At least Fern was still young enough to make a quicker adjustment, I thought, even though I couldn't help but believe she missed us terribly. My eyes filled with tears just thinking about her waking up in a strange new room and calling for me, and then crying when a complete stranger came to pick her up. How terrified she must be, I thought.
Now I understood why we had always left so quickly in the middle of the night and why we'd moved so often. Daddy must have been spooked or thought he or Momma had been recognized. Now I knew why we couldn't go too far South those times and why we couldn't return to Daddy's and Momma's families. All the time we were fugitives and never knew it. But why had they taken me? I couldn't stand not knowing everything.
An idea came to me. I opened the top drawer of my night table and found some hotel stationery and began to write a letter I hoped would find its way.
Dear Daddy,
As you know by now, I have been returned to my rightful home and real family, the Cutlers. I do not know what has become of Fern and Jimmy, but the police told me that they would be farmed out to foster families, most likely two different families. So now we are all apart, all alone.
When the police came for me and accused you of kidnapping me, my heart sank because you did nothing to defend yourself, and at the police station all you could say was you were sorry. Well, being sorry is not enough to overcome the pain and the suffering you have caused.
I do not understand why you and Momma would have taken me from the Cutlers. It couldn't have been because Mommy wasn't able to have any more children. She had Fern. What possessed you to do it?
I know it doesn't seem all that important to know the reason anymore, since it has been done and is over with now, but I can't stand living with this mystery and pain, a pain I am sure Jimmy feels as well wherever he is. Won't you please try to explain why you and Momma did what you did?
We have a right to know. Keeping secrets can't mean anything to you anymore now that you are locked in prison and Mamma is gone.
But it matters to us! Please write back.
Dawn
I folded it neatly and put it in a Cutler's Cove envelope. Then I left my room and went to the one person I hoped would be able to get this letter to Daddy: my real father.
I knocked on my father's office door and opened it when I heard him call. He was seated at his desk, a pile of papers and a stapler before him. I hesitated in the doorway.
"Yes?" The way he squinted at me, I thought for a moment he had forgotten who I was.
"I must talk to you. Please," I said.
"Oh, I haven't got much time at the moment. I have fallen behind on my paperwork, as you can see. Grandmother Cutler gets so upset when things aren't running on time."
"It won't take long," I pleaded.
"All right, all right. Come in. Sit down." He lifted the pile of papers and moved them to the side. "So, have you seen Philip and Clara Sue yet?"
"Yes," I said. I took the seat in front of the desk.
"Well, I imagine it will be quite an experience for the three of you to get to know each other as brother and sisters, now that you knew each other as school chums, eh?" he asked, shaking his head.
"Yes, it will."
"Well," he said, sitting up. "I'm sorry I don't have more time to spend with you right now . . ." He gestured at his office as if the responsibilities and the work were hanging on his walls. "Until we get things rolling in their proper rhythms, there is always so much to do.
"However," he said, "I've planned a night out for all of us. I'm just waiting on Laura Sue to decide which night. Then your mother and I, and Philip and Clara Sue and you will go to one of the finest seafood restaurants in Virginia. Doesn't that sound nice?"
"Yes, it does," I said.
"Well," he said, laughing softly, "you don't sound very excited about it."
"I can't help it. I know that in time, I'm supposed to get used to my new life, my real family, and forget all that has happened . . ." I looked down.
"Oh, no," he said, "no one expects you will completely forget the past. I understand. It will take time," he said, sitting forward and stroking his ruby pinky ring as he spoke.
"So, what can I do for you?" he asked. His understanding tone of voice encouraged me.
"I can't understand why they did it. I just can't."
"Did it? Oh, you mean the Longchamps. No, of course not," he replied, nodding. "It's hard enough for other adults to understand these things, much less young people."
"And so I wrote a letter," I added quickly and produced the envelope.
"A letter?" His eyes widened and his eyebrows jumped. "To whom?"
