by Ava Miles
He dropped his hands. “Your energy is flagging. Go with your brother.”
This wasn’t like him. Usually he fought tooth and nail for what he wanted. “You’re scaring me, Boyd.”
She stared at her aunt and uncle, looking for help, but they didn’t offer any wisdom. They were holding hands, noticeably upset.
“He’s gotten what he wanted,” Connor spat, taking her arm and tugging her away from Boyd. “Let’s go. And take that dime-store ring off and give it back to him. It’s pathetic.”
Boyd punched Connor in the nose before she could blink, and two mercenaries lurched forward to muscle him back.
“If he hadn’t clocked you for that comment,” Uncle Arthur said, “I would have. Connor, you’ve lost a part of yourself, son. You need serious help.”
“Connor, please!” Michaela shouted.
Her aunt patted her on the back. “Connor, tell your goons to take their hands off Boyd. Right this minute!”
The mercenaries didn’t remove their hold on Boyd’s arms, and the warriors had sprung to attention again, spears raised. The sound of a young child crying reached Michaela’s ears, and she looked over to see a mother on bent knee trying to calm a little girl. The situation was falling apart. Someone was going to get hurt, and if she didn’t act soon, those mercenaries might hurt Boyd more. He wasn’t one to back down from a fight.
She needed to get Connor out of here. Everything else could be settled later.
“Fine, Connor. Let’s go.” Michaela turned to Boyd. “We’ll talk later.”
He shrugged out of the mercenaries’ hold and stood there, breathing hard. “I can’t risk you being cut off from your family. They mean everything to you. It’s bad enough I almost got you killed. Maybe the gods are telling us we’re just not meant to be together.”
His steady gaze gave her chills. He seemed almost logical about everything. “That’s not true.” Drums sounded out of the blue, making her start.
“Sounds like Chief Mingati is done with his visitors,” Boyd said, his dark eyes intent. “Go!”
“I concur with Boyd,” Aunt Clara said, “I think the drums are a war dance. I’m sorry for this, Michaela. Arthur and I will come to Napa to explain to your parents when we return. Take care of yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf, dear.” She kissed her on the cheek, giving her a squeeze, and then Uncle Arthur stepped in and did the same.
Before retreating to the chopper, Michaela turned to Boyd one last time, taking in his crestfallen face.
“I know you’re upset right now,” she said as she extended her left hand, “but we’ll work this out somehow. And I’m not giving this back.”
He touched her hand briefly before saying, “If you want, but it won’t mean what we thought.”
Her fingers had shrunk from dehydration from her fever, so the ring was hanging on loosely, much like the bond between them, but she wouldn’t let go. “What’s wrong with you? I love you, Boyd.”
His throat moved. “I love you too. That’s why I refuse to be the cause of your unhappiness.”
Before she could respond, someone put their hands on her, pulling her back roughly. When she spun around, she realized it was Connor.
“Hey!” Boyd shouted. “She’s still sick. Don’t treat her like that.”
The mercenaries shifted their weight as her brother tugged her forward. The helicopter’s engine whined, and then Connor was propelling her toward it, his arm around her waist. He settled her into a chair and buckled her in.
“I could kill Boyd for putting you in a hole like this and making you sick,” her brother said, stripping off his jacket and laying it over her. “First, we’re going to find you a doctor, and then we’ll fly you home.”
She didn’t have the energy to tell him the medevac people had already checked her out. Her eyes tracked to Boyd standing in the dirt swirling around the helicopter. He’d given up on them. She still couldn’t believe it. Then she spotted Aunt Clara, who had her face pressed against Uncle Arthur’s shoulder. Connor had threatened to cut her out of the family again. The last estrangement had lasted forty years. Boyd knew the story, and now that he knew Aunt Clara, he understood just how much the separation had harmed her.
Connor laid his hand on her arm for a moment. “Mom will take care of you, Mickey, and everything will be okay, I promise.”
He was wrong, and she couldn’t believe he was so far gone he couldn’t see it. Iggie had a sneer on his face as he sat across from her.
