the details right for the report she would eventually have to file. On the way out, she sought me out in the waiting area, asking if I had time for a cup of coffee.
In the cafeteria, she sat across from me at the table, looking official in her uniform and as beautiful as ever. As we nursed our cups of weak coffee, I described the long hours I had spent with Callie, piecing together the shape of her story and witnessing her fraught reunion with her family.
“All in all, I guess it was a happy ending,” she said.
“So far. Now it depends on the testing.”
“It would be tragic for the parents to find her, only to lose her again.”
“Yes,” I said. “But I have faith that it will work out.”
Natalie smiled. “I can understand why you were so intent on helping her. She’s…compelling. It’s hard to believe she’s only sixteen. She’s more mature than a lot of the adults I know. I wonder how she’ll adapt to living with her family again and going to high school and doing things normal teenagers do.”
“It’ll be an adjustment for sure. It might take some getting used to, but I have a feeling she’s going to be okay.”
“I think so, too. Oh, on another note, your grandfather was a very clever man.”
“In what way?”
“Had he said the name Callie in the hospital room, we might never have found out who she really was. We never would have tried to find a Karen.”
I considered that, realizing she was right. My grandfather never ceased to amaze me.
“Robertson was right, too,” she went on. “When he told us that we could have found the information ourselves. I visited the website for the GBI, and it took all of five minutes to find her once I had her real first name and knew what she looked like. We didn’t have to travel to Georgia.”
“I’m still glad we went,” I said. “Otherwise, I might not have seen you again.”
She stared down at her coffee cup. “I’m going to miss you.”
Me too. More than you’ll ever know. “I think I’m going to harvest some of the honey before I go. Do you want to come over and help? I’ll show you how to spin and filter the combs, and if you’re lucky, I might let you take a few jars home.”
She hesitated, then said, “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Knowing that you’re leaving is already hard enough.”
“So this is it? Our last goodbye?”
“I don’t want to think of it like that.”
“How do you want to think about it?”
She paused, reflecting. “I want to remember our time together as if it were a beautiful dream,” she finally said. “In the moment, it was powerful and real and completely transporting.”
But then you have to wake up, I thought. “I’ll probably have to come back to New Bern from time to time to check on the house and the hives. Would you like me to let you know when I’m in town? Maybe we could meet for the occasional lunch or dinner?”
“Maybe…” But even as she said it, I had the sense that she would prefer that I didn’t. Still, I played along.
“I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. When do you think you’ll be leaving?”
“In a couple of weeks, probably. I want to have time to get settled in before the program starts.”
“Of course,” she said.
“And you? Any summer plans?”
“The usual,” she said. “I’ll probably spend a few weekends here and there with my parents at the beach.”
It pained me to hear how stilted our conversation was and I wondered why talking had seemed so much easier only days earlier. This wasn’t the way I imagined saying goodbye, but like her, I didn’t know how to change it.
“If you ever make it up to Baltimore or DC, let me know. I’ll be happy to show you around. We could visit the Smithsonian.”
“I’ll do that,” she promised, even though both of us knew she wouldn’t. As she said it, her lips trembled.
“Natalie…”
“I should probably go,” she said, suddenly standing. “I have to get back to work.”
“I know.”
“I’ll swing by your grandfather’s house while you’re away. Make sure no vagrants break in.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
We left the cafeteria and I walked her to the main entrance, even though I wasn’t sure she wanted me to.
Reaching the doors, I followed her outside, thinking that all of this was happening too fast. Unable to stop myself, I suddenly took her hand in mine. She paused, turning