“Flight school?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t stop her grin.
“Oh, Janine, your head’s in the clouds.”
“I can’t wait to have my head in the clouds,” she said.
“You’re going to be surrounded by other guys,” he said, and she suddenly saw one of the central reasons for his disapproval. He’d always had a jealous streak.
“That’s not why I’m doing it.”
“So…when is this supposed to start?” he asked.
She felt a little afraid of what she had to tell him. “I’ll leave in September,” she replied. “I’ll have to go to basic training, like I said, in Fort Rucker. That’s in Alabama. That’ll take about a year, and—”
“A year!”
“And then I’ll stay there for flight school, and then I’ll be a Warrant Officer.” That sounded so much better than “bank teller”!
“And then what?”
She knew that tight look on his face; he was struggling to hold his anger in.
“Then I’ll come home and I’ll be able to fly with my reserve unit at Fort Belvoir. Once I’m with the reserve unit, I can have another job. I’ll just need to be able to take off one weekend a—”
He threw his book on the coffee table, knocking over his soup. “This is insane!” he said. “I want a woman for a wife. Not a soldier.” He stomped across the room to the phone.
“Who are you calling?” she asked.
“Your parents. Maybe they can talk some sense into you.”
She could feel her strength and resolve slipping away from her, and she was once again the little girl, always under her parents’ disapproving thumbs.
Within minutes, her parents had arrived at the apartment, where they attempted to talk Janine out of her “wild plan.” They thought she had grown up in the last year, they told her. They thought she was more stable and responsible. She was being unbelievably selfish. She wasn’t thinking of Joe or their marriage at all, only of herself and her crazy ideas. Sitting perfectly still, not saying a word, she let them have their say. She was going to do this, even if it cost her the love of her parents. Even if it cost her the love of her husband.
Her mother stopped talking to her that night, and her silence lasted for years. Janine went to Fort Rucker, tucking her family’s disdain for her decision in the back of her mind as she learned to fly a helicopter. Her flight instructor called her a “natural pilot,” and she knew she had found her passion. Yes, some of the guys badgered her, and others hit on her, but that was not what she was there for. She was in faithful contact with Joe, reassuring him that she would be home soon and how truly happy she was. She told him she couldn’t wait to take him up in a helicopter someday. When she finally came home from flight school, she was a happier young woman. And she was, remarkably, a soldier.
As much as she adored flying, Joe loved his chosen career: working with money. He graduated from college soon after her return and took an accounting job with a large, well-respected firm. He was a hard worker, and he became even more serious and sober as he threw himself into his career.
It wasn’t until Janine took a job as a helicopter pilot for Omega-Flight, an aircraft leasing company, that she discovered Joe’s fear of flying.
She’d received permission from Omega-Flight to take her husband up in the helicopter one weekend, and only then did Joe admit to his fear. She thought back to the few times they had been scheduled to fly somewhere, and how he always decided to drive or take the train instead, making up some excuse about wanting to see the countryside. She had known about his father’s accident and chastised herself for her insensitivity. He admitted then how much it upset him that her major passion in life was the one thing he could take no part in. She’d felt sorry for him and held him close to her as he talked about his fear. He rarely let her see vulnerability in him, and it touched her. Yet he was right. Flying was indeed her passion.
Although her mother began talking to her again, she rarely had anything positive to say. What could she and her father tell their friends about her? she asked Janine. How could they admit she was in the reserves, putting on a uniform and playing soldier one weekend a month? Why couldn’t she be a normal daughter and wife? They constantly told her about their friends’ daughters who had respectable jobs as teachers or nurses.
Now that they were both out of school, Joe had wanted to start a family again, but Janine was not ready to move in that direction. She used her job and her reserve duties as an excuse, but the truth was, she still had nightmares about that chilly October day, when she’d lain on a bed of gold and red leaves, giving birth to a baby who would not live. She would take any sort of physical risk, but she didn’t think she could take that emotional risk again.
She lived for the weekends, when she could fly. There was little danger in her reserve duty, and plenty of excitement. But then, the unexpected happened: she was called into active duty in the Persian Gulf. No one, not even Janine herself, had expected she’d be involved in warfare when she joined the reserves. She was prepared, though, proud of her training and excited by the challenge. Her skills as a helicopter pilot would be sorely needed.
She received no support from her parents. The only words they spoke to her during those few days before she was deployed were of the “we told you all along you had no business being in the reserves,” and “you made your bed, now you lie in it” variety. They turned their backs on her, both figuratively and literally, refusing even to see her off at the airport.
Joe was only slightly kinder. He said only once that he wished she were not in the reserves, and after that he simply avoided saying anything at all. Although he certainly gave her no overt encouragement, she was grateful to him for keeping his negative thoughts to himself. She knew that was a true challenge for him.
The four months in the Persian Gulf were a growing-up time for her. She flew supplies in and the injured out. Her days were filled with chemicals, explosions, the god-awful smoke and the boredom. She did not see death, but she heard of it, and she was shaken to the point of nightmares by the helicopter accident that took the life of another female pilot.
