Secrets of the Morning

by V. C. Andrews

  "Ready?" Jimmy asked.

  "Yes," I said firmly and got out of the car. We walked up the steps quickly and entered the lobby of the hotel. The moment we did so, I knew something was definitely not right. Except for Mrs. Hill and an assistant behind the reception desk, there was no one in the lobby, not a single person.

  "They must be closed," Jimmy remarked, looking around.

  I started for the desk. Mrs. Hill looked up as soon as she realized someone had entered the lobby. I saw that her face was etched with worry. She shook her head softly as I approached the desk.

  "Oh, you're back from school," she said.

  Of course, I realized after she said "school," Grandmother Cutler would let everyone here believe I was still in New York.

  "Where are all the guests?" I asked.

  "Guests? Oh, you don't know," she said, the corners of her mouth dropping.

  "Know what?"

  "Your grandmother's had a bad stroke. She's at the hospital and we've closed the hotel for the week. Your father's been so distraught, he's been unable to do anything and your mother . . . well, your mother's very upset."

  "A stroke? When did this happen?" I demanded too harshly. She nearly broke into tears. "I mean . . . I didn't know," I said softly.

  "Just yesterday. We had only a small number of guests at the time, since we're not really in season yet. Your father gave everyone who was here a full refund and, of course, kept everyone on salary."

  I looked at Jimmy. He shook his head, not sure what we should do next.

  "Is my father here or at the hospital right now?" I asked.

  "He's in his office. He hasn't come out all morning," she said. "He's taking it all very badly. It's good that you've come home," she added. "Perhaps you can be of some help.

  "Poor Mrs. Cutler," she continued, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "She simply collapsed at her desk in her office. Just like her to be stricken ill while right in the middle of work. Fortunately, your father was looking for her and found her. There was quite a commotion until the ambulance finally arrived and they took her to the hospital. But we're all praying," she added.

  "Thank you," I said and indicated to Jimmy that he should follow me across the lobby to Randolph's office. When we got there, I knocked softly on the door, but we heard no response. I knocked again, much harder.

  "Who is it? Who is it?" a frenzied voice cried. I opened the door and we stepped in.

  Randolph was seated at his desk leaning over a pile of papers. He barely looked up. His hair was disheveled and looked like he had been running his fingers through it for hours and hours. His tie was loose and his shirt unbuttoned and he had a glazed look in his eyes. There wasn't even a note of recognition in his face.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm too busy now. Later, later . . ."

  He turned his attention back to the papers, running a pen down one and then up another as if he were searching desperately for a single item.

  "Randolph, it's me, Dawn," I said. He looked up quickly.

  "Dawn? Oh . . . Dawn." He put his pen down and clasped his hands. "You don't know what's happened . . . my mother . . . she . . . my mother's never been sick," he said, following it with a mad, hysterical laugh. "She never goes to a doctor. I always say . . . Mother, you should get a regular checkup. You have so many friends who are doctors and they're always telling you to come in for a checkup. But she'd never listen to me. Doctors make me sick, she'd always say." He laughed again.

  "Imagine saying that . . . doctors make me sick. But she's been like a rock . . . solid," he said, holding up his fist. "Never missed a day's work . . . not a day, even when my father was alive. I don't even remember her having a cold. I once asked my father and he said, 'Germs wouldn't dare enter her body. They wouldn't have the nerve.' "

  He laughed hysterically again and then looked down at his papers.

  "I'm falling behind . . . with everything . . . bills, orders . . . things she normally took care of, you see. I had to ask the guests to leave and cancel the few who were coming this week. I can't do everything right now . . . not until she's well enough to return."

  "Randolph," I said when he paused long enough for me to interrupt, "do you know where I have been these last months? Do you know where Grandmother Cutler sent me?"

  "Been? Oh yes, you've been in school . . . practicing your singing. How wonderful," he said.

  I looked at Jimmy who stood there with his eyes wide, his mouth open in amazement.

  "She never even told him," I muttered. I turned back to Randolph. "You didn't know I was at The Meadows?"

