When We Were Sisters (28 page)

Travis took us back to his office. Today the only person from our crew was Jerry, with one of his larger cameras already locked in place on a tripod. Earlier he had set up the sound, and in addition to sunshine filtered through a curtain at Travis's window, he had softly lit the room with a standard lightbulb surrounded by what he called a China ball. I knew it as a Japanese lantern, and he used this trick often.

“We have to go somewhere else to finish this,” Travis said, after we talked a little while. “I can't stand being cooped up in here when I don't have to be. Mick suggested a park across town.” He turned to Cecilia. “Did he mention that to you?”

She gave a short nod. This was news to me, but I had been busy with my daughter for the last few days, and I had probably missed other things, too.

Cecilia caught my eye. “I spent a lot of time at the park he's talking about. That was the year I officially proved I was unadoptable. I was allowed to play there by myself after school. They liked getting me out of the house. Anything else fun was off-limits.”

“Nobody is unadoptable.” Travis swiped his hand through the air in emphasis. “Although some people shouldn't adopt.”

“Sometimes I still wonder why I didn't try harder to follow their rules.”

“Because you were a perfectly normal messed-up kid,” he said without missing a beat.

Cecilia and Travis fist-bumped, and I knew she had decided he was okay. That would make today easier. Cecilia is cautious, although not everybody sees it. She knows how to get along with almost anybody, but she doesn't always try.

He turned to me. “Robin, Mick told me you were also a foster kid. You didn't mention that when your daughter was here.”

“She knows. I just don't make a point of it.”

“You weren't adopted?”

I knew what he was asking, but I smiled. “Why, are you going to try to find me a family?”

He had a penetrating, almost frightening laugh, like a wild dog who's just heard a good joke. The man was friendly, but in defense of his kids I thought Travis could turn into a predator when necessary.

“You might be surprised how many people
are
adopted as adults,” he said. “Last month I went to a wedding for a young woman, twenty-two, who was adopted by former foster parents a week before the ceremony. They'd always wanted to adopt her, but she had family members who objected. When she announced she was getting married, they told her nothing would make them happier than finally becoming the official parents of the bride. Her father gave her away. Everyone was delighted.”

“Can Cecilia adopt me?”

“I more or less did,” Cecilia said. “And did a pretty good job of raising you, too.”

I answered more seriously. “There were long periods of time in my childhood when I didn't speak. Nothing good ever came from speaking, so I quit. One psychiatrist decided I was autistic. The diagnosis stayed in my records too long, and at the time, nobody thought finding a permanent home for an autistic child was possible.”

“Neither of you was served well by the system.”

Cecilia made a noise low in her throat. Of the two of us, she had been served most poorly.

On some level I was aware that Jerry was still filming. I guess I'd known from the beginning that I might be in front of the camera as well as behind it. I'm too much a part of my sister's past to be excluded. But I value presenting the facts about foster care more than I value my privacy. If Cecilia, with all she had to lose, can tell her story, I can tell whatever part of mine might help.

“Let's go see if we can make some sense out of what happened to both of you,” Travis said. “And I'll tell you what we do to make sure our adoptions stick.”

I already knew a little. It seemed to come down to working constantly. “Will you burn out? Because the best caseworkers Cecilia and I had found other jobs pretty fast. The workload was too difficult, and the lack of progress was worse.”

Travis met my eyes, and I could see that on a personal level, he knew exactly what I meant. “This is my life. When everything starts to get to me I lock myself in my office and attack paperwork for a day or two. That usually sobers me up. Because even one small island of success in a river of failure is worth whatever we have to do to achieve it.”

He gestured to Cecilia, then to me. “And, you know, one of those successes could be somebody like either of you. Isn't that worth whatever price I have to pay?”

33

Cecilia

I remember this swing set, although I'm sure that all these years later everything about it has been replaced countless times. It still sits in an overlooked corner of this spacious public park, flanked by bushes and far away from baseball diamonds and soccer fields. It's as private as a public space can be, which is why filming here today was our little secret.

I've never forgotten how it felt to pump my legs and fly through the air, wishing the whole time I could let go and soar into the clouds and away from life with my new mother and father.

Mother and Father. Never Mom and Dad.

Today I was forced to remember those months with the Ruskillion family, who had lived just blocks away. From my first day to my last in their home, every movement I made, every word I uttered, was heavily scrutinized. After all, a child with my background couldn't be trusted to do anything the right way. I had to be schooled in everything. Manners. Dress. Thought.

Gratitude.

Gratitude was a big one for Mother and Father. It was their Christian duty to share all they had with the unfortunate. Why wasn't I more grateful they allowed me to share their life? I had my own room—without privacy, of course, since they removed the door before bringing me home, but still mine. I had three healthy meals a day, and they were right there to make sure I ate every bite, even if the taste or smell made me choke.

