Chapter 9
NINE
“One more page?” she begged, tucked under the frilly pink covers of her twin bed.
“How can I say no to my Sunbeam?”
As he turned the page, Harper let out an appreciative sigh. “What’s this one?” she asked, pointing at the purplish bean-like plant that filled the page.
“Ah, we’re in the Amazon now, one of my favorite regions. Although the one you’ve picked is most definitely not my favorite,” he chuckled. “The mucuna pruriens makes you really itchy. And yes, I learned that the hard way.” He winked dramatically, eliciting a bout of giggles from the bed.
“It’s so beautiful,” Harper sighed. “There aren’t many other purple plants, are there?”
“Sure there are. Lavender, purple heart…”
“Orchids,” she added.
“Oh yes, orchids. And cryptothelys.”
“Dad,” she giggled. “You can’t make up fake names.”
He crossed his heart, something of a tradition between them. “It’s not made up, I promise. You just haven’t heard it before. It’s my latest discovery, and…” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “I think it’s going to be my scientific breakthrough. But we have to keep it a secret for now, okay?”
“I promise.” She crossed her heart, imitating her dad moments earlier. “Can I visit your lab and see it sometime?”
“Sure, Sunbeam. Maybe after our fishing trip this weekend.”
A quiet cough caused them both to turn in the direction of the door. Hope Davis leaned against the doorway. Her hair tied back in a loose bun, she looked exhausted from working all day at the flower shop. Yet somehow, she still managed the famous Hope smile that could light up any room. “How are my two best amigos?”
“Mom.” Harper beamed back. “Dad was teaching me about plants. There’s this really cool, new plant that might even make him famous.”
Hope’s eyes flashed something that Harper couldn’t quite identify. But just as quickly, her eyes returned to normal. “That’s fun. But it’s bedtime.” She rolled her eyes at her husband, though there was a lightness to it. “You two and story time,” she laughed, walking over to the bed. “Good night, honey.” She kissed Harper lightly on the forehead.
Her dad closed the book and kissed her on the forehead. “Good night, Sunbeam.” Then he turned off the lamp, and the two of them tiptoed into the hallway, leaving the door open a crack.
Their hushed voices carried down the hallway and into the living room, whispering so they wouldn’t wake their daughter.
In the kitchen, Hope poured herself a glass of merlot and sunk into the vintage sofa in their living room, leaning into her husband. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and put his arm around her shoulder. “How was your day?” he asked, giving her shoulder a loving squeeze.
“Great, but exhausting.” She stared into her glass, momentarily lost in the pool of deep red. “We need to talk about your work, Joe.”
He sighed wearily, and stood from the couch. “What is there to say, Hope?” He looked glum, his hands in his pockets as he paced back and forth. “The work I’m doing is really important. I’m close to a breakthrough. This close,” he pulled his hand out of his pocket and gestured with his fingers, “to creating an immunity booster. It could be the cure I’ve spent my whole life searching for.”
Hope frowned, her eyes glossy with concern. She set her glass onto the wooden coffee table and got up from the couch, resting her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Honey, I know you wish you could have done more to help your brother, and it kills you that you couldn’t cure his disease. But this obsession with your research has got to stop.” She spoke as gently as she could muster, but this was a conversation they’d had many times. And as his steely gaze met hers, she foresaw it would be another lost battle.
“I really think I’m onto something with that fern I discovered in Stirling County. I’ve named it cryptothelys. We already know it can do amazing things.” He glanced up the stairwell, to Harper’s closed door, and Hope felt herself giving in.
“I know, and I’m thankful. It’s just… I don’t want you getting lost in your work, Joe.” She sighed and returned to the couch, and her wine glass. “I’m worried that you won’t find your way back one day. The last thing I need is for my husband to turn into a mad scientist.”
“Only mad for you,” he said, eliciting one of his favorite Hope laughs. “And I promise, I’ll always find my way back to you. No matter what.”
He walked to the wall and picked up his banjo. As he strummed the chords to Hope’s favorite Ben Harper song, all thoughts of plants and science faded away. Only his love for Hope and his daughter remained.