When We Were Sisters (21 page)

“They kind of try.”

“Good.” I heard a familiar bark. Starla had taken Roscoe to watch a group of girls playing volleyball, but it sounded like my pup was back.

“Do you like dogs?”

“They're okay.”

“Can I show mine your room?”

“Does he bite?”

“Not half as bad as you do.”

She actually smiled. In the next weeks I would probably meet lots of girls like this one. But I was glad she was my head start.

“You're going to make it,” I said. “If I did, you can.”

She signed some particularly colorful profanity.

I signed right back.

This time we both laughed.

24

Robin

Pet finally finished the leaves. Jody's family is in counseling together and canceled their annual Thanksgiving vacation in St. Thomas to pay for it. Lynette calls that natural consequences. Natural consequences around here mean Pet rarely speaks to me. There is nothing quieter than a house with a child who's giving you the silent treatment. I'm getting a lot of work done. K

While we waited for the gate to open for our last day at CFF, Cecilia gathered papers strewn all over the car seat during the drive from Nashville. Roscoe was helping. “I'm firmly on the side of this-place-is-okay,” she said. “Roscoe's going to be sorry to leave.”

Roscoe probably will be, because in addition to charming our adoring crew, he's entertained the girls with the help of CFF's own rescue beagle. The girls named their pet Kitten to soothe the feelings of the cat lovers who had wanted a real one, and luckily Kitten welcomed Roscoe into his pack.

“You're going to miss
Hayley
.” I finished cleaning a lens in preparation for stowing it in my bag.

“She's a character.”

“You two seem to have bonded.”

“I'm going to stay in touch with her. Seems like it would be good for her to know I care enough to email occasionally or call.”

“What about all the other girls?”

“Is it fair to Hayley to think that way? She's part of a group, so she can't be singled out for a little attention? Lots of them will go back to their biological families. She won't. And as things stand, adoption doesn't look promising. Not until she decides to stop sabotaging it or finds somebody who'll love her anyway.”

“CeCe, you aren't just anybody. You do realize that, right?”

“She likes Miley Cyrus better than me.”

I laughed at her expression. “That doesn't actually get you off the hook.”

“I'm going to give her my public email address, but I'll make sure her mail's forwarded to me.” Cecilia's mail is handled by a staff of four. Once she showed me a day's worth, as well as a thick file marked Crazy. Fame comes at a price.

“You start that kind of relationship, you have to stay with it. She's had enough rejection.”

“I know.”

Relationships really aren't Cecilia's thing. On the other hand her affection for me has never wavered. Maybe she really will keep in touch with Hayley. It might be good for both of them.

I finished organizing everything in my camera bag, which no longer takes conscious thought. I'll always be grateful to Cecilia for prodding me to restart my career, and to Mick for reminding me that intuition is more important than the right lens or the right filter. But when even Kris's perfunctory texts make me homesick, I know I'm ready for a break.

We have weeks of intermittent filming ahead, but the four days here at Children First and Foremost have been productive. Mick and Jerry brought loosely assembled rushes to Cecilia's condo last night. Donny, who spent most of the week in New York, flew in to join us. Some footage was brilliant, enough to make this visit worthwhile, but we're all in agreement that after today we've done what we can.

Like the scenes in Randolph Forge, CFF will be another feel-good moment for viewers, interlaced with grim statistics and grimmer visits to less impressive solutions.

Beside me Cecilia checked her makeup, although Wendy would do the finishing touches inside. We were about to film a morning meeting. Each cottage begins Saturday the same way. The house parents serve a special breakfast, and afterward everyone sits in a circle and each girl talks about her week. They are required to say one good thing about everyone in the room before they air grievances.

Cecilia has permission to sit in the circle and talk a little about her own years in foster care before she asks questions. Of course when
At the Mercy of Strangers
airs, hers will be the only face we see.

Outside the car I lifted my face to the sunshine. I'm sorry to be heading north tomorrow. Temperatures in New York City are in the forties, and yesterday sleet sent cars skidding through streets and onto sidewalks. While Cecilia flies back to California with Donny, I head off with Mick and the crew to a program in the heart of Bedford-Stuyvesant. The program is struggling, and the city is threatening to sever contracts for services. We're scheduled to be finished in time for me to fly home on Tuesday to spend the rest of Thanksgiving week with my family.

