"Where's Mamma?" I asked Louella. "Where is she?"
"She couldn't come back," she said. "She ran up to her room."
I shook my head in disbelief. Why wouldn't she want to be here for Eugenia's last moments? My dumbfounded gaze went to Papa, who stood staring down at Eugenia's body. His lips quivered, but he didn't cry. His shoulders lifted and slumped and then he turned and walked away. I looked at Doctor Cory.
"How could this happen so quickly?" I cried. "It's not fair."
"She often ran high fevers," he said. "Often had influenza. This one just snuck up on us. She never had a strong heart and all the illness took its toll." He shook his head. "You better be strong now, Lillian," he said. "Your mother's going to need a strong person to lean on."
Right now, I wasn't worried about Mamma. My heart had been cut too deeply to care about anything or anyone else but my dead sister. I looked at her, shriveled by her disease, diminished and tiny in her big, soft bed and all I could do was think of her laughter, her bright eyes, her excitement whenever I would rush into the room after school to tell her the day's events.
Funny, I thought, because I had never thought it before, but I had needed her almost as much as she had needed me. As I walked from her room through the long, dark corridors to the stairway of the great house, I realized how desperately alone I would be from now on. I had no sister to talk to, to tell my deepest secrets to, no one to confide in and trust. Living through the things I did and felt, Eugenia had become a part of me, and that's how I felt right now—like a part of me had died. My legs carried me up the stairs, but I didn't feel like I was walking. I felt like I was floating along, drifting.
After I reached the landing and turned to go to my room, I lifted my head and saw Emily standing in the shadows of the first corner. She stepped forward, as stiff as a statue, her hands clutching her thick Bible. Her fingers looked chalk white against the dark leather cover.
"She began to die the day you set eyes on her," Emily recited. "The dark shadow of your curse fell over her tiny soul and drowned it in the evil you brought with you to this house."
"No," I cried. "That's not true. I loved Eugenia; I loved her more than you could love anyone," I flared, but she remained steadfast, undaunted.
"Gaze upon the Book," she said. Her eyes were so firmly focused on me, she looked like she had hypnotized herself. She lifted the Bible and held it face out toward me. "Within are the words that will send you back to hell, words which are arrows, darts, knives to your evil soul."
I shook my head.
"Leave me alone. I am not evil. I am not!" I screamed, and ran from her, ran from her accusing eyes and her hateful words, ran from her stone face, her bony hands and stiff body. I ran into my room and slammed my door behind me. Then I fell upon my bed and cried until I was drained of tears.
The shadow of Death crawled over The Meadows and cloaked the house. All the laborers and servants, Henry and Tottie, everyone was subdued and stood or sat with heads bowed in prayer. Everyone who had known Eugenia shed tears. I heard people going from and coming to the house all the rest of the afternoon. Deaths, just like births, always started a flurry of activity on the plantation. Eventually, I got up and went to the window. Even the birds seemed repressed and sad, sitting on the branches of the magnolias and cedars like sentinels watching over some sacred ground.
I stood by the window and watched night come rolling in like a summer storm, drawing the shadows out of every corner. But there were stars, lots of stars, some twinkling brighter than ever.
"They're welcoming Eugenia," I whispered. "It's her goodness that's making them twinkle so much tonight. Take good care of my little sister," I begged the heavens.
Louella came knocking on my door.
"The Captain's . . . the Captain's in his seat at the dinner table," she said. "He's waiting to say a special prayer before the meal."
"Who can eat?" I cried. "How can they think of food at a time like this?" Louella didn't answer. She pressed her hand to her mouth and turned away for a moment, gathered herself and looked at me again. "You better come down, Miss Lillian."
"What about Eugenia?" I asked, my voice so thin I thought it would crack over every word.
"The Captain's had the undertakers come and dress her in her own room where she will lay until the burial. The minister will be here in the morning to conduct a prayer vigil."
