Courage Tree (14 page)

“You are not to blame,” he said. His eyes were narrowed and serious, his voice firm with measured words, as if it were very important for her to believe him.

“You don’t know,” she said.

“I
do
know,” he said. “I’ve done some reading on Gulf War Illness because one of my friends was over there and got sick afterward. I think he really did pick up something there, or else he got it from the anthrax vaccination or those pills they gave them to protect them against nerve agents—”

“Pyridostigmine bromide pills.” She remembered those pills and the dizziness she’d experienced after taking them.

“Whatever.” Lucas smiled. “So I’m not arguing that the illness is all in their heads. But as I did research for him, I read about the kids being born with medical problems. None of them had renal disease. And here you have some pretty good clues that Sophie might have inherited her illness from her father’s side. A missing mother. Not a heck of a lot of information about his father. So, why are you tormenting yourself over this? You have enough to deal with without taking on that guilt.”

His words seemed so logical, yet he didn’t understand the core doctrine of the Donohue and Snyder family: whatever Janine did was wrong.

“What about experimental treatments for Sophie?” he asked. “You’re not that far from the National Institutes of Health or Johns Hopkins, right?”

“She’s in a study at NIH right now,” Janine replied. “They’re trying a new, miserably toxic medication to block the potassium buildup. That’s what she’s been on, and that’s why she’s throwing up all the time. Today, I told the doctor I wanted to take her off it, and he agreed that she’s only getting worse on it. I don’t want her to spend the last few months of her life sick all the time. Throwing up all the time.” She started to cry again, and somehow wasn’t surprised when he reached over to touch her arm, lightly, briefly. “I want her to be able to take some pleasure in the time she has left,” she said.

“Of course you do,” he said. “But don’t close your mind to all possibilities. I believe in miracles.”

She brushed the tears from her cheek with the back of her hand and smiled at him ruefully. What a surprise he was turning out to be! He was certainly kinder than she’d expected, and far smarter than she ever would have guessed. And he was on her side.

“I have to ask you something,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

“This is going to sound…blunt, but I don’t think I have the strength right now to figure out a better way to say it.”

“Go for it,” he urged.

“My parents warned me not to speak to you or to let Sophie near you.”

“Why?” He looked truly surprised.

“My father said that when you first came here to look over the grounds, you showed…well, you seemed inordinately interested in the fact that a little girl lived here. And they’ve told me that whenever Sophie and I walk past you and they happen to be watching, you stare at her. Is that their imagination?”

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “No, it’s not their imagination, but I didn’t think I was being that obvious. I had no idea anyone thought I was—” He shook his head. “This is crazy. I could tell your parents didn’t like me. They treat me like I’m no better than the manure I spread in the garden. I thought it was some…class thing. The lowly gardener. At least now I know why.”

“So why would you stare at her?”

“I have a niece Sophie’s age,” he said. “My sister’s little girl. She lives in northern Pennsylvania, and I only see her on holidays. I don’t have any kids of my own, so she’s, in a way, the closest thing I have to my own child. I adore her. Spoil her rotten. When your dad told me there was a little girl living at Ayr Creek, I suppose my eyes did light up a bit.” He laughed. “I realized quickly, though, that Sophie and I weren’t going to get to be buddies, because you weren’t letting her anywhere near me. I thought you were a pretty cold fish. Now I know why. And I also know you’re anything but cold. I’ve read you completely wrong.”

“I guess that makes two of us.” She touched her fingertips to his splint. “I apologize.”

“Accepted.”

“What’s wrong with your wrist?” she asked.

“Carpal tunnel.”

“Do you wear the splint all the time?”

“Uh-huh. The latest research has shown that if you work and play and sleep in the splints, the better off you’ll be.”

“Is it from repetitive movement?”

“Oh,” he sighed. “I don’t know. It’s from some gardening task, I suppose.”

“Have you ever been married?”

He grinned at her. “Twenty questions, huh?”

She nodded. Suddenly she was very hungry for information about him.

“Yes, I was married for twelve years,” he said. “We’re still friends. She’s a terrific woman.”

“Why did you split up?”

“We got married too young.” He sat back on the ottoman, letting out a long breath. “We were both twenty. We still had a lot of maturing to do, and when we finally
did
grow up, we discovered that we didn’t have a heck of a lot in common. She was a psychologist, and I hung around plants a lot. She wanted a nice colonial home she could decorate, and I wanted to live in a tree.”

Janine laughed. “Where does she live?”

“Pennsylvania. She calls from time to time, or I call her. We e-mail. She got married again a couple of years ago, and fortunately her new husband understands our friendship.”

“You’re very lucky,” she said.

“Yes, I am. And what about Sophie’s father? Joe, is it? Are you two still friends?”

