"From what you told me," he said, "Mr. Osborne has already been in contact with his own attorney about you two. He and his wife do have rights they can expect will be protected. There will be legal maneuvers, court action."
"What happens to my husband's sister during all this?" I asked.
"The child welfare agency will keep her in one of their homes until the matter is resolved. I can tell you from observing similar cases from time to time that it is an ugly mess for everyone concerned, especially the child. Most likely she will have to testify in detail in an open court. Make sure she understands that, and be absolutely certain she's telling the truth.
"Kids say the most incredible things when they're unhappy with a punishment or frustrated by a parent's refusal to permit them to do something, things they don't really mean," he continued.
"Oh, she means it," I assured him. "She's very, very disturbed by it. If you took one look at her . . . but I just hate putting her through any more. She's suffered enough, and for years and years, it seems."
"Hmmm," he said. "Well, sometimes these things can be resolved quickly if the events are as the child describes. The parent who has abused her might not want to see this dragged out in open court. You might investigate that avenue first."
While I held on Mr. Simington looked up the appropriate government agency numbers for me and Jimmy to call.
"Call me at my office tomorrow if you need anything further," he said. I thanked him and cradled the receiver. Then I explained everything to Jimmy just the way Mr. Simington had explained it to me.
After washing her face and drinking a glass of water Fern sat down on the sofa again and thumbed through some of my fashion magazines while Jimmy and I conferred. I thought she looked amazingly relaxed for a little girl who had gone through so much. I whispered so to Jimmy.
"You know how kids are," Jimmy whispered back. "Just think about us when we were her age, what we went through and how we were able to bear it. Kids are made of rubber; you can stretch and twist them all sorts of ways, and they don't break."
"On the outside, Jimmy. On the inside they tear to pieces," I said.
"I know. That's why I want this ended tonight, not tomorrow, and certainly not after months and months of legal maneuvering in New York courts."
"What are we going to do?" I asked.
He thought for a moment. Then he turned to Fern. She looked up from the magazine when he went over to the sofa and sat down beside her.
"Do you think," he began softly, "that you can go back with us and confront Clayton just one more time?"
"What do you mean?" she asked. She looked from him to me and back to him. "Why?"
"Tell him to his face what you told us," Jimmy explained. She bit down on her lower lip and dropped her eyes back to the magazine.
"You're going to have to do it eventually, dear," I told her. "Why can't we just leave New York and go live in your hotel?" she cried.
"I told you," I said softly. "They are your legal parents."
"But Jimmy's my real brother! And you're his wife!" she exclaimed.
"That doesn't mean we have a legal right to take you away with us, Kelly," I said.
"I don't want to be called Kelly anymore. I want to be called by my real name: Fern. Fern!" she emphasized, her eyes burning with determination and anger.
Jimmy turned toward me, his face lit with satisfaction.
"And I want to go home with you. I want to be with my family, my real family, and not with them. I hate them," she repeated, pounding her knees with her fists. "I hate him for what he did to me."
"That's why we've got to go over there and tell him what we know and make him understand he has to let you go home with us or . . . or he'll go to jail," Jimmy said. "You don't have to be afraid," he emphasized, taking her hand into his. "I'll be right beside you, and if he should so much as threaten you—"
"And he can't make me stay there?"
"No, not after what you've told us," Jimmy said. "That's for sure."
Fern shifted her gaze to me to see if I agreed with what Jimmy was telling her.
"Okay," she said. "As long as I can leave with you right away."
"Good," Jimmy said, clapping his hands over his knees. "Jimmy." My heart began to pound in anticipation. "What?"
"We can't guarantee that she can come home with us right away," I said.
"Sure we can," he said, waving me off. "Don't worry, Fern," he said, running his hand over her hair, "you're going to be safe from now on. No one's going to do sick things like that to you again as long as I'm around."
Fern's face broke into a wide smile, and she threw her arms around his neck.
