Cutler 3 - Twilight's Child (30 page)

"Another room? What other room?" I asked.

"Your old suite," she replied. It was as if someone had tossed a pail full of ice water over my head. I felt the chilling streaks run over my shoulders, down the back of my neck and over my spine.

"My old suite?"

"Yes. Oh, Dawn, does this mean he can't stand being beside me for any length of time? Is this the way a divorce begins?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"No, I don't think . . . Didn't you ask him why he's doing this?" I inquired.

"I did. This morning. He said he just gets restless and has to move around. He told me not to make a big deal over it and forbade me to tell anyone, but I can't get it out of my mind, and I knew you wouldn't tell him I told. But what should I do? It isn't normal, is it? Nothing like this has happened between you and Jimmy, has it?"

I shook my head.

"You're just going to have to tell him how much it upsets you," I said. "Discuss it quietly and make him understand."

What else could I tell her? I wondered.

"Should I?"

"Of course. If you let him see how much it bothers you, he's sure to change," I promised, even though I had serious doubts deep in my heart.

She smiled.

"It's nice to have someone like you to speak to," she said. "I felt bad about coming to see you after all you've had to do today," she added, "but I couldn't help myself."

"It's all right." I patted her hand, and she looked quite reassured.

"I'll be with you to greet the guests tonight and smooth things over," she promised. "Philip hasn't returned yet and doesn't know about poor Mr. Parker."

"He'll know soon enough," I said, standing. She rose, and we walked to the door.

"I'll go to the children's dining room to see how the children are doing with their dinner," she said, and she kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you again."

I smiled and opened the door. I watched her walk off, and then, after she rounded the corner and disappeared, I couldn't help myself. I hurried down the corridor and swung through the lobby to the family section. Quickly, before anyone would take much notice, I walked to the stairway and went up to my old suite. The door was closed but unlocked.

I opened it and entered. We had left all the old furniture here, having bought new things for the house, along with new linens, pillowcases and blankets. I stepped into the bedroom and stood staring ahead, my arms crossed, my hands on my shoulders. For a moment it was as if the air were too hot to breathe. My face felt absolutely feverish.

The blanket was pulled back on the bed. Neatly laid out on the side where I slept was the nightgown—my nightgown —Philip had taken for Betty Ann to wear on their honeymoon. I approached slowly, anticipating. When I stood beside the bed it was there, just as I had suspected: the scent of my perfume. The pillowcase and sheet seemed saturated with it. The other pillow still had the imprint of Philip's head on it.

I stood there, unable to move, both frightened and fascinated with the bizarreness of it all. Then I thought I heard footsteps in the corridor outside, and my heart began to race. I went to the doorway and listened. If it was Philip coming home, I would hate to have him find me here, I thought. I didn't know how he would react; he would surely understand Betty Ann had come to see me to complain. The footsteps stopped at their door. I peeked around the jamb and saw it was Philip. He went into his suite.

The moment he disappeared I hurried out and down the stairs. I didn't look back. I felt as though I were fleeing from nightmares. I hurried through the family section and burst out into the lobby, never so grateful for the noise, the people and the activity. Catching my breath, I left the hotel for home to change for dinner.

Almost the moment I walked through my front door I felt how deeply I missed Jimmy. Perhaps it was because I was without him for the first time in our new home. So much of it had the feel of him. His favorite easy chair looked so empty to me, as did his seat at our dining room table. I was haunted by the clothing in his closet and the scent of his after-shave lotion in the master bedroom.

I dressed as quickly as I could and hurried back to the hotel to greet the guests for dinner. Betty Ann joined me, looking refreshed and happy again. Considering what she was going through with Philip, I was impressed with the style she showed, the poise, the ease with which she handled everyone and made them feel welcome.

"I asked Philip to meet me later. We're going to go somewhere private and have a cocktail and talk. Everything will be all right," she added, her eyes glimmering with hope.

"Of course it will," I said, but in the back of my mind I thought, she doesn't have any idea how deep her problem with Philip is.

He joined us moments later.

"I hear I missed a lot of excitement," he said, and then proceeded to tell me about another time a guest had died at the hotel.

"I don't think I was more than five or six, but I got a peek into the room and saw her sprawled out on her bed, her skin as white as fresh milk. But what I remember the most was how much makeup she wore. Apparently she had put it on just before the diet."

"Let's not talk about these things anymore, Philip," Betty Ann begged. "It's too unpleasant and makes me dreadfully nervous."

Both Philip and I turned to her because she sounded so much like Mother.

"Fine. Dinner?" He held out his arms for us to take so he could escort us both in. "With Jimmy gone, I'm doing double duty tonight."

"No thank you, Philip," I said. "I'm taking Christie back to the house and just having a little something tonight. You two enjoy," I added, and I left before he could react.

It wasn't really until the evening that the impact of Jimmy's going away hit Christie, too. Never before had one of us left and the other remained behind. The novelty wore off quickly as her precocious mind drove her to question after question.

"Why did Daddy have to go now? Why doesn't his daddy come here to see us instead? Why couldn't we all go along?" None of my explanations satisfied her. In the end she pouted. She had Michael's intolerance of things that didn't go her way.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when the phone rang. I hoped and prayed it was Jimmy. I was never so happy to hear his voice. After I told him how much I missed him, I described what had happened to poor Mr. Parker and how we had handled it.

"Sounds just awful," he said. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you."

"You can't imagine how much I wished you were. But I'm glad you've finally met your new brother. How's Daddy?"

"Fine. He's very disappointed you're not here," he said, "but he promised he would come to the hotel very soon. Here," Jimmy said, "let him tell you himself."