“Only when it comes to Sophie,” she said. It was hard to explain her relationship with Joe. “He’s still very close to my parents, since he really has no parents of his own. And they’re crazy about him. They still call him my husband. I think they blame me for our divorce, even though he had an affair. They don’t know that, though.”

“Ouch,” Lucas said.

She had told no one, other than her two closest female friends, about Joe’s affair. She’d let her parents think her
decision to end their marriage was just another one of her impulsive, selfish acts. Joe had begged her not to poison their feelings about him with the truth.

She looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I’m telling you so much,” she said.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” She went on to tell him about her high school pregnancy and the shotgun marriage to Joe. She told him about the canoe trip, and her stillborn baby boy.

“All right,” he said. “So you showed some poor judgment when you were eighteen, when most kids have poor judgment. You’re still blaming yourself for that all these years later?”

“Are you always this supportive of everybody?” she asked.

“Only people who deserve it,” he said.

Her gaze was drawn to activity in the driveway, near the mansion. She stood up and, through the bare trees, could see her father’s car pull into the garage.

“My parents are home,” she said.

Lucas stood up as well. “I’d better get back to work, then,” he said. “I’ll fix the pane in your door tomorrow. “

She realized she didn’t want him to go, but she didn’t want her parents to discover him there, either. “Thanks for breaking into the house, and for listening. And for the encouragement,” she said, as she walked him to the door. She glanced toward the hallway leading to Sophie’s bedroom. “Unfortunately, though, I
don’t
believe in miracles.”

He stepped onto the front stoop, then turned to look at her, a small smile on his lips. “I’m not talking about religious miracles,” he said. “I’m not talking about a sign from heaven. I’m talking about
man-made
miracles. I think human beings can do anything they set their minds to, and somewhere, right now, some scientist is trying to figure out a way to help Sophie and other kids like her. And maybe he—or she—will succeed. All I’m saying is that you need to be open to that possibility. Don’t give up hope.”

She nodded. “I’ll try not to,” she said. “Thank you.”

She watched him pick up the bucket and walk toward the mansion, where he turned on the hose. Then she walked into Sophie’s room to check on her. Sophie was still in a deep sleep, and Janine watched her for a few minutes, making sure she was breathing. How often she was doing that these days! She got up a few times each night, just to make sure Sophie was still with her.

Back in the living room, she curled up in one corner of the sofa, turning so that she could see out the window. She hugged her knees against her chest, watching as Lucas wrapped burlap around one of the shrubs near the driveway. Although he looked no different than he usually did from a distance, she was seeing him with new eyes.

Her knees pressed against her breasts, and the desire that simple sensation awakened in her took her by surprise. She had given up on the sexual part of herself. It had been so long since she’d felt any sexual attraction to a man that she’d talked herself into not wanting it, not needing it. She’d lived these last three years for Sophie. Her body had been nothing more than an instrument for taking care of her daughter.

Now, suddenly, almost guiltily, she felt life returning to that mechanical body. She imagined Lucas here on the sofa with her, the smile in his pale eyes warming her. He would kiss her, hold her. He’d lay her down along the length of the sofa and stretch out next to her, touching her gently, the way he had touched her arm. The fantasy was strong and unbidden and delicious, and it stunned her when she became conscious of it. She was not a fantasizer, not anymore. Dreams only got in the way of coping with reality.

The next day he would come to repair the pane of glass, and she would be sure to be at home when he did. She had the feeling that Lucas could make her dream. He had already given her hope.

F
rom where she lay on Sophie’s bed, Janine could hear Lucas’s car on the gravel driveway. As he pulled into the turnaround near the cottage, his headlights cut through the window to Sophie’s room, settling on the Winnie the Pooh lamp on the dresser. Usually, Lucas would have parked out on the street and walked in, so that her parents wouldn’t know he was there, but tonight, the rules were changing.

Setting the teddy bear aside, she tried to get up, but found she could not move. Her body was held to the bed by some invisible force. She listened to Lucas’s knock on the front door, opening her mouth to speak.

“In here,” she said, but it came out only as a whisper. He knocked again, and she heard him let himself in.

“Janine?”

“In Sophie’s room,” she said, still so softly that she knew he couldn’t hear her. But he walked through the small house, and when she heard him in the hall, she raised the volume of her voice a notch or two.

“I’m in here,” she said.

He came into the dark room and walked over to the bed. “Move over,” he said quietly, and she did. He lay down next to her, taking her in his arms. She clung to him, her breathing quick and shallow against his neck, but she didn’t cry. For now at least, she felt wrung dry.

Neither of them spoke for a good ten minutes, as he held her close and stroked her back.

“Do you still believe in miracles?” she asked him finally.

“The man-made variety. Yes.”

“We need one now,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “We do.”

“I feel like I’m being punished.”

“What for?”

