Sera nodded—she’d probably seen a lot of that when Marie died.
“Gran was focused on Marie, but I was watching the doctor. She was calm and cool and knew exactly what she was doing. She gave orders to the nurses, settled Gran down, and stitched Marie up, all at the same time, then went on and handled the next case, no fuss. And she was Black. I thought, ‘I want to do that.’ To be able to take charge of a bad situation and make it better.”
“It sounds like a calling, like becoming a nun.”
Estelle laughed. “I’d be a lousy nun. I’m a pretty good doctor, though. Why all the questions? Are you thinking about a career in medicine?”
Sera scrunched her nose. “I’m not cut out for that. I’d like to do something, though. Something important. I don’t want to look back on my life and find I didn’t make any difference.”
Estelle squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll make your mark, chérie. You’ve got time.”
“Malala won a Nobel prize when she was my age. Simone Biles was a world champion, headed for the Olympics.”
“Jesus, chérie, you set the bar high! So what do you want to do to change the world?”
Reaching the lodge’s patio, Sera paused, her gaze straying toward the mountains. “I don’t know. Something with wildlife, maybe, like the park rangers. Or something to help the environment. Last year, I did my school service hours cleaning up the riverbank one Saturday a month until . . .” She bit her lip.
Until her mother did a runner off the bridge into that same Mississippi River.
“I’d like to do something like that again,” Sera added quietly. “But someplace new.”
Estelle remembered being that idealistic—and how she’d had to get away from her toxic home to make her dreams a reality.
Could she really send Sera back to New Orleans, where the river that took her mother’s life was an ever-present reminder winding through the heart of the city? To live with her bickering, guilt-ridden grandparents? To cope with her grief in a community that had a generations-long memory for even the tiniest of human failings? To the place where every person she met would see her and think, Sera, oh, yes, her mother killed herself, you know.
Estelle had never aspired to parenthood, but there was her only sister’s only child, hurt and angry and needing a home.
How hard could it be? After all, Sera was nearly an adult. She didn’t need Estelle to be a mother, she just needed a quiet place to stay for a while. Surely Estelle could give her that?
Estelle squared her shoulders, readying herself for the plunge. She’d really like a bourbon on the rocks right about now. “Chérie, if you’re serious about studying nature and ecology, you’re in the right state—Alaska has more wild places than anywhere else in the US.”
Sera perked up. “Does that mean I can stay? Oh, thank you! You’re a lifesaver.”
Estelle held up a warning finger. “There will be rules. No drugs, no alcohol, no tobacco, and no pot—I see too much of that in my practice. Always let me know where you’re going and always have your cellphone on you. And on any matters involving your health, physical or mental, I get the final say.”
Sera grinned. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise.”
And that, Estelle thought, was a promise no teenager could possibly keep.
CHAPTER 5
There’s hope for them all
Five days after Major Butterick’s visit, Anjou was back in the observation blind, watching as Luis Cortez and his partner Brandon loaded eight mammoths into two livestock carriers.
My mammoths. An achievement akin to humans landing on the moon. To the eradication of COVID-19. In a matter of weeks, the world would know the name Henri Anjou as the resurrector of lost species.
He imagined the interviews, the applause, and his modest responses. All a team effort. Why yes, of course we could manage with other species, with the proper resources. And the resources would come flooding in, not just to reinstate funding for the mammoths, but to bring back other animals that had captured the public interest. Saber-toothed cats, the giant ground sloth . . . with my techniques, there’s hope for them all.
One by one, Cortez and Brandon cajoled the mammoths up the loading ramps, luring them with bits of carrots and turnips, locking each burly animal into a reinforced stall within the trailer.
Cortez was good at managing the livestock, no question. Ruby, Emerald, Topaz, Pearl . . . Cortez called each mammoth by name, knew each one’s idiosyncrasies. Anjou couldn’t tell most of them apart, but he knew their genetic makeup better than his own—that was the important part.
Nearby, Ginger held a whispery phone conversation with some old crony. She was speaking Korean—no doubt one of Ginger’s extensive network of helpful contacts.
For Anjou, there was little left to do. In accordance with Ginger’s backup plan, mammoths Silver and Gold had departed the day before for some hidden pasture on Alaska’s west coast. The lab equipment had been packed and loaded into shipping containers for storage. Ginger had rented an out-of-the-way temporary home for the two of them. Better to stay out of sight, the valuable equipment safely locked away and the two breeding females under wraps, until the news broke and the public clamored to know more about the mammoths.
All the animals had been loaded now except Diamond. That mammoth, even Anjou could recognize. At more than three tons, he was the largest land animal in North America outside of a zoo.
Brandon wisely took refuge with
