When We Were Sisters (24 page)

“I would venture you do more than follow him from a distance.”

“I send regular letters to everybody who counts and talk to them when I can. Virginia Board of Pharmacy. FDA. Professional organizations. But you know how much control they have? Even with the new law? Compounding pharmacies don't come under the same scrutiny as drug manufacturers. Sure, they sent out that warning letter when Pedersen refused to let them test his other products, but that's a slap on the wrist. He needs to be shut down.”

“So to retaliate, you follow people around and frighten them.”

“I'm not trying to scare you or anybody. I just want you to know what you're getting into. I looked you up on the internet. You're some kind of hotshot, I figure. I just hate to see a talented man putting his energies into the wrong places and people.”

“Everybody deserves his day in court.”

His smile was wry. “You think so? Pedersen bought everybody off before it got to that. Now he wants to clear his name and get the authorities to stop pestering him.”

“If what you say is true, even some of it, if he does brazen this out and sue the FDA, maybe the truth will come back to haunt him.”

“You tell yourself that, okay? Right up until the minute the government backs down because they decide it's not worth the fuss. You're that good, you can probably make it happen if you put a whole lot of work into it. Or you can negotiate some kind of truce. What a way to earn a living, huh?”

I thought he was done, but he wasn't. Not quite.

“You have a good Thanksgiving,” he said. “I hope you have something or someone to be thankful for today. I hope Pedersen didn't rob you of that much, the way he robbed me.” Then he got into his car, backed into the lot and turned. In a moment he was gone.

After a few deep breaths I reparked and made my way to my suite. This motel is not deluxe. The living area is comfortable but not plush, with a sofa that pulls out to make another bed. Years ago Robin and I rented budget suites like this one and put Pet and Nik to sleep on similar sofas. Then we waited for them to fall asleep so the real fun of our getaway could begin.

How long ago had that been?

I flopped on the sofa, but I got up again immediately and began to pace. I stopped in front of the minibar and opened the door. Possibly for the first time in my professional life the contents looked inviting. I pulled out a 50 milliliter bottle of Jack Daniel's and drank it straight, bypassing a glass.

The man in the parking lot had hoped I had someone to be thankful for today. I did, but was I thankful? No, I was terrified. The weight of that fear and, worse, the realization, was a sudden, crushing blow.

I had to make this right or at least begin the process. I didn't want to. I didn't want to be that vulnerable. But what I needed or wanted was immaterial. Because Robin is most vulnerable of all. And how can I let that continue?

I sat on the edge of the bed, pulled out my cell phone and dialed the last woman I'd expected to speak to tonight. I would speak to my children later, but this call was way overdue.

28

Cecilia

I love the beach at night. Sanibel has strict prohibitions on artificial light, particularly during turtle-nesting season. Nesting season is finished now, but our beaches remain as dark as nature intended. We like it that way.

When the moon is full and the sky awash in stars, I walk the beach near my house, carrying a flashlight I try not to use. I've learned if I make my way here and stand quietly while my eyes adjust, I can usually pick my way along the shore.

And yes, I carry a cell phone, and I'm careful. I've mentally mapped out every possible escape route. There are other Roy Doggetts in the world.

Tonight when I said I was going for a walk Donny asked to come with me. Roscoe is snoozing. Robin and her children are putting a jigsaw puzzle together. Mick and Fiona are reading. Gizzie and Pat have gone in search of nightlife.

They may have to drive to Miami.

Now Donny was carefully picking his way to the edge of the water so we could head down the beach.

“Cecilia, you actually come out here by yourself?”

“Don't start.”

“At the very least Hal or a clone should be walking behind you.”

“So far I've been able to make Sanibel a Hal-free zone, and I want to keep it that way.”

“You're living on borrowed time.”

“Between the causeway, my fabulous security system and good neighbors I'm safe here.”

“A pipe dream.”

“I need someplace where I can feel normal. The local police know I live here, and they're on speed dial. The only time I ever called they were here in minutes.”

“And why did you call?”

By now my feet were wet. The tide was coming in and water was lapping farther up the sand than I'd guessed. I took off my sandals and walked barefoot, although that was risky in the dark.

I took Donny's arm to help with balance. “I heard noises on the roof and at the door. Raccoons, as it turned out. We all had a good laugh. Them more than me.”

“I think I'd better move in with you. Somebody with some sense needs to keep tabs.”

