Dawn (20 page)

Glaring at her defiantly, I refused to answer. My silence only infuriated her further.

"Do you understand?"
she repeated, snatching up a handful of my hair and twisting it painfully. "When I ask you a question, I expect an answer."

Tears sprang to my eyes, desperate to be free, but I wouldn't release them. I wouldn't give Grandmother Cutler the satisfaction. I wouldn't!

"Yes," I said, gritting my teeth. "I understand."

Amazingly, my answer returned her to some semblance of normalcy. She let go of my hair, and I rubbed my aching head. "Good," she purred. "Good." She gave a look at the open trunks. "Fix this place as you found it." She swept up the fallen newspaper clippings. "These will be burned," she stated, sending me a glare I had already become familiar with.

"You know I'm telling the truth," I told her. "You know those pearls belonged to Sally Jean Longchamp."

"I know nothing of the sort. All I know," she spat out, "is that I haven't seen these pearls since the day you disappeared."

"What are you saying?" I gasped.

She gave me a smug look. "What do you think I'm saying?"

"Those pearls belonged to my momma!" I cried out. "They did! I won't believe what you're insinuating. I won't!"

"I've always believed in the truth, Eugenia. Sally Jean and Ormand Longchamp stole these pearls. There's no escaping that fact, just like there's no escaping the fact that they stole you."

What she was saying couldn't be true. It couldn't! How could I bear this final stain against Momma and Daddy's memory? It was just too much to bear!

With her final words Grandmother Cutler left, taking away my last connection to my past. I waited for my tears to fall, but they didn't. That was because I had realized something. It didn't matter what had come with me from my former life. I had my memories and my memories of life with Daddy and Momma, Jimmy and Fern, were something that Grandmother Cutler could never take away.

The following morning I threw myself into my work, trying desperately not to think about what was soon to come or what had happened the previous day. I didn't linger around the other chambermaids and staff at lunch, either. Most of them were still very incensed about my taking Agatha's job. If I tried to speak or act friendly, one of them brought up Agatha and asked if anyone had heard anything about her. A few times I felt like standing up and shouting at them: "I didn't fire her! I didn't ask to be made a chambermaid! I didn't even ask to be brought back here! You're all so cruel and heartless. Why can't you see that?"

The words were tickling the tip of my tongue, but I was afraid to scream them, for I knew the moment I did, I would be even more isolated than I was now. Not even Sissy would speak to me, and my grandmother would have another reason to chastise me and make me feel lower than an insect. Not that I could feel much lower being stuffed away in some cubbyhole of a room in a distant part of the hotel as if I were a disgrace and an embarrassment my grandmother wanted hidden and forgotten.

I was beginning to feel like someone caught in limbo—not really accepted as a Cutler yet, and not accepted by the staff. My only real companion was my own shadow. Loneliness draped itself over me like a shroud. I felt invisible.

I was spending my break after lunch in my room alone when there was a knock on my door and Mrs. Boston appeared, her arms laden with a pile of clothing and a bag of shoes and sneakers.

"Little Mrs. Cutler asked me to bring this down to you," she said as she entered my bedroom.

"What is it?"

"I just finished getting Miss Clara Sue's room in order. That girl's the worst when it comes to being neat and organized. You would think a young lady from a good family like this would take a little more pride in her things and her living quarters, but that girl . . ." She shook her head and dropped everything at the foot of my bed.

"This here is everything Clara Sue don't use no more. Some of it is from a year or so back, so even though she's a mite bigger than you everywhere, this stuff might fit.

"Some of it she never even wore. That's how spoiled she is. Why, just look here," she added, reaching into the pile. She lifted a blouse up. "See, this still has the tag on it."

It did look brand-new. I began to sift through the things. It would certainly not be the first time I had worn used clothing. It was just the idea that it was Clara Sue's clothing, Clara Sue's hand-me-downs, that disturbed me. I couldn't help remembering all the terrible things she had done to me at school.

On the other hand, my mother, whom I really hadn't spoken to since our first meeting, was thinking about me. I supposed I should be grateful.

"My mother picked all this out for me?" I asked. Mrs. Boston nodded and raised her hands.