Returning from Desert Storm, she was a more somber young woman, more keenly aware of the brevity of life, and finally ready to settle down. Anxious to settle down. She agreed with Joe that it was time to start a family, and within a couple of weeks after stopping the Pill, she became pregnant. She quit her Omega-Flight job in her fifth month.
To everyone’s relief, Janine delivered a full-term, beautiful baby girl, and she and Joe settled into a comfortable family life, interrupted only by Janine’s continued monthly duty in the reserves. Her mother, thrilled to be a grandmother at last, began talking to her again. Janine planned to return to work when Sophie started school. She would be out of the reserves by then, and she hoped to take some sort of aviation-related job that would keep her on the ground. Having a child who needed her had done something to her yearning for risk.
The symptoms began shortly after Sophie’s third birthday. A little blood in her urine, occasional puffiness around her eyes. She was diagnosed with a rare kidney disease. Her kidneys were still functioning then, but it would only be a matter of time before she needed a transplant or dialysis.
At that time, the news was full of stories of Desert Storm soldiers who were also getting sick with mysterious symptoms, and some of them had produced children with severe deformities and other illnesses. Janine herself felt perfectly healthy, but reading the stories of men and women whose children had been damaged in some way, possibly by the time their parents spent in the Gulf, tapped at her guilt. Was she responsible for Sophie’s illness? Was her child paying for Janine’s need for adventure and excitement?
Her parents certainly thought so. Janine had overheard her mother telling a neighbor that Sophie was one of those babies who had gotten sick because her mother served in the Gulf War. Janine didn’t need them to lay any more guilt on her. She was producing enough of her own.
Joe never directly blamed her for Sophie’s illness, but she knew how he felt about her serving in the reserves, and every time he read about a sick child of a Desert Storm soldier, he passed the article to her in silence. That’s when she and Joe slipped into the quiet, end stage of their marriage. They related only with regard to Sophie’s needs. Her illness consumed them. Joe had an affair, and Janine, in a fit of rage and pain, told him she wanted a divorce. She and Sophie moved into the cottage at Ayr Creek. It had been an unwelcomed move, but they could live there for free, and her parents could help care for Sophie.
“Have I been a good father?” Joe’s voice, coming from the passenger seat of the car, startled Janine out of her memories.
She glanced at him. He was staring straight ahead, but she doubted he could see the road for the tears in his eyes. He had been a poor husband, who’d offered her little support in pursuing her dreams, who’d manipulated her with guilt about Sophie’s illness, and who’d ultimately betrayed her in the most painful way one partner could betray another. But he had always loved Sophie. He would give his life for his daughter.
“Yes, Joe,” she said. “You have been an excellent dad.”
CHAPTER TEN
Lucas told the other two gardeners to work in the perennial beds near the woods, while he elected to prune the hedges close to the mansion. The men had looked at him with surprise, since he usually would have delegated the pruning task to them, and he said nothing to explain the change in his instructions. He needed mindless work today, and he also wanted to be close to the mansion. What was going on? Had they heard anything? He’d even worn his cell phone, hoping that Janine would call him with the news that Sophie had been found. He needed that news. He needed it more than anyone could imagine.
Janine had called him very early that morning, while she waited for Joe to pick her up so that they could once again trace the route from the camp. He knew by the gravelly sound of her voice that she had not slept. Neither had he. How did two girls and one adult simply disappear? His best guess was that the leader had taken off with them, for whatever strange and scary purpose. Maybe she just took them someplace for some fun. A pizza dinner and a night in a motel watching television. It didn’t seem like a realistic option, but neither did anything else he could think of.
He turned off the electric clippers for a moment to rest his hands. His wrist throbbed beneath the splint, and he hoped he was not doing himself permanent damage. Standing next to the boxwood, he looked toward Janine’s cottage. He could picture Sophie running out the front door, laughing, with the energy and joy that had been new to her since she’d been in the study. Damn, this wasn’t fair. That little girl was just starting to live.
Sophie would have known she needed to get her IV today, but although she acted brave when it came time for that miserable two-hour treatment, she was not above wanting to miss it. He knew that Janine had not told her what would happen to her if she did miss it, not in specific terms, anyway. Sophie would probably delight in the opportunity to skip a session with Herbalina.
He could imagine the conversation in the leader’s car.
“Tomorrow I have to get Herbalina,” she would have said.
“Who on earth is Herbalina?” the leader would have responded.
“It’s not a who.” Sophie would giggle, her freckled nose wrinkling. “It’s medicine. The doctor calls it Herbalina, ’cause it’s made out of herbs and plants and things.”
“What does it taste like?” Perhaps it would be the other little girl asking that question.
“I’ve never tasted it.” It would be like Sophie to give a little wiseass answer to that question. “I get it in my arm. In a vein.”
“That must hurt,” the leader might say.
