Midnight Whispers

  "Oh, I'm sure Christie doesn't mind pleasing her favorite aunt," she replied. "I'm her favorite aunt because I always keep her little secrets," she added, smiling. "Right, princess?"

  Gavin and I exchanged looks of frustration while Aunt Fern continued to examine the suite, her eyes settling on the bathroom. She marched to it and inspected the sink and tub.

  "Bring up a pail full of disinfectant, too. I expect these fixtures to shine when you're finished," she told me. "You'll have to get down on your hands and knees and scrub this floor. I won't permit my bare feet on such a dirty surface."

  "That'll take hours!" I cried.

  "Oh dear, oh dear," Charlotte whimpered.

  "I'm really surprised no one's done this room before," Aunt Fern complained and turned back to Charlotte. "Why my sister-in-law and my brother let you run down this place and do all these stupid things to it is beyond me. It's still a piece of property with some value to it, isn't it? Morton?"

  "It has a certain residual value," Morton said with disinterest. "Land's always worth something, even though the buildings are in disrepair."

  "I just love this bed though," Aunt Fern said, going to it and stroking the post. "It's quite an elegant piece. And look at the work in this dresser and this armoire," she said indicating the carvings.

  "Yes, the furniture is worth something," Morton agreed.

  "Christie," Aunt Fern said, turning on me. "Why haven't you gone for the pail of soap and water and the rags? We don't have all night, you know."

  "I don't think you realize how much work is involved here," Gavin said more calmly.

  "Yes I do," Fern replied, smiling. "But if you're so worried about your precious princess doing too much and getting her precious fingers too soiled, why don't you help her?" she said icily. Then she spun on Charlotte. The poor dear gasped and her hands flew up to her throat like two terrified birds seeking the safety of a branch. "Aunt Charlotte, do you want to get us some clean linens, please, and towels, lots of clean towels. Do you own a vacuum cleaner?" she demanded.

  Charlotte shook her head, overwhelmed.

  "All they have is the old-fashioned push-thing that picks up surface dirt," I said quickly. Aunt Fern smirked.

  "Well, I suppose it will have to do. Come on, everyone, get cracking," Fern said, enjoying her role as supervisor.

  "You really can't sleep in here," Charlotte said, her eyes wide. "The spirits still come to this room at night, even during the day sometimes."

  "Spirits? Oh, you mean like ghosts? Well, that's all right. Morton and I are used to spirits, but spirits of another kind. Which reminds me, what's to drink around here?"

  "We have water and milk and juice," Aunt Charlotte listed proudly.

  "I'm talking about whiskey," Aunt Fern snapped.

  "Whiskey?" Charlotte thought a moment. "In my daddy's office in the cabinet. But it's old," she said, and Aunt Fern and Morton laughed.

  "The older it is, the better it is," Aunt Fern said. "Show us the office and we'll have a few drinks and wait for you to get our room ready," she commanded.

  "The office is not an office anymore," I said. "It's where Charlotte does her arts and crafts."

  "So we'll have our drinks somewhere else. Come on," she said, clapping her hands. "Everyone get moving."

  Luther stopped in the doorway with their suit-cases and looked in at us.

  "You ain't fixing to stay in this room, are you?" he asked.

  "It's all been decided, Luther. Put the bags in here," Aunt Fern said.

  Luther looked at Charlotte, saw her pained ex-pression, and shook his head.

  "This room's not to be used," he insisted firmly.

  "Really? Who are you, the general manager or something?" Aunt Fern said and turned to Morton. They both laughed.

  "No one uses this room," Luther simply stated. Fern's eyes grew small and hateful.

  "Now look here," she said, stepping boldly up to him. "I happen to know more about you than you think. My brother told me about this place and you," she said sharply. "You're an employee who's been given permission to stay on, but that can change any time." Luther's face grew so hot and red, I thought he might explode.

  "Aunt Fern, I'm the one who will change or not change anything," I said. "I'm the one who owns this now."

  She smiled coldly at my challenge.

  "Doesn't Philip have a part of the estate, too? Not a majority ownership, but still something? Why don't we call him and ask his opinion?" she said, her eyes dancing with glee.

  "Don't you threaten her," Gavin said, stepping up beside me. Fern's face flamed red. She whipped her eyes to him and flared them with fury.

