Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

birthing is always the hardest, but when you're young, it's even harder."
    "You know why that is?" she asked, dropping my feet and stepping up to the side of the bed so she could gaze down at me. I shook my head. "It's because of Eve's sin in Paradise. Because of that all women have been cursed with the pain of labor. You will pay dearly for your fleeting moments of iniquitous pleasure."
    She lifted the kerosene lamp high and held it above me. With her face so fully bathed in the light, it looked like it, too, was on fire. Her eyes blazed down. I had to shield my eyes.
    "And when you conceive out of wedlock," she continued, "that pain and labor is even more horrendous."
    "I don't care," I cried. "I'm not afraid."
    She nodded and then those pencil-thin lips curled up at the corners as she slowly lowered the light.
    "We'll see how brave you are when your time comes, Eugenia," she spat.
    "Don't call me Eugenia. My name is Dawn." She stopped smiling.
    "Put on your gown and get to bed," she ordered. "We're wasting kerosene. I'll return with your hot water bottle."
    She gathered my clothing quickly.
    "What are you doing with my clothes? Those things are all I have .right now."
    "They have to be washed, purified. Don't worry, I'll keep them safely for you," she said, rolling everything into one ball within her embrace.
    "But . . . I want my things. We've got to find out about my things," I demanded.
    "Oh stop whining," she snapped, eyes blazing furiously. "You're just like all the other young girls today . . . I want; I want; I want! Well look at what your I want has done for you," she spat. "Put on your gown," she repeated and turned and started out.
    It was so cold, I had no choice but to quickly pull the ugly gown over my head. It smelled like mothballs and felt rough against my skin. I knelt down and looked under the bed for the blanket she had told me would be there. I dragged it out and shook it. Dust particles flew everywhere. Then I pulled back the cover sheet on the narrow bed. The bed sheet looked clean, but was cold and rough to the touch. I was shivering too much to care and quickly slipped into the bed and drew the blanket over me.
    It seemed to take forever for Miss Emily to return. I was beginning to think she wouldn't when, finally, she appeared with a hot water bottle wrapped in a white towel. She thrust it at me and I took it gratefully and brought it to my trembling body. The warmth felt like a gentle pair of hands quickly wiping away the cold.
    "It's so cold here," I said. "I'll only get sick."
    "Of course you won't get sick. If anything, you will get stronger. Difficulties and hardships toughen us and allow us to battle the devil and his followers. Life was too soft and easy for you; that's why you got into trouble," she declared.
    "My life was far from easy. You don't know anything about me," I cried, but I was weak and tired from the trip, the cold and the entire ordeal. My words had no fire. They sounded terribly pathetic, even to me.
    "I know enough about you," she said. "If you behave and you are cooperative, we will succeed and you will have a second chance, but if you persist in being a spoiled young lady, you will make things harder for both of us and, eventually, impossible for you. Do I make myself quite clear?" She was waiting for my response. "Well?"
    "Yes," I said, "but in the morning I want to go to the general store and call to find out where my things are. I need my things," I insisted. "Luther will drive me."
    "Luther doesn't have time to spend on nonsense. He has his chores. It was hard enough for him to leave to get you. As it is he will have to work well into the night to make up for it. One final thing," she said, approaching the bed. I could only lie there all cramped up around the water bottle, borrowing from its warmth.
    "I don't want you having much to do with Charlotte or encouraging her to say or do any of her silly things. You are not to pay attention to her," she warned. "Don't listen to any of the stupid things she says."
    "What's wrong with her?" I asked.
    "The same thing that will probably be wrong with your offspring," she replied.
    "Why?"
    "She, too, was born out of wedlock, the result of one of my father's sexual indiscretions. As a result she is an idiot," Miss Emily spat. "I keep her only because . . . she has no other place to go. Besides, it would be a disgrace to put her someplace because she still carries the Booth name.
    "Anyway," she said, that sneer forming,