Cutler 4 - Midnight Whispers

by V. C. Andrews

  "It's Fern," Gavin whispered. We heard a male voice. He sounded and looked like one of our newest bellhops. Unable to put a lid on our curiosity, we walked toward the pool and saw Aunt Fern on a lounge, the bellhop lying beside her. Her all too sheer blouse was unbuttoned most of the way. Gavin and I paused, neither of us speaking, both hardly breathing. The bellhop was kissing her shoulders and lowering his face to her breasts. But Aunt Fern suddenly lifted a small bottle and brought it to her lips.

  "You've had enough," the bellhop said.

  "I never have enough," she replied and laughed again, only this time, her laugh turned into a cough, the cough into the sound of choking.

  "Hey," her lover cried as she began to heave. He spun himself off the lounge just in time. Aunt Fern began to vomit hard and loudly, the grotesque sound carrying through the night. When it was over, she moaned and clutched her stomach.

  "Oh, I feel like I'm dying," she wailed. "And it's all over me."

  "You had better get to a bathroom," the bellhop declared. All she could do was moan a reply. He helped her up and led her away, keeping her at arm's length as they stumbled down the pathway toward the hotel. Gavin and I remained in the shadows until they were gone.

  "I'm glad," Gavin said angrily. "She got what she deserved."

  "It's not the first time I've caught her out here with someone," I said. "The first time I ever saw her out here, I got so frightened at what she was doing, I ran all the way home and up into my room."

  "And the next time?" Gavin asked.

  "I watched for a while," I confessed.

  "You never put that in any of your letters."

  "I was too ashamed," I said. We headed for the gazebo again.

  "Despite her, you had the greatest party," Gavin said when we sat down.

  "I know. I can never thank my parents enough." A cool ocean breeze made me shiver.

  "You're cold," Gavin declared.

  "No, it's all right," I replied, afraid he would say we should go back in; but he had his jacket of and quickly put it over my shoulders.

  "Now you'll be cold," I said.

  "I'm all right," he replied bravely. "You danced with a lot of guys tonight," he remarked, trying to sound casual about it.

  "Not with you though, and I wanted to very much, Gavin," I declared. He nodded, sadly. Then, he smiled.

  "Well, it's not too late," he suddenly decided. Although the music still coming from the hotel was very subdued, we could hear it. Gavin stood up and held out his hand. "May I have this dance, madame? Or is your dance card full?"

  "No, I have a spot for one more," I said, laughing, and stood up. He put his aunt around my waist and slowly drew me to him. We giggled at first, but as we danced on the gazebo, looking into each other's eyes, we moved closer and closer together until my cheek was touching his. I was sure he could feel my heart pounding.

  Suddenly, as if we both had sensed the need at the same time, I lifted my head and my lips met his, the kiss starting very softly, tentatively, full of uncertainty, and then, as the warmth and excitement grew, turning harder, firmer, both of us surrendering to the warmth. I laid my head on his shoulder and we continued to dance, both of us afraid to speak.

  "I wish I didn't have to go right home tomorrow," he finally said. "But Daddy's got to get back to work."

  "I know. I wish you could stay longer, too. Did you talk to your father and mother about working here this summer?"

  "Yes. It's all right with them."

  "Oh Gavin, even though it's only a few more weeks, I can't wait. We'll have such a good time. We'll go boating and swimming and . . ."

  "Hey, I'm supposed to be working, not playing here," he chastised softly.

  "Everyone has time off, and I have some pull with the boss," I said, but Gavin didn't smile.

  "I don't want to take a job and not do it right," he said firmly.

  "Don't worry, you won't." He was just like Daddy, full of pride and ready to hoist up his flag of self-respect at a moment's notice; yet just like Daddy, Gavin could be soft and tender, sensitive and loving.

  From where we stood, I could see Mommy, Jefferson, Mrs. Boston, Aunt Trisha and Daddy returning to the house.

  "I better start for home," I said. "It's late."

  "I'll walk you."

  He held my hand and I kept his jacket on my shoulders until we reached the house.

  "Thanks for the use of your jacket," I said, slipping it off.

  "Didn't you feel anything in the pocket?" he asked as I returned it.

