Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

something he don't know nothing about just yet. All he said was if the family goes ahead and adopts her, I'd have big problems. I'm just afraid it's going to take an army of lawyers to straighten it out, but since I'm to blame, I can't complain much.
    Anyways, I wanted to write to you to tell you I'm sorry for the hurt and pain I caused you. You was always a good girl and I was always proud to be your daddy even though I really wasn't.
    The truth is I miss Sally Jean and you and Jimmy and Fern so much it hurts like a punch in the chest. Some nights I don't sleep at all remembering. We had tough times, but we had each other then.
    Well, that's all. Maybe someday me and you will meet again. But I don't blame you if you don't want anything more to do with me.
    God bless you.
    Daddy
     
    P.S.: I wrote it because I still think it.
     
    I clutched the letter to my bosom and sobbed, rocking back and forth on the bed. I cried so hard it hurt my stomach. Tears streamed down my face and soaked my blanket. Finally, I took deep breaths and choked back my tears. Then I stuck Daddy Longchamp's letter between some pages of my journal and went to my desk to write back to him.
    I told him I didn't hate him and I knew everything. And I couldn't wait for the day we would meet again. I wrote pages and pages, telling him about my life at the hotel, how awful my real family was and how being from a family that had a lot of money didn't make life happier for me. Then I told him about New York and my school. The letter was so fat, I had a hard time putting it into an envelope. I sealed it and rushed out to get it mailed. Because of the delay, his letter having gone to the hotel and being kept there so long, he probably thought I didn't want anything to do with him. I wanted to tell him that wasn't so as fast as I could.
     
    Trisha called a few times that first week to try to get me to take the bus to visit her and her family. I told her about my strange conversation with Agnes and what she had told me was in the vase in the glass case.
    "Oh don't believe that story," Trisha said. "It's something she took from a play."
    "I hope you're right. I feel funny every time I go in there now."
    I promised I would seriously consider visiting her, but I had a wonderful surprise occur early one morning when Agnes knocked on my door to tell me I had a phone call from Madame Steichen.
    "I've returned to the school early," she declared and paused as if that explained everything.
    "Yes, Madame?" I said.
    "I have an hour between nine and ten free every morning beginning today."
    "Yes, Madame," I said. "I'll be there. Thank you."
    "Very good," she replied and hung up.
    I felt like I was walking on air and when I attended these special lessons, I sensed a change in Madame Steichen's attitude toward me. Her voice was softer, her commands given with a more loving tone. Also, I noticed that when my other teachers, and even teachers I had not yet had, learned about my special lessons with Madame Steichen, they treated me differently as well. It was as if I had achieved some celebrity status.
    Trisha was the first to return from the summer break. We stuffed three hours worth of conversation into the first hour we spent together. I told her about the things I had been doing in New York and described my lessons with Madame Steichen. She was very excited and impressed. Then I showed her my letter from Daddy Longchamp. She read it and cried and was outraged when I explained how long it had been kept at the hotel and how it had been read.
    Afterward, we went to George's for what had become our famous ice cream sodas and to listen to the juke box.
    We returned to the house slowly. It was a very hot and humid late summer day, so we were grateful for the long, thick shadows cast by the sun's falling behind tall buildings, as well as the slight breeze coming of the East River. Even in summer though, the traffic and the pedestrians didn't slow down. I had come to see that New York had a rhythm of its own and anyone who wanted to live and work there either took on that rhythm or was run down by it.
    A second big surprise was awaiting my arrival at the house. Agnes stepped out of the sitting room, smiling.
    "It's about time you've come back," she said. "You have a gentleman visitor, Dawn."
    "Visitor?" I shrugged at Trisha. Jimmy wouldn't come without calling first, I thought. We walked quickly to the sitting room doorway, but the moment I looked in, I felt as if my feet were