“I always knew Boyd was—”
“Enough, Iggie!” Connor strapped himself in. “Can’t you see she’s exhausted? We’ll talk about business later. If they think this is the final say, they don’t know me.”
That’s what she was afraid of. None of them knew this new Connor, and she wasn’t so sure she wanted to.
The other men filed in, finding their positions, some of them remaining standing by the door, hanging on to a tether suspended from the ceiling. The weapons they were carrying struck her again. They looked like poachers. How had Connor thought this was the appropriate response?
As they lifted off, she peered out the window for one last look at the village. The thatch huts looked like hay bales as they climbed in altitude. Boyd and the rest of her family were only specks on the ground now. She couldn’t make them out anymore even when she strained her eyes. The enormity of the situation with her aunt and uncle—and Boyd—hit her with full force, and her entire body shook hard enough to make her teeth chatter.
She was afraid she had lost them and her dream for good.
Chapter 24
Boyd looked down at the dried flowers from the Valley of Stars.
He should be elated, but all he felt was despair. He had the flowers. He didn’t have Michaela. That bastard brother of hers didn’t deserve her loyalty, but he was family. Connor would make sure he and Michaela never worked together. Sure, she’d said they weren’t through with each other, but he could see the writing on the wall. He couldn’t be the reason she was exiled from her family.
But his heart hurt, losing her.
Her aunt and uncle had sided with him, though. He still couldn’t believe it. If anyone had told them he’d be sitting on wooden stools in Clara and Arthur’s hut with Hargreaves after the last few harrowing hours of peacekeeping with the village, he’d have never believed it.
“Boyd, I know this has all been a shock, but you’re not the only one reeling here.” Clara rose to her feet and put her hand on his shoulder. “Now that we have calmed everyone down in the village, we need a plan for this flower. I appreciated the chief’s willingness to trust us after that hullaballoo.”
He made himself look up. She was right, and if she could stand tall after what Connor had said to her, he certainly could do the same. “You and Arthur were incredible with the chief and the tribe after that shitshow. I still can’t believe anyone could be that culturally insensitive or outright threatening. I mean, I know it was a bad move on my part to keep Iggie tied up with Customs, which led to some additional misunderstandings, but I never would have hired mercenaries. What did they think had happened to us?”
Arthur stretched his legs out. “Maybe Connor has seen that old Stewart Granger and Deborah Kerr movie, King Solomon’s Mines. Anyway, it’s done for the moment, but Clara’s right. We need a plan. The Connor and Iggie show could return. Even worried as he was, he acted outrageously.”
He hoped for Michaela’s sake Connor would be more sensitive to her than he’d been to the villagers. Although she was getting stronger, she’d been white-faced and shaking when she’d left. A relapse after this kind of stress happened to sick people all the time, and she didn’t have the flower…
“You’re thinking about Michaela,” Clara said, resuming her seat. “I’m worried too, but we have to trust she’ll be all right. Her brother may be a stubborn fool, but he obviously cares about her. Now, we have some items to discuss. First, I want your promise that you won’t bribe an official ever again in our wor
k together…unless you run it by us first.”
“My dear—”
“Arthur, I’m not naïve enough to ask for an outright promise from Boyd. Frankly, I think he was right to do it after what I saw of Iggie’s character—he has none.”
“A scoundrel of the worst sort,” Hargreaves echoed, his mouth twisting. “Excuse me, but his sense of superiority even rankled me greatly, and I’ve been in service for many years.”
“No excuse needed, Hargreaves,” Arthur said. “None of us would have been upset if a poison-tipped arrow had taken him off to the underworld. All right, Boyd, I’ll go along with Clara on this. No bribing officials unless we greenlight it.” He coughed out a short laugh, and Boyd almost joined in.
These two…he’d never met their like and knew he never would. “You have it. I’m trying to tell myself the bribe wasn’t the reason things got out of hand today.”
