Darkest Hour (11 page)

I took a deep breath and told her the story. She loved hearing about the magic pond and when I told her about my wish and about Niles's wishes and what we had done, her face flushed so with excitement, she forgot being sick and bounced on the bed, pleading with me to describe it all over again, this time with more detail. I hadn't even gotten to the horrid part. Once again, I told her how Niles had asked me to go with him to see his special place. I told her about the birds and the frogs, but that wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wanted to know exactly what it was like to be kissed on the lips by a boy.

"It happened so fast I don't remember," I said. Her face filled so with disappointment that I reconsidered and added, "But I remember it made me shiver a little bit." Eugenia nodded, her eyes wide. "And after a moment . . ."

"What after a moment?" she asked quickly.

"The shiver turned into a wave of warmth. My heart began to pound. I was so close to him, I could look right into his eyes and see my own reflection on his pupils."

Eugenia's mouth remained open.

"Then I got scared and ran out of the forest and that's when Emily saw me," I said, and told her what had happened as a result. She listened with interest when I told her how Papa had behaved like a detective, making me recreate what he thought was the way things had happened.

"He thought Niles had put his hand into your blouse?"

"Uh-huh." I was too embarrassed to tell her how long Papa had kept his fingers on my breasts. Eugenia was just as confused about his behavior as I was, but she didn't dwell on it. Instead, she took my hands into hers and tried to reassure me.

"Emily is just jealous, Lillian. Don't let her tell you what to do," she said.

"I'm afraid," I said, "afraid of the stories she'll make up."

"I want to see the magic pond," Eugenia suddenly declared with a surprising burst of energy. "Please. Please take me. Have Niles take me, too."

"Mamma wouldn't let me and Papa doesn't want me going places with boys unchaperoned."

"We won't tell them. We'll just go," she said. I sat back smiling.

"Why, Eugenia Booth," I said, imitating Louella, "just listen to how you talk."

I couldn't remember a time Eugenia had suggested doing something Mamma or Papa would consider naughty.

"If Papa finds out, I'll tell him I was your chaperon."

"You know it has to be an adult," I said.

"Oh please, Lillian. Please," she begged, and tugged my sleeve. "Tell Niles," she whispered. "Tell him to meet us there . . . this Saturday, okay?"

I was surprised and amused by Eugenia's pleading. Nothing lately—not the arrival of new clothing, or new games, not Louella's promise to make her favorite cookies or cakes---nothing filled her with interest or excitement anymore. Even my taking her in the wheelchair around the plantation to see all that was happening no longer delighted her. This was the first time in a long time that she cared about anything to the extent that she would battle back the debilitating illness that had imprisoned her in her own fragile little body. I couldn't refuse, nor did I want to, despite Papa's warnings and threats. Nothing thrilled me as much as the thought of going back to the magic pond with Niles.

The next day on the way to school, Niles couldn't help but notice the ice in Emily's eyes. She didn't say anything to him, but she watched me like a hawk. All I could say to him was "Good morning," and then keep walking at Emily's side. He walked with his sisters and we both avoided each other's eyes. Later, at lunch, while Emily was occupied with a chore Miss Walker had given her, I slipped beside Niles and told him what Emily had done.

"I'm sorry I got you in trouble," Niles said.

"It's all right," I said. Then I told him about Eugenia's wish. His eyes widened with surprise and a small smile formed around his lips.

"You would do that, even after what happened?" he asked. His eyes turned softer, meeting and locking with mine as I went on and on about how important it was to Eugenia.

"I'm sorry she's so sick. It's cruel," he said.

"Of course, I'd like to go there again, too," I added quickly. He nodded.

"All right, I'll wait near your house Saturday afternoon and we'll take her. What time?"

"After lunch, I often take her for a walk. About two o'clock," I said, and our rendezvous was set. A few moments later, Emily appeared and Niles moved away quickly to talk to some boys. Emily glared at me so hard, I had to look down, but I still could feel her eyes on the back of my neck. That afternoon, and each afternoon until the end of the week, I walked alongside Emily on the way home and Niles remained between his sisters. We barely spoke and rarely looked at each other. Emily seemed satisfied.

