Cutler 1 - Dawn

by V. C. Andrews

  "One of the guys came into the hotel looking for me," Philip explained. "They said someone from Emerson Peabody wanted to see me outside. I couldn't imagine . . . anyway, there he was."

  "I thought I should get a hold of Philip and have him find you. I didn't want to take any chances. I'm not going back," he declared firmly, pulling back his shoulders.

  "I told him he could stay here in the hideaway for a few days," Philip said. "We'll get him some food, warm clothing, and some money."

  "But, Jimmy, won't they just come after you?"

  "I don't care if they do, but they probably won't. No one really cares," he said, his eyes small and determined and full of anger. "I didn't know when you and I would ever see each other again, Dawn. I had to come," he said.

  Our gazes locked warmly on each other's, and in that gaze I saw all our happier times together, saw his smile, and something inside me became warm. Suddenly I felt safer here at Cutler's Cove.

  "I'm going back to the hotel and sneak into the kitchen to get him something to eat," Philip said. "I'll also get him some dry clothes and a towel. We've just got to be careful that no one discovers him," Philip emphasized. He turned to Jimmy. "My grandmother would blow her stack. Don't go out without checking carefully to see that no one's around, okay?"

  Jimmy nodded.

  "Give me about fifteen minutes to get the food and the clothing," he said and hurried out.

  "You'd better start taking off those wet clothes, Jimmy," I advised. It was as if we had never been apart and I was still looking after him.

  He nodded and pulled off his shirt. His wet skin gleamed under the light. Even in the short time we had been apart, he looked changed—he was older, bigger, with broader shoulders and thicker arms. I took his shirt and draped it over a chair as he sat down to take off his soaked sneakers and socks.

  "Tell me what happened to you after we were taken to the police station, Jimmy. Do you know anything about Fern?" I added quickly.

  "No, I never saw her after we were brought to the station. They took me to what they called a holding house where there were other kids waiting to be assigned to foster homes. Some were older, but most were younger than me. We slept on bunk beds not much bigger or nicer than this one," he said, "and we were crowded four in a room. One little boy kept whimpering all night. The others continually shouted at him to shut up, but he was too frightened. I got into a fight with them because they wouldn't stop terrorizing the kid."

  "Why doesn't that surprise me?" I said, smiling.

  "Well, it made them feel big to bully him," he said angrily. "Anyway, one thing led to another, and I was put in the basement of the house to sleep. It had a dirt floor and lots of bugs and even rats!

  "A day later I was told they had already found a home for me. I think they were determined to get rid of me first. The others were jealous, but that was only because they didn't know where I was going.

  "I went home with this chicken farmer, Leo Coons. He was a stout, grouchy man with a face like a bulldog, and he had a scar across his forehead. It looked like someone had hit him with an ax. His wife was half his size, and he treated her like another kid. They had two daughters. It was his wife who encouraged me to run away. Her name was Beryle, and I couldn't believe she was only in her thirties. She had gray hair and looked as worn down as an old pencil. Nothing she did made Coons happy. The house was never clean enough; the food never tasted right. Complain, complain, complain was all he did.

  "I had a nice room, but he had come to the holding house to get a foster kid my age to make into a slave. First thing he did was show me how to candle eggs and had me up before dawn working alongside his two daughters, both older than me, but both as skinny as scarecrows and both with big, sad dark eyes that reminded me of frightened puppy dogs.

  "Coons moved me from one job to the next—shoveling chicken manure, lugging feed. We worked before the sun rose until an hour or so after it went down.

  "At first I didn't care what happened to me; I was that depressed, but after a while I got so tired of the work and hearing Coons shouting this and shouting that . . .

  "What did it, I suppose, was the night he hit me. He was complaining about the supper, and I said I thought it was pretty good, too good for him. He hit me with the back of his hand, but so hard, I fell off the chair.

  "I was going to just punch and kick at him, but Dawn, this guy is big and he's as hard as bricks. Later that night Beryle came to me and told me the best thing I could do for myself was run away like the others. Seems he's done this before—go fetch a foster kid and make him work until he drops. They don't care back at the home, because they get so many kids, they're glad anyone comes to get one."

