Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

or really care. She and Morton laughed and then the two of them flopped on the bed and groped at each other as if we weren't there. Gavin and I gaped in astonishment. Finally, Aunt Fern looked up, her eyelids drooping.
    "Aren't you finished here yet?" she complained. "This was a lot of work, Aunt Fern. We told you before that . . ."
    "Oh, stop lecturing. We're ready for bed. Not for sleep," she added smiling, "for bed. Right, Morton?"
    He had his eyes closed, but he formed a silly smile.
    "So get your rags together, princess, and shut the door behind you on the way out, comprende?"
    "Come on," Gavin said, lifting me to my feet. "Let's go. She's as drunk as a sailor."
    "You two should try some of that old, old brandy" she cried, and both she and Morton went into a fit of hysterical laughter again. "Aunt Charlotte thought it was spoiled," she added and then laughed some more.
    Gavin guided me to the doorway. When we turned around, Aunt Fern had thrown herself over Morton's prostrate body. He seemed too drunk and too tired to care.
    "Oh," Aunt Fern said, turning back to us. "I forgot to ask . . . when do the spirits arrive?"
    Her resounding laughter echoed behind us as we closed the door and stepped out of the suite.
    "I hope the spirits do come," Gavin said, his dark eyes bright with anger, "and whisk her off to hell where she belongs."
    I was exhausted from all the work and too tired to care. We went down the corridor to our bathroom to wash up and go to sleep ourselves. Fatigued and drowning in emotions, I got into bed and fell into dreams.
    But maybe the spirits did come. Sometime during the night, I awoke to what I thought were the sounds of footsteps in the hallway. I was sure I heard a door slam and the sounds of someone sobbing, but I was too tired to get up and check. The spirits won't harm us, I thought, and if in the morning, we find that Aunt Fern and her boyfriend have mysteriously disappeared, I won't bat an eyelash or shed a tear. In moments, I fell asleep again.
     
    It was the sound of Aunt Fern's shrill scream that woke me in the morning. She hadn't been whisked off to hell, not yet.
    "What's going on?" Jefferson asked, rubbing his eyes and standing in the doorway. "Who's screaming?"
    "It's Fern," Gavin said, coming in from the hallway. "She's calling for us."
    "Fern? Aunt Fern's here?" Jefferson asked.
    "Unfortunately, yes," I told him.
    "Why is she screaming?"
    "I don't know, Jefferson. Maybe she woke up and took a look at herself," I said. Gavin laughed.
    I slipped into my dress quickly and Gavin and 1, with Jefferson lagging behind, hurried down the corridor. The doors of the master suite had been thrown open. We approached slowly and gazed within.
    Morton was apparently still asleep, still in a drunken stupor, but Aunt Fern was sitting up in the bed, the blanket wrapped around her. Her eyes were blazing with excitement. Had she seen a spirit after all? I wondered. She lifted her arm and pointed her shaky finger at the doorway.
    "Who was that . . . that . . . creature who was standing there gaping in at us for God knows how long?" she demanded. "I opened my eyes and there he was just a little while ago, spying on us."
    "Oh, that was probably Homer," I said. "He's a friend of Aunt Charlotte's and Luther's. He lives nearby."
    "Well, how dare he come snooping around here? How dare he! What is he, some kind of pervert?" she demanded.
    "Oh no, Aunt Fern. Homer's harmless. He's . . ."
    "Don't tell me what he is. I know who's harmless and who isn't," she said icily. "I don't want to set eyes on him again, do you hear me? You march right downstairs and tell that creep to get out of here pronto and not come back until I leave, understand?"
    "But Homer won't . . ."
    "Don't contradict every thing I say," she moaned. "My head is splitting." She pressed her palms against her temples, dropping her blanket and forgetting she was naked. Gavin was shocked and stepped back.
    "Aunt Fern . . . you're still not dressed," I pointed out.
    "What? Oh, who cares. Morton, damn it. How can you sleep with all this going on? Morton?" She shook her boyfriend, who then groaned but didn't turn over. Then she fell back against her pillow.
    "Get me coffee . . . strong coffee. After I wake up, I want you to draw a warm bath for me. Do you have any bath oils here?"
    "No, Aunt Fern. Hardly."
    "Well, get the coffee . . . quickly," she ordered. "And get that creature out of the house." She closed her eyes and moaned again.
    "How did Aunt