  "Pocket?" I noticed that he wore a coy grin. "Gavin Steven Longchamp, what do you have in there?" I demanded. He laughed and plucked out a slim gift-wrapped box.

  "Daddy and Momma gave you a gift from all of us, but this one is just from me. I wanted to give this to you privately," he said, handing it to me. "Happy birthday, Christie."

  "Gavin!"

  My heart pounding in anticipation, I tore open the gift and opened the box. Lying on a bed of soft paper was a beautiful gold identification bracelet. Above and below my name were two hearts entwined.

  "Turn it over," he said softly and when I did so I read: With Love, Forever, Gavin. It took my breath away.

  "Oh Gavin, it's beautiful. It's my best gift," I declared. "But it must be so expensive."

  "There's no one I would rather spend my money on. When I have any, that is," he said, laughing. "Here, let me help you put it on."

  I held out my wrist and he carefully snapped the chain lock into place. As he did so, I gazed at his face and saw how soft and loving his eyes became as his fingers held mine. He finished and then looked at me in that special way that kept me thinking about him often.

  "Thank you." I kissed him quickly on the lips and he stared at me, suddenly looking so much older.

  "You had better go in," he said, "before you get cold again."

  "I'll never sleep tonight!" I cried. "I'll see you at breakfast bright and early."

  "I'll be there early, but I won't be bright," he called as I scurried up the steps. He stood there watching me and smiling as I opened the door and walked slowly into the house, reluctant to put an end to the most wonderful night of my life.

  It was nearly impossible to fall asleep, but when I did, I dreamt about my party. Only in my dream, there was an additional guest, a surprise guest who showed up at the very last moment. Mommy was singing "Happy Birthday" and the party crowd was joining in chorus when suddenly, a tall, dark-haired, good-looking man appeared. He walked slowly down the aisle from the main entrance, smiling as he drew closer and closer. Mammy stopped singing.

  "Hello Christie," he said, "Happy birthday." He had the whitest teeth, teeth almost as white as piano keys, and his ebony eyes were glowing softly.

  "Who are you?" I asked while people were still singing "Happy Birthday" around us.

  "I'm your real father," he said and he leaned toward me to kiss me, only when he drew near, his face became Uncle Philip's face, a leering, smiling face with wet lips. I tried to back away, but he seized my shoulders and drew me closer to him, closer and closer until . . .

  I sat up in my bed, sweating and breathing hard. For a moment I didn't know where I was or what had happened. My heart was thumping against my chest. I took a deep breath and hugged myself. Then I felt the identification bracelet that Gavin had given me on my wrist. It comforted me; I could almost hear Gavin saying, "Don't be afraid." I lay awake for a while, wondering about my dream. Finally, my eyelids became heavy and I could keep them open no longer.

  Although it was a bright, sunny morning, I didn't wake up before Jefferson, who I imagine had gone to sleep dreaming of ripping open my gifts. He burst in upon me shouting and I groaned.

  "Can I start opening them? Can I? Can I?" he chanted.

  "Jefferson!" He was patting me vigorously on the leg. "Okay, go ahead," I cried.

  "YAY!" he yelled and went charging out of my room and down the corridor and stairs.

  I moaned again and sat up. When I saw the time,
I hurried out of bed. I knew Granddaddy Longchamp would want to get his usual early start to the airport and I was afraid of missing Gavin. Mommy knocked on my door and came in. She was already dressed.

  "I overslept, Mommy," I said.

  "It's all right, honey. Daddy's already over at the hotel. I'll meet you in the dining room. Mrs. Boston will make breakfast for Jefferson here. He won't leave while there's one gift of yours left to inspect, anyway," she said.

  "Tell everyone be right there," I called and hurried into the bathroom to shower. By the time I got over to the hotel and into the dining room, everyone was at the big table. Aunt Trisha looked fresh and happy in her colorful print skirt and blouse. She was telling stories that had everyone smiling and laughing. The moment I entered the dining room, Gavin looked up from his plate and beamed. He had kept the seat beside him empty. I hurried to it.

  "Here she is, a day older, a day brighter," Aunt Trisha declared. Everyone said good morning, and I apologized for being late.