"She didn't pick it out exactly. She asked me to gather all the things I knew Clara Sue didn't use or want and see if you could make use of it."

I tried on one of the sneakers. Clara Sue was a year younger than me, but she was a lot bigger. The old sneakers and shoes were a perfect fit. All of the blouses and skirts would fit, too. There was even a bag of underwear.

"Everything in that is far too small for her now," Mrs. Boston said. I was sure all the panties would fit, but the year-old bra was still too big for me.

"You can sort out what works and what don't. Let me know what you don't want. There are plenty of poor people I know who would really appreciate most of this," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Especially Agatha Johnson."

"Well, I don't have time to work on this right now," I snapped. "I have to go to the card room. I'm supposed to clean it up between one and two while most of the guests are away." I put the clothing aside.

Mrs. Boston grimaced and then left. I followed her out and went to do my afternoon chores.

I had just finished polishing the last table in the card room and put back the chairs when I heard Philip call, "Dawn." I turned and found him standing behind me in the doorway. He wore a light blue shirt with a button-down collar and khaki-colored slacks. With his hair brushed neatly, every strand in place, he looked his usual unperturbed self.

I had lost interest in my own appearance from the day I had arrived at Cutler's Cove. In the morning I would simply pin up my hair and then tie a bandanna around it the way the other chambermaids did. My uniform was dirty from cleaning the card room.

It was the first dark rainy day since I had arrived at the hotel. The brooding sky had made this particular day even more dreary and tedious for me. The air was cool and clammy, and I worked harder and faster to keep the chill out of my bones.

"Hello, Philip," I said, turning about completely.

"How are you?" he asked.

"All right, I guess," I replied, but my lips began to tremble and my shoulders started to shake. When I looked at him now, it made me think that my days at Emerson Peabody were all part of some dream, a dream that had turned into a nightmare the day Momma died.

"I set out looking for you as soon as I arrived," Philip said, not taking a step closer. "I haven't even unpacked. I just threw down my things and asked Mrs. Boston where I could find you. She told me Grandmother put you downstairs and started you working as a chambermaid," he added. "That's my grandmother—I mean,
our
grandmother—for you."

He paused again. The silences between our sentences were deep, and the small distance between us seemed like miles. Rapid and dramatic events had made him feel like a stranger to me. I was having trouble thinking of things to say and how to say them.

But suddenly he smiled the same way he always had with that twinkle in his eyes, that impish grin in his face. He shook his head.

"I can't think of you as my sister. I can't. This is too much," he said.

"What can we do, Philip? It's true."

"I don't know." He kept shaking his head. "So," he said, stepping closer, "how do you like the hotel? It's quite a place, isn't it? The grounds are beautiful. When it's not raining like this," he added.

"I've only been able to explore the inside of the hotel. I haven't had much of a chance to explore outside," I said. "Mostly, I've been working and spending time alone in my room."

"Oh." His smile widened. "Well, now that I've arrived, you will have more to do. I'll show you every nook and cranny. I'll re-explore everything with you, show you my favorite places, my old hiding places . . ."

For a moment we let our gazes lock. My face felt hot, my heart raced. What did he see when he looked at me? Did he still think me the nicest and prettiest girl he had met?

"On your day off," he continued quickly, "we'll walk along the beach and look for seashells and—"

"I don't have a day off," I said.

"What? No day off? Of course you do. Everybody gets a day off. I'll speak to Mr. Stanley right away about it."

I shrugged and put my polishing cloth and polish in my little cart. He came closer.

"Dawn," he said, reaching for my hand. When his fingers touched mine, I pulled away instinctively. I couldn't help it. What had once been thrilling now seemed as soiled as the linens I changed every morning. It felt wrong to look deeply into his eyes, wrong to hear him speak softly to me, wrong to have him care about me. I even felt guilty talking to him alone in the card room.

"Not a day has passed when I didn't think about you and what a horror you've been going through. I wanted to call you, even to leave school and come home to see you, but Grandmother thought it would be better to wait," he said, and I looked up at him sharply.

"Grandmother?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell her about us?" I asked quickly.

