Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 11

They both chain-smoked. I reminded her that Mommy hated people smoking in the house.

"Look. Buzz and I are not going to be here that long, princess, so don't lay all the heavy rules on me, okay? The fruit doesn't fall far from the tree," she told Buzz, who smiled and nodded at me.

"Well, where are you going?" I asked.

"Back to school for a while. I don't know. I'm beginning to grow bored with the schedules and the homework," she said. Buzz laughed.

"Daddy wanted you to graduate from college," I said.

"My brother wanted to live my life for me," she said dryly. "Don't remind me. Well, he's gone now and I can't keep worrying about what other people want me to do. I've got to do what I want to do."

"But what will you do?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it," she whined. "I won't be coming around here that often, especially since Philip and his brood have taken over the place," she said.

"They haven't taken over the place," I insisted.

"Oh, no? What do you call it: a temporary situation?" She laughed.

"Yes," I said.

"Face reality, princess. You're too young to be on your own. Philip and Betty will become your guardians. Well, I don't intend for them to be mine.

Cheer up," she added. "In a few years, you can leave, too."

"I won't leave my brother, ever."

"Famous last words, right, Buzz?" He nodded and smiled as if she had her fingers on his strings and he was only her puppet.

"I won't," I insisted. Aunt Fern could be so infuriating. Now that Daddy was gone, there wouldn't be anyone to watch over her and rescue her from the pools of trouble she usually fell into, I thought. She doesn't know it now, but she's going to miss him more than she ever dreamed. I left them as soon as I was told Aunt Trisha had arrived.

Aunt Trisha had begun her Broadway show and despite her great sorrow, had to perform. I didn't blame her; I knew the show must go on. Mommy always talked about the sacrifices people made when they became professional entertainers. But Aunt Trisha and I had time to cry together and console each other. Jefferson was happy to see her too, and rushed into her arms. She remained at our side from that moment until the end, when she had to leave to get back to New York.

The limousine led the line of traffic to the church. The thick gray sky was appropriate. I could just hear Daddy saying, "Oh no, the weather's going to make her even sadder still." The hea.r.s.e had been parked on the side by the time we arrived. The church was overflowing with mourners. Bronson had Grandmother Laura sitting up front. She wore an elegant black dress and a black hat and veil. I saw she had put on pounds of makeup and had especially overdone the thickness of her lipstick. She seemed in a daze, confused, but still smiled at everyone and nodded as we filed in to take our places. Jefferson clung tightly to my hand and sat so close to me that he was practically on my lap.

As soon as the minister came out, the organ master stopped playing. The minister led the mourners in prayer and read from the Bible. Then he spoke lovingly and admiringly of Mommy and Daddy, calling them the two brightest lights in our community, always burning warmly and giving the rest of us reason to be hopeful and happy. He was sure they were doing the same for all the souls in Heaven.

Jefferson listened wide-eyed, but neither of us could shift our eyes off the two coffins for long. It still seemed unreal and impossible to believe that Mommy and Daddy were lying in them. When I turned to leave after the church service, I saw that most people had been crying, some quite hard.

The funeral procession went directly to the cemetery. At the site of their graves, Gavin held my hand and Aunt Trisha held Jefferson. We stood like statues, the cold breeze lifting my hair and making my tears feel like drops of ice on my cheeks. Just before the coffins were to be lowered, I stepped forward to kiss each one.

"Good-bye, Daddy," I whispered. "Thank you for loving me more than my real father could ever dream of loving me. In my heart you will always be my real father." I paused and had to swallow hard before I could continue.

"Good-bye, Mommy. You're gone, but you will never be far away from me."

I gazed up at Uncle Philip who had come up beside me. He was staring down at Mommy's coffin and the tears were streaming freely down his face and dripping off his chin. He touched the coffin softly and closed his eyes and then stepped back with me. The coffins were lowered.

I heard the sobbing. I wanted to comfort Jefferson, but I couldn't stop my own tears. Gavin embraced me. Granddaddy Longchamp had his head bowed and Edwina stood beside him, her arm around his waist.

Fern wasn't laughing anymore, but she wasn't crying either. She looked tired and uncomfortable and her boyfriend looked confused, probably wondering what he was doing here. Bronson had managed to get Grandmother Laura back into her wheelchair and down to the grave-site. I could see he was explaining things to her and she was shaking her head, the realization of what had happened maybe just settling in.

