”
He let her continue the story, sensing she needed to occupy her mind from worry. When she finished, she took out another flower and extended it to Boyd across Michaela’s still form.
“I don’t want it. She’s all that’s important now.”
Clara tucked the flower back into her bag. “The ring looks beautiful on her finger, Boyd,” she said softly. “I’m sure it was a comfort to her to have it.”
His eyes were red-rimmed when he looked up. “I’m going to give her a better proposal. I only wanted…”
When his voice broke, Arthur found himself getting choked up. Time for everyone to steel themselves. “Of course you didn’t. A fine woman like Michaela wouldn’t want a man to propose to her on bended knee when she was in bed sick as a dog. Come on, now. When was the last time you took a break?”
“He’s barely left her side,” Hargreaves said gravely. “Perhaps you’ll join me for a walk and a bite to eat, Boyd.”
Boyd? He’d thought the man had said it earlier, but since Hargreaves never called anyone by their first name, he’d concluded he’d heard wrong. He opened his mouth to comment, but Clara’s narrowed eyes had him snapping it shut again.
“No,” Boyd said softly. “I won’t leave her.”
Arthur turned to Clara. “If he’s happy to stay here, maybe you and I should go for a bite to eat. We certainly don’t need a walk.”
She didn’t crack a smile, and truth be told, he didn’t blame her. “I’ll have something later. Hargreaves, will you find Naserian? I want to know what to expect now that Michaela has had the flower tea.”
When the regal woman came to the tent, she checked Michaela’s temperature. “The fever is lessening.”
Boyd shot to his feet, his hand gently touching Michaela’s forehead. “I can’t tell.”
“Wait and see,” Naserian said. “Lemayian tells me you have called for help. That is your choice, of course. Until then, we’ll keep giving her the tea, and when she wakes, some broth. Arthur and Clara…I will send you the herbal soup we give to warriors. After your journey, surely you have the heart of our great lion too.”
When the soup arrived, Hargreaves leaned forward with interest. “How is it, sir?”
“Good,” he responded. “Better than your Indian curry.”
The corners of the man’s mouth lifted into the briefest of smiles, an expression Clara mimicked before she dipped her spoon in for more soup.
“Boyd, you should eat,” Arthur said.
“He hadn’t wanted to eat around Ms. Merriam, sir, as she was nauseated, but that has passed. Perhaps I could find something for us both, Boyd.”
The man just kept staring at Michaela, as if he didn’t even hear the suggestion.
“I’ve done bedside vigils,” Arthur said. “You need to keep strong for Michaela, and you can’t do that if you don’t take care of yourself.”
He shook his head. “I can’t eat. Nothing matters but her waking up.”
Arthur noted the scruff on his jaw and his wrinkled clothes. Well, when someone you loved was sick, the minutiae of daily existence ceased to matter. He didn’t fight Boyd about eating and neither did anyone else.
Night fell, and they kept vigil, Naserian and Lemayian visiting in shifts to administer more flower tea. When Clara started to fall asleep in her chair, Arthur decided to leave her be. He knew she wouldn’t leave if he suggested it. Boyd continued to hold Michaela’s hand, his gaze vigilant on her face.
Arthur felt himself dozing and leaned over to Hargreaves. “Wake me if something changes. I can’t keep my eyes open.”
“I imagine you’d be exhausted after two days of walking, sir,” Hargreaves said. “Naserian was right to call you both warriors.”
Wait until he heard the parts they’d left out of their earlier story…
“You look like you’ve been awake for days too, Hargreaves. Clara and I thank you for your help.”
“It’s my pleasure, sir.”
“Does this mean you’re going to start calling me Arthur?” He had to ask.
The man’s spine seemed to straighten right up. “No, sir.”
He let his eyes close. “Just thought I’d check. Clifton.”
A slight scoff was all he heard, and then he let himself succumb to sleep.
A jostling of his arm awoke him. The first streaks of dawn were pouring into the hut.
“She moved!” This from Hargreaves.
Not exactly a pronouncement of clean health. He opened his eyes, fatigue still plaguing him.
“Boyd?”
The soft rasp sounded feminine.
Boyd shoved out of his seat and was leaning over Michaela the next instant. “I’m here, babe. Right here.”
“God, I ache…” She looked down. “What’s that? On my hand?”
“Clara and Arthur brought the flower, Mickey,” Boyd said, enthusiasm lighting his shadowed face. “You drank the tea from it and it’s lowered your temperature some.”
“I don’t feel as hot.” She lifted her left hand weakly, moaning. “But that’s not what I meant. What’s this?”
He took it and kissed her fingers softly. “The ring I got you. When you woke up earlier… I wanted you to remember what I’d told you.”
Her eyes closed as she said, “That you love me?”
Tears filled his eyes. “Yes, Mickey. I love you and always will. You rest now.”
“Have you been here…the whole time?” she asked.
“Never left you once.”
