When We Were Sisters (40 page)

Robin spoke again after a moment. “Betty's gone now.Should we tell the authorities what we know?”

“What do we
know
that we can tell them? And what can we tell them that will make a difference? It's not even a cold case. No crime was ever reported. As far as anybody else knows, one afternoon Jud left town with another woman, and that was that.”

She turned away and scuffed dirt back into the hole until it was mostly filled in. Together we started toward our cars.

We stopped at hers, and she leaned against the door as if her legs didn't want to hold her. “This whole thing has colored so much of my life.”

And Jud's death had come close to destroying me. Even now I wondered how the truth would change mine. I hadn't killed a man, but I had tried. And yes, swinging that post had been self-defense. But did that, and the fact that Jud had survived, at least for a while, absolve me?

I would consider that for years to come. For the first time since I'd fallen through time and space in Sydney, I thought I might finally seek professional help. I could tell my story without fear. The woman who most likely killed Jud Osburn was dead. I would never have to confess to his murder. Not to a therapist, not to the police.

“Donny...” I realized that I would have to tell him what actually happened. “I told him what I thought I had done. He deserves to know the truth, and I want him to.”

Robin looked up at the sky as if she were counting the stars smeared above us. “It's funny. You always said you were the liar and I was the one who couldn't tell a lie if my life depended on it. But I've been living with this one a long time, CeCe. Even Kris doesn't know what happened that day.”

“You weren't given much of a choice. You were trying to protect me.”

“And you were trying to protect
me
.”

“Nobody else was willing, were they? At the mercy of strangers.”

“What will we do with this?” She looked down at her hand and held out the buckle.

“You'll give it to me, and when I get back to California, Donny and I will take his sloop and sail as far out into the Pacific as he's willing. And then I'll toss it overboard. No matter how deep we bury it again, I don't want it here, haunting this ranch. I don't want anything that ever belonged to Jud Osburn to be part of this place.”

She held it out to me. I took the buckle, but I couldn't make myself slip it in my pocket. Instead I set it on the hood of her car to retrieve when we finished talking. I would wrap it in something when I got back to the camper, and it would stay wrapped until it found a home on the ocean floor.

Robin's face was pale in the moonlight. “And now what? Will this come between us? Every time you look at me, will you see that terrible afternoon before you see anything else?”

“I'll see the woman who loved me enough to be sure I didn't go to jail for something I didn't do. We were sisters right from the beginning. We took care of each other. That's what real sisters do.”

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. Then I took the buckle, walked around her car and got into my own. Tomorrow our paths would part again, mine to California, Robin's to Virginia. But I didn't think they would part for long.

When we were sisters, young and heartbroken, we had learned to watch out for each other.

We were still sisters.

Epilogue

Robin

One Year Later

Cecilia has never mentioned who chose the Tampa Theatre for the preview screening of
At the Mercy of Strangers
, but when Kris and I arrived in the limo that picked us up at our hotel, I immediately saw her hand in the decision. Like my sister, the theater itself is in-your-face spectacular. Nostalgia must also have played a part. Once upon a time the Davises brought us here to celebrate Cecilia's birthday.

All these years later I don't remember which birthday or what movie we saw, and until now, I hadn't even remembered the theater. But one look and the memories came back.

Before leaving the hotel I had done a little research. Even by the standards of the 1920s, when elaborate movie palaces were built all over the world, the Tampa Theatre is over-the-top. The architect—a “mad genius” by some accounts—specialized in something called “atmospheric design.” While the exterior, with its blade sign and old-fashioned marquee, was designed to attract moviegoers, the inside, an elaborate Mediterranean courtyard with a ceiling of “stars,” had encouraged them to come back.

And now
we
had come back, Cecilia and I. The Davises had brought us to this theater for a special celebration because our happiness had mattered.
We
had mattered. If they hadn't helped us through so many of our formative years, Cecilia and I would be very different people. I will always be grateful.

As our driver got out to open our door, Kris peered out the limo window. “All this place needs is a red carpet.”

“The last time I was here I spilled popcorn in the lobby.”

“No popcorn for you tonight.”

I doubt popcorn will be on the menu. After the screening the lobby will be mobbed with more than a thousand supporters enjoying catered goodies and vintage wines. The audience paid a fortune for this first glimpse of Mick's latest masterpiece, which will have an official debut later in the month at Sundance. Cecilia says a number of celebrities are slated to be in the crowd. The fact that she and Gizzie will perform the theme song live onstage doubled the price of admission, and tickets still sold out immediately. All money raised will go toward increasing awareness of children's rights, a campaign that will run in tandem with the PBS airing in the spring.

We slid out, and our driver refused Kris's tip. “All taken care of,” he told us. He shepherded us to the front door, where the audience was beginning to gather, and wished us a lovely night. A young man in a dark suit quickly checked a list and ushered us inside.

