The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [53]
“The deed is done,” he said. “Come in, and I’ll clean up the glass.”
Janine helped Sophie to her feet, then reached for the bucket.
“Leave it,” Lucas said. “I’ll take care of it later.”
“Oh, no, I don’t want you to have to—”
“Leave it, Janine,” he repeated. “It’s not a problem. Get Sophie inside here.” It was the first time he had called her by her name, and she thought she should be incensed at him for taking that liberty. Instead, she found herself liking that intimacy from him. She wished he would say her name again.
She walked Sophie into the house. “Let’s get you to bed,” she said, guiding her toward the hallway. She looked at Lucas, who was indeed staring at Sophie, but the look on his face was one of concern, nothing more. She should thank him and see him out the door, but she owed him more than that. “Would you like some lemonade or iced tea?” she offered.
“Just a little cold water would be great.” Lucas smiled.
“There’s a pitcher in the fridge. Help yourself. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Sophie fell onto her made bed, eyes shut, instantly asleep, and Janine sat next to her for a moment. In the afternoon light from the window, Sophie’s eyelids were nearly translucent; Janine could almost see the blue orbs beneath them. The lightly freckled skin on Sophie’s face, across her nose and in the gaunt hollows of her cheeks, had that same translucent quality, as though Sophie were slowly becoming invisible, fading away. Janine unfolded the light throw at the foot of the bed and laid it gently over her daughter before leaving the room.
She found Lucas standing in the kitchen, leaning against the old coral-colored tile counter, a glass of water in his hand. “I poured a lemonade for you,” he said, nodding toward the glass on the table.
“Thank you.” She had not really been in the mood for lemonade, but it suddenly looked delicious, and she took a swallow.
“Do you have a broom?” he asked. “I should get this broken glass off the floor. And I can cover the window with a piece of cardboard and some tape for you, so the cold doesn’t pour in tonight.”
Janine looked at the glass on the floor and the broken window. He had already done enough. “I’ll get it later, thanks,” she said. “Let’s sit in the living room while you finish your water.”
He followed her into the small, square living room.
“I’ve wondered what it was like in here,” he said, as he sat down on the sofa. “This was once the slave quarters, right?”
She nodded as she sat on the leather armchair. “Yes. Twenty people lived in here at one time. Can you imagine what that was like?”
“I did some reading about Ayr Creek before I started working here,” he said. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ghost in this cottage?”
“Not in the cottage,” Janine replied. “She’s supposed to be in the woods, searching for her little girl. The woman’s name was Orla. Some other slave owner wanted her little girl to work for him, and Angus Campbell, the owner of Ayr Creek, promised Orla he wouldn’t split up her family. But one night the little girl disappeared. He’d sold her to the other guy, of course, but he told Orla he had no idea what happened to her. Orla apparently went crazy then, talking to herself and spending every night walking through the woods, hunting for her daughter. You can hear her out there sometimes, keening.”
“Do you believe the story?”
“Oh, I believe it, all right,” she said. “It’s a matter of history. But I certainly don’t believe that Orla’s ghost is haunting the woods. I’ve heard the sound that people attribute to her, though, and it is weird and eerie, but I’m sure it’s just a possum or some other nocturnal animal. You hear it mainly in the summer, late at night, when you’re trying to sleep. Sophie gets a bit freaked out by it.”
Lucas looked down at his water, swirling it around the inside of his glass.
“Tell me about Sophie,” he said. “Her illness…it’s very serious, isn’t it.” It was a statement rather than a question, and once again his voice was so kind that, without any warning, she began to cry. He said nothing as she lowered her head into her