The contrast between overcrowded foster homes and my own will probably be sobering. More sobering for me since for years I was imprisoned on the other side.

Cecilia glanced at me and as always read my thoughts.

“You're ready for a break, aren't you?”

“Counting the days.”

“The kids will be delighted to see you.”

I noticed she didn't mention my husband. I'm hoping that once we're face-to-face, Kris and I will begin to plow through our problems. I do know that since firing Grace he's been coming home in time for Elena to pick up her son, and he's working from home on Saturdays, too. I'm not sure what to think of either development, but I still feel encouraged.

“I won't even be home a week. Hopefully all of us make the most of it.” I was scheduled to meet Cecilia and the crew in Tampa the following Monday, where we would film until we took an extended break for Christmas. I was looking forward to that, as well.

“Take it slow,” she said with sisterly wisdom. Cecilia still gives me advice, even in areas where she needs it herself.

After parking, Hal went back to speak to the guard at the gatehouse. The facility is fenced, and because the front gate is always manned, no extra security was needed. While the girls surely told their classmates that Cecilia was here with a film crew, Mick and the CFF staff carefully kept our daily schedule secret. A few people had gathered outside the gate each day, but they had been dispatched by a local deputy. We're close enough to Nashville that celebrity glimpses aren't uncommon.

My phone buzzed, and I saw my husband was calling. I pointed to the phone. “It's Kris. I'll meet you inside.”

With Roscoe in her arms Cecilia continued toward the cottage where we would be filming today. I saw her speak to a few of the girls. The crew had arrived ahead of us to get footage of breakfast preparations, and they were probably already inside.

I leaned against a tree while I took the call.

“Hey,” I said. “Hope everything's okay?”

“You're probably busy, so I'll make this short.”

“I'm about to be busy, but not this minute.”

“I'm at work.”

This is my husband's way of saying
he
doesn't want to chat. Like any good attorney he's going to get right to the point.

“Shoot, then,” I said.

“I tried to find a way out of this, Robin, but I can't. Do you know when you'll be flying home?”

After that first sentence my stomach was already tying itself into knots. I closed my eyes. “Tuesday the twenty-fifth. Timing depends on how things go in New York. I haven't made my reservation.”

“New York?”

I told him a little about what we would be doing.

“That sounds like it could be dangerous.”

“More for the kids who live in crowded foster homes than for us. Besides, we both know any place can be dangerous.” I thought of Talya, who had seemed perfectly safe until the instant she died.

He was quiet for a moment. Then it was back to business. “Can you please make the reservation for early in the day?”

I forced a laugh. “You're in that much of a hurry to see me?”

“If you can arrange it I just need you here before Elena leaves. If not I'll find somebody for the evening, too, but I need to know.”

“You have a commitment the night I get home?”

“I have to go out of town.” I had a feeling he wasn't done, and he wasn't. “I won't be able to get back again until Friday afternoon or later. I'm sorry. I really am. But we can postpone Thanksgiving dinner until Friday night or maybe Saturday, when I'm sure I'll be home. I need to pull my weight at the office, and I'm the best person to do this.”

I processed this out loud. “You'll be gone for the holiday?”

“Just some of it. We'll have the weekend.”

“I see.”

“Look, this isn't my idea. But because you're gone every day I'm leaving work early—”

“You're leaving work at a normal hour, Kris.”

“I'm leaving work
early
and working at home on weekends. People understand you can't help me right now, but nobody's happy about it. Since you're going to be here to cover again, I need to show I can go the extra mile.”

I was struggling to figure out whether I had a right to be angry. Why should I be surprised? Kris's job had already trumped the trip of a lifetime to Prague. Thanksgiving was simply more of the same.

“You're angry,” he said, when I didn't answer. “But you need to see this from my perspective. I've given up a lot to let you follow your sister—”

“You've given up a
lot
, Kris? A little time. And for the record, you didn't
let
me take this job. I did that myself. The only thing I asked for was the respect I deserve as your partner.”

