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“Don’t.” Amy hated the idea of him feeling guilty about anything leading up to their mother’s death. “She needed one of us to move in and help her, not both. I’m the one with the medical degree. I’m the one who lives in town. It made sense for me to do it. You couldn’t have left your job to come to Denver and take care of Mom full-time.”
Mike nodded. It was the logical conclusion and the two of them had agreed upon it at the time, but Amy knew how hard it was to feel confident that you’d made all the right choices after the loss of a loved one.
To keep him from falling too deeply into his thoughts, she continued. “I’ve had to work a bit harder these past few years to make up for the time I couldn’t give to work back then. I need people to understand how dedicated I am to my job so I can get approved for research grants.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Mike said. “When I asked you if it was about Mom, what I meant was, are you putting all this extra time in at work to avoid thinking about what happened to her?”
Amy closed her eyes. “I’ve thought about it plenty.”
“Meaning that youaretrying to avoid thinking about it any more.”
“Mike, c’mon. I watched our mother die of cancer. I was here with her every day. I spent years of my life thinking about it. Yeah, I’d like to focus on something else for the next few years. Of course. Anybody would.”
“Just as long as you’re not trying to avoid dealing with it,” Mike said.
“Are you my grief counselor now?”
“Hey, if that’s what you need me to be, that’s what I’ll be.”
“What I need is for you to wash your dishes.” She pointed at the sink. “If you really want to make my life easier while you’re staying with me, make it so I don’t have to come home to a full sink every night.”
Mike groaned, but he got to his feet and started washing the dishes with a good-natured expression on his face. “Can’t you take some time off work? I’m only in town for a couple more days.”
“Well, maybe,” Amy said. She did want to have a chance to spend time with her brother, and he was making some good points. She wouldn’t lose any grant opportunities over a couple of days off this week. Besides, her patient load was light at the moment—most of her time at work had been spent consulting on other people’s patients. And it had been a long time since she’d seen anyone with Barks-Howard’s disease, which was her specialty. If there had been someone like that at the hospital, Amy probably wouldn’t even have come home tonight.
Finding a Barks-Howard’s case was like finding a unicorn—rare and intensely valuable. As far as Amy knew, she was the only doctor in the western United States specializing in the condition, so there was no competition for the cases. It was just the fact that they occurred so infrequently that made her research close to impossible.
If only she had a grant, she would be able to focus on broadening her search for those cases.
She picked up her phone to check her email.
“Seriously?” Mike had clearly figured out what she was doing. “You’ve been home for ten minutes, and you already have to check in with work?”
“This isn’t work.” Itwaswork, actually, but it wasn’t like she was emailing with the hospital. She had to know if any of the grant proposals she had submitted had been approved.
She skimmed the messages in her inbox, looking for the names of the organizations she’d submitted to, and a feeling of disappointment quickly settled over her. Nothing. She always allowed herself to get her hopes up that today would be the day, and it never paid off. Maybe she needed to give up on the whole idea of being given a grant to find a cure for Barks-Howard’s. Barely anyone had even heard of the condition. No one was clamoring for the cure.
No one except…
She paused over an intriguing subject line in her inbox.Seeking the help of medical specialist. She glanced at the sender’s address—this didn’t look like junk mail.
She tapped it open and read:
Dr. Daniels,
I found your name attached to a graduate thesis on the effects of and possible treatment options for Barks-Howard’s disease. I was very impressed with your work. Already, I’ve learned more from reading your thesis than I have from my own doctors.
I have a personal investment in the search for a cure—a search that very few people, apart from yourself, seem to be conducting. I’ve looked into your career and know that you’re waiting on grant money to help you take that search to the next level. I am willing to fully fund your research—whatever you need—as well as to contribute myself as your personal test subject. In return, I would require that you make me your sole focus for as long as it takes to find the cure for Barks-Howard’s and restore me to full health.
I very much hope you will be interested in this offer. Please reach out to me as soon as possible so that we can discuss the terms and make whatever modifications you deem necessary. As I’m sure you can imagine, I’m very eager to begin, and there is no time to waste.
Yours sincerely,
Adriano Canali
Amy read the email twice, her heart racing.
This sounded too good to be true. If she was understanding him correctly, Adriano Canali was a Barks-Howard’s patient who was offering to be—essentially—her guinea pig. It sounded as if he had a lot of money to throw at the issue, too.