  "How dare you speak to me like that, Gavin? Does Daddy know where his precious goody-goody son is and what he's been doing? How's your mother going to like all this?" she pursued. Gavin wilted quickly beneath the fire in her voice and eyes. Fern nodded, satisfied with his retreat. "You two have been hazing a pretty good old time of it around here," she said, looking at us. "My advice to you two is to behave if you want to continue having a good time. Anyway," she said, throwing her head back and sticking her hands to her hips, "you should have more respect for your older sister, Gavin; and Christie, show respect for your aunt.

  "You never showed me any real respect, never treated me as an aunt should be treated," she complained.

  "That's not so, Aunt Fern. I . . ."

  "DON'T CONTRADICT ME!" she screamed, her eyes wide. Then she stepped toward me and spoke softly, in a very controlled but hateful tone of voice, spitting her words in my face. "This isn't Cutler's Cove and you're not the princess. We've always had to cater to you. It was always Christie this and Christie that. Did they ever make me a Sweet Sixteen party like the one for you? Or buy me anything I wanted?"

  "Mommy and Daddy loved you and treated you well, Aunt Fern," I said, tears welling up in the corners of my eyes.

  "Save it. I've heard it before; it's like a broken record. Luther," she said, turning back to him, "my advice to you is to put our suitcases in here pronto. You know what pronto means?"

  Luther hesitated, his pride wounded, his anger still boiling over.

  "How do you think Philip Cutler is going to react when he hears you've been hiding out two underage teenagers who ran away from their homes?" she followed when he still hesitated. "There'll be a big investigation of you and Auntie Charlotte. Why, newspaper people might even come around to take pictures of the ridiculous decor and what was done to the paintings and walls. Do you want that?" she threatened. Luther's shoulders slumped in defeat and the defiance went out of his eyes. I felt horrible for him.

  "That's not true. Luther didn't hide us out. He didn't know any of the details. He has no idea why I ran away or that I ran away. He . . ."

  "Who's going to believe that?" Aunt Fern said with a mocking smile. Her face turned firm, her lips so taut I thought they might snap like rubber bands. "Now do I have to repeat myself?" She looked at Luther. He lowered his eyes and lifted her and Morton's bags and carried them into the suite. Aunt Fern relaxed her shoulders. "That's better; that's more like it. Christie, dear, the soap and water?" Aunt Fern sang.

  What else could I do? I felt trapped. I didn't want poor Luther and Charlotte to endure any more pain because of me. Aunt Fern was just vicious enough to carry out her threats. I dropped my chin to my chest. Aunt Fern's mean words and accusations stung and drove me to carry out her wishes as quickly as I would had she struck me with a whip across the back.

  "I'll help you," Gavin said when I turned to start away.

  "Oh dear, oh dear," Charlotte said, scurrying off to do Aunt Fern's bidding, "this is not going to be a nice time. No indeed, not a nice time."

  "To the whiskey cabinet," Aunt Fern said, laughing.

  "That was a rather impressive show of authority," Morton said, complimenting her. Aunt Fern's laughter trailed behind us.

  "I've been on the short end of the stick long enough," she told him. "Now it's my turn to be the high and mighty." r />
  They made Charlotte show them the liquor cabinet and then sent her off to change the linens. While we worked on the suite, Aunt Fern and Morton took a bottle of brandy and some glasses and waited in the living room. They played the old records on the victrola and behaved like two children, giggling and knocking things over, ringing the old dinner bells, flicking lights on and off and chasing each other through the rooms. Every once in a while, we heard one of Aunt Fern's shrill laughs carry through the hallways of the plantation house.

  I told Charlotte to put the things from the vanity table into a bag, but hide them.

  "You can put them back after Fern leaves, if you like," I said. That pleased her, but she was still very troubled about what was happening. Reluctantly, Gavin helped with some of the cleaning. He did the windows. After Luther brought up the broom he left, muttering angrily to himself. I dusted and polished all the furniture and then turned to the bathroom. It took me nearly an hour just to do the sink, tub arid commode. Gavin was furious when I did get down on my hands and knees to scrub stains of the floor I had already dumped three pails of dirty water and my face and hands were streaked with the grime and dust I was removing.

