Chapter 26

NICOLETTE

“Ah, there’s my girl.” My father dropped his toast and quickly stood to scoop me into his arms the moment I stepped into the kitchen the next morning.

“Hi, Dad.” I hugged him back tightly as he swiveled from left to right, lifting me slightly off my feet.

He set me down and I looked over to my mom. She was just pulling bacon out of the oven, the bacon that woke me, and I hugged her from behind.

“Hi, Mom.” I squeezed her waist and swiveled slightly from left to right as she held the sizzling pan. I knew she hated when I did that, so I did it longer than normal.

She let out an annoyed scoff, but a smile was underneath it. Which was confirmed when I let her go and she turned to face me, pan already on the stove.

She brought her oven-mitted hands to the sides of my face and gave it a warm squeeze. “It’s so good to see you, baby!” Then she hugged me properly, lightly rocking me side to side.

It felt so good to be in her arms. I’d missed her so much since moving to New York and decided that moment I’d make more of an effort to come visit.

And as always happened in her arms, all of my stresses came to the surface, meaning they came to my face. Where my mom would always see them.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Her look of concern when we broke the hug came the instant she looked into my eyes.

And my dad was then immediately by my side, hand on my shoulder on top of my mother’s. “Did something happen? Is that why you’re here?” He searched my face for clues.

It took everything inside me not to cry. So much had happened to me the past week, and being back home just overwhelmed my emotions. And tears were how they wanted to escape.

But I held them back and gave my parents a huge smile. I chuckled and shrugged their hands off my shoulders. “Guys, relax. I’m fine.”

They didn’t believe me, but they weren’t going to push me to talk, either.

I sat at the kitchen peninsula opposite my dad’s plate and put a pancake from the stack onto mine. “Actually,” I said as my father sat down, “I have possibly good news.”

“Wait,” my mom said, bringing over the bacon. She sat beside my father and made sure everyone had everything. Then she was ready to listen. “Now you can tell us your news.”

My dad and I exchanged a glance and smiled. We loved that about her, that she always wanted to give people her full attention when they spoke to her.

“Hey!” She playfully slapped my dad’s thigh, then pointed at me. “You two stop that! Now tell us your news. And eat. Before it gets cold.”

I smiled again and began, “So, I got offered a job to oversee a dig in Brazil.”

My mother gasped and playfully slapped my dad again, in the shoulder this time. “Oh, honey! That’s where we met!” she said to him.

“I know, dear. I was there.” He winked at me and smiled.

She stuck her tongue out at him and faced me. “Tell us more! You have to go. It’s so beautiful there. You’re going to love it.”

I laughed at her excitement and told them about the email I got from Mr. Andretti’s assistant, which I’d read after waking. That it was a privately funded expedition to excavate ruins in the Amazon.

My mom shot a concerned look at my dad at the mention of the rainforest. My dad looked back with fear in his eyes. She raised her eyebrows at him and tilted her head slightly toward me. He then set his jaw and barely noticeably shook his head.

After their strange nonverbal conversation, which I figured was just about my general safety in a place where everything wanted to kill you, I told them more to put their minds at ease.

I told them that the benefactor was an insanely wealthy man and that we’d basically be glamping the whole time. That he was bringing in a local team so there’d be no issues with language or politics. And that this team included private security.

Finally, I told them that we would fly there in a private jet. But that it was leaving tomorrow.

“Honey, that all sounds really fantastic,” my dad said as he took my hand. “It’s clear you have to go. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled at him then ate the last piece of bacon. I looked at my mom, and worry was still in her eyes. “Mom, what’s with the worry? Talk to me.”

She looked at my dad as if pleading to him with her eyes. He sighed and nodded. My mom then grabbed my and my dad’s other hands.

This wasn’t good. We only ever made a hand-holding circle when bad news was coming, so I braced myself for it.

My mom took a deep breath, then smiled at me. “When you were a baby, you were sick. Very sick.” She squeezed my hand. “It was your heart, and there was nothing the doctors could do.”

My dad continued. “We tried all that Western medicine had to offer, and when that failed, I looked elsewhere for help.”

“Your father had spent time in the Amazon, back when we first met, excavating a site on indigenous land. He got to know them, and they began to trust him,” my mom said.

I shook my head. I had so many questions. “Wait. What?”

My dad held up his hand. “Questions after we’re done, please.” He took a breath and continued. “The doctors had given you four months. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it. So I took you back to the tribe.”

I didn’t know where this was going, but images of blood sacrifices came to mind. I hoped that wasn’t the case.

“I gave you to their medicine man and I told him to do anything to save you.” He looked lovingly at my mom and smiled, then back at me. “And he did.”

“They called you a miracle. There was no trace of heart disease when you came back from Brazil. I’ll never be able to thank those people enough.” My mom kissed the back of my hand.

My dad chuckled. “Wow, I haven’t thought about that in years,” he said. “And now that I’m thinking about it, I actually remember something I’ve never told you.” He directed this at my mom.

She cocked her head and told him to continue.

“After the medicine man gave you back, the tribal shaman came over to us. She put her hand on your chest and closed her eyes, like she was listening somehow through her hand.

“Then she said, ‘She has a good heart. Kind, brave, strong. And it already knows its match.’ It was the craziest thi—”

“Wait, go back to the shaman,” my mom said, cutting him off.

“Yeah, go back. What did she mean? Did she say anything else?” I was as desperate to know more as my mom.

My dad was shocked by our interest. He scratched his head and thought. “I think she just said your heart was already loved. Or that someone already claimed it. Something like that.” He shrugged his shoulders.

The shaman’s words played on repeat in my mind, drowning out my parents’ voices. What did her words mean? My heart knew its match?

Darien’s face then flashed across my mind, and my heart fluttered.

~Oh, shit.~