My breath caught. Daddy and I hadn't spoken for so long.

"How you doin', honey?" he asked. My throat was so choked, I couldn't speak. It felt as if my heart had dropped into my stomach. All my memories of Daddy being loving and warm to me rushed over me. I pushed aside all the times he was angry or had drunk too much whiskey.

"I'm fine, Daddy," I finally said. "And you?"

"We're doin' the best we can. I'm sorry you couldn't get away," he said. "I think of you often."

"I think of you, too, Daddy."

"I know you had a lot to do with my getting out of prison as soon as I did. Always figured you were a smart one, Dawn. Always knew you'd be somebody," he bragged.

"I'm nobody important, Daddy. A lot of people help me here, and things were pretty much set before I started doing anything," I told him.

"No sense in being modest with me, Dawn, honey. I know you too well. You can't fool an old fool," he said, and he laughed. I remembered him saying that often.

Now that I heard his voice, I regretted not going with Jimmy even more.

"Jimmy's tellin' me all about your hotel. It sounds pretty nice. We'll get up there sometime this year. That's a promise and a half," he said.

"I hope so, Daddy."

"Here's Jimmy again."

"Dawn."

"Oh, Jimmy, I miss you something terrible, and Christie is acting like a spoiled brat just because you left and we didn't go. I'm sorry."

"I miss you, too, Dawn, but I might have some good news for you in a day or so. Daddy and I have been working on something, and I think it's going to pay off."

"What, Jimmy?"

"I don't want to say anything until I'm sure," he said. "Let me talk," Christie cried, pulling on my skirt. "Here's Christie," I said, and I gave her the phone. She hugged it to her as if she could feel Jimmy as well as speak to him through the receiver.

"Hi, Daddy," she said. "When are you coming home already?" She listened, and after a moment she gave me one of her little furious looks and then promised Jimmy she would behave. Then he said something that lit up her face.

"Daddy's bringing me something special when he comes home," she told me when she handed me the receiver.

"If you're good," I added.

"I'll be good," she said.

"Hi. It's me again," I said into the receiver.

"Hi, me. Kiss yourself for me tonight, will you?" Jimmy said.

"Oh, Jimmy."

"Talk to you soon. I love you."

"I love you, Jimmy. Hurry back."

I held the receiver even after he had cradled his and the dial tone had started. I was trying to hold on to his voice for as long as I could.

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" Christie asked. I hadn't even realized I was. I felt the tears on my cheeks and then laughed.

"I'm just happy to speak to Daddy," I said.

"If you're happy, why do you cry?" she asked.

"Sometimes you do. You'll see. Come on. It's time you put on your pajamas." I took her hand and led her upstairs. It was Mrs. Boston's day off, and she was with her sister in town. That morning she hadn't wanted to leave when she heard I would be alone, but I insisted.

"I've been alone plenty of times before, Mrs. Boston," I told her bravely. Now I wished I hadn't. If I ever needed company, I need it now, I thought.

"I want Daddy to kiss me good night," Christie complained when I tucked her in and kissed her.

"You know he's not here, Christie."

"I still want him to kiss me. I'm not going to sleep until he comes home and kisses me good night," she insisted.

"Fine. Lie there with your eyes open all night," I said.

She folded her little arms over her chest and glared up at me defiantly. I knew I should have been more understanding and sympathetic, but her unhappiness only served to underscore my own.

I left but peeked in on her every fifteen minutes. Amazingly, she kept herself awake for nearly an hour before her eyelids grew too heavy and she had to fall asleep.

After I put Christie to bed I went into my bedroom and got into my nightgown. I decided I would read and read until I got so tired I would pass out. But my eyes were just sliding over the pages, the words meaningless to me. I was about to give up and turn off the lights when the doorbell sounded.

Who would come to the house? I wondered. Anyone who needed me at the hotel would simply call. Curious but apprehensive, I slipped into my silk dressing gown and started down the stairs, belting my gown as I descended. I opened the door and found Philip gazing in at me. He swayed and smiled widely.

"Evenin'," he mumbled, and he seized the door jamb to steady himself.

"Philip Cutler, are you drunk?" I asked.

"Drunk? Noooooooo. Oh . . . maybe, just a trifle," he said, squeezing his thumb and forefinger together. "May I come in?" he asked, straightening up.

"It's late, Philip. What do you want?" I asked, not giving an inch of ground.

"Simply to . . . to . . . talk," he said, and he fell forward, stepping just in time to keep from landing on his face. I had no choice but to close the door.

"How could you do this, Philip? Don't you care what the guests will say if they see you? What's come over you?" He covered his ears with his hands.

"My God, it's as if she rose from the grave," he moaned. "How could you do this?" he mimicked. "What will the guests think if they see you?' "

"Philip!"

"I need something to drink," he muttered, and he stumbled his way into our den. He knew where Jimmy kept our whiskey and headed directly toward it.

"You've had enough to drink, Philip," I said. I cut him off in the middle of the room and grabbed his right arm, spinning him around.

"Dawn," he said, smiling, "you look lovely tonight. Just the way I always imagine you, with your hair down. You're wearing one of your sheer nightgowns under that, aren't you?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Philip, you turn yourself around and march yourself back to the hotel and your wife this moment, do you hear me?" I commanded. He nodded, but he didn't move.

"My wife," he said, and he fixed his eyes on me, his lips moving into a grotesque mockery of a smile. "You could have been my wife if that security guard hadn't recognized your father." He seized my shoulders and pressed his forehead to my hair. "We would have eloped before Grandmother could have said anything," he whispered. From the way he spoke, I knew it was a fantasy he replayed time and time again.