Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

in New York City, my work with Madame Steichen, my being chosen for Michael's class, the compliments I received from the other teachers, the shows and trips and all the excitement, nothing was more important than my friendship with Trisha. I realized that now and hoped and prayed we would always stay close.
    I ground away my tears with my small fists and turned my attention to Jimmy's letter. How good it was to have it, I thought, even though I didn't deserve it. Not after the way I had betrayed him and his love. I would have to tell him soon now, I thought, and that would be one of the hardest things I had ever done.
    I tore open the envelope gently and pulled out his letter. Then I sat back and began to read.
     
    Dear Dawn,
    Winter here has been very hard. We've had one blizzard after another, but the army doesn't pay much attention to weather. We have to go out and do what we're supposed to do no matter what.
    You'll be happy to know I've been promoted to Private First Class. I'm part of a motor pool of mechanics who service tanks. Pretty impressive, huh?
    Anyway, I couldn't help but notice how your letters continue to get shorter and far between. I suppose this means you've been very busy with your career, so I'm happy for you. I tell everyone I have a girlfriend who is studying to be a singing star.
    I have one bit of news from the home front. Daddy's new wife is pregnant. I'm having a little trouble getting used to the idea of a new brother or sister, especially with Momma gone. It all seems so strange.
    But he sounds happy about it. I think he's hoping for another daughter, one just like you.
    I didn't tell him, but there can be only one you.
    Love,
    Jimmy
     
    I put the letter down and closed my eyes. How my heart ached. Poor Jimmy, I thought, so far away and so trusting and loving. How would I begin to tell him what I had done and what had happened to me?
    When the nurse came to look in on me again, I asked her for some paper and a pen to write a letter, but I never got to write it. Before I had a chance, I heard the sounds of sharp footsteps in the corridor outside my room, footsteps accompanied by the tap, tap, tap of a cane. I gazed curiously through my doorway and a few moments later, Grandmother Cutler appeared.
     
    My heart seemed to flip over. For a moment she simply stood there, leaning on her cane and glaring in at me with her gray-stone eyes. She looked older, thinner. Her steel gray hair was still cut perfectly under her ears and just at the base of her neck with every strand in place. As always, she was elegantly dressed, not a crease showing. Under her mink stole, she wore a dark blue jacket and a white frilly collar blouse, with an ankle-length matching blue skirt and dark blue boots. Gold drop earrings dangled from each of her lobes, a small diamond glittering at the center of each earring. She wore a touch of red lipstick, just as she always did, but the brush of rouge on her cheeks looked brighter and larger than I remembered. I thought it was her way of trying to compensate for her more pasty and waxen complexion.
    Her mouth didn't look as firm. The lower lip trembled either from anger or a bit of palsy. But the pride and arrogance that had put a rod of steel in her spine and hoisted her shoulders before was still there. Despite the onslaught of age, she looked just as formidable.
    Being away from her this long, I had forgotten how much I despised her and how cold she could make my blood run whenever she turned those flint-like eyes on me. My heart pounded in anticipation. She began to shake her head slowly, her mouth curling into a smile of disgust and loathing. I wanted to sit up and scream that I loathed her twice as much as she loathed me, but I didn't move; I didn't utter a sound, afraid that I wouldn't be able to find a voice that didn't quiver.
    "It doesn't surprise me one bit," she said, closing the door behind her and coming farther into my room, "to find you in such a place under such circumstances.
    "Just a few weeks ago, I told your mother that you and she were cut of the same mold, that your own selfishness and lusts would take over and no matter where we sent you or what fine and expensive things we did for you, you would be the cause of some family embarrassment for us."
    Her smile came bitter, wry.
    "Agnes Morris has kept me quite informed as to your behavior. I knew it would only get worse and worse until something like this happened. And now it has," she concluded