Darkest Hour

  "Oh Lillian, honey," Mamma said, embracing me, "you must always think of us as your mother and father and not your aunt and uncle, for we love you just as much as our two other daughters. Will you think of us that way? Always?"

  I didn't know how else to think of them, so I nodded, but in my secret putaway heart, I felt an ache, a deep down dark and cold ache that I knew would not disappear. It would linger forever and ever and remind me that I was once an orphan and that the two people who would have loved me and cherished me as much as they loved and cherished each other had been taken from me before I had a chance to set eyes on them. I couldn't help but be curious.

  I had seen pictures of Violet and I knew where there were others, but I had never looked at her with as much interest as I knew I would look at her now. Up until now, she was just a face, a sad story, some dark part of our history better not discussed and remembered. I sensed that I would have a thousand questions about her and the young man called Aaron, and I was smart enough to understand that every question I asked would be painful for Mamma and she would draw answers reluctantly from the pool of her memory.

  "You shouldn't worry about all this," Mamma said. "Nothing will change. Okay?"

  When I look back on those days, I realize how innocent and naive Mamma was then. Nothing would change? Whatever invisible rope of love had bound us together snapped. Yes, she and Papa would be my mother and father in name, and yes, I would still call them that, but knowing they were not filled me with a sense of deep loneliness.

  From that day forward, I would often go to bed feeling unhappy with my life, feeling an undercurrent that was pulling my feet from under me until I was floundering like someone bound to sink and drown. I would stare into the darkness and hear Mamma telling me over and over that I belonged where I was. But did I? Or had some cruel fate simply dumped me here? How sad it would be for Eugenia when she found out, I thought, and decided then and there that I would be the one who told her. I would do it as soon as I was positive she was old enough to truly understand.

  I saw how important it was for Mamma that I pretended none of this really mattered, so I smiled after she told me the family secret, wanting me to agree that nothing would change.

  "Yes, Mamma, nothing will change."

  "Good. Now you must concentrate on getting better and not think of unpleasant things," she commanded. "In a little while, I'll give you your pills and then you can go back to sleep. I'm sure in the morning you'll feel a lot better." She kissed my cheek and stood up.

  "I could never think of you as anything but my own," she promised. She beamed her most comforting smile and left me alone to ponder the meaning of all that she had told me.

  In the morning I did feel a lot better. The chills were completely gone and my throat was less dry and scratchy. I could see that it was going to be a beautiful day with small puffs of clouds looking pasted against the deep blue sky, and I regretted having to spend it all indoors. I felt so good I wanted to get up and go to school, but Mamma was there first thing to be sure I took my pills and drank my tea. She insisted I remain bundled up in bed. My protests went unheeded. She was full of stories about children who didn't listen and got sicker and sicker until they had to be taken to the hospital.

  After she left, the door was slowly opened and I turned to see Emily standing there, gazing in at me, her eyes more full of fury than I had ever seen them.

  Suddenly, though, she smiled, a cold smile that stretched her lips thin and sent a cold shudder up my spine.

  "You know why you're sick," she said. "You're being punished."

  "I am not," I replied without even asking her for what I was being punished. She held her smile.

  "Yes, you are. You had to go whining to Mamma about what I said. You brought more trouble to the family. We had a terrible time at dinner with Mamma whimpering and Papa snapping at both of us. And all because of you. You're just like Jonah."

  "No, I'm not," I protested. Even though I was not sure who Jonah was, I knew from the way Emily spoke that he wasn't someone good.

  "Yes, you are. You brought this family bad luck from the day you were taken in. A week after you came, Tottie's father was run over by the hay wagon and had his chest crushed, and then we had the fire in the barn and lost the cows and horses. You're a curse," she fired. I shook my head, my tears hot and continuous now. She took a few steps into my room, her eyes fixed on me with such hate I cowered back in my bed and pulled the blanket up to my chin again.

  "And then when Eugenia was born, you had to go in and look at her. You had to be the first one, ahead of me, and what happened? Eugenia's been sick ever since. You cursed her too," she spat.