  "This is stupid," he said. "Let's just wake up Jefferson and leave. Philip won't find us."

  "That won't stop Aunt Fern from doing some-thing to hurt Charlotte and Luther, Gavin. You know how vicious and vindictive she can be when she wants to. Let's just do what she asks. Soon she and her boyfriend will grow bored and leave anyway, and then we can make new plans."

  "I don't know how she can be Jimmy's sister arid my half-sister and be so mean to people," Gavin said, shaking his head.

  "Don't forget she was given to another family when she was only a baby and lived with them until Mommy and Daddy found her," I reminded him. "Her life was quite disrupted."

  "Stop making excuses for her, Christie. She's just a cruel, self-centered person who loves only herself and what will make her happy. I don't think she's ever done anything for anyone else her whole life and I doubt she ever will."

  "And just who are you talking about, Gavin Longchamp?" Aunt Fern demanded, coming into the room. "Not me, I hope."

  "If the shoe fits, wear it," Gavin muttered, but Aunt Fern was too tipsy from her drinking to hear or really care. She and Morton laughed and then the two of them flopped on the bed and groped at each other as if we weren't there. Gavin and I gaped in astonishment. Finally, Aunt Fern looked up, her eyelids drooping.

  "Aren't you finished here yet?" she complained. "This was a lot of work, Aunt Fern. We told you before that . . ."

  "Oh, stop lecturing. We're ready for bed. Not for sleep," she added smiling, "for bed. Right, Morton?"

  He had his eyes closed, but he formed a silly smile.

  "So get your rags together, princess, and shut the door behind you on the way out, comprende?"

  "Come on," Gavin said, lifting me to my feet. "Let's go. She's as drunk as a sailor."

  "You two should try some of that old, old brandy" she cried, and both she and Morton went into a fit of hysterical laughter again. "Aunt Charlotte thought it was spoiled," she added and then laughed some more.

  Gavin guided me to the doorway. When we turned around, Aunt Fern had thrown herself over Morton's prostrate body. He seemed too drunk and too tired to care.

  "Oh," Aunt Fern said, turning back to us. "I forgot to ask . . . when do the spirits arrive?"

  Her resounding laughter echoed behind us as we closed the door and stepped out of the suite.

  "I hope the spirits do come," Gavin said, his dark eyes bright with anger, "and whisk her off to hell where she belongs."

  I was exhausted from all the work and too tired to care. We went down the corridor to our bathroom to wash up and go to sleep ourselves. Fatigued and drowning in emotions, I got into bed and fell into dreams.

  But maybe the spirits did come. Sometime during the night, I awoke to what I thought were the sounds of footsteps in the hallway. I was sure I heard a door slam and the sounds of someone sobbing, but I was too tired to get up and check. The spirits won't harm us, I thought, and if in the morning, we find that Aunt Fern and her boyfriend have mysteriously disappeared, I won't bat an eyelash or shed a tear. In moments, I fell asleep again.

  It was the sound of Aunt Fern's shrill scream that woke me in the morning. She hadn't been whisked off to hell, not yet.

  "What's going on?" Jefferson asked, rubbing his eyes and standing in the doorway. "Who's screaming?"

  "It's Fern," Gavin said, coming in from the hallway. "She's calling for us."

  "Fern? Aunt Fern's here?" Jefferson asked.

  "Unfortunately, yes," I told him.

  "Why is she screaming?"

  "I don't know, Jefferson. Maybe she woke up and took a look at herself," I said. Gavin laughed.

  I slipped into my dress quickly and Gavin and 1, with Jefferson lagging behind, hurried down the corridor. The doors of the master suite had been thrown open. We approached slowly and gazed within.

  Morton was apparently still asleep, still in a drunken stupor, but Aunt Fern was sitting up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were blazing with excitement. Had she seen a spirit after all? I wondered. She lifted her arm and pointed her shaky finger at the doorway.

  "Who was that . . . that . . . creature who was standing there gaping in at us for God knows how long?" she demanded. "I opened my eyes and there he was just a little while ago, spying on us."

  "Oh, that was probably Homer," I said. "He's a friend of Aunt Charlotte's and Luther's. He lives nearby."

  "Well, how dare he come snooping around here? How dare he! What is he, some kind of pervert?" she demanded.