"To my daddy . . . I mean, to the man I always thought was my daddy."
"I see." He sat back, thoughtful, his eyes narrowing and taking on some of that metallic tint I saw so often in my grandmother.
"I want him to tell me why he and Momma did this. I've got to know," I said with determination.
"Uh-huh. Well, Dawn." He grinned and lowered his voice to a loud whisper. "Don't tell my mother I keep calling you that," he said, half in jest and half seriously, I thought. His grin faded and his eyes turned severe. "I was hoping you would not try to keep in contact with Ormand Longchamp. It will only make things more difficult for everyone, even for him."
I looked down at the envelope in my hands and nodded. Tears blurred my vision. I rubbed at my eyes as a child would, feeling a child in a crazy adult world. My heart began to feel like a fist made of stone clenched in my chest.
"I just can't start a new life without knowing why they did it," I said. I looked up sharply. "I just can't." He gazed at me quietly for a moment.
"I see," he said, nodding.
"I was hoping you would find out where they sent him and get this letter to him for me."
My suggestion surprised him. He raised his eyebrows and gazed quickly at the door as if he feared someone might be listening at the keyhole. Then he brought his left forefinger and thumb to his pinky ring and began to turn it and turn it as he nodded and thought.
"I don't know," he muttered. "I don't know whether or not that would create complications with the authorities," he said.
"It's very important to me."
"How do you know he will tell you the truth anyway?" he asked quickly. "He lied to you, told you terrible stories. I don't mean to be the one who hardens your heart against him," he added, "but what is true is true."
"I just want to try," I pleaded. "If he doesn't write back or if he doesn't tell me, I'll put it aside forever and ever. I promise."
"I see." Suddenly he picked up his pile of papers and put it down in front of him again, practically blocking me out of his vision. "Well, I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't know. I have all this work . . . Grandmother Cutler wants things running smoothly," he repeated. He started to staple papers. It seemed to me he wasn't even looking at what he was putting together.
"We shouldn't just run of doing things, half-cocked. There are responsibilities, obligations . . . preparation," he chanted.
"I don't know who else to ask, who else could do it for me," I said, my voice full of pleading. "Please!" I cried vehemently.
He stopped and looked at me.
"Well . . . all right," he said, nodding. "I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you," I said, handing him the envelope. He took it and looked at it. I had already sealed it. He put it in his top desk drawer quickly. As soon as it was gone, his face changed. The worried look disappeared and he smiled.
"Well, now," he said, "I've been meaning to talk to you about your wardrobe. Laura Sue and I discussed it last night. There are a number of things Clara Sue doesn't wear anymore that might fit you. Mrs. Boston will bring them down to your room later today, and you can go through them and see what's good and what's not."
"She already has," I said.
"Oh, good, good. Laura Sue wants to take you shopping in a day or so for whatever else you need. Is there anything else I can do for you right n
ow?"
I shook my head. "Thank you," I said and stood up.
"It's a blessing, a miracle that you have been returned to us," he said. Then he rose from his chair and came around his desk to walk me to the door.
"Oh. Philip told me how well you play the piano," he said.
"I just started to learn. I'm not that good."
"Still, it would be nice if you came up and played something for Laura Sue and me on the piano."
I was just getting ready to answer him when he looked back down at his desk and said, "I'm sorry, I'm just so busy. Soon I'll spend lots of time with you."
Busy with what, I wondered, stapling papers? Why didn't he have a secretary do that? "Everything will be fine. Just give it time," he advised and opened the door for me.
"Thank you," I said.
And then he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. It was a tentative, quick peck. He squeezed my hand in his, too, and then he closed the door between us quickly as if he were afraid someone would see that he had kissed me and spoken with me.
His bizarre manner, my grandmother's unexpected harshness, my mother's strange infirmities, all left me in a daze, floundering in despair. How was I ever going to swim in this new ocean of turmoil and confusion?
And who would be my raft and keep me afloat now?