  "Oh, Jimmy . . . if Fern was given to mean people . . ."

  "I don't think so. It's different with babies. Lots of good people want babies because they can't have their own for one reason or another. Don't look so glum," he said, smiling. "I'm sure she's all right."

  "It's not that, Jimmy. What you just said reminded me of something terrible. They tell me that's why Momma and Daddy stole me—she had a baby right before, and the baby was born dead."

  His eyes widened, and then he nodded as if he had always known it.

  "So Daddy talked her into taking you," he concluded. "It was just like him. I don't doubt any of it. Now look what a mess he got us all in. I mean, I'm in. You ain't in such a mess, I guess."

  "Oh, Jimmy," I said, sitting beside him quickly. "I am. I hate it here."

  "What? With this big, fancy hotel and all? Why?"

  I began by describing my real mother and her continuous nervous condition. Jimmy listened intently, his eyes full of wonder as I related the story of my kidnapping and how it had affected her and made her into some kind of invalid soaked in luxury.

  "But weren't they glad to see you when you were brought here?" he asked. I shook my head.

  "As soon as I arrived here, I was made a chambermaid and put into a little room away from the family. You won't have much trouble imagining how mean Clara Sue has been," I said. Then I told him about being accused of stealing and related the horrible search I had been put through.

  "She made you take off your clothes?"

  "Strip to the bone. Afterward, she locked me in my room."

  He stared at me in disbelief.

  "What about your real father?" he asked. "Did you tell him what she did?"

  "He's so strange, Jimmy," I said and told him how he had come to the door and refused to do anything until I had agreed to the compromise over my name. "Then he left, claiming he had to get the key, but Philip said the key was in the door when he came to fetch me to bring me to you."

  He shook his head.

  "And here I thought you were living high on the hog."

  "I don't think my grandmother's ever going to let up on me. For some reason she hates me, hates the sight of me," I said. "I just can't get it through my head that Daddy did this. I can't." I shook my head and stared down at my hands in my lap.

  "Well, I can," Jimmy said sharply, drawing my eyes to his. Fiery anger filled his eyes. "You don't want to believe it; you never liked believing bad things about him, but you gotta now."

  I told Jimmy about my letter to Daddy.

  "I hope he writes back and tells me his side of it."

  "He won’t," Jimmy insisted. "And even if he does, it'll be all lies."

  "Jimmy, you can't go on hating him like this. He's still your real father, even if he's not mine."

  "I don't want to ever think of him as my father. He's dead with my mother," he declared, his eyes burning with such fury, it brought an ache to my heart. I couldn't keep the tears trapped under my eyelids; they burned so.

  "No sense in crying about it, Dawn. There's nothing we can do to change things. I'm going down to Georgia and maybe live with Momma's side of the family, if they'll have me. I don't mind working hard, as long as it's for my own family."

  "I wish I was going with you, Jimmy. I still feel those peo
ple are more my family than these people, even though I never met them."

  "Well, you can't. If you came with me, we'd be hunted down for sure."

  "I know." My tears kept coming. Now that Jimmy was here, I couldn't help myself.

  "I'm sorry you're not happier, Dawn," he said and slowly brought his arm up and around my shoulders. "Whenever I lay awake thinking about how terrible all this was, I would cheer myself a bit by thinking you were safe and comfortable in a new and richer life. I thought you deserved it and maybe it was good it all happened. I didn't mind what happened to me as long as it meant you would have better things and be with better people"

  "Oh, Jimmy, I could never be happier if you were unhappy, and just thinking about poor little Fern in a strange place—"

  "She's little enough to forget and start new," he said, his eyes dark with a wisdom beyond his years, a wisdom forced upon him by hard times. He was older in mind and body. Hard, cruel times had dragged him out of childhood.

