When We Were Sisters (33 page)

“It hurt. I remember, too.”

I shuffled through everything I had to say next. “I filed away what I heard that night, just in case. And six months later, when the Davises told us they couldn't be our parents anymore, I dusted it off. The thing is they also told me they were going to make sure our status was changed. We were both doing so well we didn't need to be in a therapeutic home anymore, and they'd already told Johnson and asked him to make that happen. Only, I knew changing our status meant we wouldn't stay together. Because of our age difference. And the chance we would have been together whatever our status was?” I shook my head. “It wasn't anybody's priority.”

“I'm not putting these pieces together.”

“I wasn't going to let them separate us. We were sisters, even if nobody saw it that way except us.”

“But how...?” Her voice trailed off. I thought maybe the pieces were beginning to merge.

“When Mr. Johnson came to tell me we would be moving soon, but we wouldn't be living together, I was ready. I told him if he tried to separate us, I would tell the Davises he had molested me. And with one complaint just behind him, this time he would lose his job and any chance of another. I'd invented a very realistic scenario, and I told him all the details.”

“You didn't.” She hesitated, but not for long. “You did, didn't you?”

“Please believe me—I'm not proud of it. But I was desperate. Even then I knew I might be ruining a man's life. I just couldn't let him ruin ours.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me he wouldn't let me blackmail him, but since it was clear I felt that strongly about staying with you, he was going to see if somehow he could make it happen. Of course the blackmail was what did it, and I wasn't fooled. He didn't care how strongly I felt, but he did care about his reputation. And not going to jail.”

Robin got to her feet and began to pace. “It was that important to you?”

“How important was it to you? Can you remember?”

She stopped in front of me. “I don't like thinking about that time.”

“That makes sense.”

“I didn't know any of this. I can't guess how I would have felt.”

“Sure you can.”

She looked defeated. “If they had separated us, I probably would have run away to find you.”

“Me, too.”

“So somehow he managed to find us a place.”

“The only place he
could
find. The Osburn ranch, where the foster parents had taken the necessary classes and had a temporarily empty house. Johnson made sure our status stayed the same, so we could be placed together. Then he convinced Betty Osburn that two girls would be an asset, that she could teach us the life skills we needed, and we could help with her chores.”

“And that's how we ended up there? You blackmailed our caseworker and he manipulated the system?”

“I prefer to think I made him see reason.”

“Whatever you want to call it,
you
were the reason we ended up at that ranch.”

I watched her pace again, and after a minute I stood and blocked her path. “If it's any comfort, I've spent so many hours wondering what might have happened if I'd just let things play out. Would we have ended up in good homes, maybe even been allowed to visit each other? Would we have grown up to be different women? Maybe I would have gone on to college, and maybe you would have blossomed with parents who saw your talents and made sure you developed them. Parents like the Davises, not the Osburns.”

“That's a waste of time.”

“Is it?”

“There's no way to know what would have happened.”

“Sometimes I think the best, but maybe things would have been worse. Much worse. Maybe we never would have seen each other again. Maybe you would have ended up somewhere awful with nobody to protect you.”

“The way you protected me.”

“At least I was with you to try.”

“And what did you get, CeCe? Was staying together worth those two years at the ranch? With Betty and Jud screaming at each other every night, and Jud getting drunk whenever he could. With all the work we both had to do and the loss of any kind of normal life? You suffered the worst of it.”

For a moment I just stared at her. Then I recovered. “We both suffered. What do you mean?”

“Jud was meaner to you. Betty protected me when she could. She kept me busy so he wouldn't make me do his dirty work. She kept me away from him when he was in one of his moods. But nobody protected you. And I was only fourteen when I moved to the group home. Maybe that wasn't heaven, but at least I had a semblance of an adolescence until I graduated. There was nothing normal about those last few years of high school for you. Not once we got to the ranch.”

“Maybe all the hard times are why I'm successful. Maybe
that's
what I got.”

“Maybe, but that's not the only thing. Because the big thing you got from all the lies? You got to keep the one person who would love you forever, and you made sure that she was going to be all right. No matter what else you did or who you hurt.”

“How can you forgive me? Considering...everything.”

“Would you do it again? Especially not knowing what waited for either of us if you didn't?”

“Knowing as much as I do? I would run away and drag you along with me.”

“And who knows what would have happened then? Children have so few choices. You and I had fewer than most, but you didn't let that stop you. You stared down the system and got what you wanted.” She put her arm around me. “Me.”

“
Can
you forgive me?”

“My mother was sixteen when she abandoned me.
You
were sixteen when you
refused
to abandon me. How can you imagine I wouldn't forgive you? Even if we had to live with the Osburns.”

“I'm not going to cry.”

