Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

and out. I'm shocked that you would want a married man . . . a relative . . ."
    "Oh stop. A good-looking man's a good-looking man," she said. "Besides, he's not a blood relative. He's not even a real relative."
    "He's a sick man," I said. "He was always in love with my mother and . . ."
    "I know," she said dryly. "Everyone was in love with your mother." She looked up at me with distaste and hate written across her lips. "And now they're going to be in love with you. Why you have all the luck . . ." She leaned back in the tub again and again put her feet up. "Get my nail polish," she ordered. When I didn't move, she smiled.
    "I should go right to a phone and call Philip and have you delivered back to him. Maybe that's what you need . . . a real education. He'd probably chain you to your bed and come up night after night and do it to you a different way each time until . . ."
    "Stop it. You're disgusting."
    "My polish," she repeated coolly.
    When I opened the bathroom door, I saw her boyfriend was back in bed and under the blanket. His eyes popped open.
    "I'm hungry, Fern," he called.
    "Just hold your water," she called back. "I'm not finished with my morning rituals."
    I went to her bag and found her nail polish.
    "Dry my feet first, stupid," she said when I knelt down to do her toes. I got the towel and dried her feet. "Um, that's nice," she said. "It's nice to be treated like royalty. I always envied you, princess."
    "I was never treated like royalty." I said.
    "Uh huh. Just do a good job on those nails. You never know who might set eyes on them," she commanded. The tears burned behind my eyelids. I fought to keep my vision clear enough to do her toenails. While I worked, she lay back with her eyes closed, soaking in the warm water.
    "Morton!" she suddenly screamed. "Morton!" "What?"
    "Get up and go downstairs and tell my aunt I want two scrambled eggs and some bacon for breakfast. See if they have fresh bread, too. If they don't, have Luther go to town and get some."
    "Okay," Morton said.
    "Luther doesn't have time to run errands like that," I muttered.
    "Really. Well, he better find the time," she said.
    "Why are you picking on them? They're so defenseless. They've suffered enough. They . . ."
    "You didn't have any qualms about taking advantage of them," Aunt Fern charged.
    "We didn't take advantage. Gavin's been helping Luther with the chores and I've been cleaning the house and helping Aunt Charlotte with the meals and . . ."
    "Oh, you're so wonderful. I keep forgetting. Morton," she cried. "Are you getting up?"
    "I'm up, I'm up," he replied. "I need to use a bathroom. I want to wash and shave and . . ."
    "Well find another one. We're going to be occupied in here for a while. The princess is going to do my fingernails, too," she said, smiling at me. "Right, princess?"
    I didn't reply. I finished her toenails and turned away so she couldn't see my tears and be happy she was making me feel so horrible. I took a deep breath. They'll surely be on their way today, I thought, and then we'll be free of them. As far as I was concerned, I didn't care if I were free of my aunt Fern forever. In fact, that's what I wanted. I was sorry because I knew how much it would hurt Daddy to know that I hated his sister, but I couldn't help it.
    Aunt Fern made me give her a manicure. She kept asking me detailed questions about Uncle Philip's sexual attack, but I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of a reply and she finally stopped.
    Afterward, I had to lay out her clothes. While she got dressed, she insisted I make the bed and tidy up in the bathroom. She enjoyed watching me work like a maid. Finally, we went down for breakfast. Her boyfriend was sitting at the table studying a road map when we entered the kitchen.
    "Did you send Luther for fresh bread?" Aunt Fern demanded.
    "I couldn't find him and your aunt's not much help," he replied. "She's out there with Gavin and Jefferson and some other guy painting the barn," Morton said. "Green," he added and laughed.
    "Painting the barn green? I think we had better call the nearest insane asylum and ask them to make a pickup," Aunt Fern quipped.
    "They're happy here, Aunt Fern, and they're not hurting anyone," I said.
    "What do you say we go into town and have some breakfast at a restaurant," Morton said.
    "We don't need to go into town. My niece can make eggs. She already proved she can make coffee. I like them a little wet," she ordered. "Not dry like pieces of paper. Well," she said when