“For enrolling her in Schaefer’s study. For sending her off on this weekend camp-out against Joe’s advice and wishes. I’ve ignored what he thinks is best for Sophie during the last couple of months, and now look what happened.”

“What happened is that Sophie was well enough to take the sort of risk every other eight-year-old girl takes on a regular basis,” he said. “Can’t you see that, Jan? Can’t you let go of the guilt long enough to see that?”

“Maybe if she’d come back today, I could have. But now…wherever she is…” Janine shuddered. “She must be so scared.”

He hugged her close, then released her, resting his hand on her belly. “I can feel your hipbones through your shorts,” he said. “When was the last time you ate?”

She tried to think. “I don’t know. Yesterday, I guess. I had lunch before I knew she was gone.” It seemed so long ago.

“And you’ve had nothing today?”

“No.”

“Come on.” He sat up. “Let’s feed you.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat something.” He put his hands beneath her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position. “Come on, Jan, seriously. Let’s go.”

She allowed him to guide her into the kitchen and onto one of the chairs at the table. Opening the cupboard nearest the window, Lucas peered inside.

She couldn’t even think about the boxes and cans of food he was looking at. “I don’t think I can—”

“How about soup?” he asked, holding a can of turkey-and-rice soup in his hand. “Are you too hot for that? It would probably be the best thing for your stomach.”

“Okay.” It was easier to give in than to fight him. She watched as he opened the can and poured its contents into a bowl. While it cooked in the microwave, he took the English muffins from the bread box, pulled one from the package, and put it in the toaster.

“So,” she said, watching him, “what have
you
eaten in the last day and a half?”

He smiled. “More than you,” he said. “At least I’ve had enough to sustain life.”

He placed the soup and toasted English muffin on the table in front of her, and she ate under his supervision. The soup tasted flat and flavorless; the muffin was impossible to get down, and she left it on the plate.

At ten o’clock, they undressed to their T-shirts and underwear and got into her queen-size bed to watch the news. She was anxious to see the footage of the press conference, and the disappearance of the missing Scouts and their leader was the first story mentioned.

“Two eight-year-old Vienna Girl Scouts and their leader are still missing this evening,” the male newscaster said. He was grim faced, but what did he care? He recounted stories like this one every day of the week. Janine suddenly understood what it was like to be on the other side of those news stories. To the public, the disappearance of three people was just one more tragedy; to their families, it marked the collapse of their worlds.

“They were last seen driving away from Camp Kochaben in West Virginia yesterday afternoon,” the newscaster contin
ued. “The leader, twenty-five-year-old Alison Dunn, was driving a ’97 dark-blue Honda Accord, and was expected to arrive at Meadowlark Gardens in Vienna at three o’clock yesterday afternoon. Police report they have no leads at this time. Ms. Dunn, originally from Ohio, is scheduled to be married this Saturday. The parents of Sophie Donohue and Holly Kraft held a news conference this afternoon, pleading for the safe return of their children.”

The camera shifted from the newscaster to the footage of Janine and Joe and the Krafts, who by now had completely lost their cavalier, this-is-no-big-deal facade. The four of them looked tired and frightened. Janine held an eight-by-ten picture of Sophie, Rebecca, an even larger picture of Holly. Joe spoke first.

“If anyone has any information regarding the whereabouts of our children and Alison Dunn, we’re begging you to please contact the police,” he said.

“My…our daughter has a serious kidney disease,” Janine added.

Watching herself now, Janine winced, remembering her slip of the tongue.

“She needs medical treatment immediately,” Janine had continued. My God, she looked desperate. “Please, if someone has her, we don’t care who you are or why you did this. Just please drop the girls off at a restaurant or a gas station.”

Suddenly the camera switched to one of the police officers, someone Janine had not seen on the case until that moment. He appeared to be standing outside the police station, and he squinted from the sun.

“We don’t know at this point if we’re dealing with a kidnapping situation or what,” he said. “All we know is that we’ve got three missing people to find.”

“Is the Scout leader under suspicion?” The question was asked by someone out of camera range.

“We’re not ruling anything out right now,” the officer said, “but the Scout leader was planning her wedding for this coming weekend, so it seems unlikely she had any premeditated intent to take the girls.”

“He’s leaving open the possibility of impulsiveness on Alison’s part,” Lucas said.

The newscaster was once again on the screen, talking about a drug bust in Washington, and Janine hit the mute button. The phone rang, and she jumped, reaching for the receiver on the nightstand so quickly that she knocked it to the floor.

“Hello?” she said, after fumbling to regain the receiver.

“Hi.” It was Joe’s voice.

“Have you heard anything?” she asked.

“No. I was just watching the news.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ve been worried about you,” he said. “I know it’s late, but can I come over? I just want to be with someone who…who’s hurting as much as I am.”