As Saturday afternoon drew closer, Eugenia grew more and more excited. She talked of nothing else.

"What if it rains?" she moaned. "Oh, I would die if it rains and I had to wait another week."

"It won't rain; it won't dare," I told her with such confidence, she beamed. Even Mamma remarked at dinner that Eugenia's color was much improved. She told Papa that one of the new medicines the doctors prescribed might be working miraculously. Papa nodded, silently as usual, but Emily looked suspicious. Of course, I felt her watching me all the time and even imagined her peeking into my room late at night to see if I was asleep.

On Friday, after school, she stepped into my room while I was changing clothes. Emily came to my room almost as rarely as Papa did. I couldn't remember a time we played together, and when I was smaller and she was asked to look after me, she always took me to her room and made me sit quietly in the corner coloring or playing with a doll while she read. I was never allowed to touch any of her things, not that I ever wanted to. Her room was dreary and dark with the curtains almost always drawn. Instead of pictures on her walls, she had crosses and her letters of achievement from the minister at Sunday School. She never had a doll or a game and she hated bright clothes.

I was in the bathroom when she came to my room. I had just taken off my skirt and I was standing in front of the mirror in my brassiere and panties, brushing my hair down. Mamma always had me pin it up in the morning for school and it felt good at the end of the day to unfasten the strands and brush them until they lay softly over my shoulders. I was proud of my hair; it was almost midway down my back.

Emily had come into my room so quietly, I didn't know she was there until she appeared in the bathroom door. I turned with a start and caught her staring at me. For a moment I thought her eyes were green with envy, but that look quickly changed to one of disapproval.

"What do you want?" I demanded. She continued to gaze at me without speaking for a moment, her eyes drinking in my body. What she thought made her draw the corners of her mouth in.

"You should wear a tighter brassiere," she finally declared. "Your little breasts bounce too much when you walk and anyone can see all you've got, just like Shirley Potter," she said, smirking.

Shirley Potter's family was the poorest we knew. Shirley had to wear hand-me-downs and some were too tight and some were too big. She was two years older than I was, and the way the boys would spin their heads around to peek down her blouse whenever she bent over was a favorite topic for Emily and the Thompson twins.

"Mamma bought this for me," I replied. "It's my size."

"It's too loose," she insisted and then nearly smiled and added, "I know you let Niles Thompson put his fingers in there when you were in the woods with him, didn't you? And I bet it wasn't the first time either."

"No, I didn't, and you shouldn't have told Papa I was buttoning my blouse when I came out of the woods."

"You were!"

"I was not."

She stepped closer to me, undaunted. Despite her thinness, Emily could be more intimidating than Miss Walker and certainly more intimidating than Mamma.

"Do you know what happens sometimes when you let a boy touch you in there?" she asked. "You break out into a rash all over your neck and it could stay for days. One of these times that will happen and Papa will take one look at you and see the blotches and he'll know."

"I didn't let him," I whined, and cowered back. I hated how Emily could glare. Her expression turned into a tight smile. She spoke with her lips so thin, I thought they would snap.

"It shoots out of them, you know, the seed. Even if it just lands on your panties, it could seep in and make you pregnant."

I stared at her. What did she mean, it shoots out of them? How could it? Was she right?

"Do you know what else they do?" she continued. "They touch themselves and make themselves swell up until the seed comes gushing out into their hands and then . . . they touch you there," she said, glancing at the space between my thighs, "and that can make you pregnant, too."

"No, it can't," I said, but not confidently. "You're just trying to scare me."

She smiled.

"Think I care if you get pregnant and have to walk around with a fat belly at your age? Think I care if you scream in excruciating pain because the baby's too big to come out? Go on, get pregnant," she challenged. "Maybe the same thing will happen to you that happened to your real mother and then we'll be rid of you finally." She turned and started away. Then she stopped and looked back. "Next time he touches you, you'd better be sure he hasn't touched himself first," she warned, and left me standing there in fear. I started to shake with anxiety and quickly put on my after-school clothes.

