The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [111]
Paula had her arm around Joe, and her thumb stroked his back just below the shoulder seam of his jacket. She was so obviously in love with him. And Joe was so obviously in love with Janine.
The soft, yearning sound of a violin began wafting down from the balcony above their heads. The music was poignant, excruciating in its subtlety, and Lucas wanted to run from the chapel, just as he’d wanted to escape from that last funeral. He could run out of the chapel and keep on running, until his mind was numb to the pain.
But he did as he had done before: he remained seated, holding the hand of the woman he loved, praying for this long exercise in remembering to come to an end.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Zoe wasn’t certain if Sophie was truly sick or simply depressed, but the little girl hadn’t gotten out of bed at all that morning. At noon, Zoe finally went into the bedroom to check on her. Carrying the wobbly chair from the living room into the bedroom, she sat on it next to Sophie’s sleeping palette. Sophie was lying on her back. Her eyes were open, and the skin around them looked swollen, as though she’d been crying for hours.
“Are you all right?” Zoe asked.
Sophie rocked her head back and forth on the pillow. “I’m getting sick,” she said.
“What kind of sick?” Zoe asked. “Is it your kidney problem?”
Sophie nodded. “I can tell. I feel like I used to feel when I didn’t get enough dialysis. Before Herbalina.” She held up one of her arms. “My hand is puffy,” she said.
It was puffy, and Zoe knew that her little stash of antibiotics would never be able to touch what was wrong with this child. She realized, then, that the swollen look of Sophie’s eyes was not from tears so much as from the disease. Sophie had not been crying at all. Instead, she was stoic and resigned to her fate, and that broke Zoe’s heart in two.
She found Marti in the clearing, sitting on one of the rocks, flicking her cigarette lighter on and off as she stared into the flame. She turned toward Zoe as she approached.
“Why, oh, why didn’t I think to buy about a hundred cartons of cigarettes before I came out here?” Marti asked.
“You would have had to carry them through the woods,” Zoe said, as she sat down on another rock. Sophie’s penknife lay open next to her, and Zoe closed it and slipped it into her shorts pocket.
“That’s true.” Marti nodded.
“I need to talk to you about Sophie, Mart,” Zoe said. “I have to find a way to get her some medical—”
“Mother—”
“I have to, Marti. Let’s talk about this, all right? Let’s find a solution instead of simply saying we can’t do it. She’s very, very ill. I think I should go and get help for her.”
“And then what?”
“And then we’ll have to face the music, whatever that may be.” She made it sound easy; she knew it would be anything but. “I promise you, honey, I will find the best criminal lawyers in the land this time. We’ll appeal. We’ll get you off.”
“I have to tell you something.” Marti stared into the flame of her lighter again.
“What?”
Marti glanced at her, then returned her gaze to the lighter. “I killed Angelo,” she said. “I killed the warden.”
“Marti…I don’t understand.” She didn’t want to.
“I had to do it. I got him the money from the barn, and once he had it, his attitude completely changed. Up until then, we’d agreed that he would drive off and leave me there. But all of a sudden, he changed his tune. He was going to kill me, Mom.” She looked at Zoe, those long-lashed blue eyes as innocent as a child’s. “He was afraid that, if I got caught, I’d talk, and they’d come looking for him. I think he planned to kill me and bury me in the woods someplace.”
“Did he tell you this?” Zoe asked.
“No, but he got real nervous after