I was unable to respond. He locked his gaze so intently on me, I could feel the passion and desire radiating. Numbly, I shook my head. I was deceived, I thought. It would never end . . . Philip's lust for me would linger forever and ever. Jimmy was so right to want us to have a home separate from the hotel and away from Philip and Betty Ann, but even that, I feared, would not be enough.
Now, when I looked at Betty Ann, I thought I understood what had attracted him to someone so plain. He had deliberately sought a girl who had little to distinguish her physically. It made it easier for him to see me in her eyes and feel my lips instead of her lips when they kissed. Just the thought of it made me tremble.
I was happy when Mother called him away to meet someone else.
"What's wrong?" Jimmy said, approaching. He had been talking with Bronson. "You look upset. Aren't you feeling well?"
"I'm all right," I said. "Just too much champagne."
"Too much champagne would turn your face crimson, not white," he insisted. He gazed across the room at Philip. "Is it something to do with Philip? Did he say something?"
"No, it's nothing, Jimmy. Please. I'm all right," I repeated more emphatically. Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Philip was talking to me, and I didn't even hear what he said," I lied. "For a moment I just drifted off and felt a little nauseous. It's nothing."
"Nauseous? Maybe . . ." His eyes lit up with hope.
"No, Jimmy," I said. "I'm not pregnant. Remember, I just had my period."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Right. Well, if it happens again, you'd better see the doctor," he said.
A little while later we were all called in to dinner. There were twenty guests, and Mother had arranged the seating so that Betty Ann and Philip were at her sides. Consequently, I didn't get to speak to Betty Ann very much. After dinner I finally had a real conversation with her. We stepped out on a patio to get some air. She was more relaxed.
"What a beautiful house and beautiful view," she exclaimed. "And your mother is so beautiful, too. It's hard to believe she has children your age and Philip's."
"Mother will love you for saying that, Betty Ann," I said. She smiled and giggled.
"I'm so excited about living in the hotel," she said. "From the way Philip has described it, there's always something to do, something happening. It's never dull."
"He's right about that."
"And I'm so impressed with what you do. Philip says you haven't even been to college. He's told me so much about you. I know all about how you were kidnapped and returned. Philip's always talking about you," she added, but without any note of envy. "About how talented you are musically and how bright you are."
"He exaggerates, I'm sure," I said, unable to hide my embarrassment.
"Oh, no. Not Philip. He's known for his honesty. Besides, he's always playing that tape recording of you singing, and you do have a beautiful voice."
"Tape recording?" I wondered when Philip had taped me singing. "What am I singing?" I asked. After she told me, I realized Philip had taped me singing for the guests at the hotel one night, and he had never told me. It made me feel funny, as if I had been eavesdropped upon. Why had he kept that a secret?
"He's so proud of you. It's so nice for a brother and a sister to like each other as much as you two like each other, especially when you consider what happened to you," she added.
"Yes." I smiled weakly.
"Someday I hope you will sit down and tell me all about it. Will you? I want to know all the details—what it was like for you before, how you were found, what it was like to return. . ."
"It's not as exciting or interesting a story as you might think," I replied.
"Oh, no, I know it is. Philip always has tears in his eyes when he talks about it . . . especially when he describes that first day you were at the hotel and you and he met for the first time as brother and sister. I cry myself," she confessed.
"Philip's so romantic," she continued. "He's so handsome, and he has a wonderful sense of humor. All my girlfriends are dying with jealousy. And my parents love him—especially my father, because he knows so much about business and investments. I'm so lucky," she said. "Don't you think?" she asked me, and suddenly I felt a great sorrow for her. How horrible it would be for her to know that whenever Philip looked at her lovingly he was looking at me, and whenever he kissed her passionately he was kissing me.
She was being deceived and lied to and used. Philip had found himself an innocent, naive young woman who just happened to fit all the social criteria. She was incapable of seeing or understanding the deception. A handsome, debonair young man—a hero on campus who came from a famous resort family—had chosen her. Her fantasy, her dream had come true.