11
BETRAYED
At first I wasn't going to wear any of Clara Sue's hand-me-downs, but I wanted to look pretty again and feel like a girl instead of a tired, haggard maid. I expected Philip might come looking for me to take me for a walk through the hotel as soon as he finished his work in the-dining room; so after dinner I returned to my room and tried on different blouse and skirt combinations, finally settling on a light blue, short-sleeved cotton blouse with pearl buttons and a dark blue pleated skirt. There was a pair of pretty white flat-heeled shoes in the bag. They had some slight smudges on the sides, but other than that, they looked nearly new.
Then I unpinned my hair and brushed it down. It really had to be washed and trimmed; there were a lot of split ends. I thought about Clara Sue going to a beautician, having all the brand-new clothes she wanted whenever she wanted them, and always being treated as though she were someone special. Would Grandmother Cutler eventually accept me and treat me the same way? I couldn't help imagining myself going to a beautician and wearing a new dress. I, too, would rather be working behind the reception desk than cleaning rooms.
I decided to tie a ribbon under my hair to lift it in the back. Momma used to say I shouldn't cover my ears. I could hear her even now. "You got beautiful ears, baby. Let the world see 'em." It brought a smile to my face, recalling. My eyes brightened. I was glad that Philip's arrival had made me long to be pretty again. It was good to have something to look forward to and not live in a dismal dark state all the time.
Even after getting into nice clothes and brushing my hair, however, I thought I still looked pale and sickly. My eyelids drooped and the brightness that had once radiated down from my light hair and warmed my smile had been dulled by sorrow, pain, and torment. All the expensive clothing, even a professional beautician, couldn't make the outside cheerful, if the inside was still melancholy, I thought. I pinched my cheeks as Momma used to pinch her own sometimes to make them look rosy.
When I looked at myself in the mirrors now, however, I suddenly wondered why I was doing all this. Philip wasn't my boyfriend anymore. Why did it matter how pretty I looked? Why was it still so important to please him? If anything, I was playing with forbidden fire. Just then I heard footsteps in the corridor. I went to the door and peered out, surprised to see someone in a staff uniform approaching.
"Your father asked me to have you come upstairs to your parents' rooms and play the piano for your mother." With that the short clerk hurried away. Well, I thought, being commanded to appear before them and perform isn't the loving attention I've been hoping for, but it's a start. Maybe by the end of the summer we'd be a close family, I hoped as I wandered through the hotel toward the section where the rest of my family lived.
I found Philip and Clara Sue at our mother's bedside, sitting in chairs they had brought up close. My mother was propped up against two large fluffy pillows. She had unpinned her hair, and it lay softly over her petite shoulders. She wore a gold nightie under her robe and still wore her earrings and diamond necklace, as well as all her makeup. I saw that Philip held her hand in his. Clara Sue sat back, her arms folded, her face in a smirk.
"Oh, how pretty you look, Dawn!" my mother exclaimed. "Clara Sue's clothes are a perfect fit."
"That skirt is so out of style, it isn't funny," Clara Sue inserted.
"Nothing that fits well and looks good is out of style," Father said in my defense. Clara Sue shifted her feet and squirmed in her seat. I could see she didn't like the way Father was gazing at me. "Aren't we lucky to have two pretty daughters?" he remarked. "Clara Sue and Dawn."
When I looked at Philip, I saw him staring at me intently, a slight smile on his face. Clara Sue looked at him, too, and then looked quickly at me, her eyes flashing with envy.
"I thought we weren't supposed to be calling her Dawn," Clara Sue reminded. "I thought we were supposed to call her Eugenia. That's what Grandmother said."
"When we're alone, it's all right," Mother replied. "Isn't it, Randolph?"
"Of course," he said and squeezed my hand gently after flashing a look at me that said, "Please, humor her for now."
"Grandmother's not going to like it," Clara Sue insisted. She glared at me. "You were named after her dead sister. It was a sacred gift. You should be grateful that you have a name like that instead of something stupid."
