Darkest Hour

  "Yes," she said.

  "Did you tell her I might have to cut my hair?" I asked, speaking as if in a daze.

  "I did, honey."

  "What did she say?"

  "She said she's sorry. She'll be up here to see you as soon as her guests leave."

  "Couldn't she come up before? Just for a moment?" "I'll go ask her," Louella said. A short while later, she returned without Mamma.

  "She says she just can't leave her guests right now. You should do what you have to do. Honey, that hair's going to all grow back and sooner than you think."

  "But until then, Louella, I'll hate myself and no one will think I'm pretty anymore," I cried.

  "Oh no, child. You've got a pretty face, one of the prettiest faces in these parts. No one's gonna ever say you are ugly."

  "Yes they will," I moaned, and thought about Niles and how disappointed he was going to be when he looked at me, how disappointed he was at this moment, waiting for Eugenia and me. But the stench seemed to radiate down from my head and drape me in skunk. My fingers trembling, I took hold of the scissors and pulled my hair out straight. I brought the scissors to the strands, but I didn't cut.

  "I can't, Louella!" I cried. "I just can't." I buried my face in my arms on the table and sobbed. She came over and put her hand on my shoulder.

  "You want me to do it for you, child?"

  Reluctantly, with my heart as hollowed out as a walnut shell, I nodded. Louella took the first strands into one hand and the scissors into the other. I heard the clipping begin, each snap, chopping into my heart as well, my body aching with sorrow.

  In her dark room, sitting in a corner under the light of her kerosene lamp, Emily read her Bible. I could hear her voice through the walls. I was sure she was finishing the part in Exodus she had wanted to read at breakfast before Mamma cut her off.

  "'. . . and the hail smote every herb of the field, and brake every tree of the field . . .'"

  I cried myself into a stupor under the sound of the scissors.

  When Louella finished, I crawled into bed, curled myself into a ball and buried my face in the blanket. I didn't want to look at myself or have anyone look at me, even for a moment. Louella tried to comfort me, but I shook my head and moaned.

  "I just want to close my eyes, Louella, and pretend it didn't happen."

  She left and then, finally, after the guests went home, Mamma came up to see me.

  "Oh Mamma!" I cried, sitting up and throwing the blanket away from myself as soon as she stepped into my room. "Look! Look what she did to me!"

  "Who, Louella? But I thought . . ."

  "No, Mamma, not Louella." My chest heaved. I swallowed and ground the hot tears out of my eyes with my hands. "Emily," I said. "Emily did this!"

  "Emily?" Mamma smiled. "I'm afraid I don't understand, honey. How could Emily . . ."

  "She hid Eugenia's wheelchair in the toolshed. She found a skunk in one of Henry's traps and kept it under a blanket. She told me to go to the toolshed. She said Henry put it there, Mamma. When I went in, she threw the skunk into the shed and locked me in the shed with it. She put a stick up against the door. She's a monster!"

  "Emily? Oh no, I can't believe . . ."

  "She did, Mamma, she did," I insisted, pounding my legs with my fists. I hit myself so hard that Mamma's face changed from disbelief to shock before she took a deep breath, pressed her hand to her chest and shook her head.

  "Why would Emily do such a thing?"

  "Because she's horrible! And she's jealous. She wishes she had friends. She wishes . . ." I stopped before I had said too much.

  Mamma stared at me a moment and then smiled.

  "It's got to be some sort of misunderstanding, some tragic combination of events," Mamma decided. "My children don't do such things to each other, especially Emily. Why, she's so devout, she makes the minister question his own actions," Mamma added, smiling. "Everyone tells me so."

  "Mamma, she thinks she's doing good things whenever she does something that hurts me. She thinks she's right. Go ask her. Go on!" I screamed.

  "Now, Lillian, you must not yell. If the Captain should come home and hear you . . ."

  "Look at me! Look at my hair!" I pulled on the roughly cut strands until it was painful.

  Mamma's face softened.

  "I'm sorry about your hair, honey. I really am. But," she said, smiling, "you'll wear a nice bonnet and I'll give you some of my silk scarves and . . ."

