Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 39

"What was so horrible about it? Philip's quite a handsome Kan," 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 ch.o.r.es 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 another 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 s.e.xual 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?"

I held my breath.

"Until I get bored," she replied. "Besides," she added, smiling up at me, "we don't want to desert my poor niece just when she needs us the most, do we?

Oh," she said. "You don't know why she ran away from home. Well, it seems one night . . ."

An egg slipped out of my hand and smashed on the floor.

"Aunt Fern!"

"Now look at what you've done," Aunt Fern said. "Miss b.u.t.terfingers. Well scoop it up, Christie.

That can be yours," she said and laughed.

I glared at her, finally fed up enough to defy her, but one look at her face told me she was anxious for such a confrontation. She wanted the opportunity to make everyone's lives miserable, as miserable as her own. I bit down on my lower lip and swallowed my pride.

"Why did she run away?" Morton asked.

"Never mind," Aunt Fern said, looking down at me on my hands and knees. "It's private talk between a niece and her loving aunt, right princess?"

I soaked up the broken egg in a rag and tried to ignore her, but she wouldn't relent. She was the kind of person who enjoyed pouring salt into someone else's wounds. I should have realized she wouldn't feel sorry for me. There wasn't an ounce of compa.s.sion in her unless it was for herself.

"Right?" she insisted.

"Right, Aunt Fern," I said, swallowing my tears.

I realized I had run from one horrible trap into another. Every time I broke one of the links in the chain that bound me to the family curse, something mended it. I felt just like someone wearing irons around her neck, hands and feet. I rose to my feet slowly and, mechanically, like some galley slave, made Aunt Fern and her boyfriend their scrambled eggs. I did the best I could to keep my tears from dropping into the food.

"Aren't you eating breakfast?" Aunt Fern asked when I served her and Morton their eggs and fresh cups of coffee.

"I don't have any appet.i.te," I said.

"Well, you'd better eat something anyway," she insisted. "You've got to keep up your strength. There's lots more for you to do. Later on in the evening, you can entertain us on the piano."

"I'd rather not," I said.

"Sure you would," she retorted, enjoying every moment of my discomfort. "It will give you an opportunity to show off again and you know how much you like to show off, princess."

"I don't show off, Aunt Fern."

"Of course you do. You're supposed to after all that expense. My brother spent a fortune for her lessons," she told Morton, who nodded with little interest. "A lot more than he wanted to spend on me,"

she added hatefully.

"I feel sorry for you, Aunt Fern," I said, shaking my head. "You've got a monster inside you, a green monster eating away at your heart. I feel more sorry for you than I do for myself," I added and started out of the kitchen.

"Don't go too far, princess," she called after me and laughed. "You never know when I might need something done for me," she added and laughed.

Her laughter echoed through the plantation house. It was the kind of laughter that found a welcome home in the dark corners of this old mansion. I was positive it was the sort of evil that had lived so well within its walls.

Bad to the Bone .

ALTHOUGH IT WAS A BRIGHT, SUNNY.

MORNING WITH only puffs of clouds that appeared to be pasted against the deep blue sky here and there, I was so unhappy I might as well have opened the door and stepped into a gray, overcast day. Even the chirping of the sparrows and robins seemed dull, their music sadly off-key to me. A large, black crow, perched on the back of an old wooden lawn chair, stared at me with what looked like morbid curiosity. It barely moved and resembled a stuffed bird more than a live one. Instead of being greeted by the aroma of freshly-cut gra.s.s and the blossoms of wild flowers, I inhaled the musty scent of rotting wood beams in the porch floor. Flies danced in the air around the house as if they were celebrating the discovery of a huge carca.s.s on which they could feed forever.

I sighed, realizing I was tuned into only what would make me uncomfortable and sad; I was in the mood to see only what was ugly and bleak, no matter how wonderful the day really was. I used to think it was the weather that would put me into one state of mind or the other, but now I realized it was far more than that. It was Mommy and Daddy who made the world bright and wonderful for me. Their smiles and happy voices created the sunshine. Beauty without people you loved or people who loved you was incomplete, unappreciated, missed.

And just as loving and gentle people could make your world brighter and happier, so could selfish and cruel people, people with hearts made of granite and veins filled with ice water, make your world dismal and gray. Aunt Fern was like a sooty, dark gray cloud hovering over my head now, threatening to drop a hard, cold rain over me and drench me in even more misery. In my flight from the horror my home had become, I had scooped up my little brother and taken Gavin's helping hand, dragging them both along on what seemed now to be a journey into h.e.l.l. I had taken refuge in the old plantation, but in doing so, I had only pet witted the curse to enter the lives of two simple, but gentle, people.

I felt like Typhoid Mary, a Jonah. If I boarded a ship, it would sink; if I got on a train or a plane, it would crash. Maybe, if I ever reached Heaven, the angels would lose their melodious voices. I couldn't recall a time in my life when I felt more sorry for myself and the people who loved me. As I stood there filled with these dark thoughts, I considered running down the driveway and disappearing. Without my being here to torment, Aunt Fern would get bored and leave; Gavin could take Jefferson home with him and have a happy life, and Charlotte, Luther and Homer could return to the idyllic, simple world they once had.

I took a few steps forward, my eyes fixed on the broken and chipped driveway. In the strong breeze, the trees and bushes seemed to be beckoning to me. The voice in the wind whispered "Run, Christie, run . . . run." What difference did it make where I went, what turns I made, or where I ended up?

People might miss me for awhile. For awhile Gavin's heart would be heavy, but time would embroider me into the fabric of his memory and he would turn to happier and more hopeful things. Living in a world where fires could steal away two people as wonderful as Mommy and Daddy, where people as evil as Charlotte's sister Emily thrived and lived to a ripe old age, where diseases and poverty coexisted alongside the healthy and the fortunate, striking without rhyme or reason to steal away happiness at any moment, was difficult enough. Why add the leaden weight of a curse, too?

My steps grew bolder, longer, faster. Perhaps I would hide in the bushes and watch to be sure Aunt Fern and Morton left and Gavin soon followed afterward with Jefferson. Then I would feel better about my decision. Yes, I could. . . .

"HEY!" I heard. I stopped and turned to see Gavin walking quickly toward me. His dark eyebrows were raised in confusion. "Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.

"I was just .. . "

"Just what, Christie? This driveway takes you back to the road. You were running off, weren't you?"

he asked perceptively. "Fern did something else," he followed before I could utter a reply. "What did she do?" he demanded. "I'll 'go back in there and I'll.. ."

He turned toward the house.

"No Gavin, please," I said, seizing his forearm.

-Don't do anything. I wasn't running away," I said. He looked at me skeptically. "I was just going to take a walk and I thought this would be the easiest way," I said flatly, hoping that he wouldn't see the pain that was in my eyes. But that was what he saw.

"Christie, I told you I would keep anyone from hurting you, didn't I?" he said.

"I know. I know. Is Jefferson all right?" I asked quickly, hoping to get him off the topic so he would calm down.

"He's in seventh heaven alongside Homer smearing paint over the barn walls. I've been waiting for you all morning. What did she have you do after you brought her coffee?"

"Nothing terrible. I helped her bathe and shampoo her hair and then I made them some breakfast. It will be all right," I promised, even though I wasn't confident. "I'm sure they'll grow bored today and leave."

"Um," he said, nodding, his eyes small.

"Maybe."

"Of course, they will, Gavin. What's here for them? You know how Fern's used to a lot of excitement. Why, she always complained about being bored at the hotel with all the activity in full swing."