Cloud Nine. Luanne Rice

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Cloud Nine - Luanne  Rice


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emotion. ‘I’d like to go home.’

      He nodded. ‘Be alert,’ he said. ‘If you have any symptoms of numbness or tingling, you should call me immediately. But I see no reason for you not to go.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Sarah said, glowing as if she had just won a race.

      ‘I’ll see you back here in a month,’ Dr Goodacre said as sternly as ever. Preparing to leave, on to the next case, his hand was on the doorknob.

      ‘Dr Goodacre,’ Sarah asked, needing to summon up a little courage. She had never asked him anything personal. ‘How’s your father?’ The last time she was there, she had heard Vicky saying his father had had a heart attack.

      ‘Better,’ Dr Goodacre said, pausing. He gave Sarah a curious look, as if he wondered how she knew to ask. ‘But he lives in Florida, and I can’t be with him. It falls to my older brother to look after him.’

      ‘Does your brother do a good job?’ Sarah asked.

      ‘He’s an angel!’ Dr Goodacre said with passion. He broke into a grin, staring straight into Sarah’s eyes. Full of intensity, he looked at the ceiling, then back at Sarah. She understood how it felt to love someone far away, to worry yourself sick about him, to trust his care to another human being. In a way, Dr Goodacre’s brother was looking out for him – Dr Goodacre – too.

      ‘I’m glad,’ she said. ‘That you have such a wonderful brother.’

      ‘I wish everyone had someone like him,’ he said.

      Sarah had never seen the doctor this way, and she nodded. He lingered for a moment, then walked away. The door closed softly behind him.

      Alone in the room, Sarah closed her eyes. She felt her heart beating fast. Her exercises calmed her, so she held her arms out straight in front. Then out to the side again, like before. Sarah had never had a brother like the doctor’s, had never had an angel in her life. But then she thought of Will Burke holding her at the fair, flying her home.

      Taking her to see Mike.

      Will drove up the long driveway. The road up Windemere Hill zigzagged through a forest of pin oaks and white pines. Snow had fallen the previous night, and the branches drooped low. At the top, the drive opened onto a wide, snow-covered lawn lined with white-capped boxwood hedges. It was late Friday afternoon, and he was there to pick up his daughter.

      Julian’s imposing stone mansion lorded over the wintry scene. Two old Ferraris were parked in the turnaround, and a Porsche 356 was visible in the carriage house. Will parked his car, trying not to feel resentful that one guy should have all this, and Alice and Susan too.

      Expecting Susan, he was surprised to see Alice walk out the front door. The sight of her made him catch his breath. She was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with her creamy skin and wide, almond-shaped blue eyes, silky golden hair, a shapely, feminine figure. She walked through the snow in short black boots.

      She was wearing sleek gray workout clothes, revealing her body. In the fifteen years since their daughter’s birth, she had never stopped trying to obliterate the slight roundness left in her tummy. Unable to help himself, Will checked to see if it was still there: It was.

      ‘She asked me to tell you she’ll be a few minutes late,’ Alice said hurriedly, her arms folded in front of her, her breath making white clouds.

      ‘No problem,’ Will said. He got out of the car, leaned against the door. He wore jeans and an old green sweater. The air was freezing cold, and he had to fight the urge to offer Alice the leather jacket he had thrown in the backseat.

      ‘Her asthma’s been terrible lately.’

      ‘Really?’

      ‘It’s completely psychosomatic. We all know that. She works herself into attacks just to interrupt whatever’s going on. I’m not blaming her, she’s been through a lot, but she needs to be the center of attention.’

      ‘I did when I was fifteen,’ Will said, smiling.

      ‘Like that ever stopped.’

      Was she kidding? Will couldn’t tell. Her expression was stern, and she was staring at his boots. They were a pair of old Dunhams, the brown leather well worn and scuffed, recently resoled. He wondered if she remembered buying them for him their first winter in Fort Cromwell, five long years before.

      ‘I wanted to ask you about Thanksgiving,’ Will began.

      Her head snapped up. ‘Thanksgiving? She stays with me. We have plans –’

      ‘Whoa,’ Will said, raising one hand. God, the smallest conversation became so tense, every point felt like a negotiation. He couldn’t help thinking of other years, when a conversation about Thanksgiving with Alice revolved around Fred being John Alden in the school play, Susan playing a Pilgrim girl, whose parents’ house they should go to, whether they should have mince or pumpkin pies or both for dinner.

      ‘You know she stays with me on holidays, Will. It was part of the agreement.’

      ‘Yes, I know. Relax, Alice. I was just asking.’

      ‘My God. Everything is such a damn battle,’ she said, folding her arms even tighter.

      ‘It’s no battle. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out of town.’

      ‘Fine.’

      ‘Good.’

      ‘Where out of town?’ she asked, glancing up, some new emotion in her cornflower-blue eyes: worry? Will had heard about wives who ran out on their marriages, started whole new lives, then developed intense curiosity about their ex-husbands’ behavior. Was this what he was seeing in Alice? He somehow doubted it.

      ‘I have a charter to Maine. I thought you should know, in case her asthma gets really bad or she needs me for something else. You know?’

      Alice nodded, her stern face back.

      ‘She’ll be okay,’ Will said. ‘Secret’s going to be fine.’

      ‘Secret? Jesus, Will!’ Alice exploded. ‘We named her Susan. You wanted to give her a name with strength, after someone she could look up to …’

      ‘Susan Mallory,’ he said, thinking of his grandmother.

      ‘My God. Don’t be indulging this “Secret” crap. It’s really unsettling, if you want to know how I feel about it. Julian thinks she needs more professional help.’

      ‘That’s a good sign that she doesn’t,’ Will said, feeling aggressively immature. ‘If Julian says she does. Didn’t you tell him we went through that when we first got to Fort Cromwell?’

      ‘Of course I did. He knows Dr Darrow.’ Splaying her fingers with frustration, Alice revealed some of her jewels: the largest diamond ring Will had ever seen, and a wedding ring-style band of diamonds and emeralds. Will exhaled slowly.

      ‘Hi!’ their daughter called, bursting through the front door with her knapsack, duffel bag, and a small package.

      She stood there like a star who had just burst onstage: radiant smile, theatrical pose, boundless energy, arms open wide to greet her adoring public. Her parents were too upset to applaud or even smile, but Will tried. He gave a half-smile, holding out his left arm to embrace her as she ran through the snow.

      ‘Hi, Secret,’ he said.

      ‘Jesus,’ Alice muttered.

      ‘Hi, Dad. Can we drive through town? I have something I have to drop off for a friend.’

      ‘You bet,’ he said.

      ‘I’ll need a number for wherever you’re going on Thanksgiving,’ Alice said brusquely. ‘Just in case.’

      ‘You’re going somewhere for Thanksgiving?’ Secret said, jerking her head back from Will’s chest, looking up at him with worried


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