That night after dinner, I went quietly into Papa's office. He was away on one of his business trips so I could go in there without fear of his seeing what it was I wanted to do. I wanted to read from the book he had that explained the human body and reproduction, to see if there was anything written that confirmed the things Emily had told me. I couldn't find anything, but that didn't make me feel any easier. I was too frightened to ask Mamma about it and I didn't know anyone but Shirley Potter who knew anything about boys and sex. I thought I would eventually work up enough nerve to ask her.

The next day, after lunch, just as Eugenia and I had planned, I helped her into her wheelchair and we went out for our usual afternoon outing. Emily had gone upstairs to her room and Mamma was away having lunch at Emma Whitehall's with her other lady friends. Papa still hadn't returned from his business trip to Richmond.

Eugenia felt so much lighter to me when I lifted her from her bed and helped her into her chair. I could feel her bones protruding. Her eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into her skull and her lips looked so much paler than they had looked just a few days ago, but she was so enthusiastic that her shortage of strength didn't dissuade her and what she lacked in energy, she replaced with excitement.

I wheeled her down the driveway slowly, pretending interest in the Cherokee roses and wild violets. The buds of the flowering crab trees had burst into a deep pink. In the fields around us, the wild honeysuckle wove a carpet of white and rose. The blue jays and mockingbirds seemed just as excited by our venturing into their midst as we were. They flitted from branch to branch, jabbering and following us along the way. In the distance, a row of small puffy clouds floated in a cotton caravan from one end of the sky to the other.

With the air so warm and the sky so blue, we couldn't have chosen a nicer spring day for a walk. If ever nature could make us appreciate being alive, she could do it this day, I thought.

Eugenia seemed to feel the same way, taking in every sight and sound, her head moving from left to right as I rolled her forward over the gravel. I thought she was probably overdressed, but she clung tightly to her shawl with one hand and held down the blanket over her lap with the other. When we turned the corner at the bottom of the driveway, I paused and we both looked back and then at each other, smiling like co-conspirators. Then I moved her out on the road. It was the first time she had ever been wheeled there. I pushed her along as quickly as I could. A few moments later, Niles Thompson stepped out from behind a tree to greet us.

My heart began to race. I looked back again to be sure no one saw us meet.

"Hi," Niles said. "How are you, Eugenia?"

"I'm okay," she said quickly, her eyes dancing as she looked from Niles to me and then back to Niles.

"So you want to see my magic pond, huh?" he asked her. She nodded.

"Let's go quickly, Niles," I said.

"Let me push her," he offered.

"Be careful," I warned, and we started away. Moments later, we were turning Eugenia up the path. It wasn't really wide enough for the chair in places, but Niles pushed the wheels over brush and roots, stopping at one point to lift the front of the chair. I could see that Eugenia was relishing each and every moment of our secret trip. Finally, we were at the pond.

"Oh!" Eugenia exclaimed, clapping her small hands. "It's so beautiful here."

As if nature wanted the moment to be special for her, a fish jumped up and dove back into the water, but before we could laugh with joy, a flock of sparrows burst into the air, lifting so suddenly and with such synchronization from the branches, they looked like leaves taking flight. Bullfrogs leaped into the water and then out again as if they were performing for us. Then Niles said, "Look," and pointed across the pond where a doe had appeared and was drinking. She gazed at us for a moment. Unafraid, she took her drink and then casually turned to disappear in the forest again.

"This really is a magical place!" Eugenia cried. "I feel it."

"I did the first time I saw it, too," Niles said. "You know what you've got to do. You've got to dip your finger into the water."

"How can I?"

Niles looked at me.

"I can carry you to the water," Niles said.

"Oh Niles, if you should drop her . . ."

"He won't," Eugenia declared with prophetic certainty. "Do it, Niles. Carry me."

Niles looked at me again and I nodded, but I was full of trepidation. If he dropped her and she got soaked, Papa would lock me in the smokehouse for days, I thought. But Niles lifted Eugenia out of the chair with graceful ease. She blushed because of the way he held her in his arms. Without hesitation, he stepped into the water and lowered her until her fingers reached the surface.

"Close your eyes and wish," Niles told her. She did so and then he carried her back to the wheelchair. After she was settled in again, she thanked him.

"Want to know what I wished?" she asked me.

"If you tell it, it might not come true," I said, glancing at Niles.