Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

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    "Afterward, when they were able to get into the basement, the firemen found them together. Your mother had reached Jimmy, but they had been trapped in a storage room. They died clinging to each other," she concluded and took a deep breath.
    "Philip's devastated," she continued, now speaking like one in a trance. "He's wandering about the wreckage in disbelief. He's so angry, no one dares go near him."
    I closed my eyes. Maybe, if I closed them hard and tight enough and squeezed my body until it hurt, I could drive away this nightmare. I would open my eyes in a moment and it would be morning, a bright, sunny late spring morning. Jefferson will be charging through my door any moment, I thought, and Mommy will come in after him, telling him to leave me alone and get dressed. Yes . . . yes.
    "How's she doin'?" Mrs. Boston asked from the doorway and my dream-prayer died.
    "The doctor said to give her sweet tea and some toast and jelly," Aunt Bet said sharply. "Get it immediately." She was never as nice to the staff as Mommy was and frequently spoke harshly to the servants. Mommy said it was because of the way Aunt Bet had been brought up. Her parents were so rich, she had always lived like royalty.
    "Yes ma'am," Mrs. Boston replied.
    "I don't want anything," I said defiantly.
    "Now come on, Christie. You heard what the doctor said. You're going to need your strength," Aunt Bet advised. Reluctantly, I nodded. They were right; I couldn't bury myself in make-believe and refuse to face the truth. Jefferson needed me to be strong. But I felt like a small lost child myself, scared of tomorrow. How could I be strong enough for someone else when inside I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe?
    "Do Granddaddy Longchamp and Gavin know what's happened yet?" I asked. "And Aunt Fern?"
    Aunt Bet nodded. "I have Mr. Dorfman calling everyone who should be informed," she said.
    "And Bronson and Grandmother Laura?"
    "Yes. Bronson is beside himself. Thankfully, I think, your grandmother is too confused to understand."
    "I'd better go see Jefferson," I said, sitting up again, this time more slowly. My body ached as if I had been running for hours and hours.
    "He's still sleeping, Christie," Aunt Bet said. "I promise I'll let you know as soon as he awakens. Just lie here and rest," she ordered. "I'm going to see about Richard and Melanie. My poor dears: they are so upset." She sighed deeply, patted me on the hand and got up. "Rest," she said and shook her head. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Then she turned and left me.
    I closed my eyes and fought the urge to sob and sob and sob until my throat ached badly. A short time later, I heard someone enter my room and opened my eyes to see Uncle Philip carrying a tray with my cup of tea and toast on it. Although his face was ashen with grief and mourning, he had brushed his hair, straightened his clothing, buttoned his shirt and retied his tie, the knot as perfect as ever. He set the tray down on my night table and smiled. His eyes were no longer glazed with confusion.
    "How's my poor princess doing?" he asked.
    "I can't believe my parents are gone, Uncle Philip. I won't believe it," I said, shaking my head.
    He fixed his eyes on me and I watched them grow small and dark. His lips trembled and then he turned back to the tray. "You need something hot in your stomach."
    "Where's Mrs. Boston?" I asked.
    "She's busy trying to settle everyone down and get some meals together, so I offered to bring your tray up to you," he said. "Try to sit up and drink some of this and maybe eat a bite or two."
    "I want to do what the doctor says, but I don't think I can swallow anything right now, Uncle Philip."
    "I know," he said, nodding sympathetically, "but you have to keep up your strength."
    I sat up and he brought the tray to my lap and sat down on the bed.
    "Oh Christie, Christie," he moaned and took my hand into his. "A terrible, terrible thing has happened," he began. His fingers moved over mine as he spoke. "And we are all suffering because of it, but I promised myself, I promised your mother I would take care of you."
    "You promised? When?"
    "When she ran back inside," he replied. "She cried out to me and said, 'If anything happens to me, take care of my Christie.' "
    "Mommy said that?" He nodded. "What about Jefferson?"
    "Oh, Jefferson too, of course. Anyway, I will. From now on," he said, the blue in his eyes softening, "you will be no different from my own. I will love and cherish you no