"Oh, Jimmy," she cried, "I'm so happy, so happy you finally found me."
Jimmy beamed. He gazed at me over her shoulder, his eyes so full of happiness and pride, I couldn't resist smiling back at him. Only deep down inside, I had a feeling there was more to this . . . much, much more, and only time would tell if we were doing the right thing.
"Let's go," Jimmy said, standing and pulling Fern to her feet along with him. "Let's finish this off."
"How did you get to the hotel?" I asked Fern as the doorman hailed us a cab.
"I snuck out of the house and walked to the corner and waved and waved until I got a cab," she said. "I've done it before, by myself and with Melissa," she said proudly. "I have my own money. I took it all with me when I left," she added, and she opened her little pocketbook to show me. There was a pile of bills all crunched up inside.
"That looks like a lot of money, Fern. How much is in there?"
"More than five hundred dollars."
"Five hundred dollars? How did you get so much?" I asked.
"I saved it up from my allowance," she said quickly. "I just knew I would need it someday."
"Clayton must have given you a big allowance," I remarked.
"Oh, no. I saved it over a long, long time. Sometimes he punishes me and doesn't give me any allowance for weeks and weeks and weeks. He says I don't deserve it. He tells me I should be paying him instead, for keeping me . . . for putting up with me," she added.
"Putting up with you, huh? That son of a—"
"Jimmy," I cried, swinging my eyes toward Fern. "Please. Watch your language."
"Oh, right."
We all got into the cab, and Jimmy gave the driver the Osbornes' address. Fern sat between us. I thought she would become more and more frightened as we drew closer and closer to Clayton and Leslie's townhouse, but she was filled with questions about Cutler's Cove and about Christie and the other members of what might soon be her new family.
What a remarkable young girl to have such courage, I thought.
When we got out of the cab I grasped Jimmy's arm.
"You have to promise me you won't lose your temper and do something foolish, Jimmy. It would only make things worse," I warned.
"Don't worry," Jimmy assured me. "I can handle his sort." He locked his eyes tightly on the door. "Ready, Fern?" he asked, taking her hand. She looked up at him and nodded. "Remember," he said, "tell the truth and don't be afraid."
"Okay." She nodded and started forward, but to me she finally looked terrified.
"It will be all right, honey," I said, coming up beside her. I put my hand on her shoulder. Together the three of us climbed the stairs. Jimmy pushed the button for the doorbell, and just as before, Snoogles began to yap. The look of surprise on Clayton Osborne's face when he opened the door turned hesitantly to a look of anger when he saw Fern standing between us.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "Kelly Ann, where have you been? How dare you leave this house without permission?" He reached forward to seize her by the shoulder, but Jimmy grabbed his wrist in midair.
"Hold on," Jimmy snapped. "We have some things to discuss and Fern," he said, pronouncing the name sharply, "has to be present."
Clayton pulled his wrist out of Jimmy's hand.
"So you've gone and broken your agreement," he said, rubbing h
is wrist. "I should have known. Well, you can both just turn around and get out of here before I call the police."
"Actually, that's what we want you to do," Jimmy said. "If you don't, we will."
"What?" He scowled darkly.
"Clayton, what's wrong?" Leslie said, coming up behind him. "Kelly? What are you—"
"She sneaked out of the house and went to them," Clayton explained quickly. "Obviously they have told her who they are."
"Oh, no." Leslie grimaced. "Kelly, dear, you must not be upset. There are many children who have been adopted, and that doesn't mean their parents love them less."
"She's upset, all right," Jimmy said. "And it's not just because she's found out she was adopted." He turned and glared daggers at Clayton. "I think we had better discuss what's really upset her," he fired, his words forcing Clayton to retreat a step.
"Now see here," Clayton began. "If you think you can come here and threaten us with—"
"Let them come in, Clayton," Leslie said. "It's stupid to argue on the doorstep, and Kelly should be getting ready for bed. Did she have anything to eat?" she asked me.