  "Mamma, I can't walk around with a scarf on my head all day long, especially in school. The teacher won't allow it and—"

  "Of course, you can, dear. Miss Walker will understand, I'm sure." She smiled again and sniffed the air between us. "I don't smell a thing. Louella's done a fine job. You'd never know anything bad happened."

  "You'd never know?" I pressed my palms against my shortened hair. "How can you say that? Look at me. You remember how beautiful my hair was, how you liked to brush it for me."

  "The worst is over, dear," Mamma replied. "I'll see to it that you get my scarves. Now you just rest, dear," she said, and turned to leave.

  "Mamma! Aren't you going to say anything to Emily? Aren't you going to tell Papa what she did to me?" I asked tearfully. How could she not see how awful this was? What if it had happened to her? She was just as proud of her hair as I had been of mine. Didn't she spend hours and hours brushing it and wasn't she the one who told me I had to care for it and nurture it? Hers was like spun gold and mine was now like the stems of sliced flowers, jagged and stiff.

  "Oh, why prolong the agony and make everyone in the house suffer, Lillian? What's done is done. I'm sure it was just one of those unfortunate little accidents. It happened and it's finished."

  "It wasn't an accident. Emily did it! I hate her, Mamma. I hate her!" I felt my face flush with anger. Mamma stared at me and then shook her head.

  "Of course you don't hate her. We can't have anyone hating anyone in this house. The Captain wouldn't stand for it," Mamma said as if she were constructing one of her romance novels and could simply rewrite or cross out the ugly and the sad things. "Now let me tell you about my party."

  I lowered my head like a flag of defeat as Mamma, behaving as if nothing unusual had happened to me, began to tell me some of the tidbits of gossip she and her guests had been feeding on all afternoon. Her words went in one ear and out the other, but she didn't seem to notice or care. I dropped my face to the pillow and drew the blanket up around me again. Mamma's voice droned on until she ran out of stories and then she left to find some of her scarves for me.

  I took a deep breath and turned over in bed. I couldn't help but wonder if Mamma would have felt more sympathy and anger over what had happened if she were really my mother instead of my aunt. Suddenly, for the first time, I truly felt like an orphan. I felt worse even than I had the first time I learned the truth. My body shook with new sobs until I was too tired to cry. Then, remembering poor Eugenia, who I was sure had gotten only bits and pieces from Louella and Tottie, I rose like a somnambulist and put on my bathrobe, all my actions mechanical. I avoided looking at myself each time I passed the mirrors. I slipped my feet into my small, ribbon-laced slippers, and walked slowly out of my room and down to Eugenia's.

  The moment I entered and she saw me, she started to cry. I rushed into her arms which folded around me with a birdlike fragility and cried on her little shoulder for a few moments before pulling back to relate all the horrid events to her. She listened, wide-eyed, shaking her head to wipe away the details. But she was forced to accept them every time she looked at my cropped off hair.

  "I'm not going to school," I vowed. "I'm not going anywhere until my hair grows back."

  "Oh, but Lillian, that could be a long time. You can't miss all that work."

  "I'll die as soon as the other kids look at me, Eugenia." I shifted my eyes to the blanket. "Especially Niles."

  "You'll do what Mamma said. You'll wear scarves and a bonnet."

  "They'll laugh at me. Emily will se
e to that," I declared. Eugenia's face saddened. She seemed to shrink with every passing moment of sadness. I felt terrible because I wasn't able to cheer her up or make the sorrow go away. No amount of laughter, no jokes, no distractions could cover up the agony or make me forget what had been done to me.

  There was a knock on the door and we turned to see Henry.

  "Hello, Miss Lillian, Miss Eugenia. I just come by to tell you . . . well, to tell you your wheelchair's going to need a day or so of airing out, Miss Eugenia. I washed it down best I could and I'll bring it back as soon as it's free of that odor."

  "Thank you, Henry," Eugenia said.

  "Damned if I know how it got into the toolshed," Henry said.

  "We know how, Henry," I told him. He nodded. "I found one of my rabbit traps nearby," he said.

  He shook his head. "Mean thing to do. Mean thing," he muttered, and left.

  "Where are you going?" Eugenia asked when I rose from the bed, tired and listless.

  "Back upstairs, to sleep. I'm exhausted."

  "Will you come back after dinner?"

