When We Were Sisters (19 page)

“I'm not hungry.”

“You won't mind if I eat a sandwich while we talk?”

“What are we going to talk about?”

I almost said “guess,” but Robin had made an impression on me. No sarcasm today.

“We are going to talk about your decision to help Jody yesterday by storing drugs in your drawer,” I said, trying a favorite courtroom technique. I like to pretend I know things that I don't.

“Is that what her mother said?”

I also know how
not
to answer a question. “Jody's mom and your mom had a long conversation last night.”

She slumped, as if that was enough to deflate her. “She just wanted to protect her brother.”

“I don't think Gil is the one she was trying to protect.”

She sniffed back tears. “He's always in trouble.”

“And Grace isn't.”

“Gil's the bad one.”

“One of the things I know, Pet? Good people don't try to get other people in trouble. Another? There is no such thing as good people and bad people. Everybody's some of both. But the best people don't blame other people when they make mistakes. I know you like Grace, but we both know if she could be trusted, Jody would have given
her
the drugs to deal with instead of you.”

“Jody doesn't know who they belong to!”

“Which means they could belong to Grace. And that's what I'll tell her mother when we talk today.”

She hung her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. Robin might have comforted her, but I'm not Robin.

I let her know how large a mistake she had made. “I'm an attorney. Do you have any idea how serious this could be for you, not to mention
me?
Depending on what kind of pills were in that bag, possession could be a felony.” I listed all the possible charges both of us could have faced, laying it on a bit thick to make my point. “In some states, I would be duty bound as an officer of the court to turn you in.”

“You would turn in your own kid?”

“It's always good to know what can happen when you break the law. None of us are above it.”

“I wasn't going to keep them! Jody and I were trying to figure out what to do.”

“Try telling that to a judge. Do you think he would believe you?”

“I'm sorry, Daddy.” She gazed up at me with an expression that would have melted the sternest heart.

I knew this wasn't the right moment to soften. She was ten. We had years ahead when drugs would be readily available, and I wanted her to remember the way she felt right now.

“You gave me lots of time to consider what to do. You know, by not coming down earlier to face the music. So here's what will happen. Today you'll go outside, and Nik will show you which portion of the yard is yours for raking. It won't be hard to spot. I suspect you'll be busy raking today and every day after school this week. Maybe longer if you screw around. You'll have time to do it all, though, because you aren't going
anywhere
until after Thanksgiving. And none of your friends will be welcome here in the meantime. For the record, I'll be around to supervise in the evenings after Elena leaves, and Grace won't be coming back.”

“But Jody and I study together.”

“Not anymore. After Thanksgiving, you, Jody and I will sit down with her parents and work out rules. If I ever find out she's done anything like this again, Jody will no longer be welcome in our house. And the only reason I'm willing to give her another chance is because she was up against the wall. She loves her siblings, and she knew what serious trouble they would be in if she showed her mother what she'd found. So trying to protect them says she has a heart. The fact she didn't just hand the drugs back to Grace or Gil says she has a conscience. Good qualities, both. Now Jody just needs a little sense to go with them.”

“None of this is fair! I was just trying to help!”

“And from this I hope you've learned that helping isn't always
helpful
. Do you understand?”

“I wish Mommy was here!”

So did I, but that was beside the point. “We spoke this morning, and your mom was the one who figured out what was going on. To be honest, Pet, from what I could tell, she didn't feel one bit sorry for you.”

She just stared at me.

I nodded. “There's a rake outside with your name on it. Go introduce yourself. Any time you get hungry, feel free to come back inside and fix something to eat.”

She didn't slam the door. Not exactly. I'm impressed by my daughter's ability to come so close without stepping over the line.

This was the right moment to crank up my anger at Robin for leaving me to deal with this mess alone. Maybe I could have done it, too, if I weren't satisfied with the way things had played out. In the next weeks I will make a lot of mistakes while Robin follows Cecilia around the country. But today didn't feel like a mistake. Weirdly, almost more than yesterday, it felt like a beginning.

23

Cecilia

I received three good things from my marriage to Sage. Publicity. Evidence for my fans that I could be swept away by love despite multiple recordings denying the possibility. And the condo overlooking the city of Nashville that Sage and I bought for overflow guests just a month before I began divorce proceedings.

No, I have to make that four things, because I also gained a lifelong friend. Sage and I remain close, although we don't publicize it. We're supposed to be heartbroken, tormented by our failure, even secretly pining for what we lost. Since we can't be seen together for another year or two until we “recover,” I've had to say goodbye to the man's back rubs and quirky sense of humor. Sage could make anything seem funny, even our sham of a marriage. I miss that.

Oddly enough I also miss Sage's real love, a squirt of a guy from the hills of Arkansas with a drooping mustache and a wicked grin. The rest of the world knows him as the fiddler in Sage's band, but I wonder how long their secret can last. Surely someone will take note of the way those two look at each other when they think nobody is paying attention.

“What if the world discovers Sage is gay?” Robin, who has visited me in Nashville but never in this condo, looked up from taking photos of the city off my balcony. “What will they think about your marriage?”