"Come, everyone," Aunt Bet said, ushering Richard and --Melanie ahead of her. "Let's go home."

Home? I thought. How can it ever be home without Mommy and Daddy there? It's just a sh.e.l.l of itself, a memory, a house full of shadows and old echoes, a place where we hang our clothes and lay down our heads, a place where we will eat a thousand meals more quietly than we had ever eaten them, for gone would be Daddy's laughter after he had just teased Mommy, gone was her singing and her warm smile, gone was her kiss and soft embrace to help keep the goblins and ghosts of our bad dreams from lingering behind.

The sky grew darker, the world was angry, and rightly so, I thought. We stumbled away from the gravesites, past the other deceased family, past the large monument for Grandmother Cutler. I was certain Mommy wouldn't have to face her again, for she could never be in Heaven.

"Remember, children," Aunt Bet said when we got back into the limousine. "Wipe your feet before you go into the house."

I looked up at her sharply and wondered if the nightmares had really only just begun.

Compromising .

WITH UNCLE PHILIP SO DISTRAUGHT,.

AUNT BET HAD taken over the management of the reception at our house after the funeral. Just about everyone at the hotel was eager to do anything Aunt Bet wanted. Mr. Nussbaum and Leon cooked and baked what she thought was appropriate. They worked in the house under her supervision. She asked Buster Morris and other grounds people to bring over tables and benches and set them up on the front lawn.

We knew there would be mobs of people coming to pay their last respects and console the family. Neither Jefferson nor I were in any mood to greet people, even people who sincerely wanted to show their love and sympathy; but I knew it was something we had to do, and anyway, Aunt Bet made sure to a.s.sign us our roles and position in the house.

"You and Jefferson will sit there, dear," she said, pointing to the sofa in the living room. "Melanie and Richard will sit beside you, of course, and bring people to meet you."

"I don't want to meet people," Jefferson said, a little plaintively.

"Of course you don't, dear," Aunt Bet said, smiling, "but you have to do it for your mother and father."

"Why?"

"He's always driving people crazy with questions," Richard commented, twisting up the corner of his mouth. His lips were as thin as rubber bands and sometimes, when he did that so severely, I thought they would snap.

"He has every right to ask questions, Richard,"

I said sharply.

"Of course, he does," Aunt Bet said in an annoying sing-song voice. She reached out to stroke Jefferson's hair, but he tried to move his head out of her reach. "You ask anything you want, dear."

Jefferson tightened his mouth and made his eyes small and hateful, but Aunt Bet just patted his head again and left us. Before we could argue about anything else, the people began arriving. Even Jefferson was impressed and overwhelmed. It seemed everyone who lived anywhere near Cutler's Cove appeared, and even some of our most faithful hotel guests had made the journey once they heard of the tragedy.

Aunt Bet flitted around like a canary, the boundaries of her cage being the living room and entry way. She greeted people and pointed them in our direction. It became exhausting rather quickly, but I couldn't help noticing that the people who embraced and kissed Jefferson and me were truly sorrowful. I'd never fully appreciated how many people Mommy and Daddy had touched.

Aunt Trisha looked after us as best she could, seeing that Jefferson and I had something to eat and drink. She remained as long as she was able to and then pulled us aside to say good-bye.

"I have to make this flight to New York," she said. "It breaks my heart to leave you two."

"I understand, Aunt Trisha," I said, recalling the way Daddy used to tease her. "After all, you're in the theater," I added, mimicking him. She smiled briefly.

"I'm going to miss them so much." She looked at Jefferson. He shook his head in bewildered fashion, the tears flowing. "Oh, pumpkin," she said, squeezing him tightly to her. "Be a good boy and listen to your aunt and uncle, okay?" Jefferson nodded reluctantly.

"I'll call you soon, Christie, and maybe in a few weeks or so, you will be able to visit me in the city and come to the show every night. Would you like that?"

"Very much, Aunt Trisha."

She stood up, biting down on her lower lip and nodding. Then she spun around as if chased by ghosts and fled from us. Only minutes later, Gavin came to tell me Granddaddy Longchamp was anxious to go, too.

"It's tearing him apart to sit here and see all these people in mourning parade by," Gavin explained. "He's even willing to sit in the airport lobby and wait."

"I understand," I said even though my heart dropped with the news Gavin would be going.