I wanted so much to say something, to stop her from beginning a life of illusion, but then I thought that even if she knew the truth, she might accept it just so she could have Philip. Obviously, he meant that much to her.
I could almost hear Mother telling me, "Everyone accepts a certain amount of deception and illusion, Dawn. It's the price we pay for what little happiness we can achieve."
It was the way Mother had lived her life; it would be the way Betty Ann and Philip would live theirs. And deny it or run from it as much as I would, I was sure, in the end, it was the way I would live mine as well.
"I'm very happy for you, Betty Ann," I said. "Happy for both of you."
"What are my two favorite women doing out here alone?" Philip cried, coming up behind us. He moved himself between us and embraced both of us at the waist. "Not exchanging notes about me, I hope," he said, eyeing me suspiciously.
"What an ego. Why should we be talking about you?" I asked. Muscles near his lips worked almost spasmodically, hovering near a smirk or a laugh, I couldn't tell which.
"A little bird told me," he said, squeezing us both tighter to him. "That's all right. I want you two to get to know each other as quickly as you can so we can all be a happy little hotel family again."
"I'm looking forward to being of some use at the hotel," Betty Ann said. "I want to contribute, even if it's only in some small way."
"I'm sure we'll find something appropriate for you to do, darling," Philip said. He smiled at me again. "Even if it's just standing by the dining room door greeting our guests as Mother and Grandmother used to do."
"Oh, I'd love to do that," Betty Ann said. Philip gazed down at me and winked.
"I will be a very lucky man to have two beautiful women around me day and night," he said, and he kissed Betty Ann on the cheek and then turned to kiss me. But I pulled out of his grasp.
"We had better return to the dinner party before Mother has a fit," I said quickly, and I rushed off, feeling as if I were fleeing a dirty dream.
Claudine Monroe, Betty Ann's mother, held tight reign on the planning of Philip and Betty Ann's wedding. Mother tried to insert her opinions and ideas often, but her attempts were continually thwarted. As the wedding date drew closer Mother's complaints about the way she was being treated intensified.
"I feel as though I'm just another guest," she told me on the telephone one morning. "Now that woman (Mother had taken to calling Betty Ann's mother 'that woman') won't even answer my phone calls. I can only get her secretary . . . her secretary! She has a secretary to look after her social affairs, do you believe it? And I'm curtly told my messages will be delivered, yet that woman doesn't return the calls. Isn't that discourteous?"
"It's her wedding to plan, Mother. You had mine," I reminded her.
"Well, who else would have done it, if I hadn't? Besides, these people think they're above us, Dawn. I can't stand the way that woman talks down to me whenever we do talk. They think just because they live on the outskirts of the nation's capital and socialize with congressmen and senators, they're somehow better than we are," she complained.
"I'm sure it will be a very nice wedding, Mother. Why don't you just relax and enjoy having someone else do all the work for a change? If Betty Ann's mother is treating you like a guest, be
a guest," I suggested.
"Yes, you're right. I shouldn't give her the benefit of my expertise. Let that woman do it on her own."
"I'm sure she has many professional advisers, Mother, and actually does very little on her own."
"Um . . . have you chosen the carpet for the master bedroom?" she asked, jumping to an area in which she felt she could have some input—my new house.
"I'm going with the beige," I said.
"Oh, that's such a mistake. You don't know how hard it is to keep that looking clean. Now, I think . . ."
It had gotten so that I could listen and not listen to Mother at the same time. I usually did paperwork while she babbled over the telephone, sensing when to respond with an "uh-huh" or a "yes." However, during this particular phone conversation she suddenly switched to a third topic with the shock of a headline announcement and seized my full attention. First she began to cry.
"What is it now, Mother?" I asked wearily.
"Clara Sue has left finishing school and moved in with a man," she announced, her voice crumbling.
"What? When?"