I wasn't sure why I wasn't more annoyed. Maybe the thought of having Donny nearby wasn't so terrible.

I still had to defend myself. “I have good sense, but I balance it with courage. I don't want to live in a bubble. I sing about life. I need to live.”

“Shall I list the celebrities killed by stalkers? Or remind you that Sandra Bullock met hers outside her bedroom door?”

“Not unless you want me to push you into the water.”

“I don't want to lose you.”

I wondered why exactly. I pay a huge premium on a life insurance policy for which Donny is the beneficiary. If I die, he won't be left penniless for the month it will take him to weed through candidates begging to take my place.

I squeezed his arm. “There's a moon shining over our heads. Do you see anybody on the beach except us? So let's talk about something else. How did you like dinner?”

“The pumpkin tortellini wasn't half-bad.”

“And the turkey?”

“The real one or the tofu wannabe?”

“I never miss meat, except at Thanksgiving. I almost tore into the real one tonight.”

“Why didn't you?”

I debated my answer, but the truth worked. “I helped with the animals at the Osburn ranch. That was my job in our little
family
. That also meant I was there when they were killed and butchered. I had raised some of them.”

“I'm having problems with the part where that was your job. Do foster kids routinely have jobs that traumatic?”

“I don't know. But that placement was...” I struggled for the right word. “Different?
Different
. The thing is, I couldn't really refuse to help, because in theory Robin and I were too far apart in age to be in the same place. The ranch was considered therapeutic foster care, so at the time that rule was more or less overlooked. If I had complained, we would have been separated.”

“She meant that much to you.” It wasn't a question. He knew.

“Yep, and I was all
she
had, too.”

“Then it must have been hard to leave her behind when you went to New York.”

“I wanted her to come. I actually believed we might get away with it. Foster kids disappear and nobody notices, especially teenagers. There was a famous case in Florida, about ten years after I left, when a five-year-old girl went missing for a year and nobody at the agency realized it.”

“Things are better now?”

“I hope so. Anyway, at the time we had a new caseworker who was still learning the ropes. I thought we could slip between the cracks.”

“Robin would have been how old?”

“Fourteen.”

“How did you plan to take care of both of you?”

“Before we got that far we both realized it would be better if she stayed behind. The Osburns had separated, and Betty, Mrs. Osburn, planned to sell the ranch and move north. The new caseworker turned out to be a good one. She found Robin a better place to stay. And Robin knew if that home didn't work out, somehow I would come and get her.”

“I grew up with a regulation mom and dad and two sisters, lived in the same house until I went to college. I never once took care of anybody except me.”

We weren't putting much distance behind us. Walking at night is more like creeping. I stepped on something sharp and stopped. “Let's sit a minute.” I shone my flashlight on the ground and found a spot away from the water that looked promising. I limped over and lowered myself to the sand, brushing off my foot as well as the piece of shell I'd stepped on. The skin wasn't broken.

Donny joined me.

“You're such a normal guy,” I said. “Maybe that's why I trust you. No skeletons in your closet. It surprises me some nice, normal woman hasn't snapped you up.” I added the rest like an afterthought. “Or has that Malibu designer nearly worked her magic?”

“You know I haven't been with her for more than a year.”

“Well, you never actually told me.”

“Just like I know Sage Callahan is every bit as gay as Gizzie. And you probably knew it before you married him.”

I was so stunned I nearly stuttered. “Are you kidding?”

“Kidding that I know?”

“When did you figure
that
out?”

“Right after you said the
I do
s. By then it was too late to talk some sense into you.”

“Why would you try? Marriage was a career booster for Sage and me, and the divorce wasn't half-bad, either.”

“I hate a business that works that way, don't you?”

“The business that's made us both rich? Not so much.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to find a man you can actually be happy with forever?”

“I don't believe in forever.”

“Fifty percent of all marriages last. Plus the people who get divorced remarry at an astonishing rate. Love's in the air all over our grand and glorious country.”

“More like love is in the smog. When smog clears an awful lot of problems are visible. The same's true for love.”

“Not just a cynic when you're singing, I see.”

“You've never married.”

“I came close a time or two.”

“Looking for perfection?”

“I don't want perfection. Just somebody I love enough to do the hard work.”

I couldn't claim to know more about that than he did. Sage and I hadn't had any work to do at all. Our situation had been perfectly clear from the start.

