When We Were Sisters (38 page)

Kris was frowning. “He just drove off forever? Was there a fight first?”

I opened the water bottle that had come with my lunch and took a big swig, an unnecessarily big one because I was figuring out what to say.

When I couldn't drink any more I answered. “Not a fight I witnessed, no. In fact Betty and I were at Southern States buying fertilizer for the garden. There was a waitress at the diner—Lupita, I think her name was—somebody he flirted with whenever he went into town, although I guess
flirt
doesn't quite cover it. She was from somewhere in Latin America—I'm not sure where—but I do know Betty despised her. Betty used to say the guy who ran the diner paid Lupita under the table and she was probably here illegally. There were a lot of migrant workers in the area. She may have come to town with one of them, then split up.”

“Why does she figure in?”

“Because she left town the same day Jud did. It seemed obvious they'd gone off together. In fact Jud's old farm truck was parked up by the main road. Betty found it there the next morning. It looked like he'd used it to get that far, then Lupita had picked him up in her own car and off they went.”

“And nobody ever heard from either of them again?”

“Why would they?”

“Because he sounds like the kind of guy who wouldn't let go easily. Seems like he'd have wanted to be sure there was nothing coming his way after the sale.”

“He probably figured by the time he hired an attorney—I hear they don't come cheap—” he smiled, and I managed to smile back “—and fought with Betty in court, not a thing would have been left. If there was anything to start with.”

“And while this was all going on, you and Cecilia had to worry about your own futures. I don't know how either of you made it.”

“I think we both know Cecilia would rather have worried about her future than about Jud.”

Kris put his hand on my knee and waited for me to look him in the eye. He asked the question I had known he eventually would. “He never touched you?”

“He tried.” I gathered myself to finish. “Once. Jud always scared me, so I tried to stay out of the house if he was in there alone. But that day I had to go in to get something. I didn't know he was there, but he was in the kitchen, already drinking hard, although it was only early afternoon, and when I came in he grabbed me. I pushed him away and before he could try again, Betty came inside and slammed the back door.”

His expression darkened. “I wish he
were
alive.”

“I was able to get away, Kris. I thought he was just drunk that day, but now I know it would have been a matter of time. Luckily he walked out not long after. Even though that changed everything for me, I was so glad to see him go.”

“Does Cecilia know?”

“She doesn't need to. She did everything she could to protect me. And now she's going to extend her protection to other girls like us.” As we ate our lunch I told him about Cecilia's plans for the ranch.

* * *

“Those are some good photos.” The afternoon sun was sinking toward the horizon when Mick handed back my camera. I'd given him a peek at several shots of the burning house that I was especially pleased with. I was looking forward to moving them to my computer screen for better viewing.

We were standing well back from the barn, which was about to be consumed by fire. The house where I had spent two miserable years of my life was now a smoldering heap. Jerry was about fifty yards away filming the barn as the firefighters moved in and out, but I had gotten all the photos I needed for a few minutes. Now I wanted to simply stand and wait.

Mick had other ideas. “We haven't really talked about what Cecilia said in the barn that day.”

“I'm glad Fifi wasn't there to hear it. But she'll see that segment on the film. If Cecilia decides to let you use it.”

“She's courageous in so many ways. I feel honored I've had the chance to share all this with her. And with you.”

“Thank you for taking a chance on me. And for helping me get back on my feet professionally.”

“We'll work together again. Or maybe you'll turn into my greatest rival. You're still planning to explore making films?”

“I'm going to see where the winds take me, but at best I'll be good enough to stand in your shadow.”

He laughed, kissed me on the cheek, then went to talk to Jerry, who in a few minutes would film my sister, the blaze as her background, telling the camera her plans to establish a residential facility here.

“He's half in love with you,” Cecilia said.

I hadn't realized she had come up behind us. We threaded our arms around each other's waists and stared at the barn, which would soon be no more.

“I have the man I want,” I said.

“Did Kris tell you that we established a truce?”

“He said you're on your way to being friends. Same thing?”

“We agreed to stop vying for your love and attention.”

I hugged her closer. “How do you feel now that burning down the house is a fait accompli?”

“I can't say until the barn is gone, too.”

It was going to happen fast, which was why Mick was getting ready for Cecilia's announcement. “Kris told me there weren't going to be many teaching moments here. They plan to set the fire and get out immediately. It's a big barn. It's going to be a big fire.”

“It can't happen fast enough.”

Shouts interrupted whatever else she'd intended, followed by three loud blasts from an air horn. I knew from watching the house go up in flames that this was the signal to be sure everyone inside had evacuated.

We watched someone count as people emerged, then check a list. From what I could tell at this distance, everyone seemed to be accounted for.