  "Oh no, Aunt Fern. Homer's harmless. He's . . ."

  "Don't tell me what he is. I know who's harmless and who isn't," she said icily. "I don't want to set eyes on him again, do you hear me? You march right downstairs and tell that creep to get out of here pronto and not come back until I leave, understand?"

  "But Homer won't . . ."

  "Don't contradict every thing I say," she moaned. "My head is splitting." She pressed her palms against her temples, dropping her blanket and forgetting she was naked. Gavin was shocked and stepped back.

  "Aunt Fern . . . you're still not dressed," I pointed out.

  "What? Oh, who cares. Morton, damn it. How can you sleep with all this going on? Morton?" She shook her boyfriend, who then groaned but didn't turn over. Then she fell back against her pillow.

  "Get me coffee . . . strong coffee. After I wake up, I want you to draw a warm bath for me. Do you have any bath oils here?"

  "No, Aunt Fern. Hardly."

  "Well, get the coffee . . . quickly," she ordered. "And get that creature out of the house." She closed her eyes and moaned again.

  "How did Aunt Fern get here?" Jefferson whispered.

  "She came on Emily's broom," Gavin quipped. "What?"

  "She just drove here last night, Jefferson. Go back and get washed and dressed. Go on." "What's wrong with her?"

  "She drank too much old whiskey," I said. Gavin and I smiled at each other.

  "Come on, buddy," Gavin said, putting his arm around Jefferson's shoulders. "I'll help you get organized."

  "I'd better see to their coffee," I said and hurried downstairs. Luther was already outside, working. Charlotte was in the kitchen with Homer sitting at the table, looking terrified.

  "She scared him near to death," Charlotte complained.

  "Because he frightened her, Aunt Charlotte. She's furious about him looking in on her," I explained.

  "He didn't mean no harm. He never heard nobody in that room before and had to see," Aunt Charlotte said. I smiled at the motherly way in which she came to his defense.

  "I know, but until they leave, Homer should stay away from them. You understand, Homer? That woman upstairs is not very nice. Every time she sees you, she's just going to scream and scream."

  Homer nodded.

  "I don't want to see her," h
e said.

  "I don't blame you." I poured two cups of coffee, found a tray, and carried them up to Aunt Fern and Morton. Morton was awake and sitting up in bed, rubbing his face and blinking at the sunlight coming through the window. Aunt Fern was still prone, her eyes closed.

  "Here's your coffee," I said. Her eyes snapped open.

  "Bring it here," she ordered and seized the cup out of my hand when I approached. I went around and handed Morton his cup.

  "Thank you," Morton said.

  "This isn't strong enough," Fern instantly complained. She spit the coffee back into the cup. "It's more like mud water. Maybe it is," she added, eyes wide. "Did Charlotte make it?"

  "Yes, Aunt Fern."

  "Don't drink it, Morton. Charlotte's just crazy enough to really have mixed dirt and water." She took the cup out of his hand and thrust both of them back at me so hard, some of the coffee spilled over, spattering my hands and wrists. It burned, but she didn't care. "You make another pot yourself. You know how to make coffee, don't you, princess? Or can't you do anything? She was always waited on hand and foot," she told Morton.

  "That's not true, Aunt Fern. I often helped Mrs. Boston in the kitchen," I said.

  "She often helped Mrs. Boston," she mimicked in a sing-song voice. "Yeah, I'm sure you did a lot. Well, get us some decent coffee and hurry up about it. I want to take my bath soon and get up to eat a good breakfast. That creature gone?" she asked.

  "You frightened him more than he frightened you, Aunt Fern. He doesn't want to be around you, don't worry," I said.

  "Good."

  "What creature?" Morton asked.

  "You'd sleep through an earthquake," Aunt Fern told him. "After you've drunk old whiskey all night, that is," she added and they both laughed and started tickling each other, behaving like two children again. Then Aunt Fern realized I was staring at them. "Why are you still hanging around?" she cried at me. "Get me the coffee," she ordered hotly.

  I hurried out and downstairs again. I made her fresh coffee, but I made it so strong that Gavin said it could melt iron. Now that he was fully awake, Jefferson insisted on coming along with me, but when I returned to the master suite, I found the doors closed and thought I had better knock.