"It's been over a month, but I haven't had the strength to talk about it. I still don't, but I feel if I keep it all bottled up inside me, I will simply explode one day. All that money we've spent on her finishing school has been wasted. Bronson says there's nothing we can do or should do. She's over eighteen now."
"He's right, Mother. Not that she listened to anything you or Randolph told her before she was eighteen. What sort of man is she living with?" I asked. What I really meant was, what sort of a man would want to live with her?
"A man fifteen years older! And divorced, too," she cried. "With two children, a boy ten and a girl twelve!"
"Where did she meet him?" I wondered aloud.
"She went bowling," Mother replied, sighing. "Fortunately, people here don't know yet, but can you imagine what it is going to be like when they find out? And she intends to bring this man to Philip's graduation and wedding. I will be so disgraced—so embarrassed—but do you think she cares? Not one bit."
"Look at it this way, Mother," I said dryly, "someone else has to put up with her now."
"This is no time to be flippant, Dawn. It's a serious problem. At this period in my life I don't need anything to speed up my aging process. I'm thinking of taking those new skin treatments I read about."
"Mother, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times: anyone who wants to see wrinkles in your face has to use a magnifying glass," I said.
"I know you're just being nice, Dawn, but I can see myself in a mirror, can't I? Oh, this thing with Clara Sue," she moaned. "It will be the death of me. What should I do?"
"There's someone knocking on my office door, Mother," I said.
"I'm sure there's no one there, Dawn. You just want to get rid of me. Everyone just wants to get rid of me these days . . . Philip, that woman, Clara Sue, and now you, too," she sobbed. "Thank goodness I have Bronson."
"There really is someone knocking, Mother. We're in the season now," I reminded her.
"Oh, that hotel. It will always be my competition. First it was with Randolph, and then with Philip, and now with you."
"Responsibilities don't take care of themselves, Mother," I said.
"You sounded just like her when you said that, Dawn. Do you know that? Just like her."
"Mother . . ."
"No, Dawn, the hotel's all you think about or care about these days. Honestly, I don't know why it should be so important to you. Weil," she said, sighing deeply, "goodbye, then. As soon as the gossip about Clara Sue begins, tell me so I can prepare myself for the worst," she added before hanging up.
When I told Jimmy he thought the whole thing was amusing, but I couldn't imagine why Philip hadn't told me about Clara Sue. He called at least once a week now, sometimes twice. I was surprised to discover he didn't know.
"Mother never said a thing," he claimed, "and I haven't spoken to Clara Sue for months. An older man? And divorced? Well, what do you know about that? I wondered what she would eventually do with herself. She has no aptitude for anything, never cared much about the hotel, did terribly in school and wasn't interested in going to any college . . . oh, well," he said, "at least she will be out of everyone's hair."
Somehow I doubted that.
10
FAMILY AFFAIRS
THERE WERE A GREAT NUMBER OF PEOPLE AT PHILIP'S GRADUATION. Jimmy and I drove down with Bronson and Mother in Bronson's limousine. I wanted to bring Christie, but Mother insisted it was no place for a child. When we arrived and took our seats, however, we saw dozens of children, many younger than Christie. I was sure she would have enjoyed seeing the ceremony.
It was a beautiful and warm spring day, so the college had the ceremony outside. Mother was a nervous wreck, of course, looking around expectantly every five minutes, anticipating Clara Sue's arrival with her "male friend," as Mother now referred to him.
The Monroes did not sit with us. They had a contingent of their own friends and relatives to sit with, and we had only a passing meeting with Betty Ann's parents. I decided Mother was right in referring to Claudine Monroe as "that woman," for she showed little interest in meeting me and Jimmy and was rather abrupt. After the introductions she was off to meet and greet other people. Stuart Monroe was a great deal warmer and friendlier. I decided that Betty Ann had inherited her plainness from her mother, who, although tall and stately in posture, was quite unremarkable in looks and had that same pale complexion and unshiny hair.
We took our seats only moments before the coordinating director gave his signal for the band to play the march.
"Where is she?" Mother muttered, her head turning every which way like a weathervane in a crosswind.