I crossed the narrow expanse to stand beside her, because the view is beyond amazing and I never tire of it. “Sage will tell the world I was an innocent pawn. He'll say he really hoped our marriage would work because he did love me, but even with the sexiest woman in the music world, he couldn't be someone he wasn't.”

“That's a suspiciously quick response.”

“We settled it beforehand. When Sage finally comes out of the closet, and he may someday, I'll get most of the sympathy.”

“You won't be honest?”

“Why start now?” I laughed at her expression. “You always were such a Goody Two-Shoes. If we lived in a better world none of this ever would have happened in the first place. So we just made a little hay out of homophobia.”

Robin was frowning. “Would you expose Sage if you thought that would get you even more publicity?”

“Of course not.”

“So your standards go like this? It's okay to lie and cheat if nobody's going to get hurt? Otherwise, not so much?”

“Wow, a morality discussion before breakfast.”

“Not
my
breakfast. I ate while you were in the shower.”

I went back inside to my kitchen, which is not much of a trip since the condo is less than 2,000 square feet. I rummaged through my shiny stainless-steel refrigerator, which is large enough to hold food for half of Nashville. Right now it's nearly empty. One lonely shelf is filled with goodies my house manager, Lenore, selected before I arrived.

I don't take this kind of service for granted. I have people everywhere who will do anything I ask them to. I snap my fingers and food appears—fabulous food, too, tailored exactly to my tastes. It's almost enough to make me forget that once upon a time nobody cared if I ate once a day or once a week.

I removed a blueberry bagel and soy cream cheese, and split the bagel to toast it. Robin leaned over the counter, taking photos, this time of me. How often does the world see a diva toast her own bagel?

I poured a cup of the coffee Robin had brewed. “So what's worse, playing along with a marriage that was never meant to be, or killing and eating animals?” I held up the vegan cream cheese to make my point. “You were right there with me at the Osburn ranch. You know what happens to cute little calves and piglets. Not to mention chickens.”

“I admire your persistence, but I'm not going vegan.”

“You get my point, though? We make moral decisions every day. But yeah, I'm not a fan of hurting anybody. I make a point of not hurting anyone or anything whenever I can.”

After that statement, my significant pause was just a matter of sucking in enough air for the next sentence. “Of course sometimes all of us have to choose who we're going to hurt and who we're going to help.”

As if to illustrate, Roscoe wandered in from my bedroom. He was no longer limping, and the pup and I had bonded big-time. Lenore bought him a soft little bed with a fleece blanket all his own, but Roscoe still prefers to sleep with me. I scooped him into my arms and rubbed my cheek against his fuzzy little head.

“I guess I'd forgotten how easily you lie.” Robin aimed her camera at Roscoe and me. He was happily licking cream cheese off my fingers.

“You and I got through the system in different ways. You decided you had to be scrupulously honest all the time.”

She rested her camera on the counter. “You think so? Do you have a theory why?”

“Because knowing exactly the way things were and acting accordingly was the reality you held on to and still do. You didn't deviate then, because that would have shaken up your world, and you haven't changed much. You couldn't keep a secret if your life depended on it. Me? I figured out early that to survive I had to make choices, so I made what I thought were the best, not the most honest. I looked at outcome. You looked at process.”

She was silent for a moment, as if processing now. “You think your way is better?”

“Not for you. We had different beginnings. We both coped. Still do.”

“How many concessions did you have to make to get where you are?”

She was asking like an honest woman, but I didn't want to answer like one. “More than I'll ever talk about.”

A counter stood between us, but she leaned over it to rest her fingertips on my arm. Roscoe sniffed them, then went back to licking mine.

“There's nothing you could tell me that would change anything.” She smiled just a little. “I will always love you.”

“Whitney's hit, not mine, bless her tortured soul.” I hummed a few bars before I sang the title in my best Whitney imitation.

Her smile bloomed. “No matter what.”

Robin was in over her head, but she didn't know it. I wondered what she would think if I was ever completely honest with her. Which of us would the truth destroy faster?

* * *

Hal drove us toward Cookeville, the town about an hour east of Nashville where we would meet up with Mick and the others again. Mick wants me to tour a facility on the outskirts that gets excellent reviews from both sides of the foster-care divide. At all levels of government, policymakers who believe children are too quickly removed from their birth families argue with those who believe they aren't removed quickly enough. The number of abused children who die each year is their measuring stick. Policy swings from side to side and is dependent on head counts, funding and the latest sociological study. Not to mention who's in office and willing to make needed changes.

I agreed to do the tour and conduct interviews because I want to see how Children First and Foremost, better known as CFF, manages to straddle that fence and infuriate only the extreme fringes who want everything their way. I'm one of those former foster children who sees both sides. In my case, by the time life completely fell apart, I had no home to remain in and no mother to rehabilitate. Foster care was a lifesaver.

On the other hand, some of the “homes” I was sent to after Maribeth split for good, share the spotlight in my nightmares.

“Such pretty country.” Since we left the big city Robin has been ogling the scenery. Mist still hung over a gently rolling green landscape thick with trees, and dotted now and then with livestock and picturesque barns. We were subtly gaining altitude as we drove. Cookeville is located on something called the Highland Ridge.

