what Iâm talking about. I can tell you want to.â
She hugged the book to her chest gratefully. â âWhyâ was my first word,â she said. âMy grandpa is forever proud of that.â
Gramps . She couldnât wait to go home and collapse into his arms. He would be the air above water.
âI should go,â she said, sliding off the examining table. Her feet dropped to the floor with a shaky thud.
âCall me when youâre ready to go forward, or if you need anything at all,â Dr. Carlyle said, handing her a card emblazoned in black with his personal contact information, including his cell phone number. âIâm going to recommend your case to my colleagues at NIH. The Undiagnosed Diseases Programâyou might have heard of it.â
She smiled. âThatâs how I found you. I did my research, too.â
âThen weâre a good team.â He patted her shoulder as she walked to the door. âIâm looking forward to hearing from you,â he said. âAssuming you do want to proceed,â he added. âYou do, donât you?â
She turned around to face him, but he held up a hand.
âDonât feel pressured to answer just yet,â he said. âWhat you choose to do with your body is obviously up to you.â
âIs it?â she asked. âIf Iâm really only fourteen?â Every time she spoke the number felt like an aftershock.
His frown deepened. âThatâs a good point. Thereâs no legal precedent . . . I suppose your parents would need to sign off going forward . . .â
âForget that,â she declared, straightening her spine. âIâll set the precedent. Iâm still my own person and Iâll make my own decisions.â
Dr. Carlyle raised his white eyebrows. âWell then . . .â
She grabbed the doorknob, still facing him. His eyes shone with worry as his mouth opened, then closed.
âMy whole teenage life,â she said, âIâve wanted nothing more than to get to the bottom of this. You think Iâm going to stop now?â
He exhaled. âEven if your family . . . ?â
âLeave them to me.â The strength in her own voice stunned herâshe hadnât known any was left. She pushed open the door, still holding the textbook close to her chest.
âTake good care,â he said. âCall me anytime.â
âI will,â she promised, stepping out into the deserted hall. âBye.â
They shook hands, his palm swallowing hers. Her grip was firm nonetheless. Then she walked down the hallway on wobbling knees, trying not to stumble. As she rounded the corner, she glanced back. Dr. Carlyle was watching her like a starstruck pedestrian, mouth partly open, his eyes ablaze.
He smiled sheepishly when she caught him, making no attempt to hide his fascination. A prick of nervous excitement struck her then, similar to the feeling she got before boarding a plane. Whenever apprehension about flying overcame her, sheâd think of Grampsâs favorite poemâTennysonâs âUlyssesââand remember to summon her sense of adventure for the trip ahead. âI will drink life to the lees,â sheâd tell herself. âTo follow knowledge like a sinking star, beyond the utmost bound of human thought.â
There was no better time to apply it. She mustered up a smile for Dr. Carlyle, absolving him of embarrassment. He grinned back, electrifying the hallway with a tacit message that made her shiver, for she knew it could be true. Tucked into her body, inside her bones and skin and muscle, was a secret written in a language as universal as it was cryptic. Not just any secret, but one sought for all of timeâthe answer to the primeval mystery of why we age and die.
CHAPTER 5
Washington, D.C.
10:20 A.M.
L esâs cab crawled across town from Southeast back to the committeeâs headquarters in Northwest for an