  "The Meadows? No, I didn't know. At least, I think I didn't. But there's so much on my mind these days, I'm not sure about anything. You must forgive me. There's the hotel, of course, and of course, there's Laura Sue. She's taking all this very badly. A stream of doctors have gone up and down the stairs to her, but none have done anything to help her. And now . . . Mother's . . ." He shook his head. "Not a cold, not even a cold all this time."

  "I must see her," I said. "I must see Grandmother Cutler right away."

  "See her? Oh, she's not here, honey. She's in the hospital."

  "I know that. Why aren't you there?" I asked.

  "I . . . I'm very busy," he said. "Very busy. She understands." He laughed. "If anyone understands, she does. But you can go. Yes, go see her and tell her . . . tell her . . ." He looked at the papers on the desk. "The produce she ordered last week . . . it's gone up ten percent. Yes, my calculations say ten percent. What should I do?" He shrugged.

  "Come on, Jimmy," I said. "He's useless."

  "I'll spend time with you later," Randolph cried when we started for the door. "I'm just a little tied up right now."

  "Thank you," I said and we left him mumbling over his papers.

  "Maybe we should go see your mother first," Jimmy suggested.

  "No, she would be worse. I'm sure she's milking this for everything it's worth," I added bluntly.

  We went back to Mrs. Hill in the lobby and got directions to the hospital. Twenty minutes later we were walking down a corridor to the intensive care unit. A nurse met us at the door.

  "I'm Mrs. Cutler's granddaughter," I explained. "I've been out of town and just heard what happened. I need to see her. How is she?"

  "You know she's had a severe stroke," the nurse replied dryly.

  "Yes."

  "It's left her right side completely paralyzed and her speech is slurred. She can hardly make any sounds at all."

  "Please, can I see her?" I begged.

  "You're limited to five minutes, I'm afraid." She looked at Jimmy.

  "This is my fiancé," I said. "She's never met him."

  The nurse nodded and almost smiled. Then she stepped back to indicate what cubicle Grandmother Cutler was in. It was a room with glass walls. We could see her lying there with an I.V. in her arm and the screen of her heart monitor revealing the beating of her heart. I thanked the nurse and we walked to the cubicle.

  Seeing her in the hospital bed with the white sheets pulled up to her neck, Grandmother Cutler looked far less formidable and terrifying. She looked her true size; in fact, she looked shrunken, diminutive, pale and old, a shadow of what she once was. Her steel-blue hair lay stiffly around her waxen face. She had her eyes shut tight. The only other part of her that was visible was her left arm in which the I.V. needle had been placed. Her hand was clenched, the long, crooked fingers twisted over each other. I saw the thin blue veins in her wrist and forearm beneath her parchment-like skin.

  I might have been overcome with pity, even for her, if it weren't for a quick image of my baby wrapped in its blanket and in my arms. Grandmother's Cutler's face and head didn't look much bigger than an infant's face and head right now and that resemblance quickly reminded me of my purpose and need. She knew where my baby had been taken. I had to find out.

  I stepped up to the bed. Jimmy remained in the doorway.

  "Grandmother Cutler," I said sharply. Her eyelids fluttered but didn't
open. "Grandmother Cutler, it's me . . . Dawn. Open your eyes," I commanded.

  The eyelids fluttered again. It was as if she were trying to resist opening them, but finally, they did so and she gazed up at me, her face expressionless, but the right corner of her mouth was twitching. Her eyes had not lost their icy glint.

  "Where did you have my baby taken? You must tell me," I said. "Your sister was terrible to me. She tormented and punished me for months and months. I'll bet you knew she'd do that to me. She even tried to cause a miscarriage, but my baby was born healthy and beautiful. Nothing you did was able to prevent that. My Christie is beautiful and you had no right to give her away, to arrange for someone to take her from me. Where is she?" I demanded. "You must tell me!"

  Her mouth began to twitch faster and her lips trembled.

  "I know you're seriously ill, but this is the time to do something right and good." My voice softened. "I'm begging you, please . . . tell me."

  Her mouth opened and closed without producing a sound, but I saw her tongue lift inside.

