Tad considered the possibility. “The Okefenokee is the biggest blackwater swamp in the country. Thousands of acres, and much of it still unexplored. Maybe the silver flower is more than a myth, but the odds of finding it are a billion to one. Dr. Cole was a legendary plant hunter, yet this was the quest that most likely killed him.”
“But we have a plan!” she said.
“A plan?” Tad couldn’t see it. “We do?”
“Yes!” She patted the book. “This journal will be our guide! We’ll start at Dr. Cole’s last location and see if we can pick up his trail from there.”
“That’s some plan, Piper. We’ll just head over to the Okefenokee and try to find a trail that ran cold two hundred years ago?” He didn’t mean to sound dismissive, but he couldn’t help it. It was a crazy scheme.
“Look here. Dr. Cole drew a map in the book. See?”
“I’ve seen it a thousand times. So?”
“So the last place he visited before he disappeared was this island, here.” She showed him. “Maybe he left clues behind that will tell us where he went next.”
Tad humored her. “Let’s say we do find a marker, and it points to another, and another. What if it takes us down the exact same path my ancestor went? One that ends in danger, or worse?”
“I think we can rule out demons, right? And I doubt there are any vengeful Native Americans hiding in the swamp, waiting to do us in.”
“I suppose not,” Tad said. “Okay, but we don’t have a boat. That’s a big problem.”
“There are plenty of swamp tours there. I have money saved up for my next pageant dress. Entry fees too. We can use every cent of it to hire a boat and a personal guide. We don’t have to tell him why we’re there. We’ll just…nudge him in the right direction. If we’re paying, what will he care?”
Tad didn’t know what to say. Piper’s plan was insane, of course. There was virtually no chance they’d find such a flower in a swamp covering 650 square miles. It was like looking for a needle in a…well, a needle in a freakin’ big swamp.
“I don’t know, Piper.…”
She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned in so close that he could feel her breath on his lips. She locked on to him with her soft golden eyes. He could see himself, helpless, in their reflection. “Maybe this is the way it was supposed to happen,” she said. “Maybe you were meant to find the flower your ancestor never could. You inherited his love of plants. What if you also inherited his quest?”
Tad knew Piper would say just about anything to persuade him to go. But there was no doubt that finding the flower was the best possible way to honor a man he’d clearly inherited so much from. It would put the Cole name in the botany books like no other discovery would.
“Please, Tad. I know this is a long shot, but at least we’ll be doing something. I can’t just sit on my hands and watch Grace fade away.”
Tad caved, as if there was any doubt in his mind that he would. But he added a stipulation. “If I’m going to allow you to kidnap me, I have one condition.”
“Name it!”
“There has to be a time limit to this quest. One day. Sunup to sundown. That’s it. If we don’t find the flower by dark, then you have to promise you won’t pursue this any further. We go home and that’s the end of it.”
“Agreed! We have a deal!” She grabbed his hand it pumped it up and down. “I promise you’ll be the best-treated hostage in history.”
“I’m more worried about your comfort than mine. It won’t be easy,” he warned. “The Okefenokee Swamp is no place for a pageant princess.”
“I swear I won’t complain about bugs or the smell or anything. You know I’m an outdoorsy girl at heart.”
Tad turned somber. “That was a long time ago. You’ve changed since then.” There. He’d said it. And he wasn’t just talking about her transformation from tomgirl to priss. He was referring to the fact that she’d turned her back on him in the process.
“I know, and I’m truly sorry,” she said. “You’ve always been a good friend. I—”
“We should wait until next weekend,” Tad said. “That’ll give us time to prepare and study the journal. We’ll need to get creative—come up with cover stories for our parents. We probably won’t get home until late.”
“I hate lying to my mom and dad. But if we find the flower, it’ll all be worth it.”
“We’ll work out the details this weekend, then we’ll leave Saturday morning, weather permitting.” An entire week spent huddled over Cole’s journal with Piper. Despite his conflicted feelings toward her, Tad couldn’t be happier. “It’ll be an adventure,” he said.