Donny came to join us, and Kris followed his lead. In a moment the four of us were standing together, woven together as a unit.

Smoke curled out of the spaces where siding had been stripped or torn away. We stood in silence for a few minutes until flames followed the smoke's path. They licked and curled around boards, darting back and forth, and rising higher as we watched.

Donny spoke at last. “‘In each moment the fire rages, it will burn away a hundred veils. And carry you a thousand steps toward your goal.'”

“What's that from?” Cecilia asked.

“Rumi, thirteenth century. Retooled for this moment.”

I could feel Cecilia pull away just far enough to rest her head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

The fire was catching now. We were standing a good distance away, but I could already feel the heat. Kris was right—the barn would catch quickly, and soon be a bad memory. I wondered how far in the distance the smoke or even the flames would be seen.

In a moment Mick would signal for Cecilia. He would film several takes of her announcement against the backdrop of the fire. She had given him the perfect ending, so I knew he had to be thrilled. I planned to take my own photos. My camera was ready to go, the strap slung over my shoulder.

Cecilia held out her hand, and we left Kris and Donny where they could stand and watch together. We walked a short distance before she turned again to watch the flames lick higher and smoke pour from every crack, spiraling toward the roof.

She was still gripping my hand when the barn seemed to explode and fire shot in all directions. I could feel a shudder go through her. “Donny wanted to put fireworks in the loft so they would go off when the fire reached them, but Randy said it wouldn't be dark enough to see much of anything, and he promised the barn going up in flames would be enough of a spectacle. He was right.”

“Donny understands what this means to you.”

“Donny understands everything.” Before I could ask what she meant, she changed the subject. “You asked earlier why I wanted to burn the house and barn? Why I didn't just bring in a wrecking company and cart them both away?”

I remembered our earlier conversation. “The purifying effects of fire.”

“Maybe the ranch will be purified. I hope so. But the truth? Fire is the only fitting goodbye for Judson Osburn. Because I know for a fact he's already in hell.” She turned to meet my eyes, and she didn't blink. “I sent him there.”

49

Cecilia

The stars igniting the night sky are so thick the heavens seem engulfed in flame, but for a while I'll probably see fire everywhere. Hours have passed since we returned to the campground for a goodbye barbecue. We had ribs and burgers for the meat eaters, and platters of grilled vegetables for the vegetarians. Afterward I tried to sleep, but images of the house and barn collapsing into embers filled my mind, and sleep wasn't going to come easily for a long, long time.

Sleeping would be difficult for another reason. Embossed over those images was Robin's face at the instant I told her that I had personally consigned Jud to the flames of hell.

So right now, instead of sleeping like I should be, I'm walking in circles, the way I did the night Kris and I met last week. With too many practice laps behind me, navigating the campground path in the dark is now mindless exercise. I know the location of every root and shrub.

Hal and Ivan didn't accompany us on this leg. Not until this morning when I showed up at the ranch did anyone local, other than the fire chief, know who the property belonged to. Then, between Donny, Kris and a host of hunky firefighters, I felt perfectly safe. I posed for selfies with everyone, and in return they all promised not to tell friends and family I'd been there until I was in the air tomorrow, heading back to California.

Robin and I didn't have even a moment to talk about what I said. Immediately afterward Mick signaled me to get into position to film my announcement. I was just as glad, because I had no intention of elaborating, which is probably why I timed it the way I did. If she quizzed me tomorrow I would tell her the truth. I was certain hell was where Jud had gone after everything he did to me.

I'm not going to burden her with the
whole
truth.

I'm not sure why I said as much as I did, except that watching the barn go up in flames, I had known, at last, that if any evidence of Jud's last day at the ranch had lingered, it was finally, irrevocably consigned to ashes. I'd felt freer than I had in a long time—from the law, if not from guilt.

I was passing Robin's camper on my second lap when I realized her rental car was missing. I stopped, wondering if I should knock. Someone inside was snoring intermittently, and since Robin rarely does, I knew Kris must be inside sleeping.

But unless someone had stolen their car, my sister was not.

I knew where she had probably gone, although why escaped me. Had she, like me, stared too long at the ceiling of her camper and thought about what we had done today? Had she decided she needed to go back to the ranch to assure herself that the barn and house really were gone, that the rubble, still glowing and billowing smoke, had now, hours later, been reduced to ashes?

Had she needed to go back to consider what I had said and how she should respond tomorrow?

Now I wanted to see those ashes, too. While it made no sense, I realized I had to see them before the debris cooled so it could be carted away to a landfill. Randy had assured me the department would let the fire burn as hot and long as necessary to reduce the barn to cinders. The day had been perfect for the training burn—cool, with no wind. Rain was expected in the morning, and if embers lingered, the rain would help put them to rest. Before that happened I wanted to see for myself how much remained.

