Raiders of the Lost Heart(21)

Oh God . . . no . . .

“Don’t worry, your mother is fine,” Dr. Snyder continued, and Ford let out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I know this number is only for emergencies, so I’ll keep this short. A spot opened at Lakeview Rehab Center. Your mother can be moved as early as Thursday, although I recommend you wait until at least this Saturday, after she finishes the next round of treatment here.”

Lakeview? Ford had been trying to get her into Lakeview since she’d first been diagnosed. Not only was it located closer to where he lived than Sacred Heart, meaning he could visit her multiple times a week rather than the every-other-week schedule they’d been on before he left, it also had the best care for cancer patients like her in world-class facilities.

Albeit at world-class prices.

He’d hoped that by the time a spot opened up, he would have the money to pay for it. The money from this dig. Although he was getting paid to be here, unless they actually found something worth discovering—like the tecpatl or Chimalli’s bones—it wouldn’t be enough to afford Lakeview. Only then would Ford get a nice fat million-dollar check. A check that meant his mother could live comfortably, and hopefully for much, much longer. It was unusual to get paid like this for work on a dig, but Dr. Crawley had assured Ford that Mr. Vautour had both the wherewithal and the obsession with Chimalli to pay for their success.

But how was Ford going to afford his mother’s expenses in the meantime?

“That’s great news,” he managed to say. Because, yes, from one perspective, it was fantastic news, and with all the ups and downs with his parents over the last few years, he’d welcome any positive news. “What do I need to do?”

“They need a deposit, and on her move-in day, they need the first month paid in full. Her insurance will continue to cover the treatments she’s currently on, but as I’m sure you are aware, the cost of Lakeview versus Sacred Heart is . . . significant.”

Significant? Ford would have laughed if it wasn’t so depressing.

“Do you know if they take credit cards?” Credit was all Ford had at the moment.

“I’m sure they do.”

“Then I’ll arrange for the payment today,” he told Dr. Snyder. “Can you please tell them to hold the spot for her?”

“Of course. Look, I know this is a huge sacrifice, but your mother will be in excellent care over at Lakeview. Catherine is lucky to have a son like you.”

Lucky to have a son thousands of miles away? A son who was gambling everything on an archaeological discovery that no one in hundreds of years had been able to find? Sure, Dr. Snyder. Sure. At least, had he stayed in New Haven, he would have been able to collect his comfortable salary. But his salary alone wouldn’t have been enough, not in the long term. Having to settle all his father’s debts and pay for his mother’s apartment and living expenses since his father passed had eaten into Ford’s savings.

So when the opportunity to lead this dig had come up with the potential to make out big, he’d taken it. Literally. Right out from under Corrie’s nose, and she didn’t even know it. If she ever found out—well, she’d probably murder him. This was her life’s work. Corrie would probably go so far as to say it was her life.

But Ford’s mother’s life actually depended on this. So life’s work or not, in his eyes, his needs trumped Corrie’s. Besides, if she stayed, she could still get what she wanted while at the same time helping him get what he wanted.

“Thanks,” he finally responded to Dr. Snyder. “I’d better get going. Tell my mother I’ll talk to her on Friday.”

The instant he got off the phone, he immediately dialed his assistant in Connecticut, asking her to handle the payment for Lakeview using his credit card. He wasn’t supposed to use his assistant for personal matters like this, but being in a Mexican jungle left him little choice otherwise. Hopefully they’d make it back to the States before his assistant would have to start taking calls about his maxed-out credit cards.

He needed this dig to go right, and, until this point, the only thing he’d done was fuck it up.

He glanced at Corrie and Ethan, who were crouched over a small hole in the ground as Corrie lifted a trowel and traced it through the air along the ridgeline with Ethan nodding beside her. Great. She was right. The only way this dig had even a remote chance of being successful was if he trusted her.

Catherine Matthews was worth the hit to his ego. He’d do anything for her. He looked at the inside of his arm where his mother’s initials had been tattooed on his skin, realizing that he was still gripping that clump of dirt Corrie had placed in his hand. Unfurling his fingers, he stared at the dark soil, listening to see if the ancient spirits could speak to him. Tell him what he was doing wrong. Tell him what he needed to do to make it right.

A quetzal cawed overhead, turning his attention to the sound and putting Corrie directly in his line of vision. Corrie. Maybe that dirt could speak. Maybe it was telling him that Corrie was the answer.

He shook his head and his hand, letting the dirt fall to the jungle floor and brushing the remnants on his pants. Don’t be ridiculous. Dirt can’t talk. But when he looked up again and stared at her, watching her animated discussion with Ethan, he couldn’t let her go.

If he was going to help his mom, Ford would have to swallow his pride and admit—out loud, for the first time in a long time—that he was wrong. And to Corrie Mejía, no less.