"Food isn't our concern right now, Mrs. Osborne," I said, standing as firmly as a rooted tree.
"Oh, I see. Clayton, let's bring everyone inside. Please. There's no reason we can't behave in a civilized manner and settle any questions."
Reluctantly, Clayton backed away, and we all entered. "Do you want to sit down?" Leslie asked when we entered the living room.
"I think we'll stand," I said. Clayton, as if to show his defiance, strolled past us and sat down. He glared at us and especially sent looks of fury toward Fern. She held on to Jimmy's hand as if for dear life and kept her body snugly against me.
"All right," Clayton said, his hands palms down on his legs, "what's this all about?"
"This is about the abuse of my sister," Jimmy said firmly.
"Abuse?" Clayton's lips moved into a grotesque mockery of a smile, the kind of cold smile that sent shivers down my spine. "No question we've abused her, especially if you call spending hundreds of dollars on piano lessons for her, only to find out she never practiced, abuse. Especially if you call spending hundreds of dollars on tutors to get her to do at least what is basic, only to discover she doesn't do her homework, abuse. Abuse?" he snapped, his eyes widening maddeningly. "Yes, especially if you consider how many expensive summer camps she's attended and politely been asked to leave. Especially if you go up and look at the closets and closets full of expensive clothing, some of which she has never worn. Go look at the mountains of records, the cartons of dolls, the stereo, the radio . . . go on, go look at all the abuse!"
Silence draped the room for a moment. Even Leslie looked astounded by Clayton's emotional outburst. He sucked in his breath and looked away, his face scarlet.
"We're not talking about those sort of things," Jimmy said calmly. "We know you've provided well for her."
"Then what the hell are you talking about?" Clayton shouted.
"We're talking about the sexual abuse," Jimmy pronounced, undaunted. For a moment it was as if thunder had clapped at the ceiling of the room. My ears rang with the deadly aftermath of Jimmy's accusation. Clayton Osborne's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. Leslie gasped and brought her hands to the base of her throat.
"What? What did you say?" Clayton finally asked.
"You heard me, and Fern is here to tell you to your face what she told us."
Clayton looked at Fern. I watched her reaction. She stood her ground, her eyes fixed, unblinking.
"What did you tell these people, Kelly?" Clayton demanded.
"I told them what you do to me in the bathtub," she said without hesitation.
"Bathtub?"
"Oh, my God," Leslie gasped. "Kelly, what are you saying? What bathtub? When?"
"She's saying that your husband does and has for years sexually abused my sister when she takes a bath."
"That's not true; that can't be true. Why would you say such a terrible thing, Kelly?" Leslie asked. She stepped toward her, but Fern didn't flinch.
"I said it because it's true," Fern replied. She turned toward Clayton and narrowed her eyes. Confusion knitted his eyebrows together. Then he shook his head.
"I don't believe this," he said. "Did you two put her up to this?" he asked, raising his gaze toward Jimmy and me.
"Of course not," I said quickly. "She came to us, and only after a lot of persuasion did I get her to tell us what was really bothering her. She was quite hysterical and quite terrified. You obviously didn't know," I continued, turning my attention to Leslie, "that she has known the truth of her birth for some time now—years, in fact."
"Known?" Leslie shook her head and looked at Fern. "How?"
"She found her birth certificate and the adoption papers one day," I said. Fern looked more frightened by my revelation of her discovery than she did about accusing her adoptive father of sexual abuse. "But she was afraid your husband would punish her for looking at his private papers, so she never said a word."
"Is this true, Kelly?" Leslie asked softly.
"My name's not Kelly. It's Fern," Fern said defiantly. For the first time tears formed in Leslie Osborne's eyes. She pressed her hand over her mouth and shook her head.
Clayton Osborne stood up slowly and started toward Fern and us, his gaze focused only on her. He had his shoulders hoisted and looked like a buzzard about to pounce.
