Cutler 3 - Twilight's Child (43 page)

"What's the difference?" he said. "She doesn't know I exist. Look, Dawn, I'm not joking about this. This is the second time you've met me, and I'm sure you haven't told your husband." He smiled. "If I have to, I'll tell him, only . . . I'll add a few things." He winked. "Get my meaning?"

The waitress brought the coffee. I waited for her to leave. "No, Michael, I don't," I said. He lost his smile.

"I don't care if you do or you don't. Do you have the five thousand dollars?"

I shook my head.

"No, Michael. I would never give you money like this. It would never end."

"I'm warning you . . ."

I got up.

"I hope you have enough money to pay for lunch," I said, and I pivoted quickly, leaving him with his mouth open.

When I looked back from the doorway of the restaurant I saw Michael start to rise as Mr. Simons and Mr. Updike slipped into the booth and sat across from him. Slowly Michael sank back into his seat and listened, his face growing pale as Mr. Simons and Mr. Updike began. Then Mr. Simons produced the tape recorder.

Michael turned sharply to look my way. I didn't look back, I turned my back and left him—forever, I hoped.

The moment I returned to Cutler's Cove and entered the lobby I sensed something was wrong. It was too quiet and too still. A number of staff members and a dozen or so guests were gathered in front of the reception desk speaking softly. Mrs. Bradly came out from behind the counter and hurried across the lobby to greet me. She wore a very troubled expression. My heart began to race in anticipation.

"What's happened, Mrs. Bradly?" I asked.

"Miss Clara Sue's been in a terrible truck accident somewhere in Alabama," she said, shaking her head, her tears flowing.

"Where's Jimmy? Where's my husband?" I cried.

"I think he's in your office, Mrs. Longchamp," she said. "I'm so sorry."

I rushed toward my office, and when I entered I found Jimmy on the phone. He looked at me and shook his head. I dropped my coat on the settee and went to him.

"Dawn's just returned," he said into the phone. "We'll be right up." He cradled the receiver. "That was Philip. He and Betty Ann are up at the house. Where have you been?"

"What happened, Jimmy?" I cried, ignoring his question. I pressed my palm against my pounding heart.

"Tractor trailer jackknifed, turned over and crushed the cab."

"Oh, Jimmy, how awful," I said, falling back against the desk.

"I know. A death like that is too horrible, even for someone as miserable as Clara Sue," he said, shaking his head.

"How's my mother?" I asked.

"You can just imagine. All she's been asking for is you. Where were you?" he asked again.

"I had to see Mr. Updike about some new tax laws," I lied, looking down so Jimmy wouldn't see my eyes.

"I've already spoken to Mrs. Boston, so she'll look after Fern and Christie. We had better go up to Beulla Woods without delay," he said. "Philip just told me your mother's screaming for doctors and sedatives, and Bronson is beside himself."

Jimmy took my hand, and we hurried out to his car. My heart was still pounding so hard and fast by the time we arrived that I thought I wouldn't be any good to anyone. Livingston opened the door for us as quickly as he could and stepped back, his normally gray face even more ashen. Philip and Betty Ann were in the sitting room having tea. They both rose when we entered. Betty Ann and I embraced.

"I'm afraid the news is rather gruesome," Philip said, his lips trembling. I saw the moisture in his eyes and the dry streaks where the tears had traveled down his cheeks. "It took hours for them to cut Clara Sue and her truck driver boyfriend out of the cab.

"We didn't get along well during these years," he said, turning to Jimmy as if Jimmy were some stranger, "but we used to when we were little. Most of the time we only had each other. Mother and Father were always very busy with one thing or another, and we would be left alone for hours at a time."

He smiled.

"We once made a pretend hotel in the storage building and had all the children of the hotel staff and even some guests playing along. I was the president of the hotel, and Clara Sue was . . . was Grandmother, I suppose. You should have seen her, with her hair in golden pigtails like Christie's, ordering everyone about. 'You sleep here; you clean up that corner.' She had all the guests' children working like little beavers.

"We were taking things out of the hotel and bringing them to our make-believe one. When Nussbaum finally discovered all the missing silverware and dishes he told Grandmother, and she came marching over. You should have seen the look on her face. For a moment she was speechless, and for Grandmother Cutler, that was something." He shook his head and looked dumbfounded. "Then everything began to change, and Clara Sue became a different sort of person.

"I suppose I should have spent more time with her." He looked at me hard. "Fate has a way of assuming control of your life when you fail to do so yourself."

"Where's Bronson?" I asked.

"He's upstairs with your mother," Betty Ann said. I hurried up. Jimmy remained below with Betty Ann and Philip. I knocked softly on the bedroom door, which was partially open. Bronson was sitting on the bed and holding Mother's hand. She had her right hand over her eyes and lay back against the large silk pillow. Her hair was loose and flowed every which way. The curtains and drapes were all drawn to prevent any sunlight from entering.

"Oh, Dawn," Bronson said, rising. Slowly Mother slid her hand off her eyes and gazed at me. "I'm glad you're here," Bronson began. "Maybe you can help put some sense in your mother's stubborn head. She insists that all this is somehow her fault."

"It is!" Mother cried, and she covered her eyes again. Her shoulders lifted and fell with her sobs.

"That is silly, Mother. How can you think it's your fault?" I said, approaching. "You didn't cause the truck to jackknife."

"She wouldn't have been in that truck with such a person if I had insisted she live here with us," Mother cried.

"Clara Sue wasn't the sort of young woman you could order about, Mother. We all knew that. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, no matter who thought what about it. If she hadn't met this truck driver, she would have met someone else and gone off anyway. She was rebelling," I added. Bronson nodded his agreement, but Mother shook her head.