“Your sister is expecting you.” He led us across the fabulously ornate lobby and finally down through the theater, where both of us tried not to gawk at gold walls adorned with elaborate statuary and gargoyles. I nearly tripped over my own feet during an extended preview of the sky mural on the ceiling.

Kris took my elbow to steady me. “Familiar?”

“I remember feeling like I'd been plunked down in the middle of a fairy tale.”

“Cinderella.”

“Most likely.”

“This is so Cecilia.”

“And so Talya. Wouldn't she have loved it?” I thought about my friend, as I still did so often. Talya had been thrilled with her new job managing a local theater, but now the thought of a life cut short wasn't followed by a stab of pain. Talya and all the memories of our years as friends were part of me and would be until the day I died. Channa and Michael were still in our lives, and for that I was grateful.

We picked our way backstage until our escort stopped at one of the dressing rooms and tapped on the door.

Hayley opened it and broke into a grin when she saw us. I glimpsed Roscoe, who was happily taking up a share of the only sofa, and he yapped a greeting before he closed his eyes and settled in for another nap.

“Aunt Robin's here. And Uncle Kris,” Hayley called.

I hugged her, but I know the rules. Hayley still isn't a fan of prolonged embraces, so I made certain mine was brief, and Kris settled for a fist bump. Hayley's reasons are her own, but I can guess what they are. She's in therapy, one of the ground rules Cecilia laid down before proceeding with the adoption, and Cecilia says she's making progress. Calling me Aunt Robin is a sign, even though Cecilia is still only “Cecilia,” not yet Mom. My sister takes that in stride. No therapist will ever understand Hayley better than she does, and Cecilia thinks Hayley might change what she calls her once everything is finally official in a month.

We stepped inside, and Hayley closed the door. Her dress was a deep turquoise with a beaded bodice, and her shoulder-length hair was drawn back from her face with a rhinestone headband. She looked adorable.

I was still slightly dizzy from the scenery. “Have you ever seen anything like this place?”

“I told Cecilia I want my room to look just like the lobby.”

“What did she say?”

“Knock yourself out.”

I laughed. I could hear Cecilia saying it. “Petra might be able to help, but I doubt you'll end up with anything quite this grand.”

Cecilia came out of the bathroom, and Kris and I were smothered in hugs. Her perfume was subtle but probably as expensive as our mortgage payment. Her makeup was perfect, and so was her hair, which she wore in glamorous forties-style waves down her back, maybe as a salute to the venue. Both makeup and hair were exaggerated for the stage, and a contrast to her camp shirt, jeans and bare feet.

“You two look fabulous!”

Kris wears a tuxedo well, and he really did look fabulous. I had splurged on a silver lace sheath that I could also wear to Singer's formal in the spring. Even though Kris is now a professor at GW Law, he remains connected to the firm and will take on the occasional case. But the formal will be more fun this year because there won't be anybody there he has to impress.

Cecilia turned to Hayley. “Do you mind looking for Donny?” She hiked her thumb toward the door. The dressing room was small. Hayley looked happy to escape and did.

“She looks so good,” I said after she was gone. Three months had passed since all of us had been together in Virginia for Thanksgiving. In that time Hayley had put on a little weight and grown at least an inch. She, like my children, was barreling down the road to adolescence.

“She likes living in Pacific Palisades. She likes her school.”

Cecilia had found an ideal situation for her new daughter. The school had other children with famous parents, so Hayley didn't stand out. Class sizes were small, with a multitude of special services for children who needed them. Best of all, the administration was accustomed to children going on location with parents in the film industry. Assignments could be packed up at a moment's notice so students could work with tutors or nannies until they returned. Hayley didn't have a nanny, but she did have Wendy, who had a degree in education and supervised whenever Hayley traveled with Cecilia.

Cecilia said she'd already missed too much of Hayley's life and didn't intend to miss more. Their system might be a bit unorthodox, but it suited the two of them, since they were unorthodox, too.

Cecilia was still explaining. “Nothing's perfect, but I think she's happy. She won't say she is, but I can guess. She hasn't tried to sabotage the adoption in maybe three weeks.”

I gave a low whistle. “A record.”

“She's figured out we're in this for the long haul. She says she guesses she can stand me for another seven years. I tell her it's going to be a lot longer than that. I want her at the nursing home spooning out my gruel.”

“And Donny?”

Like most people with red hair, Cecilia should blush easily. Except that Cecilia finds very little to blush about. Now her cheeks turned pink. I was fascinated.

Seconds elapsed, then she held up her left hand. “Notice anything?”

I took her hand and squinted, and at first, I didn't. Then I saw it.

The viper was gone, replaced by...

Cecilia solved the mystery. “A Celtic wedding band.”

I looked up from the intricate but classy tattoo which cleverly camouflaged the old one. “Wedding band?”