"Tell her?" He shrugged as if it had all been so simple and so harmless. "Just how you and I had become such good friends and what a wonderful person you were and how beautifully you sang. She asked me about your mother and father, and I told her about your mother's illness and death and how surprised I was to learn what they had done."

"I don't know why they did what they did or why any of this happened," I said, shaking my head. I looked away to hide the tears in my eyes.

"Grandmother felt the same way. It had been a terrible surprise to her, too, when it happened," he said. I spun around.

"Why . . . why did you call your grandmother? Why didn't you speak with . . . your father or mother?" It was still hard for me to think of them as my parents, too.

"Oh, I've always gone to Grandmother for most things," he replied, smiling. "She's always been in charge. At least, as long as I can remember, and . . . you've met Mother," he said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. "She's having a hard enough time about it all as it is. Father would only ask Grandmother for advice anyway if I had called him. She's quite a woman, isn't she?"

"She's a tyrant," I snapped.

"What?" He kept his smile.

"She wants to change my name from Dawn to Eugenia, only I won't agree. She's insisting everyone in the hotel call me Eugenia, and they're all afraid to do otherwise."

"I'll talk to her. I’ll get her to understand, you'll see."

"I don't care if she understands or not. I won't change my name to please her," I declared firmly.

He nodded, impressed with my determination. We stared at each other again.

"Don't worry," he said, moving closer. "It will be all right."

"It will never be all right," I moaned. "I try to keep busy so I won't think about Jimmy and Fern and what's happened to them." I looked up at him hopefully. "Have you heard anything? Do you know any-thing?"

"No. Sorry. Oh, before I forget, regards from Mr. Moore. He says no matter what, you must continue with your music. He said to tell you he wants to come hear you sing at Carnegie Hall someday."

I smiled for the first time in a long time.

"I haven't felt much like singing or playing piano these days."

"You will. After a while. Dawn," Philip said, this time seizing my hand and holding on to it tightly. He went on, his eyes soft as they saw my distress. "It's not all that easy forgetting about you the way you were, even when I see you here."

"I know," I said, looking down.

"No one can blame me, can blame you for feeling the way we do about each other. Let's just keep it our secret," he said. I looked up surprised. His eyes darkened with sincerity. "As far as I'm concerned, you're still the most beautiful girl I have ever met."

He pressed my hand more firmly and drew close as though he wanted me to kiss him on the lips. What did he expect me to do? To say?

I pulled my hand out of his and stepped back. "Thank you, Philip, but we have to try to think of each other differently now. Everything's changed." He looked disappointed.

"This isn't easy for me, either, you know," he said sharply. "I know you've suffered, but I've suffered, too. You can't imagine what it was like at school," he added, his forehead creasing. Then, easy as a mask to take off, he threw away his anger and put on his dreamy-eyed romantic look.

"But whenever I grew sad about it, I forced myself to think about all the wonderful things you and I could do here at Cutler's Cove. I meant what I said before. I want to show you the hotel and the grounds and the town and catch you up on our family history," he said, his voice full of energy and excitement.

"Thank you," I said. "I'll look forward to that," I added. He stepped back, still holding that sexy smile, but for me it was as if we were gazing at each other over a great valley, the distance between us widening and widening until the Philip I had known dwindled into a memory and burst like a soap bubble. He was gone. Then the gap dwindled, and he was replaced by this new Philip, my older brother.

Good-bye to my first and what I thought would be my most wonderful romantic love, I thought. Goodbye to being swept off my feet and floating alongside warm, soft white clouds. Our passionate kisses shattered and fell with the raindrops, and no one could tell which were my tears and which were the drops of rain.

Four elderly men came in and took up seats at a corner table. They were there for their daily game of gin rummy. Philip and I watched them for a moment and then turned back to each other.

"Well, I'd better get to my unpacking. I haven't even seen Mother yet. I can just imagine how this has all left her—headaches, nervous breakdowns." He shook his head. Then he laughed. "I wish I was here when she first set eyes on you. That must have been something. You can tell me all about it later, when we're alone," he said, his eyebrows rising.

"I'll start working with dinner tonight. Everybody's a slave driver around here. I'll come looking for you as soon as I get free," he said as he backed away, "and we'll go for a walk or something. Okay?"