  "You have a right to, honey. You had a big night. It was a wonderful party, the best one I was ever at," Edwina declared. Everyone agreed.

  "What time are you leaving?" I asked Gavin.

  "As soon as we finish eating. You know my father. He should have been a train station manager. We'll get there too early and the plane will leave late, and he'll be complaining to everyone and anyone who will listen," Gavin said gazing at Granddaddy Longchamp. He complained about him, but there was no doubt in my mind that Gavin loved his father dearly.

  A few moments later, Aunt Fern sauntered in. She looked pale and tired, her short hair scraggly, and she wore a pair of dark sunglasses. I didn't think she had taken a brush to it even for a few seconds. She wore a faded college sweatshirt and a pair of tight jeans, dirty sneakers and no socks. She shot an angry glance at Daddy, whose face had turned ashen as soon as she had appeared looking so disheveled and unkempt. Mommy grimaced and everyone stared as Aunt Fern plopped herself down in a seat.

  "Just coffee," she moaned to the waiter.

  "What time are you leaving for college, Fern?" Aunt Trisha asked her.

  "As soon as I can get myself together," she replied. She sipped her black coffee and slumped back in her seat, not listening or talking to anyone.

  After breakfast, Gavin and I were able to visit a while longer in the hotel lobby while his parents went up to finish packing. Aunt Trisha was the first to leave. Daddy, Mommy and I hugged her, and Mommy promised we would all come to New York to see her in her new show. She hugged and kissed me one more time before getting into the taxicab.

  "It was a beautiful party, honey. I was so happy to be here." She glanced at Gavin who stood a few feet behind me. "You're growing up fast and you've become very beautiful."

  "Thank you, Aunt Trisha."

  We watched her go off and then returned to the lobby. I hated good-byes, especially when I said good-bye to people I really loved. It gave me an empty feeling that started in my stomach, and then spread all over until I felt like a shadow of myself. Each good-bye diminishes me a little, I thought. Some part of me leaves along with the person I love, too. And there's always that horrid feeling that I might have said good-bye forever without realizing it.

  I dreaded saying good-bye to Gavin, but the time finally came. Daddy had Julius bring up the hotel limo for them. We all hugged and kissed and promised to call and write each other. Gavin waited until the last minute to get in. We eyed each other and the people around us, neither daring to attempt a kiss.

  "I'll call you tonight," Gavin whispered in my ear.

  "Promise? No matter how late?" I asked, cheered by the thought.

  "I promise." He turned to Mommy and Daddy. "Goodbye Dawn." She hugged him. "Well, big brother," Gavin said to Daddy. They shook hands like men and then Daddy smiled and hugged him.

  "Keep out of trouble, little brother," he said, running his hand through Gavin's beautiful, thick dark hair. "Watch out for those wild Texas women."

  Gavin shot a glance at me and reddened.

  "He's got no time for that," Granddaddy Longchamp bellowed.

  "Whatever you say, Daddy," Jimmy replied, smiling. He, Mommy and I stood on the steps and waved as the limo took them off. When it disappeared around the bend, my heart sunk so low, I nearly burst into tears. Mommy saw the look on my face and embraced me quickly as we all turned to go back into the hotel.

  "There's always a letdown after something as big as this, honey. But there will be other good times, many, many other good times."

  "I know, Mommy."

  It was Sunday, and Sundays always meant a big check-out at the hotel. Rather than sit around and brood, I made myself useful at the front desk. Mrs. Bradly and the others couldn't stop talking about the party. They were very complimentary about my piano playing and, of course, Mommy's singing. Sometime early in the afternoon, Aunt Fern appeared in the lobby with her suitcase. She was still wearing her dark glasses. She stopped at the front desk and lit a cigarette.

  "Why do you smoke so much, Aunt Fern?" I asked her.

  "It calms my nerves and around here, I need something to do that," she replied. Then she lowered her glasses on the bridge of her nose and peered at me over the frame. "Did you sneak a peek at Lady Chatterley's Lover last night?"

  "No," I said. "And anyway, I don't like keeping things from Mommy."