  "I did not!" I screamed back. Blaming me for my sister's illness was too much. Nothing was more. painful to me than watching Eugenia struggle to breathe, watching her tire quickly after a short walk, watching her struggle to play and do the things all young girls her age were doing. Nothing broke my heart more than seeing how she gazed out the windows of her room, longing to go running over the fields, laughing and chasing after birds or squirrels. I was there for her as much as I could be, entertaining her, making her laugh, doing the things for her that she couldn't do for herself, while Emily barely spoke to her or showed the slightest concern.

  "Eugenia's not going to live long, but you are," Emily sneered. "And it's all your fault."

  "Stop it! Stop saying those things!" I screamed, but she neither faltered nor retreated an inch.

  "You shouldn't have told on me," she replied calmly, revealing that was the sole cause of her venom. "You shouldn't have turned Papa against me."

  "I didn't," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't seen Papa since I came home from school," I added, and sobbed harder. Emily stared at me in disgust for a few moments and then she smiled.

  "I pray," she said. "I pray every day that God will spare us the curse of Jonah. Someday, He will hear my prayers," she promised, looking up at the ceiling, her eyes closed, her arms at her side, her hands clenched in small fists, "and you will be tossed overboard and swallowed by a whale, just like Jonah in the Bible."

  She paused a moment, then lowered her head and laughed at me before pivoting quickly to exit my room and leave me shivering with fear instead of with fever.

  All that morning I thought about the things Emily had said and wondered if any of it could be true. Most of our servants, especially Louella and Henry, believed in good luck and bad luck. There were charms and there were signs of evil; there were specific things to do to avoid bad luck, too. I remembered Henry bawling out a man who, while waiting for something to do in the barn, stood there killing spiders.

  "You bringin' bad luck on all of us," Henry charged. He sent me in to Louella to fetch a fistful of salt. When I returned with it, he made the man turn around three times and cast the salt over his right shoulder. Even so, he said he didn't think it was enough because too many spiders were killed.

  If Louella dropped a knife in the kitchen, she would positively break out in tears because it means someone close was going to die. She would cross herself a dozen times and mutter all the prayers she could in a minute's time and hope the evil had been stopped.

  Henry could read the swoop of a bird or interpret the hoot of an owl and know whether someone was going to give birth to a dead baby or fall into an unexplained coma. To ward off the evil spirits, he nailed up old horse's shoes over as many doors as Papa would permit, and if a pig or cow gave birth to a deformed baby, he would spend a good part of the day shivering in anticipation of some greater disaster.

  Superstition, bad luck, curses, they were all part of the world in which we lived. Emily knew what my fears were when she told me with such hatred that I was bad luck for the whole family. Now that I knew for sure that my birth had meant the death of my real mother, I couldn't help but believe Emily was right. I only hoped Henry knew a way to counter any curses I might bring.

  Mamma found me crying when she returned later that morning. Understandably, she thought it
was caused by my not being able to go to school. I didn't want to tell her about Emily's visit because it would get her angry and there would be more trouble, trouble for which Emily would blame me afterward. So instead I took my medicine and slept and waited for this illness to release its grip on me.

  When Emily returned from school that day, she stopped by and poked her head through the doorway.

  "How's the little princess?" she asked Mamma, who was sitting with me.

  "Much better," Mamma said. "Did you bring any schoolwork for her from your teacher?"

  "No. Miss Walker says she can't send anything, home. Everything has to be done in school," Emily claimed. "All the other new students learned a lot today," she added, and sauntered off.

  "Now don't you fret," Mamma said quickly. "You'll catch up quickly." Before I could protest, Mamma shifted to another topic. "Eugenia's very upset you're sick and sends her wishes for your speedy recovery."

  Instead of making me feel better, that made me feel worse. Eugenia, who was sick and in bed most of her days, was worrying about me. If I had anything to do with what had happened to my little sister, I hoped God would punish me, I thought. When Mamma left, I buried my face in my pillow and smothered my tears. For the first time, I wondered if Papa blamed me for Eugenia's illness, too. I was sure he was the one who had told Emily to read about Jonah in the Bible.

