Twilight's Child (Cutler 3)

"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.