“This isn't the time to rehash. I need your help. I hope you're willing.”

My answer came easily. “Take all the time you need. The kids and I will spend Thanksgiving in Sanibel. Cecilia will be delighted. I'll let the schools know they'll be leaving after classes on Tuesday. Elena can drive them to the airport and put them on a plane to Fort Myers, where I'll meet them. You won't have to do a thing.” He started to say something but I cut him off. “I'm sorry, I've got to go now and
follow
my sister. Enjoy your day.”

I slid my phone back in my bag.

I didn't have time to think about what had just happened. I looked up and saw that the girls had vanished inside, along with Roscoe, but Cecilia was just yards from the cottage door, backing away from a man I had never seen on the grounds before.

I could tell immediately this was serious because Cecilia rarely backs away from anybody. The man was dressed in a tattered flannel shirt, and his hair was long and greasy. He might have been young or old. It was impossible to tell under a scraggly beard and what might be several layers of grime.

I looked back toward the gatehouse to see if Hal was still talking to the guard. He wasn't. He was heading swiftly toward Cecilia, but he was too far away to intervene. I started forward, too, but Cecilia saw me and held up her hand. Now I was close enough to see that the man was pointing a gun at her.

I could also hear their conversation.

“You don't answer my mail. Not one single letter!”

“My poor sweetie, do you know how many letters I get every single day?” Cecilia had stopped backing away and was now standing her ground. “I tell my assistants to give me the important ones, but sometimes they just don't get it.” She smiled her famous smile, as if this was a man she cared about and she was commiserating with him. She didn't look a bit frightened.

“I sent fifty. Maybe a hundred.”

She shook her head. “How can they be that stupid? Wouldn't it be clear to
you
how important those letters were? I mean, so many...”

“I'll tell you what they said, them letters. I told you I loved you and we were meant to be together. All the time. I can tell from your songs.”

She shook her head in admiration. “A smart man can always read between the lines.”

He lowered the gun, but only far enough to rest it against his thigh. “You been singing them just for me.”

I saw Donny poised in the cottage doorway, as if he was waiting for exactly the right moment to launch himself at Cecilia's admirer. Hal had pulled up sharply, too, but he had drawn his gun and was holding it by his side.

Who knows why some thoughts race through our heads during a crisis? Yesterday out of nowhere a memory of the accident had returned. Now, again, I remembered the instant when I witnessed the car bearing down on us. Pet and Nik had flashed through my mind. They would lose their mother, but at least they would remember I had loved them.

How would Cecilia be remembered?

“I think I ought to sing for you right now,” Cecilia said. Instead of moving away, she stepped closer. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? I can look right into your eyes and sing just for you.”

I was terrified, but some part of me was also frozen in awe. Cecilia, under the worst possible pressure, was acting as if this man was her salvation, the one she had waited for all these years. When had she learned to act with such skill?

At what point in her life had she learned to lie without blinking an eye?

“I'd like that,” he said. “You come right up close and sing to me.”

“First you have to put the gun down, sweetie. 'Cause when I'm all done singing, you're going to be so happy, that old gun of yours might just go off in salute. And what if you hit somebody by mistake? That would spoil our day.”

He hesitated. I wondered if there was enough logic in his tortured brain to realize that the moment he abandoned the gun, somebody would jump him.

“I don't think so,” he said at last. “I keep it on me all the time.”

“You protect the people you love. A man like you would.”

“Somebody has to.”

“But you could protect me just fine without it, couldn't you?” She stepped a little closer. “Do you really need that gun? You look like a big strong man to me.”

I couldn't make myself breathe.

The man cocked his head. “You think so?”

“Oh, I can tell. We could use somebody like you to do security. Then you'd be close to me all the time.”

This wasn't what he expected. This poor demented soul had found his way here because he was furious Cecilia hadn't answered his letters. Who knows what he'd hoped for. Fear? Tears? Punishment? Now his expectations were being turned upside down. She had just offered him a job and endless time together. He looked confused.