  "I'll try," I said. I hated myself this way, hated feeling sorry for myself, especially in front of Eugenia who had more reason to feel sorry for herself than anyone I knew, but my hair had been so beautiful. Its length and texture, its softness and its rich color had made me feel older and more feminine. I knew how boys gazed at me. Now, no one would look at me except to laugh at the little idiot who got herself sprayed by a skunk.

  Late in the afternoon, Tottie came by to tell me Niles had come to the front door to ask after Eugenia and me.

  "Oh, Tottie, did you tell him what happened? You didn't, did you?" I cried.

  Tottie shrugged.

  "I didn't know what else to tell him, Miss Lillian."

  "What did you say? What did you tell him?" I demanded quickly.

  "I just told him you got sprayed by a skunk in the toolshed and you had to cut your hair off."

  "Oh no."

  "He's still downstairs," Tottie said. "Mrs. Booth's talking to him."

  "Oh no," I moaned again, and fell back on the bed. I was so embarrassed, I didn't think I could ever let him look at me again.

  "Mrs. Booth, she says you should come down and say hello to your gentleman caller."

  "Come down! Never. I'm not leaving this room. I'm not and tell her it's Emily's fault."

  Tottie left and I pulled the blanket up around myself again. Mamma didn't come up to see me. She retreated to her music and her books. The afternoon passed into the early evening. I heard Papa come home, heard his heavy footsteps in the hallway. When he reached my door, I held my breath, expecting him to come in to see what had been done and ask me what had happened, but he walked past my door. Either Mamma hadn't told him or she had made it sound like nothing, I thought sadly. Later, I heard him go by on his way down to dinner and again, he didn't stop. Tottie was sent up to tell me dinner was ready, but I told her I wasn't hungry. Not five minutes later, she returned huffing and puffing from her run up the stairs to tell me Papa insisted I come down.

  "The Captain says he don't care if you eat a morsel, but you get yourself in your seat," Tottie related. "He looks angry enough to butcher all the hogs in one fell swoop," she added. "You'd better come down, Miss Lillian."

  Reluctantly, I rose from the bed. Numbly, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I shook my head trying to deny what I saw, but it wouldn't go away. I nearly burst into fresh tears. Louella had done the best she could, of course, but she was just out to cut my hair down as short as she could. Some strands were longer than others and my hair looked jagged around the ears. I tied one of Mamma's scarves around my head and went downstairs.

  Emily's smile was faint and sardonic as I took my place at the table. Then her expression changed until her face was carved in her habitual look of disapproval, her back straight, her arms folded. The Bible was opened on the table before her. I gave her the most hateful glare I could, but all it did was brighten the look of pleasure in those gray orbs.

  Mamma smiled. Papa scrutinized me sharply, his mustache twitching.

  "Take off that scarf at the dinner table," he commanded.

  "But Papa," I moaned, "I look horrible."

  "Vanity is a sin," he said. "When the Devil wanted to tempt Eve in Paradise, he told her she was as beautiful as God. Take it off." I hesitated, hoping Mamma would come to my aid, but she sat there quietly, a pained look on her face. "Take it off, I said!" Papa demanded.

  I did so, my eyes down. When I glanced up, I saw how pleased Emily was.

  "Next time you'll pay more attention to where you're going and what's happening around you," Papa said.

  "But Papa . . ."

  He put his hand up before I could continue.

  "I don't want to hear no more about this incident. I heard enough from your mother. Emily . . ."

  Emily's face smiled as much as it ever did and she gazed down at the Bible.

  "'The Lord is my shepherd,' " she began. I didn't hear her reading. I sat there, my heart as cold as stone. Tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, but I didn't wipe them away. If Papa noticed, he didn't care. As soon as Emily finished her reading, he began to eat. Mamma started to relate the new gossip she had learned at her luncheon. Papa appeared to listen, nodding occasionally and even laughing at one point. It was as if what had happened to me had happened to me years and years ago and I was just reliving the memory; I was the only one reliving it. I tried to eat something just so Papa wouldn't be angry but the food got caught in my throat, and at one point I started to choke and had to swallow a glass of water.

  Dinner mercifully ended and I went to Eugenia's room as I had promised, only she was asleep. I sat by her bed for a while and watched her labored breathing. She moaned once, but her eyes didn't open. Finally, I left her and went up to my room, exhausted from one of the most horrible days of my life.