I got back to my feet to turn toward home. “I think by now you're what they call a hard-core bachelor.”

He joined me. “Everything can change in a heartbeat.”

I thought about Robin, who had nearly died between one heartbeat and the other, and then about her marriage, which had looked so stable and was now on the rocks.

I needed to say something. “I hope only good things happen for you.” I wanted to say more, although I didn't know what, but my cell phone buzzed. So few people have my number, I didn't hesitate to pull it out and answer.

I was as surprised by the caller as I was by my conversation with Donny. When I finished, I slipped the phone back in my pocket.

“Kris?” Donny asked. “Is that unusual?”

“He wants to know if he can join us tomorrow.”

Donny was standing right beside me, so he had heard my answer. “And you said yes.”

“He asked me not to tell Robin. He'll have to fly standby, and he's not sure he'll be able to get a flight out until Saturday. He doesn't want to disappoint her in case things don't work out.”

“I'm glad he's coming.”

Have I ever been glad to see Kris? I can't remember a time when I've felt even a hint of pleasure. But Robin needs to be with her husband, even if being here together finalizes the end of their marriage.

“They have a lot to work out,” I said carefully.

“People who love each other always do.”

“That's the hard work you were talking about.”

“Exactly.”

Then he did something that surprised me. He put his arms around me and pulled me close. Resting his head against my hair he said, “Loving you would be hard work, Cecilia. Not because you're not one of the most lovable women in the world, but because you resist it so vehemently.”

I wasn't sure what to do. Then, before I could think too hard, I slipped my arms around his waist and let him hold me. This time I had no excuse. No stalker had found me; no memories had crawled back to hurl me into a dark abyss. A pearly moon shone overhead, and the sky was bright with stars. Even without doing any hard work, I knew that sometimes the moon, the stars and the right arms were all a woman needed. Even a woman like me.

29

Robin

Nik might suspect that Kris and I are having problems, but Pet is the one who articulated her fears. On Saturday the children and I biked the short distance to Ding Darling Wildlife Refuge and slowly navigated the eight-mile Wildlife Drive, stopping frequently along the way to look at mangroves and tidal pools, and listen to volunteers who shared close-ups of waterfowl through powerful telescopes. They squealed at alligator sightings—Nik more than Pet—and complained about how tired and hot they were. But nobody complained too loudly.

On the way back to Cecilia's we stopped for a late lunch and a rest at Doc Ford's, named for the main character of a bestselling mystery series written by the owner. Ginny, Cecilia's housekeeper and cook, had loaned me the first book, and I was already hooked. I bought the next two while we waited to be seated and silently applauded the author's marketing strategy. Nik ordered a Cuban sandwich, and Pet and I got fish sandwiches with black beans and rice.

Nik wolfed down his lunch in a matter of minutes, but Pet and I were too tired from biking to eat quickly. My son finished his last drop of ice water and pushed his chair back. “I know the way home.”

The way home is simple, so I knew what he was about to ask. “Don't forget, we saw some of the biggest gators along the next stretch of the bike path.”

“They'll still be there if you ride with me. I'm not going to freak out and fall off my bike just because I'm riding by myself.”

The gators are sun-dazzled, stuffed with local fish and game, and disinterested in bikes or their riders. My son will be perfectly safe unless he decides to stop and pet one, and I know that isn't going to happen.

I gave a thumbs-up. “I guess it's okay. Be careful, and call when you get home.”

He leaped to his feet, as if afraid I would change my mind. “Dad would never let me do this.” He took off.

That surprised me. So when Kris is in charge, he's even more cautious than I am? I was going to enjoy not being the only one who said no in our family.

Pet and I watched him race out the door, and when our server came back I let her refill my tea and Pet's soft drink, a special treat since we only serve milk and juice at home.

After a few sips my daughter toyed with her straw. “I want you to call me Petra. I don't like nicknames.”

“What brought that on?”

“Fifi. That's a pretty silly nickname, don't you think? It sounds like a poodle. Her real name is Fiona.”

“Her dad calls her that. I guess the rest of us just fell into the habit.”

“I'm nobody's Pet. I want to be sure everybody knows that.”

“Well...it might be hard for a while, but I'll sure try.”

“Fifi's kind of
like
a pet. She's always doing stuff for her dad. Like getting him things to eat. And this morning she was doing something for him on the computer.”

