The Courage Tree - Diane Chamberlain [72]
Omega-Flight had been good enough to send someone out to fly the helicopter back to their heliport. She was grateful for all the support they had given her, and she made a mental note to send them a thank-you card when this was all over. Whenever that would be.
The doctor at the emergency room had given her pain pills, explaining that her leg would probably throb tonight. She’d skipped the pills, and even now, lying still in bed, she could barely tell which leg had been injured. You’re numb, she told herself, and while it was true that her body felt lifeless, her mind could not be stilled. She closed her eyes again, and the image of the small black body bag was with her once more. Groaning with frustration, she threw off the sheet and got out of bed. She took her room key from the dresser and walked out the door onto the outside walkway. Lucas’s room was two doors down, and she knocked on it softly, not wanting to wake him if he’d somehow managed to fall asleep.
In a moment, he opened the door. The room was dark, but she could see that he was wearing only his boxers—and, of course, his splint.
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
“Neither can I.” He held the door open for her.
She walked immediately to his bed and slipped beneath the covers, and he locked the door and joined her. He lay on his side, looking into her eyes, stroking her cheek with his hand.
“How is your leg?” he asked.
She shrugged off the question. “It’s nothing.”
“This is going to be a long night,” he told her.
“I want to know, and I don’t want to know,” she said.
He nodded. His fingers were warm against her cheek.
“Was I wrong to put her in the study, Lucas?” she asked. “I know it’s crazy, but Joe is right. If she hadn’t been so well, she never would have gone on the trip. And if the wellness was just temporary, then what have I done by—”
“Janine.” He gripped her shoulder, hard. “Listen to me. I don’t care what Joe says. Or what your parents say. Or even what I say. I care about what you say. Please, Jan, trust yourself for once.”
She had a sudden memory. She and Sophie were eating dinner a few nights after Sophie’s first infusion of Herbalina. Sophie devoured her meat loaf and mashed potatoes, and she’d wanted seconds of cake. Janine had watched her with surprise at first, then with an unaccustomed optimism. Sophie never ate with gusto, not since the illness had become her constant companion. She usually nibbled, pushing food around on her plate, while Janine begged her to take in at least enough calories to get her through the next day. Suddenly, though, Sophie was hungry. And the little girl herself recognized the change.
“Food tastes good, Mom,” she said. “I don’t think I ever really tasted meat loaf before. It must be because of the Herbalina.”
She was surprised that Sophie had made the connection between her new appetite and the IV she had weepily endured two days earlier.
“Why do you think it’s the Herbalina?” Janine had asked her.
“Dr. Schaefer said my appetite would come back. He said food would taste better to me.”
Janine’s optimism sank, but only momentarily. Was Sophie’s attitude toward her food just a placebo effect, produced by Schaefer’s power of suggestion? Yet, Sophie had been on numerous other medications with no positive change in her appetite. And so what if it was the placebo effect? At least Sophie was getting some food inside her for a change.
“If I shut my mind to Joe and my parents, then…I’m glad she was in the study,” Janine told Lucas. “If it was Sophie in the car, at least—” she squeezed her eyes shut “—at least she died happy. I mean, these last couple of weeks have been the happiest I’ve seen her since before she got sick.”
Lucas pulled her close to him. It took him a moment to speak, and when he did, Janine could hear the thickness in his voice and knew he was near tears.
“I know,” he said. “It’s been wonderful to see how she perked up. How she got to play healthy