Cutler 01 - Dawn

happy to hear their names from her lips. "You remember them well?" I took my seat on the couch again quickly.
    "I remember them," she admitted. She swallowed some more water and sat back. "Why did you come here? What do you want from me?" she asked. "I'm a sick woman, advanced diabetes. I'm going to have to have this leg amputated for sure, and after that . . . I might as well be dead anyway," she added.
    "I'm sorry for your trouble," I said. "My momma . . . Sally Jean . . . became a sick woman and suffered something terrible."
    Her face softened.
    "Well, what can I do for you?"
    "I want you to tell me the truth, Mrs. Dalton," I said, "every last detail of it you remember, for my daddy . . . the man I called my daddy, Ormand Longchamp, sits in prison, and my mother Sally Jean is dead, but I can't think of them as being the evil people everyone tells me they were. They were always good to me and always took care of me. They loved me with all their hearts, and I loved them. I can't allow such bad things to be said about them. I just can't. I owe it to them to find the truth."
    I saw a slight nod in Mrs. Dalton's face.
    "I liked Sally Jean. She was a hardworking woman, a good woman who never looked down on nobody and always had a pleasant smile no matter how hard things were for her. Your daddy was a hardworking man who didn't look down on nobody. Never saw me without saying hello and asking how I was."
    "That's why I can't think of them as bad people, Mrs. Dalton, no matter what I'm told," I insisted.
    "They did take you," she said, her eyes turning glassy.
    "I know that, but why . . . how is what I don't understand."
    "Your grandmother doesn't know you're here, does she?" she asked, nodding because she anticipated the answer.
    "No."
    "Nor your real father or mother?" I shook my head. "How is your mother these days?" she asked, pulling the corners of her mouth in.
    "Nearly always locked up in her room for one reason or another. She suffers from nervous ailments and gets everything brought to her, although she doesn't look sick to me." I refused to feel sorry for my mother. In her own way she was just as selfish as Clara. "Occasionally she accompanies my grandmother at dinner and greets guests."
    "Whatever your grandmother wants," Mrs. Dalton muttered, "she's sure to do."
    "Why? How do you know so much about the Cutlers?" I asked quickly.
    "I was with them a long time . . . always worked special duty for them when any of them were sick. I liked your grandfather. He was a sweet, gentle man. I cried as much when he died as I did when my own father died. Then I was a maternity nurse for your brother, for you, and for your sister."
    "You cared for Clara Sue, too?" She nodded. "Then my grandmother certainly wasn't mad at you for what happened and didn't blame you for my abduction."
    "Heavens, no. Who told you that?"
    "My mother."
    She nodded again. Then she widened her eyes.
    "If your grandmother don't know you're here and neither does your parents, who sent you? Ormand?"
    "Nobody sent me. Why would my daddy send me?" I asked quickly.
    "What do you want?" she asked again, this time more sharply. "I told you I'm sick. I can't sit up and talk long."
    "I want to know what really happened, Mrs. Dalton. I spoke to Mrs. Boston—"
    "Mary?" She smiled. "How is Mary doing these days?"
    "She's fine, but when I asked her about what happened, she didn't tell me you were visiting with her when I was abducted, and she didn't want to talk about it."
    "I was with her; she just forgot, that's all. There's nothing more to tell. You were asleep, comfortably. I left the nursery; Ormand took you and then he and Sally Jean run off. You know the rest."
    I looked down, the tears building quickly.
    "They ain't treating you so good since you been returned, is that it?" Mrs. Dalton asked perceptively. I shook my head and wiped away the tears that had escaped my eyes.
    "My grandmother hates me; she's upset I was found," I said and looked up. "And she was the one who put up the money for the reward leading to my recovery. I don't understand. She wanted me found, but she was upset when I was, and it wasn't just because all this time has passed. There's something else. I feel it; I know it. But no one wants to tell me, or no one knows it all.
    "Oh, Mrs. Dalton, please," I begged. "My daddy and momma just weren't bad people. Even you just said so. I can't understand them stealing a baby from someone, even if my momma had suffered a stillborn. No matter