Cutler 4 - Midnight Whispers

by V. C. Andrews

  "She scared him near to death," Charlotte complained.

  "Because he frightened her, Aunt Charlotte. She's furious about him looking in on her," I explained.

  "He didn't mean no harm. He never heard nobody in that room before and had to see," Aunt Charlotte said. I smiled at the motherly way in which she came to his defense.

  "I know, but until they leave, Homer should stay away from them. You understand, Homer? That woman upstairs is not very nice. Every time she sees you, she's just going to scream and scream."

  Homer nodded.

  "I don't want to see her," he said.

  "I don't blame you." I poured two cups of coffee, found a tray, and carried them up to Aunt Fern and Morton. Morton was awake and sitting up in bed, rubbing his face and blinking at the sunlight coming through the window. Aunt Fern was still prone, her eyes closed.

  "Here's your coffee," I said. Her eyes snapped open.

  "Bring it here," she ordered and seized the cup out of my hand when I approached. I went around and handed Morton his cup.

  "Thank you," Morton said.

  "This isn't strong enough," Fern instantly complained. She spit the coffee back into the cup. "It's more like mud water. Maybe it is," she added, eyes wide. "Did Charlotte make it?"

  "Yes, Aunt Fern."

  "Don't drink it, Morton. Charlotte's just crazy enough to really have mixed dirt and water." She took the cup out of his hand and thrust both of them back at me so hard, some of the coffee spilled over, spattering my hands and wrists. It burned, but she didn't care. "You make another pot yourself. You know how to make coffee, don't you, princess? Or can't you do anything? She was always waited on hand and foot," she told Morton.

  "That's not true, Aunt Fern. I often helped Mrs. Boston in the kitchen," I said.

  "She often helped Mrs. Boston," she mimicked in a sing-song voice. "Yeah, I'm sure you did a lot. Well, get us some decent coffee and hurry up about it. I want to take my bath soon and get up to eat a good breakfast. That creature gone?" she asked.

  "You frightened him more than he frightened you, Aunt Fern. He doesn't want to be around you, don't worry," I said.

  "Good."

  "What creature?" Morton asked.

  "You'd sleep through an earthquake," Aunt Fern told him. "After you've drunk old whiskey all night, that is," she added and they both laughed and started tickling each other, behaving like two children again. Then Aunt Fern realized I was staring at them. "Why are you still hanging around?" she cried at me. "Get me the coffee," she ordered hotly.

  I hurried out and downstairs again. I made her fresh coffee, but I made it so strong that Gavin said it could melt iron. Now that he was fully awake, Jefferson insisted on coming along with me, but when I returned to the master suite, I found the doors closed and thought I had better knock.

  "Just a minute," I heard Aunt Fern say in a breathless voice. Then I heard some moans, followed by short cries of pleasure.

  "The coffee's getting cold, Aunt Fern," I shouted through the door. I knew what they were doing and was embarrassed for both myself and Jefferson. "Should 1 come back in a little while?"

  Instead of an answer, I heard her cries come faster and louder, followed by one long moan.

  "What's happening to Aunt Fern?" Jefferson asked.

  "She doesn't feel too well, Jefferson. Why don't you go back downstairs and finish your breakfast and then come up to say hello, okay."

  He shrugged and went off. A moment later, Aunt Fern cried, "Enter."

  I opened the doors. She had the blanket up to her chin. Her face was flushed, her hair wild. Morton was lying there with his eyes closed, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.

  "Here's your fresh coffee," I said. Aunt Fern smiled at me and sat up.

  "Good." She took hers and handed Morton his. Then she turned back to me. "Get a little bit of an education out there?" she asked. Had she no dignity? No self-respect? "I bet you had your little ear plastered against the door, didn't you? Or were you watching through the crack in the door?"

  "Hardly, Aunt Fern," I said. "I was very uncomfortable."

  "Oh come on. You've obviously lost your precious virginity here," she said. I shifted my gaze to Morton who was hovering over his coffee, his eyes on me with interest.

  "Aunt Fern!"

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  "Stop being the little pure princess," she said. "You're no better than I am."