A full moon and a cloudless sky would help. I would get the reassurance I needed, find my sister and make certain she was all right.

Wendy's camper, shared with Starla, was located at the outskirts of the campground, and when I'd walked by a few minutes ago, I had heard them talking. They were both hyped up, plus I was pretty sure they were sharing a bottle of wine or something stronger. Rather than try to silently back the rental car out of my parking space without waking Donny, I tapped on their door, and when Wendy answered, I explained what I needed. In a moment I had her keys and a promise that no, she wouldn't tell anybody I'd gone back to the ranch unless I was gone too long.

We settled on two hours. I was just as glad to have a little backup.

Ten minutes later I crossed the cattle guard. I was immediately struck by how barren the landscape seemed in the moonlight. No house hugged the horizon in front of me, and to the west, no barn. Trees remained, and in areas farther away from the building sites, thick underbrush stood ready to take over the land. But the history of generations of Betty's family had been wiped away.

When I bought the property, returning the land to wilderness was my only plan. I had hoped the ground would cleanse itself. Leave any piece of land alone long enough in Florida—a scenario that developers disapprove of—and subtropical vegetation will spring to life, followed quickly by the animals and reptiles who inhabit it. My new plan is so much better, but now, as I thought about it, I decided we should leave acres of green space to encourage native plants and wildlife. All living things should be allowed to flourish on this ranch. New beginnings.

The fire trucks and other heavy equipment had left even more ruts in the sandy soil, so I drove slowly. My headlights swept the road in front and a short distance to each side, but I didn't see Robin's car until I had nearly passed it. I braked and opened my door without bothering to pull over.

Outside the car I searched for Robin herself. She wasn't hard to spot. A flashlight glowed softly in the darkness thirty yards to my left. I saw her standing where she had spent so much time in our years here. At the back of Betty's garden.

I picked my way toward her, watching carefully so I didn't stumble. I had a flashlight, too. We'd each been given one to help us find our way to the bathhouse at night.

I was a few feet away before I spoke. By then I could see she had a shovel in her hand, a small one like seasoned campers use to dig drainage ditches around their tents.

I gestured to the ground where she'd been working. “Planning to take home some old compost?”

She didn't answer. She straightened and waited for me to say more.

“We used to dig for worms after it rained, remember? You'd have more luck tonight if the soil was wet.”

She didn't smile. “I found what I came for.”

I looked beyond her, to the hole she'd dug, but I couldn't see inside. “Am I wrong? Isn't that where the compost pile used to be?”

“CeCe, it's time to tell me what you remember about the day Jud disappeared.”

I recalled the days when conversation had been painfully difficult for her. I would sit on her bed at night, paging through simple books and cajoling her to read to me. I had believed she needed to hear and accept the sound of her own voice. Now I was almost sorry my efforts and those of others had worked so well.

“There's no statute of limitations on murder.” I cleared my throat, and not because smoke still drifted from the direction of the barn and all the animal pens that had surrounded it.

“I know.”

“You don't need to hear things you might be forced to repeat someday.”

“I have to hear them.”

Moonlight puddled on Robin's bare arms and cheeks, and as I considered, she swatted a mosquito. I wondered what other predators lurked in the darkness. From a distance on one of my walks I had seen a snake, possibly a rattler, but more likely a garter snake. There were armadillos, raccoons, coyotes and more. When we lived here we knew better than to wander outside at night.

“We don't have to do this,” I said. “Jud disappeared. That's all anybody ever needs to know. As the locals say he up and left, and nobody cared. The story has stood all these years.”

“It may stand forever, but not between us.”

She wasn't going to back down, and I realized I really didn't want her to. We had talked about purification. Telling the truth about that day had to be a part of it. Robin had realized that before I did. Or maybe I'd realized it, too, and that was why I said what I did while the barn was burning to the ground.

Her words were a command. “Start at the beginning.”

I closed my eyes. “The day Jud disappeared, we were working in the hog pen...”

The weather that May day had been scalding hot, and even though the sun was on its way down, working outdoors was still miserable. Despite that, as soon as I got home from high school I changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. When I was at the ranch I had learned not to dress appropriately for the weather. Jud celebrated shorts and halter tops as excuses to molest me. If I dressed in skimpy clothing, it was clear I was trying to seduce him. Women liked to pretend they didn't want sex, but they always gave clues.

Of course for Jud, everything I did was a clue. My only protection was staying away from him, and that wasn't always possible.