  "You did this terrible thing once before, Grand-mother Cutler. Please, don't do it again. Don't let my baby grow up believing one set of parents are her real parents when they're not. I need my baby with me. She needs me. She belongs with me. Only I can give her the love she deserves and help make her life good and happy. You must tell me where she is!"

  She struggled harder to speak, her head now moving from side to side. Her heart monitor began to fluctuate and the beat became more rapid.

  "Please," I begged. "Please."

  She closed and opened her mouth again, this time producing sounds. I knelt closer to understand and brought my ear to her lips. It was mostly gurgling in her throat, but I began to make out some words.

  She uttered them and then closed her eyes and turned away. The heart monitor began a high-pitched, monotonous ring.

  "Why?" I cried. "Why?"

  "What's going on here?" the nurse demanded, coming to the door of the cubicle. She rushed to the bed. She seized Grandmother Cutler's wrist and held it. Then she pressed a button and rushed to the door to stick her head out and call to another nurse who was standing at the desk. "Code Blue," she cried.

  "Step outside!" she ordered me and Jimmy.

  "Maybe she'll wake up in a moment," I pleaded.

  "No. You'll have to leave," the nurse insisted.

  I gazed down at Grandmother Cutler. Her face looked like a shrunken prune. Frustrated, I turned away and walked out of the intensive care unit with Jimmy right behind me as the intensive care unit went into action.

  "What happened?" he demanded as soon as we stepped into the corridor. "What did she say to you?"

  "It was hard to understand," I said, sitting on the bench in the hall.

  "What?" He sat down beside me.

  "All she would say was 'You're my curse.' "

  "You? Her curse?" He shook his head. "I don't understand."

  "I don't either," I said and started to cry.

  Jimmy put his arm around me and held me.

  "She's going to die and take the information with her, Jimmy," I wailed, wiping at my tears. "She's that hateful and I don't know why. What are we going to do?"

  A doctor came rushing down the hall and into the intensive care unit. Ten minutes later he emerged slowly, the intensive care nurse beside him. She saw us sitting on the bench and shook her head.

  "I'm sorry," she said.

  "Oh Jimmy," I cried and buried my face in my hands. My tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks and soon I couldn't see. The world before me was a watery blur. I wasn't crying for Grandmother Cutler—I wouldn't cry for her. I was crying for my baby who might very well now be lost to me forever.

  Jimmy helped me to my feet and we walked out of the hospital, me moving like someone in a daze.

  By the time we had arrived at the hotel again, everyone knew. Mrs. Hill and her assistant were sobbing softly behind the reception desk. Some grounds people were clustered in a group on the porch speaking softly and shaking their heads. I recognized some of the dining room staff off in a corner of the lobby and they recognized me and nodded. The hotel was already draped in a funeral air.

  "I'd better go up to see my mother," I told Jimmy. "Maybe she knows what happened with my baby."

  "Okay. I'll wait in the lobby," he said.

  I started through the corridor which led to the old section of the hotel where the family lived. When I reached the living room, I heard sobbing and looked in to see Mrs. Boston, the black chambermaid who had been in charge of looking after the family's needs for years and years. She was seated on the couch and glanced up when I peered in.

  "Oh, Dawn," she said, her eyes filled with tears. "You've returned from school too late. Have you heard the terrible news?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "What will become of all of us now?" she asked, shaking her head. "Poor Mr. Randolph. He's about as lost as a soul can be."

  "How is my mother?" I asked.

  "Your mother? Oh, I haven't been upstairs since Mr. Randolph came down. He went up to tell her not a half hour ago and then he came down, walking like a man who had been struck in the head dumb. He just looked at me and we both started to cry. Then he went of someplace and I sat in here."

  "I'll go up to see her then," I said and climbed the stairs, stopping to gaze first in the direction of where my room had been, where I had been kept like some poor relative, away from the family, alone. Why was it, I wondered, that the people who worked here, people like Mrs. Hill and Mrs. Boston, as well as Nussbaum, the chef, held Grandmother Cutler in such high regard? Couldn't they see how bitter and cruel she really was? Being efficient and successful was one thing, but what about being a compassionate human being?

