Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

on that, Fern," I replied softly. She was sitting up in her bed, her books spread over her lap, but I caught sight of one of her romance magazines under her notebook. She lowered her eyes and played with her pencil. "You went to Jimmy and told him I accused you of stealing the money at the front desk," I said.
    "Well, you did," she snapped.
    I swallowed. I wasn't good at overlooking faults, but I had to do it now.
    "I didn't mean to accuse you, Fern. If you thought I did, I'm sorry. Jimmy and I love you very much, and we only want you to be happy here," I told her.
    "You don't love me," she retorted, her eyes fixed on me so intently, I nearly lost my breath. She had Daddy Longchamp's temper, all right. I had seen the fire in those black eyes before, especially after he had had too much to drink, and every time they had made my heart shudder.
    "Of course I do."
    "No, you don't," she accused. "As soon as you found out I wasn't really your sister, you stopped caring about me."
    "That's not true, Fern. I always cared about you, worried about you and missed you a great deal, especially right after we were all separated. I told you, I used to be the one to take care of you most of the time." I smiled. "Do you know you said my name before you said anyone else's? It was practically the first word you uttered."
    "I don't remember," she said, but her face softened some, and her eyes cooled down.
    "You couldn't remember. You were too little, It's true we're not sisters, but we're sisters-in-law. Why don't you think of that?" I asked.
    "Sisters-in-law?" The realization intrigued her.
    "Yes. Since I'm married to your brother, you're my sister-in-law, and I want to think of you always as my sister. I do; I really do."
    "Wives don't always like it when their husbands show their little sister's' a lot of attention," she declared.
    "What? Who told you that?" I asked, half smiling.
    "I read it," she said sternly.
    "Read it? Oh," I said, understanding. "In one of those romance magazines?"
    "That doesn't mean it's not true," she replied.
    "It's not true for me," I told her firmly. "Jimmy has enough love in him for all of us—you, me and Christie—everyone. And besides, I'm not that selfish. I see how happy he is since we found you."
    "He is happy he found me," she asserted, swinging her shoulders. "And he doesn't like it when I'm sad," she added, only the way she turned her face and directed her eyes at me, it felt more like a threat.
    "Well, I don't want you to be sad either, Fern," "Good," she said quickly. "Can I work with the busboys and waiters and bellhops now?" she followed.
    "I think it's more important you worry about your schoolwork than working in the hotel, honey," I told her, and her face darkened again.
    "Jimmy said I could," she whined. "He promised." I shook my head.
    "I just knew you would say no," she spat out in frustration. "I knew it!"
    "All right," I relented. "I'll speak to Robert Garwood. He's our chief bellhop. Maybe he can find errands for you to run for guests, okay? But if you don't do well in school . . ."
    "I will," she pledged.
    "Do you like school here?" I asked.
    "It's all right. Can I start tomorrow? Can I?"
    "Tomorrow. Oh, tomorrow Daddy Longchamp's arriving," I remembered. Once Jimmy had learned when Daddy could make the trip, he had sent him the money for plane fare. "You're going to want to spend all your spare time with him and your new brother."
    She pulled the corners of her mouth up and clenched her teeth.
    "I don't have to spend all my time with them, do I?" she moaned.
    "Don't you want to?" I asked, surprised. "Daddy Longchamp is very excited about seeing you. Aren't you excited about seeing him? After all, he is your real father."
    "He let them take me away and give me to the Osbornes, didn't he?" she flared.
    "We explained all that to you, Fern. I thought you understood."
    Jimmy and I had taken her aside one night and had told her everything, but instead of asking me questions about Daddy she had harped on my life in New York and Christie's birth. Her questions to me in front of Jimmy had begun to be embarrassing, so I had brought the discussion to an end. But she knew enough about her past now to appreciate what Daddy Longchamp's arrival meant.
    "Can I at least work with the bellhops until they come?" she asked.
    "All right," I said, relenting. "As soon as you come home from school, go see Robert Garwood. I'll speak to him tomorrow morning. But everyone's arriving shortly before