"My name is not stupid."
"Dawn for a name?" Clara Sue responded. Her laughter mocked me.
"Shut up," Philip snapped.
"Oh, please, Clara Sue!" Mother cried. "No controversy tonight. I'm so exhausted." She turned to me to explain. "It's always overwhelming when the summer people first come and we have to remember everyone's name and make them feel at home. None of us are permitted to be tired, or unhappy, or sick when Grandmother Cutler requires us to be present," she added, a note of bitterness in her voice. She tossed an icy glance at Father, but he rubbed his hands together and smiled as if he hadn't heard her.
"Well, now," he said. "Here we are, all of us, finally together. We have a great deal for which to be thankful. Isn't it wonderful? And what better way to make Dawn part of the family than to have her play something for us," Father said.
"Something soothing, please, Dawn," Mother pleaded. "I couldn't stand any rock and roll right now," she moaned, swinging her eyes at Clara Sue, who looked uncomfortable and very unhappy about being here.
"I don't know any rock and roll," I said. "There's a piece Mr. Moore, my music teacher, taught me. It was one of his favorites. I’ll try to remember it," I said.
I was happy that they were all going to remain in the bedroom with Mother while I went out to the piano in the sitting room. At least I didn't have to play with Clara Sue glaring at me, I thought. But when I sat down, Philip came in and stood by my side, staring at me so intently, I felt myself begin to tremble.
I tested the notes the way Mr. Moore had instructed and I found the piano in tune.
"That's quite a song," Clara Sue quipped, hoping to make fun of me; but no one laughed.
"Relax," Philip said. "You're with your family now," he added, touching my shoulder. He gazed back at the doorway and quickly planted a kiss on my neck. "For good luck," he said quickly when I looked up surprised.
Then I closed my eyes and tried to shut the world out just the way I used to back at Emerson Peabody. With the first note I slipped softly into my musical kingdom, a land where there were no lies and sickness, no dreary skies and hateful days, a world full of smiles and love. If there was a wind, it was gentle, just strong enough to caress the leaves. If there were clouds, they were mushy white and as soft as downy silk pillows.
My fingers touched the ivory and beg
an to move over the keyboard as though they had a mind of their own. I felt the notes flow from the piano up my arm, the music circling about me protectively, creating a cocoon of security. Nothing could touch me, not jealous eyes or ridiculing laughter. Resentment, bitterness, derogatory words of any kind were forgotten for the moment. I even forgot Philip was standing nearby. When I was finished, it was a letdown. The music lingered like a shadow calling to me to go on. My fingers tingled and hovered over the keys, my eyes remained closed.
I opened them at the sound of the ovation. Father had come into the doorway to clap, and Philip applauded beside me. I heard my mother's gentle applause, too, and Clara Sue's quick salvo.
"Wonderful," my father said. "I'll speak to Mother. Maybe we'll have you play for the guests."
"Oh, I couldn't."
"Sure you could. What do you think, Laura Sue?" he called.
"It was beautiful. Dawn!" she cried. I got up. Philip was beaming, his eyes dancing with happiness. I returned to my mother's bedroom, and she surprised me by holding her arms out. I approached her and let her embrace me. She kissed me softly on the cheek, and when I pulled back, I saw tears in her eyes, but there was something in the way she gazed at me that made me tremble and hesitate. I sensed she saw something else in me, something I did not know existed. She was looking at me, but not exactly at me.
I questioned her with my eyes, searching her face for understanding. Now that I was this close to her, I saw how tiny her eyelashes were, how diminutive were her facial features, features I had inherited. Her eyes were dazzling, I thought, unable to take my gaze from the soft blue that twinkled with mystery as well as jeweled beauty. I spotted some faint freckles under them, just where mine were. Her skin was so translucent, I could see the tiny blue veins at the corners of her eyes, mapped out along her temples.