Just before Philip arrived Mother pulled Clara Sue aside. I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.
"Don't you realize what you're doing to me, dressing like that and making such a shocking entrance?" she cried. "And coming here with that—that man," she sputtered.
"Oh, please, Mother," Clara Sue responded. "Don't start. I'm very happy with Charlie."
"Happy? How can you be happy with a man twice your age?" Mother complained.
"He's not twice my age, and I like his gray hair," Clara Sue said. "It makes him look distinguished."
"Distinguished! That man hardly looks distinguished," Mother spat.
"Here comes Philip. I've got to introduce him," Clara Sue declared, and she rushed off before Mother could say another word. Mother was practically swooning with embarrassment at this point anyway, and we had to leave the graduation ceremony as soon as we had met and congratulated Philip and Betty Ann.
All the way home Mother moaned and cried about how much she had been disgraced by Clara Sue's behavior.
"Can you imagine what the Monroes must think of us? And what their friends must think? Poor Philip. I felt so sorry for him, too, especially when Clara Sue introduced that man in front of all Philip's college friends. What could she possibly want with such a person? Can anyone tell me?"
When neither Bronson nor I responded, she turned to Jimmy.
"What do you think, James?" she asked. "You were in the army; you should know about such things."
What Jimmy's being in the army had to do with it none of us knew, but Jimmy had an answer ready for her.
"It's just a rebellious fling," he said. Mother nodded. Then Jimmy leaned toward me, and under his breath he added, "I'm sure it won't be her last."
Philip insisted on returning to the hotel and working during the week before his wedding. Jimmy thought he would have too much on his mind to be of any real use, but Philip said if he didn't keep busy, he would go mad. We were only two weeks or so away from moving into our new house, and Philip spent a great deal of time over there with Jimmy checking on the finishing touches.
"I think the anticipation of getting married is driving Philip mad," Jimmy told me one evening.
"Why do you say that, Jimmy?" I asked. We were getting ready for bed.
"I don't mind him following me over to the house, and I don't even mind him hovering over my shoulder every time I look at something, but the questions . . ." Jimmy shook his head.
"Like what, Jimmy?"
"Like where exactly will our bed be located in our room? What side do you sleep on? Which closet is yours and which is mine? Why should he care about that? Today he sat at the vanity table and stared into the mirror the whole time I was in our suite. I left, and when I came back I thought he was gone, but I found him in the master bathroom, standing by the tub, just gazing down at it. He was in some kind of daze, because I had to call him three times to get his attention.
"I've heard about men acting that way when they're in love, but . . . What's the matter, Dawn?" Jimmy asked. "You have the strangest expression on your face." He laughed. "Actually, you look like someone who's seen a ghost. Is something wrong?"
"No," I said quickly. I smiled up at Jimmy. "Actually," I said, making it up as fast as I could, "I was just remembering how I was that day you came to New York to visit me at school. I was on pins and needles the whole time, and when you were late—"
"I remember," he said. "I was so nervous, but the moment I set eyes on you I stopped worrying. I knew we just had to be together; it just had to happen.
"Do you think Philip and Betty Ann have that kind of love?" Jimmy asked.
I turned away.
"I don't know, Jimmy. She appears to love him very much."
"Well, I'm just happy now that things ended up the way they did—that you turned out to be his sister and not mine. I don't know if I would ever have found anyone else," he said.
"Oh, Jimmy." Half undressed, I sat on the bed.
"Hey . . . you're crying. Why are you crying?" he asked, sitting beside me and putting his arm around my shoulder.
"I'm just happy I'm with you and you're with me," I said. "Really I am."
He smiled, and we kissed.
