Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 5

"Are you all right?"

"Sure. I just wanted to get some air. Fern's smoking up the place all by herself, I think," he added disdainfully.

"Is that all that's wrong?" I pursued. I didn't like the way he avoided my eyes.

"Sure," he said quickly, too quickly.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to dance with you yet. I was just . .

"That's all right," he said. "It's your party; you're the center of attention. Anyway, I don't blame all those guys for wanting to dance with you." He looked at me finally. "You played great. You're going to be a famous pianist and tour all over the world.

You'll meet a lot of wealthy, famous people and probably even play for queens and kings. You probably won't even remember me!" he said, firing all this at me as he narrowed his beautiful eyes.

"Gavin! What a terrible thing to say! Is that how little you think of me?" I demanded, my hands on my hips.

"Huh?"

He set me on a tirade; my face flushed and I felt as if I were rolling head over heels down a steep hill and couldn't stop.

"You think I would be so egotistical and selfish that I would forget the people I care about the most?

When did I treat you like that? Why should you make such a horrible prediction? I wouldn't want any success if it would turn me into such a monster, and no matter what you think, I wouldn't forget you for a day. Why, you're in my thoughts almost all the time,"

I added before I could stop myself.

"I am?" he said. I swallowed and nodded.

"Why?"

"You just are," I said. "Not a day pa.s.ses when I don't think something about you or something I'm going to write to you."

"You're not just saying this to make me feel better, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh Gavin, it's just like a man to think that.

Men are more afraid to believe in someone. They steal hearts so often, they're terrified of giving their own sincerely."

"I'm not," he declared. "Not to you, anyway,"

he added.

"Well then. . have a little more faith in Ire," I said.

"Sure."

We stared at each other.

"You didn't even kiss me happy birthday yet," I said, my heart pounding.

"Happy birthday," he whispered and leaned toward me, his eyes closing first. I closed mine and felt his lips touch my lips so softly it was as if a gentle breeze had caressed my face. I couldn't help feeling disappointed. He must have seen it immediately, for just as I started to open my eyes, his lips touched mine again, only this time harder, and with it his h ids came to my shoulders so he could gather me to him . It was the first real kiss of my life.

We separated, neither of us able to speak for a moment. And then we heard the shouting. My perfect night was about to be ruined after all.

Two Hearts Entwined .

GAVIN AND I WENT TO THE END OF THE.

PATIO TO LOOK out and see who was shouting.

Daddy had pulled Aunt Fern roughly out of the ballroom through the French doors to another patio at the rear.

"Jimmy, you're hurting my wrist!" she cried and spun out of his grasp, nearly losing her balance and falling. Straightening up, she stood there rubbing her wrist and glaring at him, but even from where we were standing, Aunt Fern looked like she was wobbling.

"How could you do that?" Daddy demanded.

"How could you try to sabotage this wonderful affair?

Is there no decency in you?"

"I didn't do it," Aunt Fern insisted.

"You didn't do it? You stink from it," he said, waving his hand wildly.

"I drank some, but I didn't put the whiskey in the punch bowl," she claimed. Gavin and I looked at each other. Small children were drinking that punch, too, as well as all my school friends. Their parents would be angry and annoyed. How horrible.

"One of the bellhops saw you do it, Fern, and I believe him. He's a very reliable young man," Daddy said. Aunt Fern stepped farther away from him, but had to take hold of a railing to steady herself.

"Sure, you take the word of one of the hired help over your own sister," she moaned and turned away.

"He doesn't have a reputation for lying; my sister does, I'm sorry to say. And besides," Daddy stressed, "this isn't the first time you've done something like this, Fern."

"He's lying!" she wailed into the night. "I wouldn't dance with him, so he's trying to get even."

"Stop it, Fern. This isn't all the bad we've heard about you this weekend. I wasn't going to bring this up until tomorrow because I didn't want to cast any shadows over the evening, but Dawn received a phone call from your dorm mother complaining about your bringing whiskey into your room," Daddy revealed.

Fern spun on him.

"More lies. She hates me because she caught me making fun of her one day. It wasn't me who brought the whiskey into the dormitory. It was . ."

"It was you. Don't deny it. Don't even try,"

Daddy said. "According to you, everyone who's ever come to us to complain about you has had another reason. You're always the one being picked on."

"I am!" she bawled. "Dawn can't wait to hear bad things about me and bring them to you. She can't!"

"That's ridiculous. Dawn has tried to be a mother and a sister to you, but you are ungrateful for every generous and loving thing she does for you and now you've gone and embarra.s.sed all of us," Daddy said, ignoring her histrionics. "Not just Dawn and me, but Daddy, too and . ."

"Embarra.s.sed my father?" She threw her head back and bellowed as if he had said the funniest thing ever.

"Stop that," Daddy commanded.

"Embarra.s.sed my father," she said, now with a smirk in her voice. "How can I embarra.s.s an ex-convict?" she retorted, throwing her words back at him as if she were tossing a gla.s.s of that spiked punch in his face.

Beside me, Gavin sucked in his breath.

"I hate her," he muttered, his lips close to my ear. "I just hate her."

I pressed my fingers around his arm. When he looked at me, I saw tears of anger and pain in his eyes. Then we both turned back to Daddy and Aunt Fern quickly. Daddy had raised his hand, intending to strike Fern. She screamed and cowered in antic.i.p.ation. I had never seen him strike her or anyone before. Usually a reprimanding look or a sharp word from him was enough, even for Jefferson. He didn't do it though; he lowered his arm slowly and regained his composure.

"Don't you ever say such a thing. You know very well why Daddy went to jail and how it wasn't his fault. Grandmother Cutler got him and Momma to kidnap Dawn, lying about the reasons."