If nothing else, Jud was methodical. When he was able to pin me down he always used condoms. The one outcome he didn't want was a baby, because then what he had done to me would become public knowledge. And no matter how hard he tried to insist that I had seduced him, nobody would look favorably on a foster father impregnating a girl in his care.

I opened my eyes, because I didn't like the images I saw. “Jud's boar had knocked out several of the two-by-sixes at the bottom of his pen. I doubt you remember. Jud used cattle panels, cheaper than hog panels, but they weren't as low to the ground, so he nailed boards along the bottom.”

“He used to torment that boar,” Robin said. “All the animals. He was a sadist.”

“That and more.”

Jud had decided to remove all the rotting boards at the bottom and put in new ones so the next litter of piglets wouldn't escape. The hogs were always penned in the same wide area up against the barn, fenced off from each other with partitions. The boar's area was beside the newly weaned sows, to keep him interested. Jud loved to mate his animals, and the more violent the process, the better he liked it.

There was a smaller area inside the barn where the boar could get out of the sun, and Jud had poked him with the cattle prod enough times to get him inside so he could pen him there with a makeshift gate. The gate was just another section of cattle fencing wired to a wooden post reinforced by a metal one and fastened with a rope looped over another reinforced post on the other side. He had done the same with the sows, herding them into their area. One of the metal posts had rusted, and he had replaced it earlier, tossing the old one in the pen before he moved the hogs.

Robin was waiting for me to continue. I picked up where I had left off.

“I'd removed the partitions in the outside pen and cleared everything out except the old straw. While I did that Jud sawed up new boards. The hogs were upset at being penned into smaller enclosures, more upset than usual. The boar kept throwing himself against the gate that separated him from us. He hated Jud, and Jud had been free with the prod to get him into the barn that day. But I think what upset the boar most was the way Jud had used the prod on the sows.”

“He used that prod whenever he could find an excuse.”

He had used it on me, too, the first time I tried to fight him off in the barn, and he had threatened to continue every time he came after me. That was more detail than I wanted Robin to know, but tears clogged my throat, and I took a few moments to recover.

“Afterward we were going to shovel out the old straw and put in new. I hauled bales to one corner to spread when we finished, and I'd already snipped the twine. I was hopeful Jud would be too tired and hot to try anything with me that day. Plus I had decided if he did, I would warn him I was going to report him. I was going to be free soon, anyway, finished forever with high school and foster care, and you and I had nothing to lose. Even if nobody believed me, they would still be forced to find you a different place to live once they cut me loose. The agency wouldn't risk the possibility I was telling the truth.”

“Did...he... Did you tell him?”

“When we were almost finished he came up behind me as I was reaching for one of the new boards, and he grabbed my breasts. I could feel his erection, and I knew what was coming. I whirled and slapped him. He laughed because violence excited him. I backed away and almost tripped over the metal pole he'd discarded. I told him what I just told you. I told him if he left me alone, you and I would tell the caseworker you had to go somewhere else, but not why. But if he tried anything with me ever again...”

I took a deep breath and looked beyond her, because that was easier. “And that's when he told me that he knew I'd been embezzling money from the ranch, Robin. That the new bank had called about that account I'd opened, some technicality I had overlooked. In response he did some checking. The awful thing? He wasn't upset—he was delighted. Because suddenly he had something new to hold over my head other than you and me wanting to stay together. So he said if I reported him, he would pretend he had just discovered what I did and he would report me to the sheriff.”

“Oh, CeCe...”

“That was nothing. Because next?” I took a deep breath. “Next he said if I just left quietly and left you right where you were, he wouldn't turn me in. I could give back the money, leave you here where he...could keep you happy, and take off. He said he was sure you wouldn't mind, since if you made a fuss he'd report the theft and they would go looking for me. But in the meantime he wanted me ready and willing....”

I realized Robin was crying. I stepped forward and wiped away her tears with my fingertips. “He came after me again. I lost it. I picked up the pole and slammed it against his shoulder. The pole was heavy and unwieldy, but I hit him as hard as I could. He was stunned, probably mostly because I'd dared to fight back after he'd outlined what he thought was a foolproof plan.

“For a moment he didn't move. He reached up and felt his shoulder, and it must have really hurt, or maybe it was broken, because he made an awful sound and started toward me. By then I was in a rage, thinking about what he planned to do. The second time I swung at his head. He couldn't protect himself because he still had his hand clamped over his shoulder. He tried to duck, but I caught the side of his face. He fell to the ground and tried to roll away. I went after him and hit him once more. I was beyond furious. I wanted to kill him, to finally get back at him for everything he had done. He stopped trying to get away and just lay on the ground as still as a stone.”