“You bet, buddy!” She soft-punched his shoulder then reached for the rain slicker. “Just like old times.”
“Ouch.” Tad feigned a sniffle and rubbed his shoulder. But the pain was real. It wasn’t the punch that had hurt him; he was made of tougher grit than that. It was the word buddy that had stabbed him through the heart.
“Sure, pal,” he replied dully. “Just like old times.”
The Field Notes of Botanist Dr. Brisbane Cole
August 1, 1823
Before my trip to Asia, I had the opportunity to visit my friend William Bartram, the renowned naturalist, at his family’s lavish garden in Kingsessing, near Philadelphia. Always spry and of good humor, he regaled me with stories of his travels through the southeastern portion of our fledgling nation. Ever his own man, William once turned down an invitation from Thomas Jefferson to explore the Red River in the Louisiana Territory.
During his solo exploration of the south, William discovered many unique plant species, including the bizarre Venus flytrap (found growing nowhere else in the world except for the coastal Carolinas) and a tree that he named the Franklin tree, after another of his esteemed cohorts, the statesman Benjamin Franklin. In Georgia, William came upon a Seminole Indian who harbored deep hatred for white men and had intent to kill any and all that crossed his path. William charmed the bitter fellow with his good nature, and the Indian became his traveling companion for a spell. During one of their daily discourses, the man told William of a plant in the Okefenokee that bears but a single silver flower, the source of miraculous healings. He even went so far as to claim it could restore broken bones to their original state of congruity, a boast I find dubious, at best.
I asked William if he thought his companion was playing him for a fool, but he did not. On the contrary, William was so taken in by the story that he journeyed to the Okefenokee in the spring of 1774 to search for the flower, only to abandon his quest upon realizing how ill-equipped he was to explore such a vast and inhospitable terrain. I, however, shall not be deterred so easily.
Tonight is my last night with my darling Edwina. I set sail for the port city of Savannah, Georgia, in the morning. From there I will travel by train to Old Nine, a military post just north of the swamp. A soldier stationed there has offered to arrange a meeting with the Seminole chief Micanopy. I shall attempt to enlist his help in my search for the silver flower.
The portrait is finished. The artist has outdone himself, capturing not only my external likeness but also the anticipation I feel inside. For tomorrow, finally, I mobilize my effort to save my beloved’s life. No longer must I sit idly by and watch her wither away. Her condition has worsened considerably since my arrival. For her sake, and for the sake of our child, I dare not tarry a day longer. I will say my good-byes tonight and then depart for the dock at first light. I relish the challenge of exploring this new and perilous place.
“I’m all packed to go. You ready to do this?”
It was still very early; the rays of the ascending sun were slicing sideways like laser beams through the blinds of Piper’s open window. She was sitting on her bed, her backpack resting on the floor, cradled between her feet, being turkey-stuffed with supplies such as sunblock, antibacterial soap, and various odor-killing sprays Piper hoped would keep the scent of swamp from being absorbed into her clothes. Her cell phone was pr
essed between her shoulder and her ear.
“Just about,” Tad answered on the other end of the line. “My mom left for work. Lucky for me she picked up a weekend shift at the last minute. I didn’t have to lie to her after all. I’m still going over my checklist to make sure I’m not forgetting anything.” His supplies were more practical. “I’ve got a disposable camera, binoculars, some snacks, a first-aid kit, and ziplock bags for everything I want to keep dry. Plus bug repellent…lots of bug repellent. The yellow flies will be out in droves.”
“Don’t forget Dr. Cole’s journal,” Piper reminded him.
“Of course not. That was the first thing I packed.”
Tad and Piper had spent the entire week combing through every page of the plant hunter’s journal. They’d filled the empty margins with notes that might be useful during their search for the silver flower. While much of Cole’s writing was a bit stuffy—especially the minute details about every boring plant he came across in the Okefenokee—he’d been certain that the legendary cure-all flower was real, and that surety was infectious. Cole even had Tad semi-convinced that the flower existed, but he knew the odds of finding it were slim to none. The journal had a much greater impact on Piper. It gave her real hope for the first time since Grace was diagnosed. Today was the day. She was in an upbeat mood, raring to go.