  "I never said I was, Aunt Fern, but . . ." "Actually, I'm glad you're grown up. If I feel like it and I'm in the mood . . . and if you're real nice to me," she added, "maybe I'll give you some hints about men and sex," she said.

  Morton laughed. "I want to be around to hear that," he said.

  "Like hell you will. This is female talk. You can't let them have their way with you," she told me.

  "Aunt Fern, I'd rather not . . ."

  "Sure, sure," she said. "I know. You're still too delicate. All right, draw my bath. Make it warm, but not too hot. Well, go on, stop gawking at me," she said, sipping her coffee.

  I went in the bathroom and turned on the water. When it was ready, I told her and started away.

  "Wait a minute, where are you going?" she demanded.

  "Down to have my breakfast," I said.

  "Well first, I'd like you to help me take a bath. I'd like my back washed and then my hair. Come on," she ordered. Totally naked, she got out of bed and marched into the bathroom. I looked at Morton, who smiled licentiously at me. "The water's just right," Aunt Fern said and got into the tub. I was afraid that at any moment, Morton might get out of bed naked too, so I returned to the bathroom and closed the door. Aunt Fern handed me the washcloth. "Do my back in small circles. I like my shoulders rubbed, too," she said.

  I washed her back and then put the soap in her hair and began to shampoo it.

  "Oh, that's good," she said, lying back in the tub. "You make a good servant, princess," she said.

  "Aunt Fern, can you please stop calling me princess? I'm not a princess and never was," I said.

  "Oh you-were all right. You were spoiled rotten."

  "That's not true," I insisted. "I worked in the hotel as soon as I was old enough to help out. And I always looked after Jefferson when my parents wanted me to."

  "I know you're just perfect," she muttered and then seized my wrist and pulled me down beside her. "Tell me about your love affair with my little brother? Is he . . . was he very experienced? I can't imagine him knowing where to put it."

  "Stop it, Aunt Fern," I said and pulled my wrist free. "Gavin is a nice boy, yes, but that doesn't make him a weakling or less of a man."

  "Man?" she said, eyes wide. "You have had sex with him then, haven't you?" she asked. I had to shift my eyes and the moment I did so, it confirmed everything for her. "It's all right," she said. "I won't go around telling people. You think I care that much anyway?" She paused and sat back in the water. "I was just curious, that's all. How was your first time?"

  "Aunt Fern, I don't like talking about these things," I said.

  "Oh come on. Don't tell me you and your little girlfriends didn't talk about these things whenever you could? Did your mother ever talk to you or did she die before she had a chance to do the birds and the bees act?" she asked.

  "Mommy and I were very close," I replied. "I didn't have to sneak off to find out things."

  "Really? I'm curious. What did she tell you?" She smirked. "Did she tell you what you should and shouldn't do? Did she explain how you keep from getting pregnant or did she tell you to simply say no?"

  "We talked about love and about sex, yes," I said. "Love," she said, smirking again.

  "Aren't you in love with Morton?" I asked.

  "Are you serious? Morton? He's just a good time." She leaned forward. "And easy to manipulate, you know what I mean?" I didn't. "He does whatever I want him to do. He never argues and if I don't feel like it, he doesn't moan and groan and go off in a huff."

  "But . . . you're acting like husb
and and wife with him," I said.

  "Oh princess, you kill me. I've acted like husband and wife many times before," she confessed.

  "How many?" I asked.

  "Oh, curious now, huh?"

  I was curious. I wanted to understand Aunt Fern, to see why she was so loose with her body and if she ever truly enjoyed herself. She acted happy on her own, defiant, wild, but was she happy?

  "You want to know about my first time?" she asked. I didn't say yes, but she sat forward and went on. "I was fourteen. There was this boy I liked who was seventeen."

  "Seventeen!"

  "Yes, and he wouldn't even glance at me. I never did anything before, really, but I read a lot about it and looked at those books with pictures. So one day, I went up to him and whispered in his ear. He turned red as a beet but got very interested in me."

  "What did you whisper?"

