Cutler 03 - Twilight's Child

could, but he pulled away as the limousine came to a stop in front of us.
    "Jimmy!" I cried, my hand out toward him. He turned back as Julius took his bag to put into the trunk.
    "What?" His eyes met mine, and I saw tears there, unshed but shining.
    "Be careful," I said.
    "I'll try. I'll call you," he repeated, and he got into the limousine. I stood there feeling numb and tiny as Julius got back into the limousine and drove him off. I didn't go into the house until the car was gone from my sight. My heart felt so empty, hollowed out, each thump echoing louder in the vacant chambers.
    I ran back upstairs and flung myself on the bed, where I cried and cried like a hysterical schoolgirl. Mrs. Boston heard me and came to knock on the door.
    "Are you all right, Dawn?" she asked.
    "Yes, Mrs. Boston," I said, sitting up. "It's all right." I wiped my cheeks. "Don't worry."
    "If you want anything, let me know," she said, her voice full of concern.
    What I wanted, she couldn't provide, I thought. I wanted to heal the scars of years and years of painful living. I wanted to bury the sad and bitter memories still clinging tenaciously to the walls of my mind, clinging like spiteful bats, eager to take advantage of every dark moment to fly about and torment me. I wanted to gain new courage, to be able to face all of the ghosts and drive them back into the shadows where they belonged.
    Jimmy had been so strong; his love for me was so great that he could overcome these old feelings and fears. I had seen the deep disappointment in his eyes when he gazed at me just before he left. In my heart I felt the ache that had made a home in his, and I knew I was dissatisfying him in a serious way, but it was as if there were invisible chains binding me to my fears and weaknesses. I needed a little more time to break them, just a little more, I thought.
    I decided the only thing to do now was to bury myself in work so I could keep my mind off the sadness I felt with Jimmy gone. I filled my eyes with words and numbers to prevent them from seeing Jimmy's dark, sad eyes again and again. Every time I finished something, I leapt to find something else to do, no matter how minor or how unimportant. At times I thought I resembled poor Randolph, who had become obsessed with insignificant details. Now I could understand why that had happened to him, I thought. He was only trying to keep himself from facing ugly realities.
    Unfortunately, however, before the morning was over I could stop looking for things to do in order to occupy myself. Something serious came my way, and Philip had gone to Virginia teach on business, so he couldn't be of any assistance. Mr. Stanley, who was in charge of the chambermaids, came knocking on my office door. He looked terribly flustered when he entered.
    "What's wrong, Mr. Stanley?" I asked before he reached my desk.
    "Mrs. Longchamp, something dreadful," he replied. "Mary White, one of our chambermaids, came to tell me that one of our guests has passed away in his room . . . Mr. Parker."
    "Mr. Parker?" I knew him well. He was an elderly gentleman who had been coming to the hotel for twenty years at least. He was a very kind and distinguished man, a widower. Last year he had given Christie a hundred dollars for her birthday. "Are you sure he's—"
    "I went up to the room myself and found him slumped in his chair by the window. I'm afraid it's true," Mr. Stanley said, fidgeting with his shirt collar.
    "I see. All right. Keep the room closed, of course. Go speak with Mr. Dorfman and see how such things were handled in the past."
    "I'm sorry," Mr. Stanley said, as if this was all somehow his fault. "I did tell Mary to keep it to herself for now," he added.
    "Fine." I rose from my chair and walked out with him. "I'll be in my office," he said. I went directly to Mr. Dorfman's.
    "How unfortunate," he said when I told him what Mr. Stanley had discovered. "However, it has happened before. When you cater to older people—"
    "What do we do in situations like this?" I asked quickly.
    "Well, I'll call for an ambulance, of course. It's best the other guests not know that he's actually passed away. I'll speak to the ambulance attendants myself when they arrive. They'll understand and cooperate. This is a resort community."
    "Understand? Cooperate?" I shook my head in confusion. "What do you mean?"
    "They will wheel him out with an oxygen mask on his face, and we'll say that he's having some trouble breathing and is being taken to the