Janine looked at Lucas, who was eyeing her from the pillow. The face of the newscaster was reflected in his glasses.

“Joe,” she said. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

“Lucas is here.” She rested her hand on Lucas’s chest. “Lucas is…he’s more than a friend, Joe.”

The silence on Joe’s end of the line was unbearably long.

“You’re seeing him?” he asked finally.

“Yes.”

“And he’s there right now? This late?”

“Yes.”

He sighed, the sound like wind blowing against the phone. “I truly don’t understand you.”

“I should have been honest about it from the start,” she said. “But you and Mom and—”

“When was the start?” he interrupted her.

“November.”

“November! You’ve been seeing this guy since November? You’ve had Sophie around him?”

“Sophie likes him.”

“She’s a child,” Joe said. “She doesn’t know any better. Janine, you’ve got a good education, you’re intelligent…Why would you get involved with a gardener? And a lousy one at that. Your parents told me he doesn’t show up half the time for work. They think he has a drinking problem, that he’s hungover and can’t make it in.”

Janine could not help the laugh that escaped her mouth. “He doesn’t drink at all,” she said. Lucas’s eyebrows rose at that. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“He’s so much younger than you,” Joe said.

“Only three years, Joe.” Lucas was thirty-two.

“Do your parents know about this?”

“They will tomorrow. Lucas is flying in the helicopter with me.” She winced again, fearing she had just struck Joe below the belt.

Joe was silent a moment before speaking again. “They’re going to have a fit,” he said.

“If you talk to them tonight, please don’t say anything about it. Let it come from me.”

“It’s all yours,” he said. “I’d rather not hear what they have to say.”

Janine was quiet, imagining her parents’ reaction to this news.

“Are you sure he’s not…you know,
too
interested in Sophie?” Joe asked.

“I’m absolutely sure.”

“Well, look,” Joe said. “Whatever’s drawn you to him…I’d just like you to think about what I said in the car today. About us. I’m part of your family, whether you like it that way or not. Your parents think of me as their son. Your daughter is my daughter. I screwed up three years ago, I know that. But you’ve screwed up, too. And we have a daughter who loves
both of us, and if…
when
we find her, the best present we could give her would be for you and me to get back together.”

“Joe.” She shook her head. Where was all of this coming from? “You’ve never talked about this before. Why now?”

“Because of Sophie. Because she needs us to be united. Because having her gone, spending some time with you, makes me realize what I gave up. I want my family back.”

“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said. “That’s not something I want.”

He was quiet again. “You’d rather hang out with your tree house guy?” he asked. “Only little boys play in tree houses.”

“I’m going to hang up,” she threatened.

“No, don’t. I’m sorry. Just going a little nuts here.”

She felt sorry for him. He was alone right now, trying to cope with the fact that his daughter was missing, maybe hurt, certainly afraid. “I know,” she said softly. “I know this is just as painful for you as it is for me. You can call anytime, okay? Even in the middle of the night if you’re upset and need to talk.”

“Same here,” he said. “Although I guess you have the, uh…Lucas to talk to.”

“Lucas is wonderful,” she told him, and she felt Lucas’s hand on her back, “but he’s not Sophie’s dad.”

“Thanks,” Joe said. “Let’s talk in the morning.”

She hung up the phone and lay down again. “He’s talking about us getting back together,” she said. “He mentioned it in the car today, too. He said the women he goes out with get annoyed with him because he’s still in love with me. I honestly had no idea.”

“That’s understandable,” Lucas said. “He has a funny way of showing he cares, when he and your parents spend so much of their time and energy ganging up on you.”

She rolled onto her back. “Well,” she said, “the cat’s out of the bag, now.”

“Finally,” he said, and she was grateful to him for putting up with her reluctance to go public with their relationship.
She stared at the ceiling. “I’m never going to be able to fall asleep,” she said.

“Try.” He leaned over to kiss her lightly on the lips. “Let’s both try. We’re going to need all our resources tomorrow.”

She must have dozed off, because it was a dream that awakened her. In the dream, she and Sophie were at the beach, and nothing in the world was wrong. Sophie was healthy, her body nut-brown and her cheeks rosy. Her red hair, pulled back into a thick ponytail, was much longer than it really was. They were building a sand castle together and talking about eating pancakes for dinner. It was a light and airy dream, and when she woke up and realized that there was no beach, no sand castle, no
Sophie
, she began to cry. She turned away from Lucas, who was sleeping soundly, not wanting to disturb him, and wept into her pillow.

He knew, though. She felt his hand on her back, slowly rubbing along the length of her spine through her T-shirt. He raised his hand to the back of her neck and massaged her there, where the muscles were so tight they hurt.

“I know this is hard,” he whispered, his breath against her neck. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it together, Jan.”

She rolled over to let him take her in his arms. “I’m so scared,” she admitted.

“I know.”