She gave the slightest of shrugs. “I guess I'm not letting him get away. It's a prelude to the real thing. I couldn't wear a real wedding band over a snake.”

Donny, also gorgeous in a tux, took that moment to appear. I hugged Cecilia first, hugged her hard, then him. “You're getting married? And nobody asked my permission?”

“May I marry your sister?”

“Are we invited?”

“All our family, and a few others. We're going to have the ceremony at a manor home in western Ireland. Early summer. We've prescheduled a couple of dates. But we're keeping the whole thing a secret.”

I couldn't stop smiling. “Good luck with that.”

Hayley leaned against Donny, and he slung his arm around her shoulders. She didn't move away, even more of a testament to her progress than anything her new mother had said.

She gazed up at him. “I'm selling your plans to the press.”

Donny pulled her closer for just a moment. “Nice try. I'm going to adopt you anyway. I have to. You need a last name.”

“You think I'm kidding.”

“I think you'd better be.”

She grinned before she moved away. “Fifi said I could watch them prepare the film for viewing. Is that okay?”

“It's wonderful you asked,” Cecilia said. “A nice treat. And yes, go for it. But plan to be down front with Donny in half an hour.”

Hayley signed something as she left. I was afraid to look, but Cecilia laughed.

Hayley's request was a reminder that we hadn't seen anybody else from the film backstage. “Everybody from the crew is here?”

“Jerry couldn't make it. But Starla's here, Mick, Fiona.” She named others.

Donny and Kris were chatting by the door, and I moved closer to Cecilia for privacy. “Have you seen any of the clips?”

“Some. I had to give permission. It's okay. Mick's Mick. He handled the hard parts beautifully.”

There had been so many hard parts. I would be glad when this night was over, but also sorry. Because nothing I'd done or would ever do again was more important than being involved in this project.

The film had changed my life. It had changed Cecilia's.

“Plans for New Beginnings Ranch?” I asked.

“Coming along on schedule, but as you can imagine, everything about it's complicated. While the film's being shown tonight a crew's going to set up the proposed model in the lobby for the audience to view afterward. I want them to be enthused when I hit them up for donations. Of course groundbreaking is still pretty far away. We have to get this right from every angle. I'm not going to make mistakes. Not with children's hearts and minds.”

Organ music seeped in from the theater. The original Tampa Theatre Wurlitzer from 1926 had been rediscovered and refurbished after the theater itself was rescued and restored. The music meant people were coming inside now, and we didn't have much more time before the program began.

Cecilia looked happier than I've ever seen her. She's busy with her career, but she and Donny are exercising care. Her new album will come out in the spring as the film airs. She tabled her plan to record blues standards and instead she chose to record original material, some that she and Gizzie had written for the film, including the theme, and some she had written by herself after the filming ended.

I only heard bits and pieces at Thanksgiving, but the whole album is a departure from her usual stomp through the male psyche, more introspective and nostalgic, with softer strings and woodwinds. There's one selection I've yet to hear. About Maribeth. Cecilia calls it “Yellow Curtains,” and she performs it with nothing but a harp accompaniment. Cyclonic is wary, but Cecilia is not. She says it's time for her music to change now that
she
has. And Donny thinks the album is her best work ever.

As always, she was interested in me. I told her about my children, who were back at the hotel. Kris and I had decided not to bring Nik and Pet tonight. As a former foster child Hayley wouldn't be surprised at what she saw, and given the choice and a careful explanation, she had decided to be here. But Kris and I wanted a quiet living room and a remote control when we watched the film with our children. I expected to pause for multiple discussions along the way.

“And your new project?”

I gave her a quick synopsis. With
At the Mercy of Strangers
behind me, I had signed up for several local filmmaking classes, but before I could finish I'd been offered a gig doing photographs for a friend of Mick's. I'd agreed, but only if he also allowed me to be the assistant camera operator when one was needed. Since then I've taken several more offers, and right now I'm honing my skills with a director who's making a documentary about the Baltimore Orioles. I do know
something
completely new. I want to produce. I want to choose my own subjects and use my talents in new ways. Someday, I will, and Cecilia is cheering me on.

Somebody else tapped on the door, but that didn't stop my sister from asking a final question. “And you're still coming to Sanibel this weekend?”

“We're coming.”

“You're still okay about this?”

My nod was tentative, but she understood why. Tomorrow morning Kris and the kids and I are heading to Everglades City to meet my mother and her husband, and the next day to Sanibel to be with Cecilia, Donny and Hayley for a few days.

Over the past year Alice and I have carefully, slowly, begun to weave a relationship. Even though she left her phone number that day at the restaurant, I never called her. Months later she found the courage to locate my number and call me. While neither of us is comfortable and may never be, I want my children to meet their grandmother.

If I'm honest, in my own way I want to get to know her a little, too. Some wounds never heal, but the right treatment can make them more comfortable. And perhaps, for both Alice and me, that will be enough.