  Papa never stopped by to see me the whole time I was sick, but that was because taking care of sick children was something he considered to be solely women's work. Besides, I told myself hopefully, he was always so busy making sure the plantation was profitable. If he wasn't cloistered in his office poring over the books, he was out overseeing the farm work or visiting the markets for our tobacco. Mamma complained about his frequent trips to Lynchburg or Richmond because she said she knew he was making side trips to play cards with gamblers. On more than one occasion, I overheard them squabbling about it.

  Papa had a fiery temper and if there was an argument like that, it usually ended with something being thrown against a wall and smashed or doors slamming. Mamma usually emerged with her face streaked with tears. Fortunately, these arguments were infrequent. They came upon us like summer storms, fierce and hard for a short while and then swept away quickly, the calm air returning.

  Three days after I had first gotten sick, it was decided that I was just about fully recovered and could return to school. However, Mamma insisted that for this one time, at least, Henry should hitch up the wagon and drive us there. Emily was upset with the idea when Mamma announced it at dinner the night before.

  "When I was sick last year, I didn't get driven to school," she protested.

  "You recuperated longer," Mamma replied. "You didn't need a ride, Emily dear."

  "Yes, I did. I was dreadfully tired when I arrived, but I didn't complain. I didn't whine and cry like a baby," she insisted, glaring at me across the table. Papa snapped his newspaper. We were waiting for dessert and coffee. He peered over the top of the paper and gave Emily a reproachful glance, which was something else, she would blame on me, I thought.

  "I can walk, Mamma," I said.

  "Of course you can, honey, but there's no sense chancing a relapse just to spare the horses a few miles, now is there?"

  "Well, I'm not going on the wagon," Emily said defiantly. "I'm not a baby."

  "Let her walk," Papa declared. "If that's what she wants to do."

  "Oh, Emily dear, you can be so obstinate for no reason at all sometimes," Mamma cried. Emily didn't reply, and the next morning she was true to her word. She started out a little earlier and walked as quickly as she could. By the time Henry pulled up in front of the house with the horse and wagon, Emily was already long gone down the driveway. I got in beside Henry and we started off with Mamma calling out her warnings.

  "Keep that sweater closed, Lillian honey, and don't stay outside too long during recess."

  "Yes, Mamma," I called back. Henry urged Belle and Babe on. Minutes later, we spotted Emily walking, her head down, her long thin body bent over so she could pound each step vigorously and quickly. When we pulled alongside, Henry called to her.

  "Wants to get up now, Miss Emily?"

  She didn't reply, nor did she look our way. Henry nodded and moved us along.

  "Knew a woman who was that stubborn once," he said. "No one would marry her until this man come along and takes on a bet he can break her stubborn streak. He marries her and they leave the church in their wagon pulled by this ornery mule, which belonged to her. The mule just stops dead in its tracks. He gets out and stands right before it and says, 'That's once.' Then he gets back in the wagon and they go on until the mule stops again. He gets out again and says, 'That's twice.' They get goin' again and then the mule stops a third time. This time he gets out and shoots the mule dead. The woman starts screaming at him that now they got to carry all their things themselves. When she's finished, he looks her in the eye and says, 'That's once.' "

  Henry roared at his own story. Then he leaned down to me and said, "Sure wish someone would come along and tell Miss Emily, 'That's once.' "

  I smiled although I wasn't totally positive I understood the story and what he meant. Henry seemed to have a tale for every occasion.

  Miss Walker was happy to see me. She sat me down toward the front of the classroom and all that day, she broke away from the other children and spent time working with me one on one to get me up to where everyone else was. At the end of the day, she told me I was caught up. It was as if I had not missed a moment. Emily heard her compliment me, but looked away quickly.

  Henry was waiting outside with the wagon to take us home. This time, whether she had seen the foolishness of her stubbornness or she was just plain tired, Emily got in, too. I sat up front and as we started away, I noticed a sheet on the floor of the wagon, only it had a small hump in it and the hump suddenly moved.

  "What's that, Henry?" I cried, a bit frightened. Emily peered over my shoulder.