“It does,” Sophie would reply. “And I have to sit there for a whole two hours with that needle in my arm.” She might show the leader the small mark on her wrist, the site of her last infusion.
“Well,” the leader would say slyly. “Why don’t you skip seeing ol’ Herbalina tomorrow. How about that?” She’d look at the other little girl. “What do you say we kidnap Sophie and take her to King’s Dominion for a couple of days instead of—”
Lucas sighed. He turned on the clippers again and ran them along the side of the boxwood. The fantasy wasn’t working. No Scout leader could be that irresponsible.
He looked up at the sound of the side door falling shut and saw Donna Snyder walk across the driveway to the three-car garage. Turning off the clippers again, he set them on the ground and walked quickly toward her.
“Mrs. Snyder?” he called.
She stopped to look at him. She was a handsome woman in her late fifties, her blond hair pulled back in a clasp at the nape of her neck. He could easily picture her at the front of a high school history class. She’d probably been an impatient teacher, though; she certainly was impatient with Janine. Even now, her expression was one of irritation at his interruption.
“Is there any news about Sophie?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “Janine and her husband are out looking for her.”
Her ex-husband, he wanted to correct her. Janine had told him her parents had never truly accepted her divorce from Joe.
“Do they have any idea…any new theories on what might have—”
“No. No one seems to have a clue.” She pressed a button on the remote in her hand, and one of the garage doors began to rise. The sunlight caught her eyes as she watched the door’s progress. They were rimmed in crimson, and Lucas felt a pulse of sympathy for her.
“This must be very frightening for you,” he said.
For a moment, his empathy seemed to alter her demeanor, and the guard she usually held in place when she was around him slipped from her shoulders.
“I wish the police would do more,” she said. “They aren’t doing much of—” She shook her head. “I guess they just don’t know what to do, either. What do you do when a child falls off the face of the earth?” She moved toward the open garage. “And now I have to run to the store because there’s nothing in the house. I hate to be away from the phone.”
“Let me go for you,” he volunteered, and he knew by the expression on her face that she found his offer very strange. “Really,” he said. “I’d like to help in some way.”
“Why?” she asked. “This isn’t your family or your problem.”
He thought of telling her he cared about Sophie, but knew that would only feed her paranoia about him. “I’d just like to help,” he said again.
“No, that’s not necessary.” She reached into her purse for her car keys, her guard raised again. “Will you make sure to do the boxwood by the front entrance?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “And I hope they find her very soon.”
He was raking up the boxwood clippings when Joe and Janine pulled into the driveway. It was six o’clock, and he could feel the burn on his face and the back of his neck. He didn’t usually work in the full sun for this long and knew he would pay later for having done so.
Janine got out of the driver’s side of the car, and even from where he stood, he could see the exhaustion in her face. He hoped she’d been able to focus on her driving better than he had on his gardening. Joe got out of the car and started walking across the driveway toward the mansion, looking straight through Lucas as if he were not there, but Janine waved. She hesitated halfway across the driveway, and he knew she wanted to walk over to him, but Joe turned to her and took her arm, guiding her toward the house.
“Any news?” Lucas called out.
Janine shook her head as she allowed herself to be led inside.
It had been over twenty-four hours, Lucas thought. That milestone seemed significant somehow, and he knew it could mean nothing good.
After he’d finished bagging the clippings, he packed up his tools and drove back to his own house. In the kitchen of the fourroom rambler, he took an apple from the fruit bowl and a cooked chicken breast from the refrigerator
, then headed out into the woods behind his house.
From his desk chair in the tree house study, he stared out at the woods, laced now with shadow. He had worked far too hard today; the skin on his face was tender to the touch from too much sun. Nausea teased him, and his hand trembled as he bit into the apple. He wanted to call Janine, but thought he’d better wait for her to call him.
Turning on his computer, he tried to focus on his e-mail, but it was impossible. Memories he didn’t want bubbled to the surface of his mind. Why fight them? he thought. The present was beginning to feel just as disturbing as the past.
Would the cop show up again or were they through with him? He prayed that was the case. Did Joe and the Snyders still think he might be involved in this whole mess somehow? He wished they would ask him outright. He could honestly tell them that he had nothing to do with Sophie’s disappearance.
But that would be the only honest thing about him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The inside of the mansion was sticky with heat. In the interest of historical accuracy, air-conditioning had never been installed, and the June humidity was back with a vengeance. Janine, who did not share her parents’ passion for all that was historical, especially considering that most rooms in the mansion were never open to the public, felt as though she were being smothered by the air in the parlor. Or maybe it was the atmosphere of discouragement and blame that was sucking the breath from her.
Her mother sat on one of the upholstered chairs, staring out the window. Every so often, she spoke out loud, although in barely more than a whisper. “Where’s my baby?” It was as though she had been the one who’d given birth to Sophie, the one to sit by her hospital bed when she lay so ill and the one to read to her at night in the little cottage when she was sick and scared. It made Janine feel even guiltier for her role in Sophie’s disappearance, as though she’d stolen something from her mother as well as from herself.