Without bothering to wash my tear-streaked face, I followed Louella out and down the stairs to the dining room, where I found Mamma, dressed in black, her face as white as a sheet, her eyes closed, sitting and rocking softly in her chair. Emily was wearing a black dress too, but Papa hadn't changed from his earlier clothes. I sank into my seat.
Papa bowed his head and Mamma and Emily did the same. So did I.
"Lord, we thank you for our blessings and hope you will take our dearly departed daughter into your bosom. Amen," he said quickly, and reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes. My mouth gaped open.
That was all? We had sat there and listened to prayers and Bible readings sometimes for nearly twenty minutes to a half hour before we could eat. And that was all to be said on Eugenia's behalf before Papa reached for the food and we began being served? Who could eat anyway? Mamma took a deep breath and smiled at me.
"She's at rest now, Lillian," she said. "She's finally at peace. No more suffering. Be happy for her."
"Happy? Mamma, I can't be happy," I cried. "I can't ever be happy again!"
"Lillian!" Papa snapped. "There'll be no hysterics at the dinner table. Eugenia suffered and fought and God has decided to take her from her misery and that's that. Now eat your dinner and behave like a Booth, even though—"
"Jed!" Mamma cried.
He looked at her and then at me.
"Just eat in peace," he said.
"You were going to say even though I'm not a Booth, weren't you, Papa? That's what you were going to tell me," I accused, risking his anger.
"So?" Emily said, smirking. "You're not a Booth. He's not telling any lies."
"I don't want to be a Booth if it means forgetting Eugenia so quickly," I declared defiantly.
Papa reached across the table and slapped me across the face so quickly and so hard, I nearly flew out of the chair.
"JED!" Mamma screamed.
"That's enough!" Papa said, rising. At the moment, glaring down at me angrily, he looked twice his size. "You damn well better be happy you're bearing the Booth name. It's a proud, historic name and it's a gift you will always appreciate or I'll send you packing to a school for orphan girls, hear? Hear?" Papa repeated, shaking his finger at me.
"Yes, Papa."1 said it in a flat way, but the pain was still in my eyes and I was sure that was all he saw. "She should say she's sorry," Emily said.
"Yes, you should," Papa agreed.
"I'm sorry, Papa," I said. "But I can't eat. May I be excused? Please, Papa."
"Suit yourself," he said, sitting down.
"Thank you, Papa," I said, and got up quickly. "Lillian," Mamma called as I turned from the table. "You'll be hungry later."
"No, I won't, Mamma."
"Well, I'm just eating a little, just so I won't be hungry," she explained. It was as if the tragedy had turned the clock back years and years and her mind was now that of a little girl's. I couldn't be angry at her.
"All right, Mamma. I'll talk to you later," I said, and hurried away, grateful for the chance to escape.
Outside the dining room, I turned toward Eugenia's room out of habit, but I didn't stop myself. I went to her doorway and looked in. The only light came from a tall candle set behind and above Eugenia's head. I saw the undertakers had dressed her in one of her black dresses. Her hair was brushed down neatly around her face, which was as white as the candle. Her hands were on her stomach and between them, she held a Bible. She did look at peace. Maybe Papa was right; maybe I should be happy she was with God.
"Good night, Eugenia," I whispered. Then I turned and ran up to my room, fleeing
to the welcoming darkness and the relief that came with sleep.
The minister was the first to arrive early the next morning, but as the day wore on, more and more of our neighbors heard about Eugenia's passing and arrived to express their condolences. Emily took her position alongside the minister just inside the door of Eugenia's room. She was beside the minister most of the time, her head bowed with his, her lips moving almost in synchronization with his as he recited prayers and psalms. At one point I even heard her correct him when he slipped on a sentence.
The men retreated as quickly as they could and joined Papa in his den for a whiskey, while the women gathered around Mamma and comforted her in the sitting room. She was sprawled out on her chaise most of the day, her long, black dress draped over the edges, her heart-shaped face pale. Her friends would come by, kiss and hug her, and she would cling to their hands for long moments while they sniffled and sobbed.