  When I walked into my room, I went to the window to gaze out at lawns, but it was a very dark night. The sky was overcast. In the distance, I saw the flash of lightning and then the first drops fell, splattering against the windowpane like thick tears. I retreated to my bed. Moments after I had put out my light and closed my eyes, I heard my door being opened and looked.

  Emily stood there in the shadows.

  "Pray for forgiveness," she said.

  "What?" I sat up quickly. "You want me to pray for forgiveness after what you did to me? You should be the one praying for forgiveness. You're a horrid person. Why did you do it? Why?"

  "I didn't do anything to you. The Lord punished you for your sinful acts. Do you think anything could happen if God didn't wish it to happen? I told you, you're a living curse, a rotten apple who could corrupt and ruin every other apple. As long as you are not remorseful, you will suffer and you will never be remorseful," she added.

  "I am not sinful and rotten! You are!"

  She closed my door, but I continued to scream. "You are! You are!"

  I buried my face in my hands and sobbed until I was out of tears. Then I fell back on my pillow. I lay in the darkness feeling strangely out of myself. Over and over I heard Emily's sharp, cutting voice. "You were born evil, wicked, a curse." I closed my eyes and tried to shut her out, but she droned on and on in my thoughts, her words drilling deeply into my soul.

  Was she right? Why would God permit her to hurt me so, I wondered. She can't be right. Why would God want to see someone as kind and loving as Eugenia suffer? No, the devil was at work here, not God.

  But why did God let the devil do it?

  We're all being tested, I concluded. Deep in my heart, buried under mountains of pretend and illusion, was the realization that the biggest test of all was just ahead. It was always there, lingering over The Meadows like a dark cloud that was oblivious to the wind or to prayers. It hovered, waiting until its time came.

  And then it released the rain of sadness over us, the drops so cold they were to chill my heart forever and ever.

  7
r />   TRAGEDY STRIKES

  The next day I woke with terrible stomach cramps. On top of everything else, I had a severe period. It hurt so bad this time that I was actually in tears. My crying brought Mamma to the door. She was just on her way down to breakfast. When I told her what was wrong, she fell into a fluster. As usual, she sent Louella up to look after me. Louella tried to get me dressed and off to school, but I was too cramped up to walk. I remained in bed all that day and most of the next.

  Just before she left for school the following morning, Emily appeared in my doorway to tell me to look into myself for the answer as to why my monthly pain was so intense. I pretended I didn't hear or see her. I didn't glance at her nor did I reply and she left. But I couldn't help wondering why she wasn't ever inconvenienced by her period. It was almost as if she had never had one.

  Despite the pain it brought, I couldn't help but look at my period as a blessing of sorts, for it made it possible for me to avoid facing the world with my hair hacked off. Every time I contemplated getting dressed and venturing out, I felt my stomach cringe even more. Wearing a bonnet or covering myself in shawls would only postpone the inevitable—the looks of shock and surprise on the faces of the girls and the grins and laughter on the faces of the boys.

  However, early in the evening of the second day, Mamma sent Louella up to fetch me down to dinner, mostly because of Papa's fury.

  "The Captain says to get yourself right downstairs, honey. He's waiting dinner on your arrival. I do believe he'll come up here and fetch you himself if you don't come along," Louella said. "He's ranting and raving how there's one invalid child in this house already; he won't stomach two."

  Louella pulled one of my dresses out of the closet and got me up. When I went downstairs, I saw that Mamma had been crying. Papa's face was red and he was tugging on the ends of his mustache, something he always did when he was irritated.

  "That's better," he said when I sat down. "Now let's begin."

  After Emily's reading, which seemed interminable this time, we ate in silence. Mamma was obviously not in the mood to chatter about her friends and their lives. The only sounds came from Papa's chomping on his meat and the click of silverware and china. Suddenly, Papa stopped chewing and turned to me as if he had just remembered something. He pointed his long right forefinger at me and said, "You see that you get up and go to school tomorrow, Lillian. Understand? I don't want another child in this house being waited on hand and foot. Especially one who's healthy and strong and got nothing more than a woman's regular problem. Hear?"