“I think Fi—Fiona is interested in making films, too, and she's Mick's assistant, what he calls a runner.”

“I'm glad Daddy doesn't ask me to take care of him. That would be weird. He takes care of us.”

Since Mick and I had explored that difference ourselves, I couldn't fault her. In fact I didn't have to look very far beneath her comments to see what was bothering my daughter. She had seen Mick help me to my feet on the beach, seen us sitting close and talking. She's ten, but she's sensitive to nuance. The girl formerly known as Pet is worried.

Am I developing feelings for Mick? He
is
attractive, no doubt. And being with a genius of his magnitude is captivating. But other than a few brief fantasies, which I've carefully cut short, our relationship can and will forever be friendship. I'm still married, even if my husband is out of the picture these days, and even if I wasn't, I need more from a relationship than a man like Mick can ever give.

“Your dad wants the best for you,” I said carefully.

“And you.”

“I know it's different having all of us separated for a while, but you and Nik will always be our top priority. No matter what.”

“He's unhappy with you being gone.”

At least Kris was home often enough now that she had noticed. I was walking through a minefield, but I gamely picked my way.

“I'm not always happy being gone, either. I miss you, but I like working again. I hope you can join me for a few days on the road and be
my
runner.”

We had already talked about that possibility, and she had been excited. Now she looked worried. “I don't know. Hasn't Daddy been left alone enough?”

I felt the slap, but I didn't react. “He's not alone. He has you, he has Nik and he has work. He and Nik will do guy stuff while you're away. Then, if Nik can join me for a few days, you and your dad can do stuff
you
like.”

“Are we going to spend Christmas together?”

“That's certainly the plan.”

“I'm going to tell Daddy he can't work if you come home.”

“You let your dad and me figure this out. You aren't responsible for anything, including anybody's work schedule.”

She gazed at her half-eaten sandwich. “
Are
you going to work it out?”

I couldn't be less than honest, because I didn't want her to come back later and accuse me of lying. “We're going to try hard. That's a promise.”

“I don't want you to get divorced.”

“Nobody wants that.” I hoped that was true.

“Good.” She took a bite, filling her mouth to prevent more conversation.

The time had arrived to change the subject. “So if my calculations are correct, you can get back to your normal routine now that Thanksgiving is over. You and your dad are going to get together with Jody's family and figure out how things should go from now on, right?”

“She's mad at me. She says all this was my fault because I didn't hide the...you know, well enough. But she knows that's not true.”

I envisioned my daughter as a woman. If she's this insightful at ten, what will she be like at twenty or thirty? For the first time in my life I wished I could show my own mother what she had produced. Not me, since clearly I had not been enough to stop her from leaving, but by
having
me, she made life possible for this lovely little girl who is both smart and kind. Sadly, Alice will never know.

“What are you going to do?” I knew Pet had to figure this out on her own.

“I told Jody I'll still be her friend when she stops being mad. She thinks she has to choose between Grace and me, but she doesn't.”

“Do you think maybe she's embarrassed?”

“I'm kind of embarrassed, but we didn't tell anybody else at school. So that's good. When she's back to being my friend we can be embarrassed together.”

I hope the news blackout lasts.

We talked about her new friend, Anupa, who was from India and a vegetarian, like Cecilia. We moved on to school and visiting me when the crew was back together. On the way home we rode side by side whenever we could and continued the conversation.

The reality of having her right beside me made me realize even more than before how much I had missed my daughter.

Back at the house,
Petra
went to listen to Gizzie and Cecilia work on their new song. Nik—how long until he demanded to be Nikola?—was already there, sucking in as much as his preadolescent brain would hold. I took the free time to work on editing photos; then, when nobody else wanted to join me—both my worn-out children were napping on great room couches—I decided to take a long walk on the beach by myself.

The sun sets early in November, and it was already on the horizon when I finally turned to go back to Cecilia's.

I was nearly there when I saw a man walking toward me on the beach. He was built like Kris, long-legged, broad-shouldered, with an easy, natural gait. The sky was a kaleidoscope of color, and he was silhouetted against the setting sun. I paused and shaded my eyes, but not until he was closer did I know for sure.

I started forward, although I didn't run. I had no idea why my husband had come or what he had flown this distance to say. I just knew I had to meet him halfway.

“Robin...” Kris walked faster until I was in his arms. Then he kissed me. Not in greeting, but as if he would never—
could
never—get enough of me again.