That night we tried once more to have our baby. I couldn't have wanted it any more than I did when we made love this time, but after we were finished and had kissed and turned away from each other to sleep, I had this empty feeling inside, this knowledge that we hadn't found the magic moment yet. I began to wonder if we ever would again. It was a frightening thought. What if the only child I would have was the one I had had with Michael? It would surely break Jimmy's heart. He craved family so and was constantly inquiring as to whether Mr. Updike's detective had made any headway in his search for Fern. I couldn't tell him that we had stopped searching because we had run into one dead end after another. I didn't have the courage to tell him that the facts were simply inaccessible to us; it was the law, and Mr. Updike had advised me that to pursue it was verging on something illegal.
My mind was in such a turmoil, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes and tried, I saw Philip standing in my nearly completed new bedroom, gazing licentiously at my vanity table and tub—but in my imagination I saw myself in the tub, taking a bath. I lifted my head, and suddenly there was Philip in the doorway, smiling down at me. I tried to get him to leave, but he stepped in further and offered to wash my back. I couldn't help but imagine him forcing himself on me again, running that washcloth over my shoulders and then down and over my breasts.
I moaned, frightened that these thoughts had even entered my mind. But it wasn't my fault, I told myself. It was Philip's. Somehow, slyly, surreptitiously, with the stealth of a fox in a chicken coop, he was creeping through the shadows and entering my world, first in little ways, and then bursting in upon me, upon my very thoughts.
I couldn't help but relive his sexual attack on me in the shower. I had been so frustrated, so trapped; I had been unable to shout out for fear I would bring attention. In the end I had been unable to hold him off.
And here I was feeling muzzled once again. I was afraid to mention anything to Jimmy, terrified of what he would do if he discovered any of this. In my heart I sensed he had some suspicions that just hadn't found their way into words yet. But someday they would, and when that day came . . . I groaned just imagining the crisis.
"Dawn?" Jimmy said. "Are you all right?"
"What? Oh, yes. I just had a bad dream," I said. "What was it about?"
"I don't want to talk about it. I'm all right. Really," I said.
He kissed me to reassure me, and then I did finally fall asleep, hoping that somehow I could put these fears to rest.
But one afternoon late in the week Philip wandered into my office and sat down. When I asked him what he wanted, he said nothing in particular; he just wanted to watch me work for a while. I sat back, unable to hide my annoyance.
"I don't think well under glass," I said. "Really, Philip, if you have nothing to do, why don't you go visit Mother? She's the one who's on pins and needles these days and could use your company."
Mother just dreaded the thought of attending Philip's wedding now that she knew for sure that Clara Sue and Charlie would be there. She was positive Clara Sue would do something terrible again, just as she had done at Philip's graduation, and embarrass the family. But despite her reticence, she couldn't help but be intrigued with the gala event. She went out of her way to find the most expensive, and most striking new gown. She had her personal hairdresser experiment with a half dozen different styles until she settled on one. Every day so far during the entire week before the wedding she had had facial treatments. She went on an intensive diet because she thought her waist was a little wide and her arms a little flabby. One day she was in a panic because she thought she saw the beginnings of a double chin. She came to the hotel to have me confirm it wasn't so.
"Are you kidding?" Philip cried out, laughing at my sugge
stion. "Mother would simply pile on her complaints and recommendations about the wedding. We would drive each other crazy. No, thank you."
"Well, I can't work with you just sitting there, Philip," I insisted. He nodded and rose from his seat.
"Your house is looking beautiful," he said, not with any real enthusiasm.
"Thank you."
"Actually, I'm kind of upset about it. Now that Clara Sue's gone and Mother's remarried and you're moving out, everyone will be gone from the family section but me," he complained.
"You have Betty Ann," I reminded him. "And I'm sure you will be raising a family. You should be happy you have all that privacy."
"Yes," he said, looking down at the floor. Then he looked up at me and smiled, but it was a queer, shadowy smile.
"You haven't asked me about it, so I imagine you don't know where we're going for our honeymoon, do you?" he asked.
"No." I sat back, a ripple of apprehension creeping up my spine. "Where?"