"That's exactly it. She was rebelling, and I didn't care; I didn't mind as long as she was rebelling far away and no one knew. Now look at what's happened," she moaned.

"What were you going to do with her, Mother, chain her to the wall here? She would have gone no matter what you said."

"You always blamed me for how she was, Dawn," Mother accused, lowering her hand from her eyes again. "Don't deny it just to make me feel better now."

"I won't, Mother. What you should have done with Clara Sue, you should have done years and years ago, when she was first growing up. But that time passed, and she was her own person. For better or for worse, she was considered an adult. There's no point in blaming anyone else now. She did what she wanted, and what happened to her was horrible, but none of us wanted it to happen. There's no point in any of us making it any worse," I added firmly.

Mother stared at me a moment and then turned to Bronson.

"She's just like my mother-in-law now, Bronson. So strong, so logical and right all the time," she remarked, but her voice was filled with admiration. My face turned crimson. Mother turned back to me. "You're the strongest one of all of us now, Dawn. You are."

"That's not so, Mother," I said, lowering my eyes.

"No, no, it is, and I'm happy, happy to see you this way. You won't end up like me, sobbing in some bed and getting old before your time because of the things other people are able to do to you," she declared. She smiled and held out her arms. "I need you to comfort me, dear."

I gazed at Bronson, who looked on the verge of tears himself, and then I went to her and felt her embrace me with all her strength.

Soon afterward the doctor arrived to give Mother something to help her sleep. While he was upstairs with her we all gathered in the sitting room.

"I'll leave immediately for Alabama and make arrangements for Clara Sue to be brought back for burial," Philip said.

"Maybe I should go," Bronson interjected.

"No. You should probably stay with Mother. Don't you think so, Dawn?" Philip asked me.

"What? Oh, yes. I'll see to the arrangements here," I said. As we were leaving Bronson pulled me aside.

"No one's ever told Philip that I was Clara Sue's true father, have they?" he asked.

"I didn't, and I doubt Mother did. Philip never mentioned it, so I assume Clara Sue wanted it kept secret. Some skeletons are better kept in the closet," I said. He nodded, a half smile on his face.

"Laura Sue is right about you, you know. You have become the strength in this family. You're practically the only one who can handle her these days," he confessed. "I can't be hard on her, even though I know she needs it from time to time. Poor Clara Sue," he added. "I hardly got to know her."

"I'm sorry, Bronson."

He kissed me on the cheek, and I joined Jimmy at the car. When we returned to the hotel I found a message that Mr. Updike had phoned. Jimmy left to finish his work, and I went into the office.

"I just heard about Clara Sue," Mr. Updike said. "One crisis after another for you."

"Yes," I said.

"At least one is finished. Once we confronted him with the recording, he promised to leave you alone. I'll keep the tape in my safe just in case, though."

"Thank you, Mr. Updike. I've never told you this before," I said, "but I can appreciate now why you were so valuable to Grandmother Cutler."

"That's very nice of you to say, Dawn. I can't help believing that if the two of you would have known each other in the early days, things would have turned out quite differently."

"At this point, Mr. Updike, nothing would surprise me. Thanks again," I said.

For the next few days we were all occupied with the mourning period for Clara Sue and the arrangements for her funeral. As with Randolph, many old friends arrived, as well as people from the surrounding community. To her credit, Mother behaved properly. She didn't doll herself up; she was truly a bereaved parent. Philip and Bronson stood on each side of her and held her up at the site of Clara Sue's grave in the family section of the cemetery until the service was over. Afterward the mourners went to Beulla Woods to pay their respects. Mother remained in her room the entire time, unwilling to see anyone. Betty Ann and I hosted and greeted people. Jimmy spent most of his time with Fern and Christie and helped with the twins. For all practical purposes, the hotel itself shut down.

We were moving into the slow period anyway. Winter was practically on top of us. Most of our regular guests were traveling to warmer climates for their holidays. A number of staff had left to work in Florida. We had decided this was the time we would begin our expansion. The fewest possible people would be disrupted by the tradespeople, trucks and construction. For Jimmy it was going to be his busiest time, for he took on a major role as construction foreman. During the days immediately following Clara Sue's funeral I thought the work and responsibility were to blame for Jimmy's distraction and avoidance of me, but late one morning, while I was reviewing Mr. Dorfman's year-end reports, Jimmy came to my office, and I discovered his behavior was caused by something else.

He had a strange look in his eyes, one I had never seen before. His face was stern, angry, but he looked hurt, in some deep emotional pain. Without speaking he approached the desk.

"I just want straight, truthful answers," he said icily. The cold tones in his voice froze my heart. He put his hands on the desk and leaned toward me, his dark eyes as hard as stone.

"What is it, Jimmy?" I asked, and I held my breath.

"Last week, when you took Christie into Virginia Beach to shop for her clothing, who did you meet?" he demanded.

My heart sank. For a moment I couldn't speak, I couldn't swallow, I couldn't breathe. He fixed his eyes on me with such fury, I was afraid to utter a sound.

"The truth!” he cried, slapping his hand down on the desk. I jumped in my seat.

"Michael," I said. He nodded and turned.

"I was going to tell you, Jimmy. Honest. I just wanted more time to pass," I cried quickly.

"How could you go to him after what he had clone to you?" Jimmy asked slowly. "How could you belittle yourself so?"

"Jimmy, I didn't want to go. He begged me on the phone. He said he wanted to see Christie once, at least, and I didn't think I had the right to say no. But when I got there I found he had different intentions."

"What sort of intentions?" Jimmy demanded, his eyes growing hot.

Quietly but quickly I told him everything. He sat down and listened when I got to the description of how Mr. Updike and Mr. Simons had handled it. Then he shook his head.

"You did all this and never told me what was happening?"

"I thought if I could end it quickly . . ."