I also had a sister. Now, as darkness fell and stars gathered to light the canopy overhead, I wondered what ever became of Gretchen Ruskillion, their biological daughter. Gretchen was two years older than me, and the Ruskillions thought having a little sister would be good for her. In the many years since, did she ever see me in concert and wonder why I looked familiar? She wouldn't remember me as Cecilia. From the moment I entered their home the Ruskillions called me Hope. In the beginning, did they really “hope” the adoption would be successful?

Unfortunately Gretchen had not, as “hoped,” been happy to have me in the house. Every moment her parents' backs were turned she tormented me, and then lay whatever new scheme she'd concocted at my doorstep.

Gretchen did me a favor, though. I'm not sure I would have survived the Ruskillion household with my spirit intact.

As I arced forward again Donny materialized out of the shadows beyond the swing set. “Don't you know bad things happen to good girls alone after dark?”

I was delighted to see him—and worried at what seemed like my extreme reaction. I let myself drift to earth. “Hey, when did you get here?”

“I came straight from the airport.”

“Ivan and Hal are somewhere out there. I'm fine.”

He lowered himself to the swing beside mine and pushed off. “I sent them home. And you're not fine. If you were, you would have gone back to the house by now.”

I wasn't about to argue. I knew from the beginning that I wasn't going to be fine on this journey. Maybe, with luck, I'll be closer to fine when it's over.

Or I can check myself into a locked facility and weave pot holders until my money runs out.

Donny gained momentum and height. “This is where you hung out when things got rough at home?”

I pushed off again and pumped my legs until we were in sync, rising and falling at the same speed. “Never
home
. I never once thought of it that way.”

“How long were you with these so-called adoptive parents?”

“They kept me for maybe six months. Then, when it was clear I wasn't going to learn any good tricks, they snapped on my leash, took me back to the pound and said they didn't want a puppy after all.”

“That must be what it felt like.”

“Mostly it felt like relief, but suddenly there was a whole sheaf of notes in my file about how I was unadoptable and should be relegated to perpetual foster care. One of my prime sins was bed-wetting, which mysteriously stopped the moment I left the Ruskillions' house. But I doubt anybody noted that. And besides, I didn't want to leave the Davises, and I told them so every single day. I think they purposely underplayed how well I was doing so I wouldn't be sent somewhere else.”

“But eventually you
were
sent to another foster home.”

I wished he hadn't brought that up. “Mr. Davis had a heart attack, and they had to move north to be closer to their children. I think they hoped to see me to adulthood, and they were genuinely sorry. While they were still alive Robin stayed in touch.”

“Not you? Why not?”

“Connections are tough.”

“Except Robin.”

“Except Robin.”

We swung in silence for a while before he spoke again. “What did you think about when you were here at the park?”

“I plotted how I would run away and find my mother.” My throat tightened, but I plowed on. “At that point I still believed maybe she'd forgotten about me for a little while, but now she was looking and didn't know where I was. I knew she couldn't go to the police. She wasn't a big fan of cops, if you can imagine that. But what if she was trying to find me and didn't know how?”

“It might even have been true.”

“Yeah. That's the funny part.”

“Not so funny.”

“Of course there was an obvious solution. Maribeth could have gone into treatment again and then presented herself as a changed woman. She might even have regained custody, or at least visiting rights, after she did penance and possibly a little time in a cell.”

“From everything you've told me, that was beyond her.”

“Not in the imagination of an unloved ten-year-old.”

Donny dragged his feet on the next few arcs, and I followed suit. Once the swing had stopped he stood.

“It's dinnertime.” He held out his hand.

“I'm not all that excited about heading back to a house full of people right now.”

“I know. I'm taking you to my place.”

I let him help me out of the swing and then looked down. “I think I lost a shoe.”

“Can't have gone too far. Stay put.”

He turned on his smartphone for light and swung it over the ground. The sandal had flown wild and free but not far. He brought it back, then knelt in front of me while I lifted my foot and slipped it on.

Just like Prince Charming. It fit perfectly.

“You're not staying at the house?”

“I'm renting a little cabin on the Hillsborough River. Not too far from there. Privacy sounded good.”

“You could have stayed in LA, Donny. You don't have to be with me every step of the way.”

“I
haven't
been with you. I missed today. I didn't want to miss tonight.” Something about the way he said it sent shivers everywhere it shouldn't have.

“Because I've ordered dinner to be delivered in an hour,” he went on after giving me just enough time to worry. “And I'm told the lights from the city are something to behold once the sky is really dark. I'm sorry we missed the sunset.”

“How did you do all this? Find a place? Order dinner? Find me here?”

“I have people. You have people. Always the twain shall meet.”

“You
are
my people. At least my head people.”

“That doesn't hurt.” He touched my cheek. Quickly. Softly. “Nothing's expected tonight except showing up and sitting with me to watch the stars come out.”

“There's no boiled cabbage on the menu?”

“Not that I know of. Is that a deal breaker?”

“There are exactly 639 ways to boil cabbage. Mrs. Ruskillion knew every single one of them. Luckily I was only living in their house for 184 days and was spared the other—” I did a quick calculation “—455.”