"The exact same place you and Jimmy went in Province-town on Cape Cod," he replied. "I got the information from Jimmy. I'm surprised he didn't tell you. Or did he?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. My heart began to thump in my chest. Jimmy hadn't told me because he knew it would upset me, I thought. "Haven't you been to Cape Cod?" I asked.
"Oh, I have, and so has Betty Ann, dozens of times. Matter of fact," he said, "her parents have a house in Hyannis Port."
"So why are you going there? Why don't you go someplace neither of you has been so you can see new things?" I asked, afraid of the answer.
"When you're on a honeymoon," he said, his eyes twinkling, "you don't care about the surroundings, do you? Don't tell me you and Jimmy did a lot of sightseeing," he said, his eyes and his smile full of suggestion.
"We didn't have time to do much, if you will recall. Randolph had just died," I reminded him sharply.
"Uh-huh," he said, unflappable. He kept his eyes trained on me, a wry smile cocking his lips. "Is Jimmy a good lover?" he asked.
"That's not the sort of thing I care to discuss with you, Philip," I replied. My voice took on the steely edge of a razor, but his smile widened.
"I bet it was hard for you two, continually reminded of yourselves as brother and sister. How did you get over that, or didn't you?" he asked, his head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowing.
"I said I don't care to discuss it, Philip," I flared. He stared at me a moment and then nodded.
"Okay," he said. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just nervous. Maybe I will follow your suggestion and take a ride up to see Mother. I need the amusement," he said. "Sorry I bothered you." He turned and headed for the door. After he opened it he paused. "But I meant what I said about being lonely in the family section now. I'll miss you, miss listening to you move about your suite." He raised his eyebrows. "I can hear almost everything through those walls, you know."
I reddened.
"Not that I'm trying to listen. I don't have my ear up against the wall," he added quickly. "It's just that after a while you get used to certain sounds." He shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe someday soon Betty Ann and I will be in a house, too, and not far from you and Jimmy. Then the only one left living in the family section will be Grandmother's ghost," he added with a laugh.
I stared, feeling a scream in my throat that just stayed there. He shook his head and walked out, closing the door softly behind him. The silence that rained down around me filled me with a terrifying chill. I embraced myself and sat back. It was as if the cold was coming from inside me, as if an ice cube in my stomach was building and building. Finally I had to get up and go outside into the warm sunlight. I walked around the hotel and found Jimmy talking with some maintenance men who were about to wash windows.
"Hi," he said, seeing me approach. He took one look at the expression on my face and his face became somber. "Something wrong?"
"Oh, Jimmy," I said. "I want to move into our new house right away—tomorrow, if we can."
"Tomorrow?" He started to laugh.
"Yes, tomorrow," I insisted.
"But I don't have all the plumbing fixtures, and we haven't even connected our phone lines, and—"
"Well, when can we move in?" I demanded.
"We're on schedule, but I suppose I could rush a few things and get us in comfortably in, say, a week. Why? What's the rush?" he asked.
"Nothing. You were right about living in the hotel," I said quickly. "I need to feel I'm in my own place."
"Okay. I'll see what I can do to rush it even more. In the meantime, maybe you ought to start thinking about packing our things, getting that part organized."
"I will. I’ll see Mrs. Boston and Sissy about it right away.
Thank you," I said, kissing him on the cheek. "I don't mean to be a burden."
"You're no burden; you could never be a burden. A pain in the you-know-where once in a while, but a burden—"
"All right, James Gary Longchamp," I chastised playfully. He laughed, and then I felt the cold and the trepidation lift out of my body. It was so good having Jimmy. He was my strength, the rainbow at the end of every storm, the sunlight breaking through every cloud.
I returned to the hotel to resume my work and put all my dark concerns at the very bottom of my trunk of thoughts where they belonged.
But dark thoughts and trouble seemed to have a way of finding my doorstep. Two days before Philip's wedding I had an unexpected visit from Clara Sue and Charlie Goodwin. I was in the office reading Mr. Dorfman's weekly financial report and recommendations when my door was thrown open and Clara Sue appeared like the queen of nightmares, wearing the same tight-fitting violet silk dress she had worn the last time we had been alone together. For the rest of my life I would never forget any of the details of the nightmarish day when Clara Sue had stolen my most precious possession: my unborn baby. The horror would haunt me until the day I died.
