Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

the other room, I helped her slip into her nightgown. She showed me the things she had packed.
    She had a half dozen pairs of panties, another training bra, socks, a pair of her favorite sneakers, some blouses and skirts. Under the clothing she had some romance magazines, her hairbrush and a tube of lipstick. She confessed she would never put it on in the house, but only after she had left for school. Clayton forbade it.
    When I recalled myself at her age and my own little well-used suitcase, I remembered how important it was for me to be sure to pack my favorite doll. It was a rag doll, so ragged that it had worn thin in the cheeks of the face, showing the cotton filling. Fern had no dolls, no loving mementos. Her suitcase was more expensive than any I would have dreamt of having, and she had more expensive clothing, but she had nothing to remind her of some cherished moment, some loving time. I truly felt sorry for her.
    She joined me in the bathroom to watch me brush out my hair.
    "I'm going to let my hair grow longer now," she said, "down to the middle of my back. Clayton hates long hair."
    "You have to take good care of it when it's long," I pointed out.
    "I will. But you have a beauty shop in the hotel, right? Jimmy said so."
    "Yes, we do."
    "Good. And there's a maid in the house, too, right?" she asked.
    "We all still take care of our own things," I said. "The maid helps out, but she's no one's slave," I warned.
    "Oh, I won't be sloppy, but I want to work at the hotel, too. Just like Jimmy said." Her excitement brought a smile to my face. How different from my arrival it was going to be for her when she first arrived at Cutler's Cove, I thought. She would come right into a house of love, a place where she was wanted.
    "And I just can't wait to meet Christie and see the twins!" she exclaimed.
    I couldn't help myself. I had to ask.
    "Don't you have any regrets, feel any sadness at all about leaving the Osbornes, Fern?"
    "Well . . ."
    Here it comes, I thought. Finally.
    "I'll miss my friends," she said, nodding, "especially Melissa. But," she added, brightening quickly again, "I'll make new ones, won't I?"
    I stared down at her, thinking about each and every time I had been ripped out of one world and carried off to another. Not once did I overcome my sadness by thinking about the new friends I would make or the new places I would see. It was always so tragic and sad to leave people behind. Friendship, real friendship, was not something easily replaced. Each time I left somewhere, I left something of myself behind. I had begun to fear there would be nothing left to take away to a new place. You had just so much love and loyalty in you.
    Apparently Fern had not given much of herself to anyone yet, not even the people she had once thought to be her real parents. Then again, I thought how horrible it must have been for her to grow up being sexually abused by the man she assumed was her father. That was enough to make anyone want to run off.
    I smiled again. Jimmy was right. It was good she was coming home.
    I tucked her into the sofa bed.
    "Do you want me to leave this lamp on, honey?" I asked.
    "No, that's all right. I've slept in a hotel many times before," she replied.
    "Okay. We're close by if you need us. Good night."
    "Good night," she said.
    "How's she doing?" Jimmy asked when I got ready to crawl in beside him.
    "Very well, but I don't know if the full impact of what's happening has hit her yet," I said. Jimmy nodded and then smiled.
    "Isn't it something, Dawn? We're taking care of little Fern again. Momma would be so happy, and Daddy's going to be ecstatic," he said. "I guess if you hope and pray enough, the right and good things can happen. Don't you think so, Dawn?" he asked.
    "I want to think so, Jimmy," I said.
    But I was afraid, still so afraid to be happy. I swallowed my fears the best I could and closed my eyes, still expecting a knock on the door. I even had nightmares about it, but it never came.
    But I knew that didn't mean it never would.

 
    15

ADJUSTMENTS
     
    IT WAS AS IF SLEEP HAD INTERRUPTED FERN IN THE MIDDLE OF A sentence. From the moment she awoke, she talked. The morning after had laid no harsh realities on her head. There were still no regrets, no signs of sadness. On the contrary, Jimmy and I were overwhelmed with her bountiful energy. Before we had risen she had washed and dressed herself. Chattering as happily as a little bird in the morning, she tagged behind me throughout the