"He still went to jail and everyone knows it. I don't embarra.s.s him," she insisted. "He embarra.s.ses me. I tell everyone at college my father, as well as my mother, is dead," she said. "I don't want to think of him as my father." Her words fell like freezing raindrops on both my and Gavin's ears.

For a moment that stretched like eternity no one said anything. Daddy simply stared at her. Aunt Fern crossed her arms under her bosom and looked down at the ground.

"That was a terrible, terrible thing to say, Fern,"

Daddy began slowly. "If you can't think of Daddy as your father, you can't think of me as your brother."

Aunt Fern lifted her head slowly. In the glow of the outside lights, I could see her mouth twisted ugly.

"I don't care," she spat. "You're not my brother.

You're Dawn's slave, believing everything she says about me, doing everything she wants. All she has to do is snap her fingers and you jump like a puppet on a string."

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Daddy screamed. "Now go to your room and sleep off all that whiskey you consumed. Go on!" he ordered, his arm out, finger pointing.

"I'm going," she said. "Maybe I won't stop.

Maybe I'll run away?' She wobbled again and then turned and -stumbled away. Daddy stood there watching her.

"I hope she does. I hope she runs far away,"

Gavin said. "He should have slapped her. All those horrible things she said about my father and about Dawn."

"She's drunk, Gavin."

"It doesn't matter. She would have said them even if she hadn't been," he replied.

Before we could say another word about it, we heard a drum roll inside.

"WHERE'S THE BIRTHDAY GIRL?" the band leader cried into the microphone.

I wasn't in the mood to return to the party just yet, but there wasn't anything I could do. Daddy hurried back inside.

"You better go inside," Gavin said.

"Are you coming? I won't go back unless you do, too," I threatened.

"All right." He finally smiled, seeing the determination in my face.

When we re-entered, the band leader announced it was time for the birthday cake to be wheeled in. He asked everyone to return to his or her seat. The drum roll began again and then Leon rolled the cake down the center aisle. He and Mr. Nussbaum had baked an enormous white cake in the shape of a piano. All the keys were pink and there were sixteen candles on top.

Mommy stepped up proudly beside the cake and smiled at me. Then the crowd of guests grew silent as Leon helped her light the candles.

"Dawn," she called. I stepped up to the cake.

The drummer began another long roll. I closed my eyes and fervently made my wish and then I blew with all my strength, putting out all sixteen candles.

As soon as the candles were blown out, the band started to play "Happy Birthday to You," and Mommy began singing, all the guests and staff joining in with her. There were tears running down my cheeks, but even after the scene outside they were tears of great happiness. Everyone applauded. The balloons were released and the younger children, led by Jefferson, laughed and squealed as they rushed about trying to grab the dangling strings.

"Happy birthday, honey," Mommy said, drawing me to her and kissing me.

Before I could say thank you, Daddy was hugging me, too. Then came Aunt Trisha, Granddaddy Longchamp, Edwina, Aunt Bet, and finally Uncle Philip, who held on the longest and kissed me twice. I looked for Gavin, but he was well toward the rear, standing and smiling. I nodded at him, giving him a look that said, "You didn't get away with it, Gavin Longchamp." He understood and laughed.

Pauline and my other school friends came up to congratulate me and then the waiters began to serve the cake. The tempo of the party slowed down as people had their dessert. Shortly after, our guests began to leave, all of them coming to the dais to say personal goodbyes and wish me a happy birthday one more time. No one but Gavin and I had witnessed the ugly scene between Daddy and Aunt Fern, so as far as everyone else was concerned, it had been a perfect evening.

Even Grandmother Laura had enjoyed herself immensely and remained longer than I had antic.i.p.ated she would. When Bronson had danced with me earlier, I had looked over and had seen Grandmother Laura smiling so softly, I could understand why she had been considered one of the prettiest women in Cutler's Cove. Beneath her heavy makeup lay the smile of a woman who thought herself a young girl again. Her eyes twinkled and her lips curved gently, lovingly.

"She looks good," Bronson had said, when he caught the object of my gaze. "She's reliving her own Sweet Sixteen," he added with a note of melancholy.

Now, he wheeled her off with the others after Mammy and I had kissed her good night. Mommy and I stood together and watched them go. She squeezed my hand and I saw her eyes well up with tears. Before either of us could utter a sad thought, however, we were inundated with well-wishers, including Aunt Bet, Richard and Melanie. Jefferson had, after all, behaved rather well and Richard had to tell us so. Of course, he took credit.

"He knew he had to be a gentleman at my table," Richard bragged. With his stiff demeanor, his hoisted shoulders and habitually serious expression, he looked more like a little old man than a twelve-year-old boy. Melanie wasn't much different. She kissed me good night, but when she stepped back, I saw that her eyes shifted quickly to her father. Uncle Philip's gaze was locked on me instead of her.

"Good night and once more Happy Birthday to the new princess of Cutler's Cove," he said, moving forward to embrace me and kiss me on the cheek.

"I'm not a princess, Uncle Philip," I said. Some of my school friends who lingered behind were sure to tease me after hearing him p.r.o.nounce my t.i.tle.

"Sure you are," he said. "Who else could be?"

he added. I saw Melanie's eyes darken.

"What about all the presents?" Jefferson asked.

He had been circling the pile of gifts on the table all night, anxious to tear off the wrapping paper and discover something he could play with.

"They will be brought to the house later,"

Mommy declared. "Go get your jacket."

Disappointed, he rushed off. I searched the straggling crowd and found Gavin hovering near the doorway, talking to Ricky Smith and Warren Steine.

"I'll be home in a little while, Mommy," I said.

Perceptively, she looked toward Gavin.

"Don't be too late, honey. You're a lot more tired than you think," she cautioned.