She gave me a hard hug. “Are you coming back to Tampa? We can leave your car in town or at the ranch, and I'll drive. You'll have the whole trip to figure out what to tell Mick about filming here. If you tell him to forget it, I don't think anybody will be surprised. You've already been through the wringer.”

I wondered if there had been enough revelations. The film would be outstanding no matter what I did next. The way people viewed and thought about the child welfare system would change because of all Mick would bring to the finished product. I really had done my part.

How much of the truth would set me free? All? Or if I continued keeping secrets to the bitter end, would I never be free again?

I had to say something. “I don't know how much I'll admit about Nathan Johnson, so please don't repeat what I told you. He wasn't much of a caseworker, but he's probably still alive, and he doesn't deserve to have that episode in his life rehashed on film. I'll give it some thought.”

“We have to go. If it gets one bit darker we won't find our cars.”

“I guess I'll leave mine in town. It will be easier for the rental agency to locate.”

We started toward the woods, but Robin wasn't finished with our conversation. “Call Donny before you get behind the wheel. I can meet you in town. In front of the theater?”

“He's not going to understand.”

“Then it's your job to make him.”

“I don't think there are enough words in the English language.”

“CeCe, sometimes it's not about words.”

We started back toward the road, but I turned for one last look. The light was dying, and the old church was barely visible. I bowed my head in tribute, but no words came. I hope Robin is right. Maybe sometimes words are unnecessary. Maybe sometimes it's just about whatever is in your heart.

Or whatever should be.

41

Cecilia

Before my flight I left Roscoe with my Nashville housekeeper, Lenore, who loves him nearly as much as I do. A dog makes no sense for someone who is rarely sure where she's going to be, and Lenore would take Roscoe for good if I asked her. Considering how much I miss him already, I don't think that's going to happen.

A dog is an encumbrance. So is a girl sliding into adolescence, toting a lifetime of rejection behind her. So is a man. Until now Robin has been my only encumbrance. That's been hard enough.

When I called from Cold Creek, Donny didn't answer his phone. He was probably on a plane, so I left him a message and didn't hear back on our drive to Tampa. But something tells me that the encumbrance banging on the door of my suite isn't Robin or anybody else on the film crew.

“You're going to wake up the whole house.” I ushered Donny inside. I had known better than to change for bed. I didn't want to look soft and cuddly when I faced him. In reality I'm hard as nails, perfectly capable of making my own arrangements when required and doing what's best for myself. Hopefully Donny will catch on.

He looked exhausted, hair and shirt rumpled and cheeks in need of a shave. I was exhausted, too. We probably weren't going to compliment each other, so I launched in to get this over with.

“You got my message. I'm sorry I frightened you, but I really am capable of figuring out what I need and what I have to do to get it.”

“How long ago did a stalker with a loaded gun find his way through the security fence at CFF?”

“If I'd told you what I wanted to do, you would have insisted on making all the arrangements and coming along. Want a drink?” I pointed to the liquor cabinet.

“I don't want a drink. I want an explanation.”

“Really? And you think I'm required to give you one? I got here safely. I gave myself some much-needed time alone. Until you sicced Robin on me, that is.”

“Sicced her?”

“You sent her to look for me.”

“For the record, I didn't send her. She volunteered when she learned you were missing.”

“I was
not
missing! I knew where I was.”

He cocked his head as if examining a crazy person. “You always know where you are. That's part of inhabiting your body. You take it with you everywhere. Even
you
can't leave it behind.”

“You know what I mean, Donny. I didn't just wander off. I made plans. I executed them perfectly. I did what I thought I needed to.”

“You can't see this might worry me?”

I was trying to hold on to the conviction I'd done nothing wrong. I crossed the room and flopped on the sofa. I didn't invite him to join me, but that didn't stop him.

The sofa is L-shaped. He sat kitty-corner so he could see me, but he stayed several arm's lengths away, as if to keep from shaking me. “Lenore told me you left Roscoe and were heading to Florida. So I knew you hadn't been kidnapped. But that's all I knew.”

“I left you a note. She gave it to you.”

“Just for the record, you're speaking to two different people here. Your personal manager who always needs to know where you are and if you're safe. And the man who loves you. That one always needs to know where you are and if you're happy. And if you ditch him with nothing more than a couple of lines, then that man is pretty sure you aren't.”

I was still mulling over the “who loves you” part. Until now Donny has been very careful not to use that particular four-letter word quite that way. He's made his feelings clear, but somehow saying the words directly changes things. I wasn't sure why, and there was no time to figure it out.

“How can you think I
could
be happy? This whole film is guaranteed to make me unhappy. If there was a script, that's what every single stage direction would say. Cecilia blah, blah, blah, feeling miserable.”

