The Vines Shelley Nolden (best way to read books txt) 📖

The cycle had to be ended. But with it, the potential for a cure? Lily hesitated.

Unquestionably, Cora could defend herself now. The abuse—of her body, her rights, and her trust—had largely occurred before Finn had stepped onto North Brother Island. Perhaps they could find a way for the research to continue with the two of them advocating for Cora as Sylvia once had. Startled by the boldness of the idea, and unsure of its morality, she dropped into her seat.

“What’re you thinking?” Finn swigged his beer.

Lily scraped her fingernail across her lower lip. “Isn’t that my line?”

“Hopefully I’ll have better luck with it.” He raised his eyebrows to implicate himself.

“I should stay quiet, so you know how it feels.”

“Sure, you could do that. But we’re in this together, so I need to know what’s going on in there.” He leaned over the table and tucked back a lock of her hair.

Gazing at her cacti, she thought of all the friends she’d made who were still battling their cancers. With their immune systems weakened by their treatments, they were even more susceptible than she was to a novel virus. As Kristian had stated during one of his voicemails: on any given day, a highly lethal and contagious new strain could emerge from a cave, rainforest, or wet market—a mere trek and plane ride away from New York City.

She wondered if all maladies, including cancer, really could be eradicated someday with Cora’s gift. It didn’t seem possible. Yet maybe . . .

Cora, too, had a garden, Lily reminded herself, for a vastly different purpose.

An idea struck her like a slap on the back, and she straightened. “I should be the one to go.”

“What?” Finn spat.

Leaning forward, she propped her elbows on the table. “She’ll trust a woman—not related to your family—far more easily.” Plus, they’d be able to relate: they each feared what lay beneath her own skin. “She risked her life for me; that tells you something.”

“Out of the question,” he said, slamming down his bottle. “I almost lost you there once.”

The reference triggered a cascading of spots in Lily’s vision. To steady herself, she pressed her palms against the table.

He gripped its edge, clearly trying to maintain his composure. “It’s like you think you’re fated to die early and just want to get it over with.”

“So now you’re admitting it’s too dangerous?”

“I don’t have epilepsy. And my organs haven’t been—”

Fuming, she glared at him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever,” she said, knowing he hated that expression. “But you bring up a good point: I’m already damaged goods. So my life is less valuable.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed, and he chugged the rest of his beer.

She knew he was planning his words carefully, so she changed course: “She’s worried about you becoming like them. The same doesn’t hold true for me.”

He tossed his empty bottle into the recycling bin by the door, and it clanged against the plastic bottom. “You’re still one of us, though, and if you’d seen her scars, you’d understand how deep her hatred runs. It’s too risky.”

Flinching, she dropped her gaze to hide her hurt. Twice Finn had seen that woman naked. Cora was untouchable; Lily knew she shouldn’t feel envious. Yet she couldn’t dispute the woman’s allure. Even from two stories below, during a downpour, Lily had felt her magnetism. And the heart tends to want what it can’t have.

Finn nudged her foot with his. “I love you.”

She wrapped her legs around her chair.

From across the table, he was staring at her with those intense, earthy green eyes. She could tell he was waiting for her to return the gesture and that he knew it wouldn’t happen.

Lily gathered her dishes. “You know it’s the only way.”

He touched her arm. “I can’t lose you.”

The words closed in on her, and she slouched to bring her ears between her shoulders. Comments like that were too much pressure. Twisting, she set her plate in the sink. Whenever she needed to be alone, she headed for the promenade at the end of their street. From the front closet, she retrieved her running shoes and iPod.

Finn blocked her. “Your whole life, you’ve been running from yourself. My dad and brother are smart—maybe brilliant—but I don’t want you getting your hopes up. There’s nothing they can achieve in that dippy lab that can undo what cancer—and your dad—did to you.”

She ducked past him and into the hall. “I have to believe in the impossible. Because . . .” This conversation was pointless: Finn was too pragmatic. To him, the probability of them finding a cure for cancer was so slim, it was irrelevant. To her, a single iota of possibility meant everything.

She started to run and tripped on one of her untied laces.

Finn rushed to her.

“I’m fine.” She wriggled away from him, and with shaking hands double-knotted her sneakers.

“I know; you’re tough,” he said, backing away from her. “I couldn’t just stand there, not helping someone I love.”

“I get that. But you don’t love Cora, and I’m the one who owes her,” she said, then hustled down the open-air stairwell and onto the sidewalk. Dodging an older man pushing a lapdog in a stroller, she sprinted toward the esplanade.

From the balcony of the vestibule seven stories above, Finn had to be watching. She knew he wouldn’t chase after her—not because he couldn’t catch up, which he couldn’t, but because he too would have concluded they’d reached a dead end.

Running with the East River and the Lower Manhattan skyline at her side, she made for the Brooklyn Bridge. Once across it, she would keep going until exhaustion hit her. Only then would she turn around.

Two months later

December

labs of ice blockaded the docks that jutted into the East River. Soon the entire strait might crust over. Lily shivered and gazed toward Randalls-Wards Island, barely visible from Kristian’s office on the hospital’s eighth floor. Beyond it and Hell Gate lay North Brother. Somewhere on