  He sat inches from me, his arm still around my shoulders, his face so close I could feel his breath on my cheeks. It made me dizzy, confused. I was trapped on a runaway merry-go-round of emotions. Jimmy, whom I had thought to be my brother, was now just a boy who cared for me, and Philip, a boy who had cared for me, was now my brother. Their kisses, their smiles, and the way they touched and held me had to have different meaning.

  Just a little while ago I would have felt strange and guilty about the feelings that passed through me when Jimmy touched me. Now, when the tingle traveled up and down my spine and made me shudder pleasantly, I didn't know what to do, what to say. He cupped my face between his palms and tenderly kissed away my tears. I felt so warm all over. Before this I would have forced that warmth to stop its journey to my heart. Now it rushed over the highways along my skin and curled up comfortably inside my breast.

  His face remained close to mine, his serious eyes so delving, worried, and intense. A lump came in my throat as I wondered where the boy was I used to know. Where was that brother, and who was this young man staring so long into my eyes? Greater than any pain or ache or hurt I had ever felt before or since was the pain caused me by the suffering I saw in his tortured eyes.

  We heard Philip's footsteps on the cement stairway, and Jimmy pulled his arm off my shoulders and continued to take off his sneakers and socks.

  "Hi," Philip said, coming in. "Sorry the food's not hot, but I wanted to rush in and out of the kitchen before someone caught me and wondered what I was doing."

  "Food's food. I don't care whether it's hot or cold at this point," Jimmy said, taking the covered dish from Philip. "Thanks."

  "I brought you some of my clothes—should fit—and this towel and blanket."

  "Get the wet clothes off and dry yourself before you eat, Jimmy," I advised. He went into the bathroom and slipped out of his pants and underwear, wiped himself down, and returned in Philip's clothes. The shirt was a little big and the pants too long, but he rolled up the cuffs. Philip and I stood by and watched him gobble the food, scooping one mouthful into his mouth before he had swallowed the one he already had.

  "Sorry, but I'm starving," he said. "I didn't have any money to stop to eat."

  "That's all right. Look, I'm going to have to get back to the hotel. Grandmother saw me go in before and probably will be keeping an eye out for me to be sure I'm mixing with the others."

  "In the morning I'll put aside some food as I serve breakfast, and later, as soon as I can get loose, I'll bring it down to you, Jimmy."

  "Thanks."

  "Well," Philip said, standing and looking at us. "See you later. Have a good night."

  We watched him go.

  "I don't understand," Jimmy said almost as soon as Philip disappeared up the cement stairway. "Why was he worried about his grandmother seeing him in the hotel?"

  I told him what Clara Sue had told Grandmother Cutler and what she had forbidden. Jimmy lay back in the bed, his hands behind his head, listening. His eyes grew small and the tight smile around his lips became a serious and intense look.

  "Of course, I was worried about all that, too," he said. "I was wondering what it was going to be like for you. You were starting to get stuck on him in school." I was going to tell him how it was harder for Philip to adjust, how he still wished I could be his girlfriend, but I thought it might make Jimmy upset and cause more problems. "It hasn't been easy," I simply said. Jimmy nodded.

  "Here you have to work at thinking about him as your brother, and here I was your brother and you got to work at forgetting I was," he said.

  "I don't want to forget, Jimmy."

  He looked sad, disappointed.

  "Do you want me to forget? Do you want to forget me?" Perhaps he did; perhaps it was the only way he could start new, I thought mournfully.

  "I don't want you to feel dirty about it or ever let anyone make you feel that way," he said firmly.

  I nodded and sat beside him on the bed. Neither of us said anything for a few moments. This old section of the hotel creaked and moaned as the sea breeze poked and prodded, slipping itself into every crack and cranny, and we could hear music from the jukebox in the recreation room spilling out into the night and being carried off by the same sea breezes.

  "I'll tell the relatives that Momma and Daddy are both dead. They don't have to know all the ugly details, and try to start a new life," Jimmy said with a far-off look in his eyes.

  "I hate thinking about you being in a new life without me, Jimmy."

  He smiled the soft and gentle smile I recalled so fondly.