“Stubborn,” she said, sounding like she was falling asleep again.
“Like you,” he said, standing up beside her bed. “Thank God.”
“I think she’s going to make it, Boyd.” This from Hargreaves.
“Me too,” the young man said, pressing his hand to his mouth. “Excuse me.”
He strode out of the hut quickly, and Arthur knew why. The relief of a loved one recovering from a frightening illness would cause any man to break down.
Clara stirred in her chair. “Thank God she’s going to be all right.”
He nodded. “You said it. Now that we know the flower works, my dear, what are we going to do about it?”
She gave him a pointed look as she stretched in her chair. “Exactly what you think.”
He’d been afraid of that.
Chapter 20
When Michaela opened her eyes again, the first thing she saw was Boyd sitting beside her.
“You were sleeping so peacefully your family decided to take a break,” he said in a voice that sounded funny. Rather like he had a cold. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m still achy, but I don’t feel hot,” she said, trying to sit up, but her arms shook from the attempt. “All I can remember is the heat. Why am I wearing Aunt Clara’s shirt?”
“Becaus
e you sweated through the ones Clara and I put on you,” he said, nestling her back. “But your fever broke, thank God. The rest of your healing is progressing nicely according to Naserian and Lemayian.”
Naserian and Lemayian, the medicine man and woman. The memories flooded back. “I remember now. The flower works, huh?”
“Like a charm, although it’s no scientific certainty. But from where I’m standing, so to speak, you’re a walking miracle—or will be when you’re strong enough.”
“Imagine all the good it will do in the world…”
“Yes, but let’s focus on getting you better all the way now and leave that for later,” he said, pouring her something from a pitcher and reaching for her neck. “You must be thirsty.”
“Were you the one forcing me to drink that horrid tea? I was already so hot, it felt like a nightmare. I couldn’t push the person away, and they kept insisting.”
“Sometimes it was me, and sometimes it was our two friendly healers.” He helped her drink, and the cool water tasted fresh.
“You said my aunt and uncle and Hargreaves are taking a break? I want to sit up. Will you help me?” God, she was sticky.
“Well, they’re taking care of some business with the tribe,” he said, his powerful arms gently raising her up. “There’s no bedframe, and you’re pretty weak. You’re going to have to lean on me.”
He positioned himself on the bed behind her and placed her against his chest, the warmth and comfort of his body a welcome balm. “You can be my bedframe any time. When was the last time you slept? Do I look as bad as you?”
“You’re always beautiful.”
She didn’t have the energy to snort. “Bullshit. I’m sticky and my hair seems knotted against my head.”
“I braided it.”
“You did? I wish I’d been awake for that.”
“We can have a repeat performance any time you’d like.” He ran his hands up and down her arms, resting his chin on her head. “You scared the hell out of me, Mickey.”
“It’s not like I meant to,” she said, letting herself lean completely against him. “I don’t remember much except for the force-feeding of tea, Aunt Clara giving me the flower—where is it, by the way?—and seeing my engagement ring on my hand. Yep, it’s still there. Glad you didn’t take it off once I was out of the woods.”
He let out a harsh sigh. “It was meant to remind you of all the reasons to come back to me. Like your uncle said, you don’t propose to woman on her sickbed.”
And yet that ring was as strong a symbol of his love as his bedhead. “You haven’t slept, have you?”
“I might have dozed here and there once your fever broke, but I tried to keep awake. I wanted to be here when you woke up. During the fever, I…”
His voice broke, and she wished she had the energy to turn and hold him. “What?”
“I was afraid you weren’t coming back. Mickey, I need to apologize. If I’d thought you’d get sick, I never would have brought you here.”
Guilt? “I swallowed buckets of river water, Boyd. That’s it. Now, you’d better tell me everything I’ve missed.”
He kissed the top of her head. “When you’re a little better.”
“I’m gaining strength in leaps and bounds,” she said, turning slightly in his arms to look up at his face. “God, your eyes look like the kind dragons have in those movies you enjoy so much.”
“We’ve redefined red-eye apparently,” he said, rubbing the eyes in question.
“I want to know what I missed.”
He growled. “Fine, but you have to take a nap afterward. Deal?”
Since turning to look at him made her ache, she shifted to her original position. “You would negotiate with me about this. Fine, I agree. But I’ve been sleeping for days. How many, by the way?”
“I’ve kinda lost track of time. Your aunt and uncle got back the day before yesterday, I think.”
Had it been that long? No wonder his eyes looked so bad. “You promise to take a nap too? With me?”
Another soft kiss landed in the vicinity of her ear. “I miss a California king bed, let me tell you. The Maasai have a lot of things to recommend them, but bedding isn’t one of them.”
She gazed down at the cowhide covering her legs and had to agree. But she didn’t need to tell him so. “You’re stalling.”
“Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal.” He blew out a gusty sigh. “Do you want the good news or bad news first?”
“There’s good news?” She mustered a pathetic chuckle.