"So you found your name is really Fern and you're not our flesh and blood, huh? You like that? You like being Fern Longchamp and not Kelly Ann Osborne? You like having parents who were kidnappers?"
Fern looked up at us with surprise.
"It's not true," I said softly.
"It's true; it's true," Clayton said. "And after they showed up, you sneaked out of here to go to them and tell them this ridiculous fabrication in order to get their sympathy. You want to live with them and leave us? Is that what you want?"
"Yes," Fern answered quickly. "I do."
Clayton nodded, his eyes burning with exasperation and fury.
"All right, then. Go. Go live with them and see how you like it."
"Noooo," Leslie cried.
"Yes," Clayton responded. "Let her go." He turned back to Fern, glaring down at her. "Maybe then you will realize what you have here and finally appreciate it, only I might not take you back," he said. "Not after you've created this horrible lie about me.
"This is what comes of your hanging around with those older kids," he said, nodding. "They put these ideas into your head. You're right: You're not our daughter anymore."
"Clayton!" Leslie screamed. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I don't want her in this house, not until she apologizes to me for telling these lies," he said. He turned to Jimmy. "Take her out of here. Take whatever things of hers she needs and take her with you. Only when you realize how wrong you are and how mean she can be, don't come crawling back to me for help. You spend the money on psychiatrists and special teachers. Yes," he said, liking his idea. "She's your sister. Suffer with her. I'm going to my office," he said to Leslie. "Make sure they're all out of here within the hour," he added, and he stormed away.
"Clayton!" she called. His footsteps echoed. "Kelly," she said, turning back to Fern. "Go apologize to your father this very moment."
"I'm not apologizing," Fern said defiantly.
"But you know he would never do such things to you," she said, smiling through her tears. "You know that."
"He did! He did, and I don't care if he's mad anymore! He did do those things! Do you want me to show you where he touched me?" she screamed back at the woman who had tried to be her mother.
Leslie clapped her hands over her ears and shook her head.
"Just go upstairs and pack a few things, honey," I said softly. "You don't need much. We'll buy you whatever you need later."
"Okay," she sang, and she shot off toward the stairway. Leslie Osborne shook her head and backed herself against the so
fa. She sat down hard and began to cry.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Osborne," I said, going to her. "But if Fern has been and continues to be abused—"
"She's hasn't. Clayton's not that sort. He's firm with her, and he's worried about her, but he would never do anything to hurt her," she said.
"Maybe you just never knew," Jimmy said.
"I would know something like that," she replied. Jimmy shook his head.
"Not if you bury yourself in your art studio and even forget to make dinner or celebrate her birthday," he said.
"What? I never . . . Did she say that, too?" She looked toward the doorway and shook her head.
"My sister belongs with us," Jimmy said. "It's time she came back to her real family."
Leslie snapped her head around and stared at him. Her tears looked frozen in her eyes.
"We are her real family. We made a good home for her here," she said slowly. "We gave her everything she could ever want or need."
"Except real love," Jimmy replied. He was unmerciful. Even I winced for Leslie Osborne. She sat there dumbly, the tears streaming down her face.
Moments later we heard Fern bouncing down the stairs.
"I'm ready," she announced, a small suitcase in hand. To me it seemed as if she had already had it packed and waiting. She had returned that quickly.
Jimmy smiled.
"Then let's go."
They started away.
"Fern," I said.
"What?"
"Don't you want to say good-bye to Leslie, at least?" She looked back at the woman who had been her mother. A tiny smile formed at Fern's lips.
"Sure. Good-bye, Leslie," she said, and then she turned and rushed forward to open the door.
Leslie Osborne shook her head hard to deny what she was seeing and hearing.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Osborne," I said. "I really am, but this might be the best for everyone concerned."
She sobbed silently but didn't respond.
"Dawn," Jimmy called from the doorway.
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