  "Let's just lie here together one more time like we used to be together," he said. "And you talk me to sleep like you always did by telling me about all the good things we're going to have someday." He shifted over to make room for me.

  I lowered myself beside him, resting my head against his arm and closed my eyes. For a moment I threw myself back through time, and we were lying together on one of our poor pull-out beds in one of our run-down apartments. Rain pounded the dilapidated building, and the wind scratched at the windows, threatening to poke them in.

  But Jimmy and I cuddled together, taking solace in the warmth and closeness of our bodies. We closed our eyes, and I began to spin the rainbows. I did it now.

  "We will have good things happen to us, Jimmy. We've been through a storm of trouble, but after every story, the clouds part and the sun returns with its warmth and its promise.

  "You'll go off and find Momma's relatives like you planned, and they'll welcome you with open arms. You'll meet uncles and aunts and cousins.

  "And maybe they're not as bad off as we always thought. Maybe they got a good farm. And you're a strong, willing worker, Jimmy, so you'll be a great help to them. Before you know it, the farm will become something special, and people from all around will ask: Who's that new young man who came to help and made your farm so good?

  "But you'll have to promise to write to me and . . ."

  I turned to him. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing softly. How tired he had been. He must have walked miles and miles and been in the rain for the longest time, suffering just to get down here to see me one more time.

  I leaned over and pressed my lips to his warm cheek.

  "Good night, Jimmy," I whispered as I had done so many nights before. I hated to leave him all alone in so strange a place, but from what he had described to me, he had been in more horrible places.

  I paused in the doorway and looked back. It did seem more like a dream to see Jimmy lying there. It was almost like a wish come true. I slipped out of the hideaway and up the stairs, checking carefully to be sure to one was looking my way. It looked all clear so I made my way around the building. Just as I entered and started down the corridor, I saw the door to my room open, and Clara Sue stepped out.

  "What are you doing in there?" I demanded, approaching quickly.

  She looked flustered for a moment and then smiled. "Grandmother sent me to unlock your door," she said. "Who did it
?"

  "I don't know," I said quickly. She smirked.

  "If I find out and tell Grandmother, she'll fire her."

  "I don't know who did it," I repeated. "I shouldn't have been locked in there anyway."

  She shrugged.

  "If you weren't such a brat, Grandmother wouldn't have to do these things," she said and hurried off. I thought she was in quite a rush to get away from me. After I watched her go, I went into my room.

  I got undressed, put on my robe, and went to the bathroom. I really was very tired and looked forward to crawling under the covers. But when I returned and pulled back my blanket to slip in and under, I discovered what Clara Sue had been doing in my room. It was as if I had been made to swallow a glassful of ice water. It sent a painful shiver through my heart.

  There on my sheet was a gold necklace with rubies and diamonds. Clara Sue had taken it out of Mrs. Clairmont's room and placed it here so I would be blamed. Now what would I do? If I returned it, everyone was sure to think I had stolen it originally and my grandmother had frightened me into returning it. No one would believe Clara Sue had done this, I thought.

  The sound of footsteps drove me into a panic. What if she had gone and told Mr. Hornbeck she had seen me with the necklace and was returning with my grandmother? I looked about frantically for a place to hide it and realized that this was just what Clara Sue would want me to do. They would search again and find it hidden and be convinced I had stolen it.

  I froze, unable to decide on anything. Fortunately, the sound of the footsteps died away. I let out my breath and scooped up the necklace. It felt hot and forbidding in my hands. I had the urge to open the window and heave it out into the night, but then, what would happen if someone found it the next morning near my window?

  Should I take it to my father? My mother? Maybe I should find Philip and give it to him. He would certainly believe me when I told him what Clara Sue had done, I thought, but merely walking through the hotel with it in my possession frightened me. I could be stopped if Clara Sue had gone to tell someone.

  It should be returned to Mrs. Clairmont somehow, I thought. Perhaps it was a very precious, meaningful piece of jewelry for her, a necklace with special memories. Why should she suffer just because Clara Sue was so jealous and spiteful?