  "I asked him if he wanted to go around the world with me."

  "What did that mean?" I asked in a whisper.

  "To tell you the truth, princess, I wasn't sure, but it went over big. A few days later, I had an opportunity to be alone with him. He was very upset because it was obvious it was my first time."

  "What did he do?"

  "Nothing. He never so much as spoke to me after that," she said.

  "But didn't you feel terrible?"

  She shrugged.

  "He wasn't as nice as I thought and I wasn't interested in him anymore."

  "But what about what you had done?"

  "It had to happen sometime," she said nonchalantly.

  "But if you don't really care about the person . . ."

  "Don't care about anybody," she said. "You're better off."

  "No you're not, Aunt Fern. You're all alone when you care only about yourself," I fired back. She glared at me.

  "I forgot, you're Mrs. Perfect's daughter. Your mother wasn't so perfect, you know," she said. "That's how you came into the world."

  "I know all about it," I replied quickly, before she could add any more cruel things. "I even visited my real father."

  "You did? And?"

  "He might have been a handsome, charming man once, but to me he was . . . he was a nobody," I said. "Ugly and weak."

  "Um. Still, I would like to see what the man who swept Mrs. Perfect of her feet looked like," she said.

  "Why did you hate my mother so much?" I asked, shaking my head. "All she wanted were good things for you."

  "Don't believe it. She was jealous of every moment Jimmy spent on me," she spat back.

  "That's not true. It's a horrible thing to think and say."

  "It was true," she insisted. "When it comes to another woman's jealousy, honey, I'm an expert."

  She lifted her feet out of the water and set them on the edge of the tub.

  "Go to my overnight bag and get my nail polish. I want you to do my toes," she ordered.

  I stared down at her defiantly. Right now she looked like a blob of selfishness and cruelty, a heartless creature who lived only for one thing—her own pleasure. I didn't think I was capable of as much hate and anger as I felt at this moment. She must have seen it in my eyes, for her look of self evaporated quickly and her eyes became two luminous hot coals of fury.

  "Don't you look down at me like that, Christie Longchamp. You may think you're better than me, but deep inside you're cut from the same cloth. You couldn't wait to call my brother and run off to this out-of-the-way hideout so you could give in to your sexual fantasies. You even were low enough to drag your little brother along," she charged.

  "That's not true; that's not why I ran away," I cried, the tears burning behind my eyelids.

  "You ran away because you're a spoiled brat who got everything her way, who was the center of attention and who's now just another child in the house. Aunt Bet didn't cater to you like your mother did so . . ."

  "Uncle Philip raped me!" I blurted.

  For a moment the silence was so heavy, I could hear the pounding of my heart and imagined she could too. She sat up slowly in the tub, never taking her eyes of me. I couldn't stop sobbing.

  "Raped you? You mean . . ."

  "He came into my room naked," I bawled, "and crawled into my bed."

  "No fooling," she said with a sick smile on her face. She wasn't outraged and sympathetic; she was titillated and amused. "Tell me about it," she demanded.

  "There's nothing to tell. He came in and forced himself on me. It was horrible."

  "What was so horrible about it? Philip's quite a handsome man," she remarked.

  "What?" I wiped my eyes.

  "Actually, I always hoped he would do it with me," she said. "I certainly gave him enough opportunity and tempted him enough," she added, smiling. "I once arranged it so he came in on me while I was stark naked. He liked what he saw, but he left without laying a hand on me.

  "You must have done something to encourage it," she accused.

  "I did not."

  "Tell me the truth," she said, "you liked it a little, didn't you?"

  "No, Aunt Fern. It was horrid from beginning to end and after it was over, I scrubbed myself until my skin burned."

  "How ridiculous," she said.

  "It wasn't ridiculous. I never felt as soiled, inside and out. I'm shocked that you would want a married man . . . a relative . . ."

  "Oh stop. A good-looking man's a good-looking man," she said. "Besides, he's not a blood relative. He's not even a real relative."

  "He's a sick man," I said. "He was always in love with my mother and . . ."

