Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

The warmth seemed to travel quickly up into my chest.
    What was in that drink? I wondered. I shouldn't have drunk it after all. I shouldn't have . . .
    I felt so groggy, so tired and weak. It took all my strength for me to get my legs back on the bed and I couldn't open my eyes. It was as if a heavy blanket, a blanket made of iron, had been pulled over me, holding me down. Soon I thought I was sinking deeper and deeper into the bed. I tried to fight it, but I couldn't lift my arms. In moments, I was in a sleep even deeper than the one before.
    I slept on and off most of the day, but whenever I woke up and started to rise, my head began to pound. All that would relieve it was lying back and keeping my eyes closed, which eventually resulted in my drifting of again. I didn't know whether it was day or not, for the door to my room was kept closed, but some time much, much later, it was thrust open and Miss Emily returned.
    I started to lift my head from the pillow. She approached quickly and put her hand behind it to help me into a more seated position. Then she brought a glass to my lips. It was filled with the same liquid Charlotte had brought. I started to gag on it, but she held the back of my neck firmly in her wiry, pincer-like fingers and kept the glass to my mouth.
    "Drink this," she commanded when some of it began to run down the sides of my chin. "Drink or you will never get strong enough to leave."
    I started to spit it back, and shake her hands from my neck, but her fingers clung to me like old rotten moss and she kept the glass between my lips, pouring, pouring, pouring. I couldn't keep from swallowing some of it. Finally, she released me and my head dropped back to the pillow.
    "Where . . . is . . . my . . . baby?" I asked as she started away.
    "I told you, she was too small," she said and shut the door behind her as she left, leaving me in pitch darkness.
    I tried to fight off the sleep, to keep awake so I could get out of bed and go looking for my baby. I started to sing in hopes that would prevent me from drifting off', but I didn't have the breath to go on very long. My words grew softer and softer until I was only mouthing them and then only singing them in my dreams.
    When I awoke again, I knew it was morning because the door of my room was open and I saw the light that came in through one of the windows in the hallway. Charlotte was there, this time carrying a plate of real food: a bowl of hot cereal, a piece of toast and an orange already peeled. She placed it on the side table and lit my kerosene lamp.
    "Good morning," she sang. "Emily says you should eat a good breakfast and then get dressed so Luther can take you to the train station. You're going for a ride on a train!"
    I started to sit up. I felt so weak and so tired. Sleep lay like a fog around me, making everything look blurry, misty, far away.
    "Get dressed?" I asked. Charlotte nodded and then reached down on the floor to pick up the pile of clothes to show me. She put them on the bed.
    "My clothes!" They were wrinkled and faded, but seeing them was like seeing an old friend. Even my missing boot, the one I had lost that cold afternoon, was there.
    "Thank you, Charlotte," I said, taking the clothing from her. I started to pull off the sack dress. Charlotte helped me and then I put on my own things, relishing the feel of them on my skin. I found my purse at the bottom of everything and looked for my comb, but when I found it, I found it had been melted when Miss Emily had had all my things boiled. The comb's teeth were all stuck together. My hair would have to remain knotted and twisted awhile longer.
    Despite my hatred for anything Miss Emily did or gave me, I couldn't help but eat some of the toast and all of the orange. I didn't touch her horrible cereal. Just the thought of it now made my stomach turn. But what I quickly ate gave me some renewed strength and energy and I was able to get to my feet even though I was still very wobbly.
    "Where is your horrid sister?" I demanded.
    "She's down in the library working, working, working on accounts," she replied. "I've got to go do my needlework because I have something nearly finished for you."
    "Where is my baby?" I asked her.
    "They took her," she said, shrugging. "Emily said she was too small so they took it."
    "Took her? Who took her? Oh God, please tell me," I begged, seizing her at the shoulders. But I could see Charlotte simply didn't know much more.
    "I have to go to work so I can