  "Oh pull . . . leeze," she moaned. "You're sixteen. What do you think she was doing when she was your age?"

  "She wasn't doing anything wrong," I retorted.

  "Oh no." She stared at me a moment and then leaned against the counter. "I bet you don't know what went on between her and Philip at the private school, do you?" she said.

  It was as if someone had pressed a hot palm over my heart. I felt the heat rise into my neck.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," I said quickly.

  "I figured that," she replied, nodding. "Just remember this, Princess, everyone around here is not as lily-white pure as they make out to be. You ought to ask your mother to tell you what happened when she and Jimmy went to Emerson Peabody, a ritzy private school in Richmond."

  "I know they went there. Granddaddy Long-champ was a maintenance supervisor and . . ."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'm not talking about why or how." She leaned closer to me. "Your Uncle Philip went there, too, you know. That's where your mother and he first met." She smiled slyly. "You're old enough to know all the nitty-gritty details now," she added.

  Julius appeared in the doorway.

  "Thank God, I'm out of here," Aunt Fern said. She started away and then stopped and leaned toward me again. "Chapter ten," she said, smiling. "That's a good one. There's my suitcase," she shouted at Julius and pointed. He picked it up and hurried out before her. In a moment she was gone, but she had left me standing there staring after her with my heart thumping. What did she mean by those shifty smiles and innuendos about my mother and Uncle Philip? Why did she say everyone wasn't as lily-pure as I thought? Was she just trying to hurt us? Or was she referring to one of those dark passages in our strange family history that were still kept secret?

  With my heart going pitter-patter, I left the front desk and hurried down the corridor to Mommy's office. She was just finishing up a meeting with Mr. Dorfman when I knocked and entered.

  "It was a wonderful party," he told me as he left. I thanked him and sat down.

  "Mrs. Boston called to tell me your brother started a fire in the garbage can using the make-up mirror the Hammersteins gave you and the magnifying glass from the stationery set the Malamuds gave you," she said, shaking her head.

  "What? How?"

  "He directed the sunlight into the can and used the magnifying glass to burn a hole in some of the gift wrap paper. I think I had better give Mrs. Boston a raise," she added and sighed.

  "Aunt Fern just left," I said.

  "Oh. That's good, although I think her days at this particular college are numbered," Mommy said.

  "I don't know why she's so mea
n and unhappy, Mommy. You and Daddy are always nice to her and have done so much for her."

  Mommy sat back a moment and thought. Then a smile of wisdom flashed in her eyes.

  "Momma Longchamp used to say some cows are just born to give sour milk, no matter how sweet the grass they feed on."

  "It must have been so strange for you, Mommy, having two mothers," I said. She nodded. "You first met Uncle Philip when you and Daddy went to Emerson Peabody, right?" I asked. Her eyes grew small.

  "Yes," she said. "And Clara."

  "And for a long time, you didn't know he was really your brother?"

  She stared at me for a moment.

  "Yes, Christie. Why do you ask? Did Fern say something to you about it?" she demanded quickly.

  I nodded. I couldn't keep anything secret from her.

  "She would do that." She paused and then after a deep breath, she said, "It's true, I met Philip there and for a short time, we became boyfriend and girlfriend, but nothing ugly happened, no matter what Fern told you," she added quickly.

  "She didn't really tell me anything. She just made it seem as if . . ."

  "Fern hates herself so much, she just wants to make life miserable for everyone else too," she said.

  "I wouldn't believe anything she said anyway," I said. She smiled and nodded.

  "You really are growing up fast, honey, and you should be told everything about the family. I want you to know something, Christie," she declared, her eyes fixed on me so intently, my heart began to race. "Uncle Philip . . . well, Uncle Philip never quite got over everything, especially the discovery about who he and I really were to each other. Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, honey?"

  I swallowed over the lump that had risen in my throat. What she was trying to tell me, I had felt and seen in so many different ways, but as a much younger girl I had not understood. Time rolled backward and memories of Uncle Philip's intense gaze at Mommy, a gaze that appeared hypnotic at times, returned. I recalled the way he always seemed to be hovering close to her, searching for and seizing upon opportunities to touch her or kiss her.