Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

cleared and the new walls had been started. As I approached, the workers on this side turned and a moment later, Uncle Philip emerged from the group to greet me.
    "You have a family of monsters," I began. "I hate them!"
    "Now, everyone has to learn how to readjust." He held up his hands. "In time . . ."
    "I'll never adjust to them . . . or you!" I said, my chest heaving with each breath. For a moment I simply glared at him. He looked confused, hurt. "The twins told me you lied about Jefferson. They said he's not coming to a hospital here," I said. He smiled.
    "That's nonsense. They're just teasing you. Matter of fact, I received the phone call this morning and I was on my way to see you. Jefferson's out of the coma and he will arrive at the hospital at eight tonight. You and I will be there when he comes."
    "Really? This isn't another lie?"
    "Would I lie about such a thing?" He put his hand on my shoulder and I pulled back as if his hand was on fire. "Christie, please . . ."
    "Don't touch me. I don't want you to ever touch me again."
    "Christie. We love you. We. . ."
    "Love me? Do you know she locked me in my room?"
    "She's still a little upset."
    "And you let her. You let her do everything she wants," I accused.
    "Betty Ann runs the house now and I . . ."
    "She runs everything and everyone around her. But not me. I told her what you did. I told her!" I screamed, turned and stormed off. I didn't return to the house until late in the day. In the interim, I went downtown and bought myself some lunch. I walked on the beach for a while and then sat behind the hotel and watched them work on the building. When I did reenter the house, I found it deathly quiet. I marched up to my room. The door to Melanie's room was open so I looked in as I passed and saw the two of them sitting on the floor, a game of Chinese checkers between them. They glared up at me hatefully. When I paused, they both looked terrified and shifted their eyes to their game.
    The door to Aunt Bet and Uncle Philip's bed-room remained closed. I wondered if she had shut herself in there all day. I didn't feel sorry for her; I was just curious. At exactly six-fifteen, however, she came to my doorway and knocked gently. She looked like she had been crying for hours. Now her face had that dry, quiet look, the look of someone moving through the paces without thinking or feeling.
    "Dinner is being served," she said and turned away before I could speak. I wasn't very hungry, nor did I look forward to sitting at the table with any of them, but I went downstairs. The twins glanced at me quickly and then looked down at their plates and settings. Uncle Philip was the most animated, but even he looked like a puppet waiting for his strings to be tugged. The new maid served the food without uttering a sound. She was a young girl, but one who had a prematurely aged face. The way she moved about the table indicated she was terrified of Aunt Bet, frightened of making a mistake. I was the only one who thanked her. Her eyes lightened, but she did no more than, nod slightly and retreat to the kitchen.
    Because they were all so quiet and withdrawn, I was able to pretend and to imagine myself sitting at the table months and months back in time. I listened as my memory replayed some of the funny things Daddy had said. I heard Mommy's laughter and saw Jefferson smile. I imagined Mrs. Boston hovering over us, telling us not to let this or that get cold. I was so lost in my reverie, it took the new maid twice to get my attention. I hadn't even heard the telephone ring.
    "She's not to receive any phone calls," I heard Aunt Bet say. "Tell whoever it is . . ."
    "The operator says it's long distance," the maid explained.
    "Long distance?" I shot up out of my seat.
    "No one talks on the phone during dinner," Aunt Bet declared. "It's not polite; it's . . ."
    I glared at her. She glanced at Uncle Philip, who looked down at his food, and then she shook herself as if she had just had a terrible chill and went back to her own meal. I went to the phone. It was Gavin.
    "I tried to call you all day," he said, "but someone kept telling me you were out or asleep."
    "It's horrible here, more horrible than ever," I told him. "As soon as Jefferson is well again, I'm leaving."
    "Has Philip . . ."
    "He hasn't come near me. Gavin, I told her; I told Aunt- Bet. She drove me to it," I said. "Really? What did she say?"
    "She ran away from me, screaming, and now they're all like zombies, but I don't