Every Last Cuckoo Read Free

good to meet you in person, Mrs. Lucas. I’ve seen photos of everyone in the family—David has prepped me well.” She threw him a teasing glance. She was tall, with the same pale blond hair as her daughter, the same clear eyes and skin. A certain asymmetry in her face saved it from being just another pretty one. Overall, she had an inquisitive, intelligent look.
    Hannah tugged shyly at Sarah’s sleeve. “What’s his name?” she asked, patting Sylvie’s broad, glossy head.
    â€œHe’s a she, honey. Her name is Sylvie. And this curly guy is Ruckus.”
    â€œHi, Sylvie,” Hannah crooned. “Hi, Ruckus,” she added, extending her hand to the smaller dog, who obligingly licked it and wagged his stumpy tail. “Ruckus is a funny name,” she announced, and giggled.
    â€œWell, he’s a funny dog,” said Sarah. “Go on into the kitchen, all of you. I have a feeling someone there will be very happy to see you.” She’d heard Charles come in through the mudroom, returning from errands. Driving into the barn from the village road, a rutted dirt byway through the woods, he wouldn’t have seen David’s car in front. Sarah suddenly wondered why David had come in that way, through the door on the wide porch. Family usually entered from the barn and mudroom, shedding boots and jackets on the way.
    Sarah sent David and his guests ahead of her and took theircoats to the hall closet. She longed for Stephie and Jake to come, too, bringing the whole family together at one time. But northern Minnesota was too far away for a short holiday trip.
    Sarah overheard introductions as David and Tess encountered Charles. Hannah entered the spirit of things by telling him, “This black dog is Sylvie. That curly guy is Ruckus.”
    Charles pretended surprise. “You don’t say. And did they come with you in the car, all the way from Cambridge?”
    Hannah’s laugh rang down the hallway, a wholehearted burst. “No! They live
here
!”
    Sarah entered the kitchen in time to see Charles scratch his head, looking confused. “Never saw them before. Now ain’t that the darnedest thing?”
    A N HOUR OR SO LATER , after a light lunch, Hannah explored the backyard with the dogs and came back exhausted and out of sorts. Tess took her upstairs for a nap, while David and Charles toured the property together. Sarah watched them. They adopted identical male postures, legs apart, hands in pockets or pointing at a tree limb that needed pruning, a piece of roof in need of repair, a gate hinge hanging loose. They had confined themselves to practicalities ever since David’s adolescent rage against his father had finally faded to politeness. This saddened Charles the way her distance from Charlotte saddened Sarah. They had never dreamed that love would not be enough.
    Charles, for reasons of temperament and constraint, would never glean from David the information Sarah wanted. Who was Tess? Where was Hannah’s father, and did he share custody? Did Tess see staying power in David? No other woman had inspired more than passing infatuation since David’s shatteringdivorce a dozen years ago. He was forty now. Tess was younger, probably only thirty or so.
    Perhaps she was the reason David had come in through the porch door. It could be his way of announcing that they should take her seriously. He had told Sarah only days ago that he and Tess were living together, a revelation that automatically elevated her above David’s many other loves. But he’d said nothing about Hannah.
    Sarah had been moved by Hannah’s instinctive courage, her willingness to forge past her wariness of dogs and new places. She wanted to feel Hannah’s weight in her lap, to smell her hair. Her keenness for the child surprised her. She had taken her grandchildren’s sequential arrivals in stride—she’d expected their entrance into her life as she