Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

an hour before her eyelids grew too heavy and she had to fall asleep.
    After I put Christie to bed I went into my bedroom and got into my nightgown. I decided I would read and read until I got so tired I would pass out. But my eyes were just sliding over the pages, the words meaningless to me. I was about to give up and turn off the lights when the doorbell sounded.
    Who would come to the house? I wondered. Anyone who needed me at the hotel would simply call. Curious but apprehensive, I slipped into my silk dressing gown and started down the stairs, belting my gown as I descended. I opened the door and found Philip gazing in at me. He swayed and smiled widely.
    "Evenin'," he mumbled, and he seized the door jamb to steady himself.
    "Philip Cutler, are you drunk?" I asked.
    "Drunk? Noooooooo. Oh . . . maybe, just a trifle," he said, squeezing his thumb and forefinger together. "May I come in?" he asked, straightening up.
    "It's late, Philip. What do you want?" I asked, not giving an inch of ground.
    "Simply to . . . to . . . talk," he said, and he fell forward, stepping just in time to keep from landing on his face. I had no choice but to close the door.
    "How could you do this, Philip? Don't you care what the guests will say if they see you? What's come over you?" He covered his ears with his hands.
    "My God, it's as if she rose from the grave," he moaned. "How could you do this?" he mimicked. "What will the guests think if they see you?' "
    "Philip!"
    "I need something to drink," he muttered, and he stumbled his way into our den. He knew where Jimmy kept our whiskey and headed directly toward it.
    "You've had enough to drink, Philip," I said. I cut him off in the middle of the room and grabbed his right arm, spinning him around.
    "Dawn," he said, smiling, "you look lovely tonight. Just the way I always imagine you, with your hair down. You're wearing one of your sheer nightgowns under that, aren't you?" he asked, licking his lips.
    "Philip, you turn yourself around and march yourself back to the hotel and your wife this moment, do you hear me?" I commanded. He nodded, but he didn't move.
    "My wife," he said, and he fixed his eyes on me, his lips moving into a grotesque mockery of a smile. "You could have been my wife if that security guard hadn't recognized your father." He seized my shoulders and pressed his forehead to my hair. "We would have eloped before Grandmother could have said anything," he whispered. From the way he spoke, I knew it was a fantasy he replayed time and time again.
    "Philip, that's ridiculous; it's ridiculous to think and to dream such things."
    "No, it isn't," he replied. I couldn't stand the odor of his whiskey breath and started to pull myself from his embrace, but his fingers tightened, and he pressed his right hand against my back, running it up my spine. His lips brushed over my eyes. I struggled harder until I broke from his hold. He staggered, his eyes glazed.
    "Wait, Dawn," he said, his voice nearly a whisper now, "it's not too late for us."
    "What are you talking about, Philip? How can you even think these things?" I said, taking another step back. He shook his head vigorously.
    "You don't understand. Listen . . . listen," he pleaded. He stepped toward me. "I know you and Jimmy have been trying to have a child and have failed all this time. But we wouldn't fail," he said in a loud whisper. "We wouldn't."
    "What?" Instinctively I brought my hands to my bosom.
    "We wouldn't fail, and no one would have to know, not even Jimmy. He'd think the baby was his own, don't you see? It would be our little secret, our precious little secret." His smile widened as the possibility of such a fantasy coming true suddenly loomed in his eyes. "Look at how pretty my children are. Ours would be no different, and if the child had golden hair, too, why, no one would think anything of it, seeing the color of your hair.
    "I want to do this for you . . . for us . . . for the family," he pledged.
    "Philip, you're mad, even madder than I ever imagined. I know that some of what you're saying, you're saying because you're drunk, but even to have these thoughts is terrible. I'm your sister. We share family blood."
    "It won't matter." He closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously. "It won't. We have different fathers."
    "Philip," I snapped. "Even if we weren't related, I would never betray Jimmy. I would never be unfaithful."
    "Sure you would," he insisted, smiling licentiously. "You're like me. You've inherited