At first, because of the way she stood there with her hands on her hips, I didn't see Charlie Goodwin behind her; but when she stepped in he appeared, hat in hand, that sly smile cutting a crooked line from the corners of his mouth through the sides of his lean cheeks.
"Well, look at how you've changed Grandmother's office!" Clara Sue exclaimed. "I bet this cost a pretty penny to do, and for what? Just to make you happy, I suppose."
"It's my office now, Clara Sue," I said, glaring back at her. "What is it you want? Make it quick. I've got work to do."
"Me and Charlie want to talk to you, right, Charlie?" she said, turning back.
"Uh-huh," he said, continuing to smile.
"Charlie's a businessman," Clara Sue bragged. "He knows about all this stuff," she added, waving at the walls of my office as if they were covered with Wall Street ticker tape.
"Talk to me about what, Clara Sue?"
"About the hotel. What did you think?" She plopped herself down in one of the red leather chairs and crossed her stockinged legs. "Sit down, Charlie," she commanded. Charlie took the other chair quickly.
"So how's business?" Clara Sue demanded.
"We're doing well," I said. "If you have any—"
"You know," Clara Sue said quickly, leaning toward me, "Grandmother Cutler loved me the best. She wanted me to be the real owner of this place some day."
I sat back and smiled.
"I hardly think so, Clara Sue. Whatever I say about Grandmother Cutler, I will never say she was stupid," I replied. My comment had the effect of slapping her across the face, and I relished the look of outrage washing over her features. She snapped back in her seat, her smile washed away.
"That's what you say, but I had many a talk with her before you came here and ruined our lives," she insisted.
"I don't want to go through this with you again, Clara Sue. You and I have nothing to say to each other. I'm really going to have to ask you to leave. I'm busy."
"I'm not leaving so fast. We've still got unfinished business. And I've told you before, Dawn"—her eyes glinted maliciously—"especially that las
t time we spoke, not to try giving me orders." A sly smile twitched across Clara Sue's lips. "You remember our last conversation, don't you, Dawn? Surely you haven't forgotten the details of that day." She laughed cruelly. "We were in your bedroom, and I was wearing this exact same dress—"
I cut Clara Sue off before she could continue. "Don't you ever, ever mention that day to me again, you murderer!" I lost control of myself as my rage toward Clara Sue and what she had done to me suddenly burst forth. "As long as I live I will never, ever forget that day or forgive what you did to me. The only reason I can tolerate the sight of you is that I know it was all a tragic accident. You didn't know I was pregnant, yet what happened that day could have been avoided if only you would let go of the hatred you hold against me. I've never tried to hurt you, Clara Sue."
"Accidents happen," she sneered. "My heart was broken when I heard the news. To think I missed out on being an aunt again. By the way, how's the brat? Does she miss her Auntie Clara Sue? I'd love to see her. I've got some stories I'd love to tell her. One's about a princess named Dawn and a big bad wolf named Michael." Clara Sue grinned at me wickedly.
"Get out!" I shouted, outraged at the audacity of her threatening to tell Christie the truth about her parentage before she was ready to hear it. "Get out before I have you thrown out! How we can even be related is beyond me."
"I'm not leaving," Clara Sue spat in a steely whisper. "Not until you hear what Charlie and I have to say, right, Charlie?" She turned sharply on him, and it was as if she held some string attached to his head. He straightened up quickly and nodded.
"She's right, Mrs. Longchamp," he said.
"Call her Dawn, or better yet, Eugenia," Clara Sue said, smiling maliciously. "That's what Grandmother Cutler wanted her to be called."
"What is it you have to say, Mr. Goodwin?" I asked. It was my turn to be demanding.
Cutler 3 - Twilight's Child Page 21
