Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 7

"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 gla.s.ses. 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 gla.s.ses 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 Longchamp 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 G.o.d, 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 s.h.i.+fty 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 pa.s.sages 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 finis.h.i.+ng 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 gla.s.s 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 gla.s.s 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 mean 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 gra.s.s 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.

"But he loves Aunt Bet, doesn't he?" I asked. I couldn't help but be seized by fear because of these revelations.

"Yes," Mommy said rea.s.suringly.

"But not the way you and Daddy love each other," I declared.

"No," she said, then smiled a little. "But few people do." She stood up and came around her desk to me. "Let's not dwell on these sad and troubled thoughts, honey. Aunt Fern was cruel to bring them up." We walked to the door together. "You're going to graduate from high school and go on to be a wonderful pianist. And your brother is going to become tame," she added with wide, hopeful eyes.

We laughed.

"I love you, Mommy, and I never would believe anything ugly about you, no matter what Aunt Fern or anyone else says."

Mommy's face grew serious, her eyes smaller, darker.

"I'm not perfect, Christie. No one is, but I won't ever lie to you or betray you, not the way people who were supposed to love me lied to me and betrayed me.

I promise." She kissed me on the cheek. "Now go check up on Jefferson for me, and enjoy the beautiful suns.h.i.+ne.

"I just dread receiving Jefferson's report card tomorrow," she added. "His behavior report is sure to be all in red."

"Maybe we'll all be pleasantly surprised tomorrow, Mommy," I said.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," she said, but neither Mommy nor I could ever realize how prophetic her statement was.

It took me most of the remainder of the afternoon and much of the evening to make a dent in the pile of gifts I had received. I wanted to get my thank-you cards out as quickly as I could. Jefferson was rather cute, sitting beside me on the floor in the living room announcing each gift and who had given it. I had received some very expensive gifts which included clothing, jewelry, perfume and other toiletries, as well as things for my room.

When Mommy insisted Jefferson get ready for bed, I stopped but promised him I wouldn't continue until he could help me tomorrow after school. I was quite tired myself and retired to my room, mainly to await anxiously Gavin's promised phone call. My eyes fell on Aunt Fern's tightly wrapped gift. It was one I didn't want to open in front of Jefferson or anyone else for that matter, especially Daddy. But I couldn't help but be curious.

I opened it slowly and then casually turned the pages. Why was Aunt Fern so determined I read this story? I wondered, and recalled her final coy comment about chapter ten. I scanned the pages and discovered why. Of course, I had read and seen things more revealing, but somehow, maybe because it had come from Aunt Fern whom I had witnessed doing these s.e.xual things, it all seemed that much more forbidden, and what they said about forbidden fruit would always be true. I couldn't take my eyes from the words describing the lovemaking. As I read on, I began to imagine myself and Gavin. I was so deeply involved in the chapter, I didn't hear the phone's first ring.

When it rang a second time, I scooped it up quickly and slammed the book closed.

"Hi," Gavin said. Hearing his voice after imagining ourselves together made me blush with guilt.

"Hi. How was your trip?" I asked quickly.

"Just as long. No, longer since I was going away from Cutler's Cove."

"Just Cutler's Cove?"

"And you," he said. "Things quiet down?"

"Yes. Jefferson and I went through some of the pile of gifts. I got so many nice things."

"I bet."

"Tomorrow's our last day of school. Mommy's afraid of what Jefferson's report card will look like."

"Mine wasn't too good at his age either," Gavin said. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your party and, especially, our private dance."

"Me too," I said. "Thanks again for the wonderful gift."

We were both silent for a moment.

"I'll write you every day this week," I promised.

He laughed. "I will."

"Great. Well, I'd better hang up. I can't wait to see you again," he said. "Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite."

"Good night, Gavin." I held the phone in my hand for a long moment after he had cradled his receiver. It was as though mine still contained his voice, still promised the warmth it had brought.

"Good night," I whispered into it again and then hung it up.

I looked down at the copy of Lady Chatterley s Lover and thought about Aunt Fern giving it to me.

She didn't do it because she wanted me to learn about love and how it could be warm and wonderful; she wanted to tease me. She probably hoped I would become like her.

Well I would never become like her, I vowed. I took her present and shoved it into the rear of my closet. Someday I might read it again, I thought, but not as forbidden fruit, not as something evil from Aunt Fern.

I crawled into bed and closed my eyes and fell asleep dreaming of the upcoming summer and Gavin's return.

Jefferson wasn't as eager to get up the next morning, knowing we were going to school to get our end-of-the-year report cards. Mommy had to shake him out of bed and he tried to take forever to eat his breakfast. From the look on his face, I a.s.sumed his teacher had already indicated some of the bad things that would be put on his report card.

Unless there was some conflict with guests arriving or going, Julius took all of us to school in the hotel limousine. He always picked us up and brought us home.

As usual Richard and Melanie wore the same color, he in a jacket, slacks and tie and she in a dress.

He was the only seventh grader who went to public school dressed so formally, but I couldn't imagine him dressing any other way. Today, the last day of cla.s.s, he looked even more prim and proper with his hair brushed and slicked down neatly, his tie knotted even tighter, his shoes polished perfectly, and the handkerchief in his top pocket creased so sharply into a point, it looked like it could be used as a knife.

Today, Jefferson was unusually subdued when he finally crawled into the back seat with me and sat across from Richard and Melanie.

"Couldn't you be ready even on the last day?"

Richard asked dryly.

"We've never been late for school, Richard," I replied just as dryly.

"Only because Julius drives faster. The school bus children always get there before we do," he added as if that were something terrible.

"And I never have enough time to talk to my friends before homeroom," Melanie added to bolster Richard's complaint.

"Well, today's the last day of the school year, so you won't have to put up with it again until next fall,"

I told her.

"Jefferson probably will still be in the same cla.s.s." Richard said, a cruel smile on his face.