Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

possible reason could she have? Where had they gone? Was this her way of getting back at me for throwing the truth about her real father into her face?
    I phoned Mother and Bronson to see if Clara Sue had gone to Buella Woods.
    "I didn't even know she was in the area," Bronson said. "She and Laura Sue had an argument last week about this new boyfriend. Laura's taking a nap. As soon as she wakes I'll tell her what's happened. Call us as soon as you learn anything, and if we hear from her, call you."
    "Thank you, Bronson," I said.
    "I'm sorry. She's getting to be a serious problem," he added before hanging up.
    Afterward I sat with Mrs. Boston and waited to hear from Jimmy. More than an hour passed, and we heard nothing. Mrs. Boston made us both tea, and we sat staring out the window.
    "Maybe you should phone the police," Mrs. Boston mused aloud. "And tell them . . . what happened."
    I could see she didn't want to use the word "kidnapping." I didn't even want to think it, but at this point, with no word from Jimmy, I couldn't help but consider it a real possibility. Christie was not very fond of Clara Sue. She didn't even like calling her Aunt Clara Sue. I knew how uncomfortable she had always been in Clara Sue's presence, and it didn't take much to imagine her being afraid and unhappy right now. Just the thought of her trapped in that truck cab with Clara Sue and one of her sleazy boyfriends made my skin crawl. It felt as if some tiny hand with sharp fingernails was scratching away at the inside of my stomach. I did all that I could to keep from simply bursting out and screaming.
    Finally, twenty minutes later, we saw Jimmy's car pull up, and both of us ran out to greet him.
    "I didn't see hide nor hair of them," he declared. "It's as if they simply disappeared into thin air. Mrs. Boston, you're sure about that truck description?"
    "Oh, yes," she said and immediately she burst into tears. I had to embrace her and comfort her
    "Jimmy," I said, "we'd better call the police."
    He nodded and went into the house to do so.
    "Please, Mrs. Boston, don't cry. No one blames you. Come on, let's go in and sit down," I coaxed.
    Less than ten minutes later the police arrived, and we told them what had happened. They hurried out to radio a description of the truck to other patrolmen. Again time passed slowly. When it grew darker I couldn't help but go off by myself and shed tears. Finally, a little after seven-thirty, we heard the roar of a truck engine, and we all ran out to see a police patrol car, its bubble light going, escorting a tractor trailer truck up the driveway to our house. The moment it stopped the door opened, and Clara Sue lowered Christie to the ground.
    "Momma!" she cried, running into my arms. I embraced her and held her tight, covering her face and head with kisses.
    Jimmy was like a flash of lightning coming up behind me. "How dare you take her without our permission?" he screamed.
    "What's everyone getting so excited about?" Clara Sue asked nonchalantly, that wry smile on her face. She didn't get out of the truck. "Me and Skipper just took her along on a delivery and then took her to have hamburgers. Right, Skipper honey?" she said.
    "That's right," the tall, lean man beside her replied.
    "You had no right to do that!" I cried, holding Christie to me possessively.
    Clara Sue smiled coldly and reached into her pocketbook to take out a hairbrush. She smiled at the police.
    "I was just trying to be a good aunt," she said, shaking her head. "Everyone complains that I don't care enough about my family, and then when I go and try to do something nice I get yelled at. See, Skipper, see how it doesn't pay to be nice?" she said, smiling coyly at us. She began to run her hairbrush through her hair as if she were about to go on stage.
    "You little witch," Jimmy flared.
    "Hey," her boyfriend said, leaning over. "Watch yourself." He waved his fist.
    "Come on out here and say that," Jimmy taunted. Clara Sue's boyfriend started to open the door, but the two policemen interceded.
    "Just hold on here," the taller one said. He turned to me. "Mrs. Longchamp, do you want to press any charges against these people?"
    "Charges against these people?" Clara Sue cried. "I'm her aunt. She can't press charges against us. I took my niece for a ride and dinner. She had a good time, didn't you, Christie honey?" she crooned.
    Christie buried her face deep into my shoulder.
    "You're so irresponsible and hateful," I spat. "To terrorize a child