Louella was ordered to prepare trays of food and drink and the house servants brought them around to our mourners. At one point in the afternoon, there were so many people present, it reminded me of one of our glorious parties. Voices did begin to rise. Here and there, I heard laughter. By late afternoon, the men were arguing politics and business with Papa as if this were no different from any of his other gatherings. I couldn't help but appreciate Emily who never smiled, barely ate, and never let go of her Bible. She stood her ground, a living reminder of the spiritual and pious reasons for the occasion. Most people couldn't stand looking at her or being around her long. I could see in their faces how she depressed them.
Eugenia was to be buried in the family graveyard on The Meadows, of course. When the undertakers arrived with the coffin, I felt so weak in the knees, I couldn't stand. Just the sight of the dark oak box being carried in made me feel as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I went into my bathroom and vomited every little morsel I had managed to swallow that day.
Mamma was asked if she wanted to go down and gaze upon Eugenia one more time before they closed the coffin lid. She couldn't do it, but I did. I had to find the strength to say my last good-bye to Eugenia. I entered the room slowly, my heart thumping. The minister greeted me at the door.
"Your sister looks beautiful," he said. "They've done a fine job."
I gazed up at his gaunt, bony face in astonishment. How could anyone look beautiful in death? Eugenia wasn't going to a party. She was about to be buried and shut away in darkness forever and ever, and if there was a Heaven for her soul to reside, how her body looked now had nothing to do with what she was to be for eternity.
I turned away from him and approached the coffin. Emily was standing on the other side, her eyes closed, her head tilted slightly up as she pressed her Bible to her bosom. I wished I had come in to Eugenia's room late at night when no one was here. What I wanted to say to her, I didn't want anyone, especially Emily, to hear. I had to say it all silently.
"Good-bye, Eugenia. I'll miss you forever. But whenever I laugh, I know I'll hear you laughing with me. Whenever I cry, I know I'll hear you crying too. I'll fall in love with someone wonderful for both of us and I'll love him twice as hard because you will be with me. Everything I do, I'll do for you, too.
"Good-bye my dear sister, my little sister who never thought of me as anyone else but her sister. Good-bye, Eugenia," I whispered, and leaned over the coffin to place my lips on her cold cheek. When I stepped back, Emily's eyes snapped open like the eyes of a toy doll.
She glared at me, her face suddenly full of terror. It was as if she saw someone or something else, something that frightened her to the bone. Even the minister was taken with her reaction and stepped back, his hand on his heart.
"What is it, Sister?" he asked her.
"Satan!" Emily screamed. "I see Satan!"
"No, Sister," the minister said. "No."
But Emily was firm. She lifted her arm up and straight at me, her finger pointing.
"Get thee back, Satan," she ordered.
The minister turned to me, his face now registering fear, too. I could read his thoughts in his look of terror. If Emily, his most devout follower, the most religious young person he had ever confronted, said she had a vision of Satan before her, it must be so.
I ran from the room and went up to my own room to wait for the funeral to begin. The minutes seemed like hours. Finally, the time came and I went out to accompany Mamma and Papa. Papa had to hold her firmly as they went down the stairs and joined the burial party. Henry had the carriage pulled up front, right behind the hearse. His head was bowed and when he gazed at me, I saw his eyes were filled with tears. Mamma, Papa, Emily, the minister and I got into the carriage. The mourners were lined up behind us all the way down the driveway, under the avenue of dark cedars. I saw the Thompson twins and Niles standing with their parents. Niles's face was full of sympathy and sorrow and when I saw the warmth in his eyes, I wished he could be sitting beside me in the carriage, holding my hand and holding me in his comforting embrace.
It was a perfect funeral day, gray with an overcast sky in which the clouds just seemed to hang mournfully above us. There was a slight breeze. All of our servants and laborers gathered to walk along silently. Just before the procession began, I saw a flock of chimney swallows burst into the sky and turn toward the woods as though they had to flee such a flood of sadness.