“My dad went to Home Depot to pick up some fertilizer for the yard. Mom has to take Grace in for another treatment later this morning. She’s busy running around getting ready. I’ll meet you at the gas station on East Cherry Street, like we agreed. You sure the ride you arranged for us will be there?”
“Yep, he’s reliable,” Tad assured her. “All I had to say was Okefenokee and he was in.”
“Weird, but whatever.” Spending a sunny Saturday running around a giant swamp wasn’t her idea of fun. Maybe in the past it would have been, but not anymore. She’d learned a lesson in Washington: nature was dangerous. She had to keep reminding herself she was doing this for Grace.
Piper picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. “I’m heading out soon.”
“You’re sure nobody knows about this trip, right?” Tad asked, sounding worried. “You didn’t tell any of the Snoot—uh…any of your girlfriends?”
“Of course I didn’t. They can’t keep a secret to save their lives.”
Tad didn’t doubt that. “If anyone found out what we’re about to do—”
“Stop worrying. Nobody knows, I swear.”
“Good enough,” Tad said. “See you soon.”
As Piper ended the call, she caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye. A flash of red in the tree branches just outside her window. The flutter of a launching bird, maybe. Whatever it was, it was gone.
In the kitchen, Piper made herself a bologna sandwich. Jane paused from her battle to get Grace to eat, and eyed her elder daughter suspiciously. “You’re fixing your own lunch? But you never fix your own lunch.” Jane leaned in close to Piper, one eye squinted in parental scrutiny. “Who are you, and what have you done with my daughter?”
In a thick accent, Piper said, “I am really Russian spy named Viper, sent to infiltrate and observe family, learn to bore enemies to death. Is ultimate torture.”
“I see.” Jane chuckled weakly. She hadn’t produced a genuine laugh in weeks. “I won’t blow your cover. I just wish things were a little more boring around here lately. We could use more boring.”
“True,” Piper agreed. She scooped a glob of mustard out of the jar and slathered it on her sandwich. “By the way, I’ll be home late. I’m going to Olivia’s. I’ll grab dinner at her house.”
There. She’d told the lie. Now she’d have to live with it. She just hoped Grace would live because of it.
“Okay, but don’t stay out too late,” her mother warned. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”
If that’s her plan, thought Piper, she’ll need a boat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She finished making the sandwich, then made one more. Lunch and dinner. She sealed them in individual ziplock pouches, and placed them in a plastic grocery bag.
Creeper came downstairs and joined them in the kitchen. Piper was in such an upbeat mood that not even his sour face could spoil it. “What’s up, Creepo?”
“’Morning,” he grumbled. Normally, he would have shot back with a snarky nickname of his own (his preferred zinger of choice was Pooper), but today he was unusually quiet. He fixed himself a bowl of cereal and proceeded to eat it over the sink. Creeper watched as Piper finished packing her lunch sack. She tossed a couple of granola bars and an apple. The apple wasn’t her first choice of fruit, but she suspected pears and bananas might bruise more quickly in muggy swamp air.
“That’s a lot of food,” he said.
“Yeah, I’m a growing girl,” Piper replied.
“Especially your nose, Pinocchio,” he said under his breath.
Piper didn’t get his meaning, nor did she care enough to ask. Creeper was being a creepo, as usual, just in a peculiarly creepy way.
While Jane’s back was turned, Piper sneaked four bottles of water out of the fridge and dropped them into her backpack. With her supplies gathered, she did something she hadn’t done in a long time. She bent over the sleeping baby and kissed her on her wispy-haired forehead. “When I come back,” she whispered in Grace’s ear, “I’ll have a special gift for you.”
She hoped.