“I'm going to hunt those people down.”

“My hero.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and guided me toward the parking lot. “You're going to get in my rental and close your eyes. I'm going to put the top down—”

“You rented a convertible?”

“My last bit of ammunition in case you refused to come. As I said—”

“‘I'm going to put the top down,'” I repeated, to be helpful.

“And you're going to shut your eyes and let the wind blow all thoughts of the Rapscallions out of that overactive brain of yours, okay?”

I smiled at the name. “You're saying it will take decades to get to your cabin?”

“Let go of them.”

“I bet they haven't given me a thought. Not in all these years.”

“They will when I find them and send a personal copy of the film. I'm hoping you'll autograph it.”

I laughed, and somehow, my heart eased. Not because Donny would ever do it, but because he wanted to.

* * *

I woke up sometime later as we pulled to a halt and a gate whirred in front of us.

“You went out like a lamp at bedtime,” Donny said.

From the dashboard clock I saw I'd slept about twenty-five minutes. “I love this car. I love having the top down.”

“You may not buy a fleet of convertibles.”

“You're not my business manager.”

“He and I speak frequently.”

I laughed because Donny only did his job and never overstepped his boundaries. “I'm starving.”

He pulled into a parking space as the gate closed behind us. “You eat like a bird. Two lettuce leaves instead of one?”

“I eat like somebody who has to make seven costume changes when she's on tour.”

“You're not on tour right now.”

“I'm on camera, which adds ten pounds.” I smiled at him. “But not tonight.”

“Good girl. And for the record, I think you're losing weight. None of those costumes will fit if you don't put a few pounds back on.”

Donny knows as well as I do that every tour demands new costumes, but I was glad he was paying attention. And not because I want him to take care of me. Because, well, he's looking.

We got out and started toward the water. The cabin probably started life as a boathouse. Perched at the end of a short dock it was almost as good as a houseboat. Lights were coming on up and down the river, and the surface glistened and rippled under a rising moon. The cabin itself looked like a rickety bait shop. I loved it on sight.

“Your people did good.”

“It's nicer than they told me. So you like it?”

“I love it.”

He pretended to sound stern. “You don't need a house here, and as far as I know it's not for sale.”

“I'm not nearly as free with my money as you like to pretend.”

“Actually you're an amazing businesswoman.”

I took his arm, warmed by the praise, and we strolled down the dock. He punched in a code to unlock the door, and we stepped inside. While the outside was bait house–chic, the inside was beautifully updated. The walls were bead board painted a soft white and dotted with watercolors of aquatic life, and the ceiling had been raised and angled to give the illusion of more space. French doors to the dock flanked both sides, and tall windows faced the water. The boathouse was tiny, but not an inch of space was wasted.

I nodded toward a small flat screen on the wall between windows. “They don't need the television. The view is entertainment enough.”

“Looks like I landed on my feet. I'm looking forward to seeing the river in daylight.”

“We only have one more day here, or at least I do.” Mick wanted me to spend more time interviewing Travis tomorrow at the home of a child he'd placed, then I was done until after Christmas. The crew would film some short segments that didn't include me.

“What are your plans for the holiday?”

He knew my plans until Christmas week because he would be with me for some of them. I'm scheduled for interviews, a guest appearance and performance on
The
Today Show
, more discussions with Cyclonic about the album I hoped to record, meetings with several producers to nail down the right person for the project. Gizzie and I are going to spend a long weekend trying to finalize the theme song for
At the Mercy of Strangers
, as well as other music for the soundtrack. Every day a new audio file turns up on my computer. I love technology.

“I was thinking about Nashville at some point,” I said. “To see Hayley. What about you?”

“I'm going home.”

I don't know a lot about Donny's childhood. Since we've been on this odyssey together I've learned that he grew up with two parents, two sisters and that he has at least one niece. From previous conversations I know he started life in Indiana, or maybe Iowa. Not knowing details is part of staying professionally distant. It's tough to fire somebody if you know their mom is having chemo or their sister's house just burned to the ground.

I wandered, touching this, then that. “Have anything to drink here?”

“They were supposed to stock the fridge. Let's see.”

We found a fully stocked bar. Better yet, I found two cans of Diet Dr Pepper.

I squealed in delight and found a glass. “Okay, you know my secret, but my reputation will be ruined if you tell anybody.” I popped the top and toasted him once my glass was full. He added vermouth to club soda and toasted me back.

We settled on the sofa with a bowl of cashews and another of raisins. I was ready for information. “Tell me about your family. Exactly where is home for everybody these days. Where will you go?”

He angled his body to see me better, but he didn't answer. Finally he sighed. Then he reached for my glass and set it on the table in front of us where his resided. He threaded his fingers through my hair and nudged me closer, his hand warm against my cheek. “Indiana. And I want you to come with me.”

He waited, as if he knew I had a decision to make.

I bit my lip. “Promise if you kiss me, we can still go back to the way things were.”

“We can't, Cecilia, even if I don't kiss you. Even if you spend Christmas alone.”