The crew spent the night in the smallish town, but I knew I would be more content in my own space, and Hal was happy to do the drive from Nashville. I wanted time with Robin, too, and a chance for her to see the condo. We'd spent last night eating pizza with soy cheese and watching some of Mick's older documentaries to get a better idea of what might be coming during the remainder of our time together.

“Sage has a ranch out this way,” I said. “We spent weekends there whenever we were together.”

“Do you miss it?”

“He was fond of hosting raucous barbecues. Nights of meat roasting on the spit, booze, skeet shooting and whining Dobros never really did it for me. When I had time to spare I wanted to go to Sanibel, but he's not a fan of beaches.”

I looked up from the packet about CFF I had been studying. Mick assembled it for me so I could prep for the interviews today. “When we get to Florida I hope we'll be able to sneak away for a few days and pop down. Maybe Pet and Nik can join us, and Kris if he has time. The kids would love it. They're just the right age for collecting shells.”

“Kris would probably love having them gone for a few days.”

“How is he?”

“Surviving a crisis or two. He just lost his early-evening babysitter.”

“What will he do?”

“He didn't ask for suggestions. Thanksgiving's not that far away. Maybe we'll have a good conversation while I'm home.”

Or not, but I didn't say that. Maybe a long family weekend
would
put a lot of their problems to rest, and who was I to suggest otherwise? She went back to staring out the window, and I used the remainder of the drive to finish my reading.

Children First and Foremost was established in the mid-twentieth century by a foundation determined to provide a residential facility for girls in the state who need stability and therapy until they're ready for adoption or a return to their birth families. Too many girls have been in and out of the foster-care system for years and are in no condition to succeed in another similar placement. A benefactor donated twenty acres west of the town of Cookeville, and through the years the foundation constructed cottages, apartment buildings for family visits, a recreation complex, picnic grounds with a pool and more.

The foundation is well endowed and adept at fund-raising, which means they don't lack staff. Each girl and her family get the help that's appropriate, regardless of the cost. Some people think that's CFF's secret.

Presently sixty girls ranging in age from seven to twenty live in ten cottages on the grounds. A woman whose no-nonsense gray hair, and skirt, blouse and sneakers, were nun-like in their simplicity, greeted us as Robin and I got out of the car. She introduced herself as Vivian Carroll and told us she'd been the director for the past six years.

“You're in luck today. The middle school the girls attend canceled classes. There's a gas leak in the neighborhood, and it'll take most of the day to repair. So those girls will be home. We've gotten permission for you to interview anyone willing to talk as long as nobody's faces are shown. Mick's trying to decide where to set up first.”

I knew this was a lucky break. Otherwise we would have to wait for the weekend or catch the girls right after school. While Robin took photos I thanked Vivian for letting us come. The buildings beyond us were unassuming, like the director herself, but the landscaping made up for it. Towering hardwoods and evergreens outlined paths and shaded cottages. Beds filled with shrubs and fall flowers added color.

“It looks like a happy place,” I said. “Is it?”

“Mick tells me you were a foster child?”

“And so was Robin.” Robin had wandered off to photograph a welcome sign at the entrance.

“He asked me to save our conversation for filming, but do this for me while we find him. Think about what you needed and wanted when your own family fell apart, and at the end let's talk about what answers you might have found here as a girl.”

I probably liked this woman.

* * *

Toward the end of that day's filming I could answer Vivian's question and did. On camera.

“You asked me to figure out what answers I might have found here as a girl?”

We were standing in the spacious lobby of one of the new apartment buildings, a room filled with plush sofas, and tables piled with puzzles and board games. She had just given me a tour of the upstairs and four comfortable apartments, and the crew was still filming.

So far I had learned a lot. Returning a child to her biological family is CFF's first and most important goal. They work to facilitate reunions and closely monitor them after they take place. While a girl lives on the grounds her family is welcome to stay overnight or for longer stretches, and CCF even helps fund transportation. Weekend parenting seminars are offered, along with anger-management classes. While most families are also working with professionals in their hometowns, parents and siblings can talk to counselors here, as well, or to a social worker who helps them find even more services to make reunification possible.

“Did you find answers?” Vivian asked.

I was careful in my response. “I'm impressed at how great everything looks on the outside. And the description of what you do is faultless. But some of the places I lived looked good enough on the outside, too.”

“And they weren't?” She went on without waiting. “Let me ask this. If someone had interviewed you back then in private and asked how you really liked it? What would you have said?”

“You mean the way some of your girls were asked today?”

We
had
asked, and would ask again every chance we got until we left. The two girls we'd spoken to had been mostly positive about what went on here.

“We didn't coach them,” Vivian said.

“Coached or not, they know what they're supposed to say. Foster children can't speak openly. We learn quickly what happens when we try.”

“You say
we.
You still think of yourself as a foster child?”

“It's part of who I am. It's a part of who these girls will be for the rest of their lives.”

“A lot of our girls have gone on to become more compassionate and concerned adults because of their own beginnings.”