Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

."
    Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the roll of thunder. When I closed my eyes, I saw those ugly, bruised and angry dark clouds riding the wind and drawing a curtain of darkness over the light blue sky, dragging shadows over all that was green and bright below. My heart felt like a brick in my chest.
    "Are you all right?" Trisha asked and leaned forward to take my hand. "Your fingers feel ice cold."
    I nodded, my eyes still closed, my throat too tight for me to try to speak.
    Don't panic, I told myself. Keep calm. This is all part of Michael's plan for us. Soon, he would call to let me know why he had had to do things so quickly without warning me. But he had said he was going to Florida, I thought, not London. Maybe he's just telling them London so they won't come after us. There has to be a logical reason for all of this, I told myself. Don't panic.
    I opened my eyes and took a deep breath.
    "Did anyone see him, speak to him?" I asked, wrestling down the note of hysteria that wanted to invade my voice.
    "No. Richard Taylor says he's already gone."
    "Gone?" I shook my head as if I didn't understand the word.
    "Left the country," Trisha explained. "And boy is Richard Taylor angry. He says the man didn't give him an iota of warning, not a clue. He feels like a fool because he's the one left with all the explaining to do.
    "Of course," she continued, "the school will assign someone new by the time we all come back from our Christmas holiday, but . . ."
    She paused when she looked up and saw how I was shaking. I couldn't stop the trembling. It was almost a convulsion. Cold tears streaked down my cheeks. The ache in my chest grew so heavy I thought I would burst, and a burning had begun in my temples and spread across my forehead. I felt as if I had put on a crown of hot steel.
    "Oh Dawn, I knew you'd be disappointed. You were doing so well under his tutorage, weren't you? And I'm sure he made you some promises about auditions, too. But you mustn't get yourself sick over this. I'm sure Allan would be so upset if he knew."
    At first my tongue refused to form words, but as the silence stretched and became uncomfortably thick, I swallowed my tears and cried out.
    "Nooooo!"
    I buried my face in my hands and shook my head.
    "Dawn."
    I lowered my hands slowly and gazed into her sympathetic face.
    "There is no Allan," I said in a hoarse whisper.
    "What?" She started to smile. "What do you mean? Of course, there's an Allan. You can't tell me you're not pregnant."
    "No, no," I said slowly, speaking like one who had been struck in the head and was in a daze, "there has never been an Allan. It was Michael," I said. "I'm carrying Michael's child."
    "Michael? Michael Sutton?" Her mouth dropped open. "But . . ." Her eyes widened with shock. "But he's gone."
    "No," I said slowly. I smiled. "It's all part of the plan, part of his plan for us. It wasn't supposed to happen until the end of the semester, but obviously he has had to move things up. I'll have to go to him," I said, swinging my legs off the bed and shoving my feet into my slippers. "He's expecting me, I'm sure."
    Trisha simply stared as I went to my closet and chose one of my more loose-fitting wool dresses. I slipped it over my head quickly and sat down to brush out my hair.
    "I wanted to tell you the truth, Trisha," I said, "but I had to promise Michael I wouldn't. He was worried about his job, you see. You understand, don't you?" I asked her. She nodded quickly, but she continued to look very confused. "There are so many jealous people around who would just love to destroy him because he's so talented.
    "He's going to be in a Broadway show next year, you know," I said. "And there is still a very good chance I'll be in it too. Don't look so glum, Trisha," I said, turning back to her. "I'm sure everything is fine."
    She smiled even though her eyes were filled with tears.
    "Really," I insisted. "It's going to be fine. I'll go to him now and he will tell me the specifics. We're spending the Christmas holidays together, you know." I looked at myself in the mirror and continued to brush out my hair as I spoke, remembering. "He bought a darling little tree just for us, and you should see the pile of gifts he has bought me. All for me. He's spent so much money on me, it's obscene.
    "Imagine," I said, turning back to her, "by New Years Eve I will be Mrs. Michael Sutton. Doesn't that sound wonderful? You must let me know where you'll be celebrating so I can phone you and