Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

been injured far worse than you actually were. You're being taken to a rehabilitation center. That's dramatic enough to satisfy the curious at your school.
    "In reality, you will leave here tomorrow and be taken to live with my sisters, Emily and Charlotte Booth, until you give birth. After that we'll see," she said.
    "Where do your sisters live?" I asked.
    "Not that it should matter to you, they live in Virginia, about twenty miles east of Lynchburg in what was my father's home, an old plantation called The Meadows. My sisters have been told of your arrival and your condition. I have arranged for a car to take you to the airport. When you arrive in Lynchburg, there will be a driver waiting to take you to The Meadows."
    "But what about my things back at Agnes's house?" I cried.
    "She'll get your things together and see that they're shipped out. You can't imagine how anxious she is to get rid of any trace of you."
    "No wonder, the way you poisoned her against me with your letter of lies," I spat out vehemently.
    "Apparently, that letter of lies, as you put it, was quite prophetic," she replied proudly. "Anyway, your fling here has ended."
    "But there are people I want to say goodbye to . . . Mrs. Liddy . . ."
    "We're trying to salvage some dignity from this situation," she snapped. "I don't want you seen gallivanting about when you're supposed to be injured and off to a rehabilitation center."
    "People will know it's not true!" I moaned.
    "Decent people will not challenge the story I give out," she replied with icy assurance. "The school authorities have already been informed," she added, demonstrating how quickly and efficiently she could take control of my life.
    But what was I to do? Where could I go? I was pregnant and essentially penniless. I certainly couldn't run to Daddy Longchamp, not now that he had a new wife and was expecting a new child.
    "Your mother," she said, pronouncing "Mother" as if it were a profanity, "has been told about your accomplishments. Naturally, it has put her into one of her states of hysteria." She laughed. "She's even had her doctor, the tenth or eleventh, I can't keep track anymore, put one of those things into her arms," she said, pointing to the I.V. stand in the corner of my room. "She claims she can't eat, can't swallow. She has a nurse around the clock.
    "And all because of you. So, I wouldn't bother trying to call her to ask her to help you. She can't help herself. But," Grandmother Cutler added, "there's really nothing new about that."
    I saw the smile of satisfaction around her gray eyes.
    "Why do you hate her so?" I asked. Somehow I thought it was more than only her love affair with an itinerant singer. Anyway, that was long over and my mother was still married to Grandmother Cutler's son and had given birth to two of her grandchildren.
    "I hate anyone who is that weak and self-indulgent," she said slowly and with a sneer. "She has never been anything but a lead weight, despite her beauty.
    "In fact, her beauty is a deception. My foolish son, just like any other man, couldn't see past it in time to save himself and still can't.
    "I'm sure," she added, "someday you will find a doting fool to look after you just as Randolph looks after your mother, but until then you will do as I say. "The doctor will release you after breakfast tomorrow. I have already spoken with him. Be prepared to leave. All the arrangements are perfect and no one is to be made to wait on you. Do you understand?"
    "I understand who you are," I said, finally fixing my eyes firmly on hers, "and how unhappy you must be and must have been most of your life."
    Her eyes flared and she pulled herself up into her habitual queenly posture.
    "How dare you . . . how dare you think you can feel sorry for anyone, especially for me."
    "But I do," I said calmly, so calmly I even surprised myself. "I don't hate you as much as I pity you and hate the things that made you like you are."
    "Save your pity for yourself," she snapped back. "You will need it," she added and spun on her heels so quickly, she almost lost her balance. Then she stalked out of my hospital room, her cane tapping like a tiny hammer over the tiles as she turned and disappeared down the corridor.
    I fell back against my pillow, too weak and defeated now to bother with tears. What difference did it make anymore? I thought. Michael was gone; Jimmy was sure to hate me once he found out the truth; Daddy Longchamp had a new life and was even expecting a new