"He said I could come back soon to visit,"

Gavin said.

"Oh Gavin, you were going to work here this summer. We were going to have so much fun together," I reminded him. His eyes told me I didn't have to.

"Mother wants you two to return to the sofa,"

Richard said, shoving himself between us. "She says there are still a number of important people to greet."

"Hey," Gavin said, turning sharply on him, "make like the wind and blow."

"Huh?"

"Make like a tree and leave, get it?"

Richard's mouth twisted in confusion for a moment. Then it all registered.

"I'm just doing what Mother said to do," he whined defensively.

"Well, now do what I say to do." Gavin's furious face turned him around quickly and sent him running.

I laughed; it felt so good to do so.

"Do me a favor, Jefferson," Gavin said, "tie his socks together every morning, will you?"

"Yeah," Jefferson said, his eyes brightening.

"Don't you dare, Jefferson. Gavin, he doesn't need new ideas."

"If he bothers you, tell him I'll be back," Gavin told Jefferson.

"Daddy wants to go, honey," Edwina said softly, stepping up beside us. "He's not doing too well," she added apologetically to me. "Philip's having the limo take us."

"I'll walk you out," I said.

"Me too," Jefferson echoed. He wasn't going to leave my side for a second.

When we stepped out front, we saw Aunt Fern and her boyfriend over by one of the tables laughing and joking with some of the waiters and bellhops. She didn't appear to be bereaved; she could have just as well been a stranger who had wandered onto the grounds. Edwina went over to her to tell her they were leaving, but she wasn't very interested.

"Sure, good-bye," she said and waved quickly at Gavin and Granddaddy Longchamp.

"She doesn't act like any child of mine," he muttered, "and certainly no child of Sally Jean's. I guess she must take after some of the bad eggs on my side of the family. We sure had more than our fair share of 'em," he added. I was intrigued and wondered if Gavin knew any of his own dark history.

"Well now, you take care of yourself, Christie,"

Granddaddy Longchamp said, turning his big, sad eyes on me. "And look after your brother the way your Momma and Papa would have wanted you to.

And you call us if there's anything we can do for you children, understand?"

"Yes, Granddaddy. Thank you," I said. He took one last look at the house and then bent over to get into the limousine. Edwina followed.

"I'll call and write as much as I can," Gavin said. "I hate leaving you like this," he added, his eyes soft with sympathy. I nodded, my eyes down. He ran his hand through Jefferson's hair and then, quickly, almost so quickly that I couldn't feel it and no one could have seen it, he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. By the time I opened my eyes, he was lunging into the limousine behind his parents.

Jefferson and I stood there holding hands, watching it disappear down the driveway. Suddenly, I was chilled. Twilight had come like a quickly dropped shade and deepened all the shadows around us.

"There you are, children," Aunt Bet cried from the front door. "You two just have to come back inside and man your stations," she declared.

"We're both tired, Aunt Bet," I said, still holding on to Jefferson's hand and walking past her.

"We're going upstairs now."

"Oh-but, dear, what about all the new people who have just arrived?" she cried despondently. She grimaced as though our absence would be the real tragedy of the day.

"I'm sure they'll understand," I said quietly. "As should you."

"But . ."

We walked, heads down, and made our way quickly up the stairway as if we really didn't belong, orphans in our own home.

I took Jefferson to my room, knowing he wouldn't want to be alone. The noise and commotion downstairs continued for hours. Not long after we had retired, Bronson Alcott came up to see us. He knocked on the door and poked his head in when I asked who was there. Jefferson had fallen asleep beside me on the bed, but I could only lie there, my eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

"Oh, I didn't want to wake you," he said, retreating.

"It's all right, Bronson. Please, come in," I said, sitting up and running my fingers through my hair. He stepped into the room and smiled at Jefferson.

"Poor little tyke," he said, shaking his head.

"It's not easy for anyone, but for him, it's especially hard. I remember how hard it was for me to lose my mother, and I was quite a bit older."

"How did she die?"

"She contracted a blood cancer," he said sadly.

"And left you to look after your crippled sister?"

I recalled some of the details Mommy had once told me. He nodded. And now he's looking after poor Grandmother Laura, I thought sadly. "How's Grandmother?" I asked.

"She's all right. I left her with the nurse," he said, "so I could come up here to see you two."

"Does she understand what's happened?" He nodded softly.