Piper arrived at the Citgo gas station on Temple Street and chained her Schwinn to the freezer on the sidewalk, the one with the pillow-size bags of ice inside. The machine looked like it weighed a thousand pounds—two thousand when full, which it was. If anyone wanted her bike, they’d have to take bolt cutters to the chain. It would be safe until she returned. She sat on the curb and waited for Tad and their mystery driver to show.
The gas pumps were occupied by crews of men driving pickup trucks loaded with tools of all kinds. These men were construction workers and landscapers, hardworking people who spent their days outside and liked to get cracking early to beat the heat. The “worm getters,” as her dad called them. None of them seemed to notice her. So when someone called out to her, she was startled.
“What’s up, sis?” Creeper was sporting a rucksack and an impossibly obnoxious grin. “Going somewhere without me?” He skidded to a stop on his bike in front of Piper, set one foot on the ground for balance, and held the other up mere inches from her face. He was wearing his oldest, rattiest, smelliest sneakers. “Got my swamp shoes on.”
Piper was livid. “Who told you? How do you know where I’m going?”
It made no sense. She’d been so careful. The only way Creeper could have found out was if Tad had—
“A little birdie told me,” Creeper snickered. “A little birdie in a tree.”
It hit Piper. That flash of red in the tree outside her window wasn’t a bird. It was her stupid tree-climbing, pain-in-the-butt, eavesdropping eleven-year-old jerk-face brother. She jumped to her feet and roared, “You were spying on me?” She grabbed the handlebar of Creeper’s bicycle and shook it so hard that he nearly fell off the seat.
“I wasn’t spying!” He slammed his feet down to steady the bike. “I was practicing!”
“Practicing for what? A career as a Peeping Tom?”
“I was just climbing! It’s the best climbing tree on our property. I can’t help that it goes past your window. Trust me: you’re not interesting enough to spy on. All you care about is tiaras and stupid dresses covered in fish scales.”
“They’re called sequins! But that’s not the point! You invaded my privacy!” Piper realized that some of the men at the pumps were staring at them, and she simmered down to a low boil.
Creeper broke free of his sister’s grip. “I wasn’t trying to invade your stupid privacy, but I’m glad I did, Piper. I’m going with you to the Okeenokee, and you can’t stop me.”
“It’s called the Okefenokee, and no you are not! Listen, Creepo, this isn’t
some school field trip. It could be dangerous. Besides, Mom is probably already wondering where you are.”
“I have a Little League game today, remember? It’s doubleheader day. She’s expects me to be gone till dark.”
“Look, I get it. You want to climb around in the swamp, but I’m not going there for fun and games. You’re too young to understand. There’s no way you’re—”
“She’s my sister too!” Creeper thundered. He looked like he was about to cry.
Piper’s attitude softened instantly. She felt like a big jerk.
A horn honked. A beat-up red Mazda came rattling into the gas station parking lot and pulled into the space in front of them. All the windows were rolled down, which meant only one thing in Georgia in August: the car’s air conditioner was busted. It was going to be an uncomfortable trip.
“Your chariot has arrived, milady,” said the driver, a huge African-American kid with a cute smile. Piper recognized him from chemistry class. His baby face made him look fifteen, but she knew he was at least sixteen; you had to be sixteen to drive without an adult in the car in Georgia. “My name is Grafton,” said the driver. “In case you’re too stunned by the awesomeness of my car to remember, I sit behind you in Chemistry.”
“Hey.” Piper waved. “Thanks for the lift.”
Tad jumped out the passenger side and slammed the car door. He looked upset. “What’s your little brother doing here?”
Piper shook her head. “He’s coming with us.”
Creeper’s eyes lit up with joy. “For real?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“This trip is already risky enough,” Tad reminded her. “Now we’re endangering little kids too? Our parents are going to kill us.”
“I know,” she said. “I’ll take full responsibility for him.”
“Hey, do you mind wrapping this up?” Grafton was resting his arm on the door’s window track—he lifted his wrist and glanced at his watch. “We need to get on the road, gang. I’ve got a Class D license, which means I can’t drive after midnight. The more time we spend sitting in this parking lot, the less you’ll have to play around in the swamp.”
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