The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [40]
Janine liked that the counselors spoke about Sophie in the present tense, but the words themselves made her cry. She leaned against the wall of the director’s cedar-smelling office, and Joe put his arm around her. The intimacy in his touch was unfamiliar after three long years, but she felt the sincerity in the gesture and allowed herself to take comfort from it.
“The last three years of her life have been all work,” she said. “I was afraid she wouldn’t know how to play anymore.”
“Oh, she does,” the first counselor assured her.
“Did she shriek at all?” Janine asked.
They looked at her in confusion.
“I mean, the way the girls are doing out in the lake,” she explained. “You know, shrieking and yelling and giggling.”
“I don’t know about shrieking,” the second counselor said, “but she definitely had a great time.”
“She was amazing about not being able to go in the water,” the director said. “She sat on the pier and played ball with the other girls from there. She never complained.”
“She’s not a complainer,” Joe said.
“When I heard she got dialysis, I expected her to have one of those, you know, big veins in her arm,” the first counselor said.
“A fistula,” Janine said.
“Right. That’s what my aunt has. But Sophie told me all about how she gets hooked up to that machine at night through the tube in her stomach. She knew all the terms and everything.”
Janine nodded. “We’ve kept her informed every step of the way.”
“You know, Mrs. Donohue—” the second counselor looked Janine squarely in the eye “—I don’t know where Sophie is, but I know she’s safe. I feel that really strongly.”
Janine felt mesmerized by the young counselor’s gaze.
“She’s sort of psychic.” The first counselor nodded toward her co-worker with a laugh. “She does tarot cards and all, and I used to think she was full of it, but I think she’s right about Sophie. They just got lost going back or something.”
“Thank you,” Janine said. “I hope you’re right.”
After leaving the director’s office, Janine insisted they walk around the camp before returning to the car. The place was so lively with gleeful girls that it was hard to imagine anything ominous resulting from a stay there. Although she knew she was being ridiculous, she found herself searching the face of every little girl they passed, as though she might find Sophie hidden just beneath that child’s features. It was both eerie and wonderful to be here, where Sophie had played and laughed most recently, and Janine had an almost visceral sense of her daughter’s presence.
“Can you feel her here?” she asked Joe, a bit shyly, since she knew the question would sound absurd to him. “I mean, can you feel that she was here just a day ago? Like there’s still a little bit of Sophie’s spirit in the air?”
He looked at her oddly. “No, not really,” he said.
“That counselor is right about Sophie being safe,” Janine said.
“I hope so.” Joe pointed toward the path that would take them back to the parking lot.
“No, I mean I know she’s right.” The feeling was so strong, she was smiling. “She’s alive, Joe. I can sense it.”
“It’s best to think positively, I guess,” Joe said, and she knew he didn’t understand her feeling at all.
Lucas would have. Lucas would have known exactly what she meant.
Back in the car, they studied the map, trying to locate other routes Alison might have taken back to Vienna. They developed a system: once on an alternate route, they peered into the woods as far as their vision allowed, and they stopped at every shop or eatery they could find. Then they backtracked and followed the same routine on a different road. Two people—one a waitress, the other a customer who’d overheard their query at a produce stand—told them they’d heard about the missing girls on the radio that morning. That was encouraging. At least the word was getting out. But the going was slow and otherwise disheartening.
This would be easier from the air, Janine thought, as they walked back to the