Mamma began to cry softly. Papa sat stoically, facing the front, his arms at his sides, his face gray. I held onto Mamma's hand. Emily and the minister sat across from us glued to their Bibles.
Only when I saw Eugenia's coffin being lifted and carried to her grave did I fully understand that my sister—my dearest friend—was gone from me forever. Papa finally embraced Mamma firmly and she was able to lean against him and lower her head to his shoulder as the minister read the final prayers.
When I heard the words, "dust into dust . . ." I began to sob so hard that Louella came forward and put her arm around me. She and I cried together. After it was over, the burial party turned from the grave site and walked away silently. Doctor Cory joined Papa and Mamma at the carriage and whispered some words of comfort to Mamma. She looked nearly unconscious, her head back, her eyes shut. The carriage took us back to the house, where Louella and Tottie helped take Mamma inside and up the stairs to her room.
All the rest of that day, people came and went. I stayed in the sitting room greeting them and accepting their condolences again and again. I could see that whenever they approached Emily, she had a way of making them feel uncomfortable. Funerals were hard for people anyway, and Emily did little to make people feel welcome or put them at ease. They were much more eager to speak with me. They all said the same sort of things, telling me how important it was for me to be strong and help my mother, and how poor Eugenia's suffering had mercifully ended.
Niles was very nice, bringing me something to eat and drink and remaining close by for most of the day. Every time he approached me, Emily glared from across the room, but I didn't care. Finally, Niles and I were able to get away from the mourners and step outside. We strolled around the west side of the house.
"It's not right that someone as nice as Eugenia should die so young," Niles said finally. "I don't care what the minister said at the grave."
"Don't let Emily hear you say that or she will have you condemned to hell," I muttered. Niles laughed. We paused and looked in the direction of the family graveyard. "It's going to be very lonely for me without my little sister," I said. Niles didn't say anything, but I felt him take my hand and squeeze it gently.
The sun was going down. Dark shadows had begun to spread over the fields and out from under the twisted cedars. In the distance the clouds had begun to break up and the blue-black sky could be seen with its promise of stars. Niles put his arm around me. It just seemed right. And then I lowered my head to his shoulder. We stood there silently, looking over the grounds of The Meadows, two young people confused and stunned by the mixture of beauty and tragedy, by the power of life and the power of
death.
"I know you'll miss your sister," Niles said, "but I'll do what I can to keep you from being lonely," he promised. And then he kissed my forehead.
"Thought so," we heard Emily say, and we both spun around to see her standing behind us. "I thought you two would be out here doing this sort of thing, even on this day."
"We're not doing anything wrong, Emily. Leave us alone," I snapped back at her, but she only smiled. She turned toward Niles.
"Fool," she said. "She'll only poison you just as she's poisoned everything and everyone from the day she was born."
"You're the only poison around here," Niles retorted. Emily shook her head.
"You deserve what you get," she spit. "You deserve whatever suffering and hardship she brings you."
"Get away from us!" I ordered. "Get away." I reached down and picked up a stone. "Or I swear, I'll hit you with this. I will," I said, raising my arm.
Emily amazed me by stepping forward defiantly, not an iota of fear in her face.
"Do you think you could harm me? I have a fortress around me. My devotion has built strong walls to keep you from touching me. But you," she said, directing herself at Niles, "you have no such fortress. The fingers of the devil are curling around your very soul as we speak. God have mercy on you," she concluded, and turned to walk away.
I dropped the stone and began to cry. Niles embraced me quickly.
"Don't let her scare you," he said. "She doesn't scare me."
"Oh Niles, what if she's right?" I moaned. "What if I am a curse?"
"Then you're the prettiest and nicest curse I know," he replied, and wiped away my tears before kissing me on the cheek.
I looked into his soft dark eyes and smiled.
Emily couldn't be right; she just couldn't, I thought, but as Niles and I walked back to the house, I couldn't completely drive away the shadow of doubt that lingered in the corner of my mind and made all that had happened-and would happen seem part of some dark destiny decided long before I was born and not to be over until the day I died.
Darkest Hour Page 15