“Yep, here goes. The flower worked on you.”
“I already know that, Boyd.”
He emitted a rude sound. “The bad news is two-fold. Let’s start with this: a medevac team is going to show up for you any time now.”
“What?”
“I didn’t think to ask how close a doctor or phone was at first. Blame it on the situation. But when you started vomiting, I asked how far it was to the nearest phone—no surprise, it was far—and had them send someone to call the medevac company I engaged for this trip in case of emergencies. I thought they’d be here by now, but maybe it’s taking longer to come from Nairobi.”
“I can see why you called them in,” she said, remembering all the times she’d taken for granted having a medevac company on call. “When they get here, we’ll tell them I’m doing so much better.”
He worried his lip. “Maybe you should go. Just to be sure.”
“But the flower’s working.” She made herself lean up and grab his shoulders. “I can’t leave, Boyd. Not when we’ve finally found the flower.”
“I thought you might say that, which leads us to our second item of bad news. You might change your mind about leaving when you hear it.”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Mickey, we’re not the couple in the visions.”
She felt her mouth part in response. “You’re kidding. Someone else has your affinity for snakes? Say it ain’t so.”
“So,” he said, his tone bemused. “Apparently, Peanut, your aunt’s old snake, qualifies. Mickey, the tribe believes your aunt and uncle are the couple.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “What? Is that why you stayed here?”
“I was told I couldn’t go along with Naserian for the flower. It wasn’t for me to do. So your aunt and uncle walked for two days straight to go to the Valley of Stars and bring it back to you.”
He wasn’t kidding. “Holy—”
“Shit, yes, my thoughts exactly.”
They fell silent a moment as she took that in. The tribe had been very attentive to her aunt and uncle, now that she thought about it. “So the baby they gave Aunt Clara—”
“Represented all the children in the village, past, present, and future. They believe the gods sent Clara and Arthur to help the tribe share the flower with the world. They’re supposedly incorruptible, according to what I’ve heard, and they’re powerful due to their respective stations in life. Your aunt as a wealthy woman and your uncle—”
“As a respected journalist.” One of the reasons he’d been included in the trip in the first place. That gave her chills. “My aunt and uncle believe this?”
“Your aunt had Hargreaves learn how to dry the flowers alongside her and Naserian. Right now, they’re speaking with the chief and his council. Remember Sironka’s sister the lawyer? She was sent to make sure the Maasai officially owned the land so they could share the title with the so-called couple in the visions.”
“And they’re going to accept?”
“They’re discussing the details with the tribe as we speak. Your aunt seems to think there’s something to it.”
Where did that leave Boyd? And her, for that matter? “What does Uncle Arthur think?”
He ran his hands up her arms again. “He walked for two days at his age to help you, but this next move feels more like Clara to me. She wants to believe in the visions.”
“The entire tribe obviously does,” she said. “Wha
t does Joseph think?”
“He didn’t know the full truth of it until now, but he thinks it makes an odd sort of sense. Your aunt says he made a joke about how the gods leave out important details sometimes. You know Joseph.”
Yes, he made the best of every situation. “That’s why we’ve always liked him.”
She folded her hands over her arms, her gaze resting on the ring on her finger. While it was still a little weird to see it there, somehow it looked and felt right, especially with Boyd’s arms around her. “How are they supposed to gather enough flowers to share with the world?”
“Naserian seems to think the three of them will pick the flowers themselves.”
“By hand?” This time she had to make the effort to meet his eyes. “At their age? That’s insane.”
“Why?”
They both turned to the opening in the hut. Aunt Clara stood there alongside Uncle Arthur and Hargreaves.
“I’m overjoyed to see you sitting up and conversing, niece, but am disappointed to hear you’re calling our new enterprise crazy.”
“But Aunt… Do you really want to come back here a few times a year to hand-pick flowers? You’ll have to cross that horrible river filled with all the crocs and hippos.” Just thinking about the return trip made her sick to her stomach.
“We’ve been meeting all day with the chief and the council, and certain things have become clearer to us,” she said, coming closer and taking the vacant chair beside the bed. “Haven’t they, Arthur?”
Her uncle patted her hand as he sat in Boyd’s chair. Hargreaves remained standing until Uncle Arthur pointed to the chair at the foot of her bed. Even the usually spit-and-polished Hargreaves looked like he’d been through the wringer, from the dark circles around his eyes to the spattering of wrinkles on his shirt and pants.
“You don’t look ready to conquer the world yet,” Uncle Arthur said, “but you do look better, niece. You aged this old man twenty years.”
“Don’t speak such nonsense, Arthur.” Her aunt’s eyes sparkled with new vitality. “This experience didn’t age you. It forged you in steel. May I point out that you—a supposedly old man to some people’s minds—just walked for two days straight at an altitude that would make many people sick. Other than sore feet and tired muscles, you’re fit as a fiddle. Now, we should probably first share the alarming news we heard from the chief.”