"Perhaps she decided at the last minute not to come," Bronson suggested.
"I hope so," Mother replied.
The music started, and the audience rose as the graduates began their walk to the stage. Philip smiled our way as soon as he appeared. Strands of his gold hair uncovered by his cap caught the sun's brightness, as did his blue eyes. Bronson had brought a camera and snapped pictures. As soon as all the graduates were on the stage we sat down, and the commencement festivities began. I had all but forgotten about Clara Sue until the middle of the main speaker's talk. He was a state senator and had everyone's rapt attention when suddenly we heard a wave of murmuring behind us, and we all turned to look.
Clara Sue and her "male friend" were coming down the center aisle, Clara Sue giggling at the disruption she was causing. She held her older man's hand and charged ahead, looking as though she were dragging him to a seat. But that wasn't what shocked everyone. It was what she was wearing—a short, tight black leather mini skirt and a flimsy white silk off-shoulder blouse that revealed more than just the top of her full bosom. In fact, as she bounced down the aisle in her spiked heels, it looked as if her breasts might pop up and out of the garment any moment.
Her hair was still permed, but fluffed out in a wild mane. She wore pounds of makeup: heavy blue eyeliner, a deep red lipstick and layers and layers of rouge. Her long gold leaf earrings dangled and swung as she pranced, deliberately turning every which way to smile at the gawking men.
Her "male friend" was tall and thin with prematurely graying hair. He had a thin nose and round eyes with an abundant mouth and sharply clipped jaw. Dressed in a gray suit and tie, he looked like some businessman Clara Sue had fished off the street to accompany her.
When Clara Sue finally found our aisle she stopped. Bronson had saved two seats beside him, which would keep Clara Sue as far away from Jimmy and me as possible. She disturbed everyone in her way, falling over one elderly gentleman as she approached us. His eyes goggled as her breasts spilled toward his face. Flustered, all he could do was wait until Clara Sue's "male friend" helped her back to her feet and guided her along, his hands on her hips. She plopped into the seat beside Bronson, laughing. Eyes glared angrily from every head around us. The commotion had reached the
senator, who paused in his speech. Mercifully he continued, taking the attention from us.
If Mother could have crawled under her seat, she would have. She had slumped back and down as far as she could and stared ahead as though what was going on had nothing whatsoever to do with her.
"Sorry we're late," Clara Sue told Bronson in a giggle loud enough for anyone within five rows of us to hear, "but I misplaced the invitation and forgot the time."
"Shh," someone said.
"I've got to introduce Charlie," she moaned.
"After the speech," Bronson advised, and he put his forefinger to his lips. Clara Sue pouted and then caught my gaze. She glared hatefully at me, her eyes turning crystal hard and cola, and then she folded her arms under her scantily covered bosom and sat back like a sulking child.
Right after the speech ended the diplomas were handed out. Clara Sue, not interested in any of it, again attempted to introduce her "male friend." I could see Bronson thought it was best to get it all over with.
"This is Charlie Goodwin," Clara Sue said. "He owns his own bowling alley in Tampa. My stepfather and my mother," Clara Sue said, indicating Bronson and Mother.
Bronson shook his hand, but Mother simply batted her eyelashes and flashed a quick smile. Of course, Clara Sue made no attempt to introduce Jimmy and me. Bronson had to do that after the diplomas were handed out and the graduates began leaving the stage. When we were introduced, Charlie Goodwin moved his eyes over me as if he had the power to undress me with his gaze. I didn't like the way he tucked his mouth in at the corner when he smiled.
"Pleased to meet you," he said. His slim, bony hand seemed to slide over mine. I couldn't wait to pull my fingers away. He gave Jimmy only a passing glance and looked at me again. Immediately Clara Sue rubbed up against him and whispered into his ear. His eyes widened, and lie laughed. I could see he was titillated and thrilled by everything Clara Sue did and by the attention this young, voluptuous woman showered on him.
Cutler 3 - Twilight's Child Page 20
