The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [103]
Early one morning, just before Christmas, and a month or so after Lucas had helped her break into the cottage, Janine was awakened before sunrise by a sound that always made her shiver. It was a low-pitched keening, spilling from the woods near the cottage, loud enough to pierce the windows of her bedroom. She’d heard the keening several times before, but only in the warmer months, and each time she heard it, she would lay frozen in her bed, imagining Orla as she traipsed through the forest in search of her daughter. This time, though, Janine felt a longing to know what was truly making that heartrending sound.
She got out of bed, pulling on a chenille robe over her flannel pajamas. Slipping into her sneakers, she walked quietly out the back door of the cottage to the porch. The sound stopped, as though Orla might have seen her emerge from the house and did not want to be discovered. Then she heard a noise from the side of the cottage. Walking around the path, she spotted Lucas carrying a bundled string of Christmas lights in his arms.
He started when he saw her. “You’re up early,” he said.
“Did you hear that sound?” she asked.
“What sound?”
“The wailing. Crying. Orla.”
He looked toward the woods. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “It is a bit creepy. But I think you were right when you said it was a possum or something.”
She shivered and pulled the robe tighter around herself. “I’ve never heard it in the winter before,” she said.
“Where’s Sophie?” Lucas asked. “Still in bed?”
“She’s at Joe’s for the weekend.”
“Ah,” Lucas said, adjusting the string of lights in his arms. “I’d like to meet Joe sometime.”
That surprised her. “Why?” she asked.
“Just ’cause he’s Sophie’s dad. And I’m supposing that, like your parents, he doesn’t trust me much. I’d like him to know I’m not an ogre.”
Or a pedophile, Janine thought. She felt a strong need to keep her friendship with Lucas from her parents and Joe. His visits to her cottage were made on the sly. Neither of them spoke about it, but they both understood the need for discretion. Although she had absolute trust in him, she knew her family would have no faith in her judgment.
“I’m about to make some coffee,” she said. “Would you like to come in for a cup?”
“Sure, in a minute. I just want to add these lights to the spruce out front. It looked a little bare to me last night.”
Inside the cottage, she quickly changed into jeans and a sweater, then busied herself making the coffee. She felt as though she were about to do something illicit. Not just because her parents would strongly disapprove of her socializing with the gardener, but because this would be the first time she’d been with Lucas alone, without Sophie as a buffer between them. Without Sophie to keep her growing desire for him in check. There had been a few times when she’d felt that desire was mutual, when she’d felt his gaze resting on her as she braided Sophie’s hair or made supper for the three of them. She wondered, though, if she might be imagining his interest.
She opened a box of donuts and set them on the table just as Lucas walked in the back door.
They sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, nibbling donuts and talking, and she wondered if he felt any attraction to her at all. She wished she’d taken a moment to comb her hair, still tousled from sleep, and smoothed some cover-up under her eyes. While she felt the power of being alone with him in the cottage, he seemed intent on talking about Sophie, as he usually did.
“What will she be doing this weekend with Joe?” he asked.
“Not sure,” she said, pouring herself another cup of coffee. “Joe said that he and his friend, Paula, might take her to Bull Run tonight to see the Christmas lights. And he usually takes her to an afternoon movie when he has her.”
“You know,” Lucas said, reaching for a napkin from the holder on the table, “I heard this little blurb on the radio about a study just starting up, and I thought of Sophie. I don’t know for sure, but I think she might qualify. It was something to do with kids with end-stage renal disease.