She had to.
Two years ago, at only 18 years old, my sister had been given a round of antibiotics for a sinus infection while she was staying with me in lower Manhattan. Almost immediately we had known something was wrong. After just two days her whole body had started aching. I'd pulled out the pamphlet from the drug store, and read the black box warning.
The risks were horrifying. It seemed insane to risk all of those horrifying side effects for a simple sinus infection. But we'd dutifully called the doctor who told us in no certain terms that it was more dangerous not to finish the round of drugs. She'd said the side effects were rare and would end when she finished the pills.
She was so, so wrong. So willfully ignorant. But we didn't know that until much later.
When it was too late.
At the time we'd talked about it and then gone ahead with the doctor's advice. It was the worst decision either one of us had ever made. And I blamed myself. With our parents gone, I was all she had.
I was supposed to be the voice of reason.
My bright and beautiful sister was poisoned. Disabled and in pain for no good God damn reason.
An avid runner, Casey had always been fit and strong. Within a month she had wasted away to a shell of her former self.
And that was the tip of the iceberg. Trouble thinking, anxiety, pain, chemical sensitivity, ringing in her ears, blurry vision, dizziness, sores all over her body, headaches. And the effect on her poor tendons and joints had her walking slowly and carefully, bent over like an old woman.
All that from an antibiotic. Something that was supposed to help her feel better. Instead it had damaged her mitochondria and DNA. It was pure poison.
We tried everything. We ate organic, meatless diets. We juiced. We gave her supplements and did a comprehensive detox.
It had helped. Just not enough. And not fast enough.
I had learned a lot in the process about the big pharma companies.
Too much.
I'd fought them, hired a lawyer, joined advocacy groups, written to my senator and the FDA. We'd even gone to a hearing in Washington D.C. to stop them from giving the drugs to other people. So far, the jury was still out. Even worse, very few doctors even considered the drug remotely dangerous.
Never mind that it had actually killed people.
In a strange way, Casey was one of the lucky people.
And there were plenty of people who healed completely, or nearly so. We held onto hope that she would be one of them. And when she got tired of hoping, I did it for both of us.
So we were leaving. We were starting over. Fresh. In the countryside. I'd bought a plot of land with a big old farmhouse smack in the middle, surrounded by an orchard and empty fields. They'd been fallow long enough to start growing crops without the concern of chemical pesticides or fungicides.
That's right. This former high maintenance, highly ambitious, successful advertising executive career woman was going to be an organic farmer.
My friends had laughed when I told them. But they didn't understand. They didn't think about pesticides or toxic fumes. They hadn't seen what the same company that made those nasty pesticides had also done to my sweet, brilliant sister.
I was damned if I wasn't going to do everything I could to save her.
Chapter Two Jackson
I groaned, covering my eyes as Jake opened the blinds in the dining room. The sun was too damn bright and it was too damn early. I was sitting in the dining room alone, nursing a black cup of coffee.
I'd tied one on last night, and then some.
In fact, I was pretty sure I was still a little bit drunk.
If anyone understood how that felt, it was my reformed brother Jake. He'd been the family black sheep for most of his life. That's why he was grinning at me with a look of superiority. It wasn't often I wasn't at my best and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.
"More coffee?"
I mumbled my agreement and he laughed. The sound was loud, echoing around the dining room. I was sitting as far away from the breakfast buffet as possible.
The smell was doing strange things to my insides. Horrible, stomach flipping things. Basically I was trying not to throw up.
Mrs. Garritty wouldn't like that.
I didn't even look up as Jake set down a cup of coffee and slid a plate of food under my nose. I flinched at the strong smell of eggs and toast. I actually heard my stomach protest with a loud rumble.
"Eat. It will help."
I finally looked at the smug bastard. He winked at me as he shoveled a heaping fork full of food into his mouth. Grudgingly, I forced myself to take a bite.
And then another. And another.
Before long I was feeling a bit better. Less drunk anyway. The toast must have sopped up some of the bourbon still rolling around in my guts.