  The outside door to my mother's suite was closed. I opened it slowly and entered the sitting room. It looked as untouched and unused as ever, the only change I noticed being that there was no music sheet opened on the spinet and the keyboard had been closed. The door to my mother's bedroom was partially open. I approached it slowly and knocked.

  "Yes?" I heard her say. I pushed the door open farther and entered.

  I had been expecting to find her lost in her king size bed as usual, her head sunk within two jumbo fluffy pillows. But instead, she was seated at her vanity table brushing out her long blond hair so that it rested softly over her shoulders and down her neck. It shone as brightly and richly as always. She turned her graceful neck and focused her innocent blue eyes on me. Never did she look so beautiful, I thought. Her complexion was plush peaches and cream and she looked positively radiant and happy.

  She was dressed in one of her pink silk nightgowns, but as always, in bed or not, she wore a pair of diamond earrings and wore her heart-shaped locket between her breasts. Her eyes brightened with surprise and a small smile formed on her lips.

  "Dawn," she cried. "I didn't know you were coming here today. I'm sure Randolph didn't know either, or he would have mentioned it."

  "I thought you were very, very, very sick again, Mother," I commented dryly as I crossed over to her.

  "Oh, I was, Dawn. Dreadfully sick this time. It was some . . . horrible new allergy, but thankfully, it's grown tired of tormenting me and has left my frail body," she said, sighing with relief and shaking out her luxurious blond tresses.

  "You don't look very frail to me, Mother," I said sharply. Her eyes narrowed and her smile evaporated.

  "You never did have any sympathy for me, Dawn. I suppose you never will, despite the terrible ordeals I have gone through," she complained.

  "Ordeals you have gone through? What about me? Do you know where I've been these past months, Mother? Do you? Did you once inquire after me to see if I were still alive or dead?" I demanded. "Well?"

  "You made your own bed to lie in, Dawn," she admonished. "Don't start looking for other people to blame, especially me. I won't stand for it. Not now, not anymore," she said and pulled herself into a stiffer posture. "You haven't heard, I suppo
se, but Grand-mother Cutler has unfortunately just passed away."

  "I know, Mother. Jimmy and I have just come from the hospital. We were there when she died," I said.

  "You were?" She looked astonished. "Jimmy, you say?" She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "You mean that boy . . ."

  "Yes Mother, that boy. Thankfully, he arrived in time to rescue me from Grandmother Cutler's horrid sister Emily and that dreadful place."

  "Emily," she said, smirking. "I met her only once. She never liked me and I certainly never liked her. She was a horrid woman," she agreed.

  "Then how could you permit Grandmother Cutler to send me there?" I demanded, "especially, if you knew what Miss Emily was like?"

  "Really, Dawn, we didn't have all that much choice," she said with exasperation, "considering how you behaved." She sat back and looked me over for the first time. "Apparently, your problem is over and you don't look all that terrible for it. It is good to see you've gotten your figure back."

  "My problem is over? Mother, you don't know what torture I endured, how she treated me and worked me and tried to cause a miscarriage. She's a horrible, horrible person," I cried. My mother didn't even wince. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror again.

  "Well, all that is behind you now, Dawn. It's over and done with. Grandmother Cutler is gone too, so you can return to the hotel and . . ."

  "But Mother, you didn't even inquire about my baby. Don't you care?"

  "What's there to care about, Dawn?" She turned and looked at me again. "Really, what do you want me to ask?"

  "For starters, you could ask if my baby lived, if it were a boy or a girl, and most importantly, where it is! Unless," I added, hopefully, "you know."

  "I don't know anything about any baby except that you were sent to The Meadows to have it secretly so it would bring no scandal to the Cutlers. I couldn't very well argue against that. You should have been more careful. Now, as I said, it's over. . . ."

  "It's not over, Mother! My baby is alive and I want to know where she is!"

  "Stop that shouting. I will not tolerate anyone ever shouting at me again. Now that the queen is gone, I will be no one's whipping boy," she snapped back. Then, she smiled. "Be sensible, Dawn. You can be happy now, just like me. You will take your place in the family and . . ."