“It wasn’t,” Clara said, hitting her fist into her other palm. “Connor is worse off than any of us thought. He needs to face up to his problems and work through them. I only hope Shawn and the others understand what I did. I would hate to lose them when I only just found them again. Oh, dear! Excuse me.”
Arthur angled his chair closer and put his arm around her, and Boyd’s throat clogged at the sight of her agony. Seeing Clara’s pain made him glad he’d encouraged Michaela to go. He never wanted to see such a tormented expression on her face.
“Now, now, let’s not go all doom and gloom yet,” Arthur said, jostling her. “We’ll talk to Shawn and Assumpta and work things out like grown-ups. Clara, I’m glad we’d agreed on our plan with the elders before they got here. I’ve never been prouder of you than when you told Connor you wouldn’t give him the flower simply because he was a Merriam like you.”
The shock of that moment had been like a glass door shattering. Boyd had never expected they’d partner with him. He’d made peace with the thought that he wouldn’t be able to work with the flower. “Why did you choose me?”
Clara wiped away her tears and gave him a brave smile. “Like I said, you passed the incorruptibility test for both us and the villagers, Boyd. When Michaela fell ill, you didn’t go off your rocker like Connor. You stayed by Michaela’s side and let us do our duty as the tribe wished.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I might be a lot of things, but I respect people and their traditions. I’m… Hell, I’m honored you want to be my partner after everything that’s happened. I promise to do a good job with it.” Even if Connor tried to blackball him with other companies, plenty of good ones would line up to work with them on a find this big. He wasn’t worried.
“We know you will,” Arthur said, reaching into his pants pocket. “Damn, I’m out of red hots. Now—”
“I have some right here, sir,” Hargreaves said, pulling a carton out of his own pocket and extending it to Arthur.
The older man opened it and made a rude noise. “Leave it to you to have red hots in perfect condition, Hargreaves. I’ve never been more grateful to you. I think we all could use a treat.”
Boyd took one and crunched into it as he held the carton out to the rest of them. They each took one. “Okay, back to the plan. What else needs to happen with the villagers before we can leave?”
Clara leaned forward, chewing her red hot slowly. “I believe we can make preparations to depart tomorrow. Sironka and a group of his warriors will accompany us, the chief said. The sooner we return to the States, the faster we can head off a potential return trip by Connor and Iggie. The elders understand that. I’d like to think Connor wouldn’t send back more thugs for the flower, but Iggie might. We need to talk to Shawn immediately.”
Arthur nodded, popping another candy into his mouth. “My thoughts exactly.”
“Once we get to Nairobi,” Clara said, “I’m chartering a plane to take us to San Francisco since the Merriam jet isn’t an option anymore. I don’t want any arguments, Boyd. I might enjoy sleeping on a hard bed with hides, but I will not fly commercial.”
Since her look was directed at him, he opened his hands in surrender, laughing. “I’d offer to split the cost since we’re working together, but it’s a bit out of my price range. Some of us have to fly coach.”
“Not me,” Clara said. “Deal with it.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am. By the way, I’m hoping you and Arthur would do me the honor of being my first board members. I’d like your thoughts on which of the villagers we should invite. Perhaps Leshan since she’s a lawyer? Clara, how does chairman strike you? Unless you and Arthur want to flip for it. Hargreaves, I’d be honored to have you on board—ha-ha—as well.”
“It’s chairwoman, Boyd,” Clara said, “and I’d love to take that august position if Arthur doesn’t mind.”
“Not at all, my dear. Lead. You clearly were meant to.”
She leaned over and kissed his scruffy cheek. “I have some thoughts on which of the villagers might like to be on the board. But what about you, Hargreaves? Will you join us in our exciting new enterprise?”
His posture ever-perfect in the chair, he simply bowed. “While I am honored, Dr. McClellan, it’s not my place. But I thank you for the invitation. I’m most content helping Madam and everyone in the background.”
“Are we back to all that mister stuff, Hargreaves?” Boyd asked. “I rather liked Boyd.”
“We are, sir,” Hargreaves said. “My breach in etiquette was only temporary and due to the extreme nature of the situation.”