  "I know," she said dryly. "Everyone was in love with your mother." She looked up at me with distaste and hate written across her lips. "And now they're going to be in love with you. Why you have all the luck . . ." She leaned back in the tub again and again put her feet up. "Get my nail polish," she ordered. When I didn't move, she smiled.

  "I should go right to a phone and call Philip and have you delivered back to him. Maybe that's what you need . . . a real education. He'd probably chain you to your bed and come up night after night and do it to you a different way each time until . . ."

  "Stop it. You're disgusting."

  "My polish," she repeated coolly.

  When I opened the bathroom door, I saw her boyfriend was back in bed and under the blanket. His eyes popped open.

  "I'm hungry, Fern," he called.

  "Just hold your water," she called back. "I'm not finished with my morning rituals."

  I went to her bag and found her nail polish.

  "Dry my feet first, stupid," she said when I knelt down to do her toes. I got the towel and dried her feet. "Um, that's nice," she said. "It's nice to be treated like royalty. I always envied you, princess."

  "I was never treated like royalty." I said.

  "Uh huh. Just do a good job on those nails. You never know who might set eyes on them," she commanded. The tears burned behind my eyelids. I fought to keep my vision clear enough to do her toenails. While I worked, she lay back with her eyes closed, soaking in the warm water.

  "Morton!" she suddenly screamed. "Morton!" "What?"

  "Get up and go downstairs and tell my aunt I want two scrambled eggs and some bacon for breakfast. See if they have fresh bread, too. If they don't, have Luther go to town and get some."

  "Okay," Morton said.

  "Luther doesn't have time to run errands like that," I muttered.

  "Really. Well, he better find the time," she said.

  "Why are you picking on them? They're so defenseless. They've suffered enough. They . . ."

  "You didn't have any qualms about taking advantage of them," Aunt Fern charged.

  "We didn't take advantage. Gavin's been helping Luther with the chores and I've been cleaning the house and helping Aunt Charlotte with the meals and . . ."

  "Oh, you're so wonderful. I keep forgetting. Morton," she cried. "Are you getting up?"

  "I'm up, I'm up," he replied. "I need to use a bathroom. I want to wash and shave and . . ."

  "Well find an
other one. We're going to be occupied in here for a while. The princess is going to do my fingernails, too," she said, smiling at me. "Right, princess?"

  I didn't reply. I finished her toenails and turned away so she couldn't see my tears and be happy she was making me feel so horrible. I took a deep breath. They'll surely be on their way today, I thought, and then we'll be free of them. As far as I was concerned, I didn't care if I were free of my aunt Fern forever. In fact, that's what I wanted. I was sorry because I knew how much it would hurt Daddy to know that I hated his sister, but I couldn't help it.

  Aunt Fern made me give her a manicure. She kept asking me detailed questions about Uncle Philip's sexual attack, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reply and she finally stopped.

  Afterward, I had to lay out her clothes. While she got dressed, she insisted I make the bed and tidy up in the bathroom. She enjoyed watching me work like a maid. Finally, we went down for breakfast. Her boyfriend was sitting at the table studying a road map when we entered the kitchen.

  "Did you send Luther for fresh bread?" Aunt Fern demanded.

  "I couldn't find him and your aunt's not much help," he replied. "She's out there with Gavin and Jefferson and some other guy painting the barn," Morton said. "Green," he added and laughed.

  "Painting the barn green? I think we had better call the nearest insane asylum and ask them to make a pickup," Aunt Fern quipped.

  "They're happy here, Aunt Fern, and they're not hurting anyone," I said.

  "What do you say we go into town and have some breakfast at a restaurant," Morton said.

  "We don't need to go into town. My niece can make eggs. She already proved she can make coffee. I like them a little wet," she ordered. "Not dry like pieces of paper. Well," she said when I didn't move quickly. "Feed us. Poor Morton's starving. What are you doing?" she asked, going to his side.

  "Just figuring out the best way to get back on the main highways," he replied.

  "We've got time," Aunt Fern said. "Don't you like your little holiday with the folks?" she joked.

  "Sure," he said. "But how long do you want to stay?"