“The film was
your
idea, yours and Mick's. And if you recall, I've made a million accommodations so it can happen. I've canceled everything from personal appearances and interviews to meetings at a major studio where you're being considered for a part in an important film. I've misled reputable reporters along with paparazzi to get you safely through airports, and in and out of towns and cities. I've made promises to promoters and Cyclonic executives that I'm pretty sure I won't be able to keep. I've traveled with you when I should have been in negotiations somewhere else.”

“I believe that's why you earn the big bucks.”

He leaned forward. “You think any of this is about money?”

I looked away. “I appreciate everything you've done, but nobody, not even you, gets to control me.”

“Let's back up. What does ‘not even you' mean? The manager or the man? Because it's the second one you're reacting to. If I were just your manager you would have called, told me what you were doing, told me to shut up when I argued and gone on your way.”

“You're not that easy to order around.”

“What do you think I would have said? That you couldn't go? That I know best and you have to listen? I would have been fine once you explained how you were getting here and why you wanted—”

“I didn't want to explain! I'm not even sure I understand, okay? I just know I had to go out to the ranch by myself. Without you. Without Robin. Without anybody. I just needed to be there alone. And I didn't want a discussion. I wanted to go. Period. And I did. So I'm sorry if you're upset. I'm sorry if I worried you. But there is nothing in our relationship that requires me to keep you up-to-date about everything I think or feel. And if you got that idea somehow, now's the time to put it behind you. I'm in charge. I always will be.”

Donny took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I waited for his next salvo, but he was silent.

“I know you think you love me,” I said when the silence became unbearable. “But that can't change anything.”

“No?”

“The only way this can work is if you separate your feelings from our business arrangement.”

“If
I
do. What about you?”

“Could there be a worse time for this?” I grabbed a pillow and hugged it close. “I don't have the strength to deal with you right now. I'm having enough trouble dealing with me.”

“Oddly enough I thought having my support would make that easier.”

“Support, sure. But not demands.”

“Demands?” He perched his glasses on his nose again, but he stared well past me. “Cecilia, letting me know where you go isn't a demand. It's the courtesy people in love show each other. That's all I need. Just that. A phone call. A brief explanation. Trust that I'll understand and help if I can, or not, if you prefer it that way.”

“You want a lot more than I'm capable of giving anybody. You refuse to see it. Nobody should understand better than you, Donny. You were in Australia. You saw what happened then, but you refuse to see what's happening now.”

“You are capable of so much more than you believe.”

“You're kidding yourself.” I tossed the pillow on the sofa, got up and started for the door. “We've both had it tonight. We can finish this in the morning. If I can get one, I need a good night's sleep.”

“This isn't going to work, is it? You're going to make sure it doesn't.”

I turned. “What does that mean?”

“I can't be your manager anymore. You were right about that. It won't work. The minute I tried to make it more, I made it less. I made it impossible.” He got up. “You need to finish your responsibilities here, then we'll settle all the business stuff, or our lawyers will. I'll make sure it's not any messier than it has to be, and if you want me to recommend somebody to take my place, I will. But I'm sure you've had your eyes open and know who you want next. After all, as you say, you're in charge.”

I stared at him. “I'm not asking you to stop working for me. I just want you to back off on the personal stuff right now. I'm too confused. I'm a mess.”

“Anything but. You know exactly what you're doing, and you're getting exactly what you want. You're pushing me away. And don't pretend you didn't know. For once be honest. Either you don't love me and know you never will, or loving me scares you too much to let it go further. In the end, I guess which it is doesn't matter.”

“Can't you just give me some time?”

“To do what? Work out your whole life without my help? And then what? You won't
need
my support? You won't have to show me the real woman, the one the world doesn't know a thing about? Is that what love means? Waiting until you're back on both feet and hiding in plain sight?”

“You have no idea who I really am. You think you do, but nobody, not even Robin, knows.”

“I think Robin and I have a pretty damned good idea.” He brushed past me and opened the door. “I'm going to stick around and see the filming to conclusion because that's my job. But I'll back off. You let me know when you want my help, and I'll make sure you get it. At arm's length. Where you are most comfortable.”

He didn't slam the door. He closed it softly, with much more effect.

I stared after him, and I asked myself, the way someone asks a stranger, how I felt. Because Donny is right. Whether I understand it or not, this is the way I knew our relationship had to end. And it's like him to see it first and take the initiative, so the burden won't be on me.

But if I forced this, why did I feel sick? Why did I want to go after him and tell him how wrong he is, that I need him the way I've never needed anyone before? Why did I want to tell him that of all the men I've known, he's the only one I've ever had a prayer of loving? Donny is the only man who ever glimpsed the real Cecilia and loved me anyway. I love him for that and for so many other things.

Because I do, I didn't go after him. In the end I probably love him too much to ruin his life.