“Oh, good God, Hargreaves, will you ever lighten up?” Arthur asked.
“Leave him be,” Clara said, sending her butler a tender smile. “He’s been working with me for decades and only on two occasions has he called me Clara. You don’t change the nature of a man, do you, Hargreaves?”
“It’s an insult to try, Madam. A man must be who he is. Isn’t that right, Dr. McClellan?”
Boyd harkened back to their vigil with Michaela, where Hargreaves had told him his problem was in thinking he was Cinderella to Michaela’s Prince Charming. Had he finally discovered who he was on this trip?
Yes, he realized. He’d passed the incorruptibility test and won the trust of these fine people to share a fabled healing flower with the world. His company was going to take off like hot cakes on Sunday morning, giving him everything he’d ever wanted professionally.
If only his personal life wasn’t in shambles.
“You couldn’t be more right, Hargreaves,” Boyd said. “Now, let’s have another red hot and discuss what arrangements we need to make before we leave. I have some thoughts on a few scientists I’d like to bring in to do the initial testing.”
Of course, he’d hoped one of those scientists would be Michaela. He had to set that aside now.
“What about marketing?” Clara asked him. “You’ll have to run me through other big finds like this and how they were launched so we can share our ideas with the village. Chief Mingati and the elders trust us with these matters, but they want to be kept informed as is their right as custodians.”
“Of course.” He rubbed his hands together, trying to get his internal fire going again. “I can run everyone through a number of successful examples. One thing: you may want to share the flower’s location with me at some point, with the elders’ approval, of course. I mean, when you think you’re getting up in years.”
Clara chuckled. “I’m glad you’ve finally realized who you’re dealing with, Boyd, after your earlier attempts to make us beg off from this difficult journey. Arthur and I are fit as a fiddle, as we’ve more than proved, and we will be for at least two decades more if I have anything to say about it. I have a feeling this flower will help, but Arthur, you’re still going to be doing yoga and tai chi with me every day from now on. We have new responsibilities to uphold.”
The older man groaned. “Anything but that pretzel mumbo jumbo.”
Boyd patted his back. “After this trip, I have no illusions about who I’m working with.”
“Neit
her do we,” Clara said, slapping her thighs and standing. “Now, let’s enjoy our last moments with the tribe on this trip. Oh, and Boyd, Naserian said to let the flowers fully dry before we leave. Will you see to it with Hargreaves?”
Before he could respond, she grandly walked out of the tent.
“I already have the proper agreements drafted for Customs,” Boyd said. “I was trying to be prepared.”
“She trusts you,” Arthur said, standing. “Don’t mess that up. I’m off to the pub if you want to join me later. More facts and impressions to collect for the series of articles I’m planning about the tribe and the flower. Have fun pressing the flowers, you two.”
His amused snort followed him out of the hut.
Boyd looked at Hargreaves.
“Shall we make history, sir?” Hargreaves asked.
“Let’s do it.”
Hargreaves rolled up his sleeves. “I talked to Naserian about the traditional practices used to dry flowers, and we’ve been employing a few techniques. Shall I run you through them?”
When he nodded, Hargreaves launched into his dissertation, making Boyd smile. He’d gained three unlikely partners on this trip.
And lost the only one he’d ever wanted.
Sadness engulfed him. Well, regardless of how he wished things had turned out, it was probably time to start over. He’d done it before, after his dad up and abandoned him.
He would do it again.
Chapter 25
A sickbed wasn’t a great place for a family reunion.
But here Michaela was, drowning in quilts, flowers from the exotic to the pedestrian, and fresh-squeezed juice, while her parents and most of her siblings squeezed in around her. Only Connor was missing. He’d dropped her off at her parents’ door three days ago, taken off for the office, and hadn’t checked in since. With any of them.
Not that Michaela was surprised. She’d lost her voice trying to reason with Connor the whole way home. Iggie had taken her brother’s side, of course, accusing her of siding with the enemy. Which meant Boyd, but also Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur. Exhausted and unable to speak anymore, she’d finally given up.