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"Good," she said, and she looked down at her books.
Good? I thought, staring down at her. How different it would have been for me if I had been told Daddy Longchamp was coming after I had been here a while. How I had yearned to see him, to hear his voice, to throw my arms around him and cling to him. They would have had to pry us apart when he left.
"Can I come in, too?" Christie asked. She stood in the doorway, one of her bigger dolls in her arms.
"Fern's doing her homework now, sweetheart," I said.
"She can come in," Fern allowed, "if she's quiet. You can sit right there and wait," Fern said, pointing to the chair by the small vanity table.
Christie smiled and hurried obediently to it before I could interfere. She sat down with her doll in her lap and folded her hands to show she would behave and be patient.
When I looked at Fern again she wore an expression of great self-satisfaction. Frustrated fury stirred around inside my stomach. Heat rose from my neck to my face. Quickly, so as not to let her see how she had disturbed me, I turned and left Fern's room.
Jimmy was waiting for a report downstairs. I told him how careless Fern was treating Daddy's arrival, but Jimmy didn't appear upset about that.
"I can understand why," he said. "It was only a short while ago that she learned she had another father. In her mind he's still a stranger."
"But Jimmy, shouldn't she be more curious and excited?" I asked.
He shook his head.
"Not that child, no," he said. "She's been hurt too much by people who supposedly loved and cared for her. She's cautious now. That's why I want us to work so hard at winning her love; it's the only way."
"It's a way of spoiling her, too, Jimmy," I insisted.
"Dawn, how can you even think that, considering what she's been through? Can you imagine what it must have been like for her every night, going to sleep after her father had done those things to her? Why, every time he approached her she would cringe inside," he said, grimacing. "He wouldn't kiss her good night without first fondling her under the blanket."
"How do you know all this, Jimmy?" I asked, aghast.
"She's been telling me more and more," he said, "now that she's learned to trust me, and now that she's convinced I care."
"She never wants to talk to me about it," I said. "The moment I bring up anything that even relates in a small way, she pleads not to discuss it."
"Dawn," he said, lowering his newspaper, "she thinks you don't like her. She thinks you resent her."
"But why?" I asked, arms out. "I took her shopping for the things she needed, bought her everything she wanted, got her set up in school, arranged for her to do what she wanted in the hotel—"
"It is just part of her mental and emotional condition, and this thing with the missing money only aggravated it. That's why I was so insistent you apologize to her. She's like a little bird who was kept tightly squeezed in a fist so it couldn't use its wings. Now every time someone comes near her and tries to show affection, she's wary. That's probably another reason why she's not showing a great deal of excitement over Daddy's arrival," Jimmy said. "Don't you think I'm right?" he asked. I could see he was waiting anxiously for my agreement.
"I suppose so," I finally said. He smiled.
"Daddy's coming tomorrow. Just think of that," he declared.
I thought about it all night. I lay in bed thinking about it. The last time I had seen Daddy Longchamp was in a police station. They were taking me out to bring me back to Cutler's Cove. The police had told me Daddy had kidnapped me; they had said he confessed to doing it. I couldn't believe what was happening. I didn't know where Jimmy was or where they had taken Fern, and I was terrified of being brought hundreds of miles to a family I had never known. Surely Daddy would do something to stop it, I thought. I was hoping that right up to the moment they were taking me out to the car, and then a door opened and I saw him sitting in a chair, his head down to his chest.
"Daddy!" I had screamed, and I ran toward the opened door. Daddy lifted his head and gazed out at me, his eyes vacant. It was as though he were hypnotized and didn't see me standing there. "Daddy, tell them this isn't true! Tell them it's all been a horrible mistake," I had pleaded. He began to speak and then shook his head and looked down in defeat instead.
I remember I kept screaming when I felt someone's hands on my shoulders trying to pull me away. I couldn't imagine why Daddy wasn't doing anything, why he didn't show his power and strength. They pulled me back out the door, and Daddy finally looked up and said, "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so sorry."
For a long time I had to live with that. Then I discovered the truth: how he and Momma had done what they had believed was the right thing in taking me, and how Grandmother Cutler had connived and manipulated everyone.
But that nightmare had ended, a
nd tomorrow I would see Daddy Longchamp again. I was so excited about it, I tossed and turned most of the night. The next day, from the moment I awoke, I kept myself as busy as a drone so I wouldn't dwell on Daddy's arrival. Every time I stopped and thought about it the sleeping butterflies in my stomach woke and flapped their paper-thin wings around my heart.
Late in the morning I saw Robert Garwood and told him about Fern. He didn't seem very happy about the idea.
"She's already been hanging around the busboys and waiters and some of my bellhops, Mrs. Longchamp. It's none of my business, but . . ."
