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"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.