  "It's a present for ya all," he said, and reached down to lift off the sheet to reveal the cutest all-white kitten I had ever seen.

  "Oh, Henry. Is it a boy or a girl kitten?" I asked, taking it into my lap.

  "Girl," Henry said. "Her mamma's finished taking care of her. She's an orphan now."

  She peered up at me with frightened eyes until I hugged and petted her.

  "What should I call her?"

  "Call her Cotton," he suggested. "She sure looks like cotton when she sleeps and buries her head in her paws."

  Henry was right. The rest of the way home, Cotton slept in my lap.

  "You can't bring it into the house," Emily said as we turned up the driveway. "Papa won't want any animals in the house."

  "We'll find a place for her in the barn," Henry promised, but when we reached the house, Mamma was standing on the front porch to see how I was and I couldn't wait to show her my kitten.

  "I'm fine, Mamma. I'm not tired or anything, and look," I said, holding up Cotton, "Henry's given me a present. It's a girl kitten and we've named her Cotton."

  "Oh, she's so tiny," Mamma said. "How adorable."

  "Mamma," I said, lowering my voice, "could I keep Cotton in my room? Please. I won't let her go out of my room. I'll feed her there, keep her clean and—"

  "Oh, I don't know, honey. The Captain won't even tolerate the hound dogs on this porch."

  I lowered my eyes sadly. How could anyone not want something as precious and soft as Cotton in his house?

  "She's just a baby, Mamma," I pleaded. "Henry says her mother doesn't look after her anymore, either. Now she's an orphan," I added. Mamma's eyes grew small and sad.

  "Well . . ." she said, "you've had a miserable time this past week. Maybe, for just a little while."

  "She can't!" Emily protested. She had hung back just waiting to see what Mamma would do. "Papa won't like it."

  "I'll talk to your father about it, don't worry, girls."

  "I don't want that kitten in the house," Emily said an
grily. "It's not mine; it's hers. He gave it just to her," she fired, and charged through the front door.

  "Don't even let that kitten peek out your door," Mamma warned.

  "Can I show her to Eugenia, Mamma? Can I?"

  "Yes, but then bring her to your room."

  "I'll bring you a box and some sand," Henry said.

  "Thank you, Henry," Mamma said, and turned to me, waving her finger. "But you'll have to be in charge of keeping the sand clean," she advised.

  "I will, Mamma. I promise."

  Eugenia brightened with excitement when I brought Cotton in to her. I sat on her bed and told her all about school, the lesson in reading Miss Walker had given me, and the sounds I was already able to read and pronounce. While I went on and on about my day, Eugenia played with Cotton, teasing her with string and then tickling her stomach. When I saw how much pleasure my little sister was getting, I wondered why Mamma and Papa never thought to give her a pet of her own.

  Suddenly, Eugenia started to sneeze and wheeze the way she often did just before she had one of her seizures. Frightened, I called for Mamma, who rushed in with Louella at her side. I took Cotton in my arms while Mamma and Louella worked on Eugenia. The result was Doctor Cory had to be called for her.

  When the doctor left, Mamma came to my room. I was sitting in the corner with Cotton, still terrified from what had happened. It appeared to reinforce Emily's accusations: I was bringing bad luck to everyone.

  "I'm sorry, Mamma," I said quickly. She smiled at me.

  "It wasn't your fault, Lillian honey, but Doctor Cory thinks Eugenia might be allergic to cats and that just makes her problems worse. I'm afraid you can't keep the kitten in the house after all. Henry will find a nice little home for her in the barn and you can visit her there whenever you want."

  I nodded.

  "He's waiting outside. You can bring her down to him now and put her in her new home, okay?"

  "Okay, Mamma," I said, and went out. Henry and I set up Cotton's box in a corner near the first cow stall. In the days that followed, I would bring Cotton to Eugenia's window so she could see her. She would press her little face up against her window and smile at my kitten. It made me feel horrible that she couldn't touch Cotton. No matter what unfair things happened to me, none of them seemed as terrible as the unfair things that were happening to my little sister.