Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

she?" I demanded. "You must tell me!"
    Her mouth began to twitch faster and her lips trembled.
    "I know you're seriously ill, but this is the time to do something right and good." My voice softened. "I'm begging you, please . . . tell me."
    Her mouth opened and closed without producing a sound, but I saw her tongue lift inside.
    "You did this terrible thing once before, Grand-mother Cutler. Please, don't do it again. Don't let my baby grow up believing one set of parents are her real parents when they're not. I need my baby with me. She needs me. She belongs with me. Only I can give her the love she deserves and help make her life good and happy. You must tell me where she is!"
    She struggled harder to speak, her head now moving from side to side. Her heart monitor began to fluctuate and the beat became more rapid.
    "Please," I begged. "Please."
    She closed and opened her mouth again, this time producing sounds. I knelt closer to understand and brought my ear to her lips. It was mostly gurgling in her throat, but I began to make out some words.
    She uttered them and then closed her eyes and turned away. The heart monitor began a high-pitched, monotonous ring.
    "Why?" I cried. "Why?"
    "What's going on here?" the nurse demanded, coming to the door of the cubicle. She rushed to the bed. She seized Grandmother Cutler's wrist and held it. Then she pressed a button and rushed to the door to stick her head out and call to another nurse who was standing at the desk. "Code Blue," she cried.
    "Step outside!" she ordered me and Jimmy.
    "Maybe she'll wake up in a moment," I pleaded.
    "No. You'll have to leave," the nurse insisted.
    I gazed down at Grandmother Cutler. Her face looked like a shrunken prune. Frustrated, I turned away and walked out of the intensive care unit with Jimmy right behind me as the intensive care unit went into action.
    "What happened?" he demanded as soon as we stepped into the corridor. "What did she say to you?"
    "It was hard to understand," I said, sitting on the bench in the hall.
    "What?" He sat down beside me.
    "All she would say was 'You're my curse.' "
    "You? Her curse?" He shook his head. "I don't understand."
    "I don't either," I said and started to cry.
    Jimmy put his arm around me and held me.
    "She's going to die and take the information with her, Jimmy," I wailed, wiping at my tears. "She's that hateful and I don't know why. What are we going to do?"
    A doctor came rushing down the hall and into the intensive care unit. Ten minutes later he emerged slowly, the intensive care nurse beside him. She saw us sitting on the bench and shook her head.
    "I'm sorry," she said.
    "Oh Jimmy," I cried and buried my face in my hands. My tears streamed uncontrollably down my cheeks and soon I couldn't see. The world before me was a watery blur. I wasn't crying for Grandmother Cutler—I wouldn't cry for her. I was crying for my baby who might very well now be lost to me forever.
    Jimmy helped me to my feet and we walked out of the hospital, me moving like someone in a daze.
     
    By the time we had arrived at the hotel again, everyone knew. Mrs. Hill and her assistant were sobbing softly behind the reception desk. Some grounds people were clustered in a group on the porch speaking softly and shaking their heads. I recognized some of the dining room staff off in a corner of the lobby and they recognized me and nodded. The hotel was already draped in a funeral air.
    "I'd better go up to see my mother," I told Jimmy. "Maybe she knows what happened with my baby."
    "Okay. I'll wait in the lobby," he said.
    I started through the corridor which led to the old section of the hotel where the family lived. When I reached the living room, I heard sobbing and looked in to see Mrs. Boston, the black chambermaid who had been in charge of looking after the family's needs for years and years. She was seated on the couch and glanced up when I peered in.
    "Oh, Dawn," she said, her eyes filled with tears. "You've returned from school too late. Have you heard the terrible news?"
    "Yes," I said.
    "What will become of all of us now?" she asked, shaking her head. "Poor Mr. Randolph. He's about as lost as a soul can be."
    "How is my mother?" I asked.
    "Your mother? Oh, I haven't been upstairs since Mr. Randolph came down. He went up to tell her not a half hour ago and then he came down, walking like a man who had been struck in the head dumb. He just looked at me and we both started to cry. Then he went of someplace and I sat in