Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

down.
    I watched him disappear down the cemetery path, my heart pounding. What deep, dark secret did he keep in his heart, a secret so painful he had to beg forgiveness at a grave? Was it just that he loved Mommy more intimately and passionately than he should have loved his half-sister or was it something even more sinful? Aunt Fern's horrid words, spat at me before she left, returned: "What do you think they did on their dates, play paint-by-numbers?" It frightened me to think about it. When I felt confident he was gone, I came out of the shadows and then hurried along the same path to home.
    The light above the front door was still burning. I tiptoed over the porch, trying desperately to keep the floor from creaking, and then I opened the door and slipped inside quickly. I waited and listened. All was quiet. Perhaps Uncle Philip had gone up to bed already, I thought, and started down the corridor to the stairway. But when I reached the entrance to the living room, I saw that one small lamp was still lit and Uncle Philip was sitting in an easy chair, his head back, his eyes closed. In his hand he held a glass of whiskey.
    I hurried past the entrance to the steps of the stairway, but the first step betrayed me by creaking loudly.
    "Who's there?" Uncle Philip called. I stood perfectly still. "Is someone out there?" I decided not to answer, but my heart was pounding so hard, I was sure he could hear the thump, thump, thump against my chest. He didn't call again nor did he come to the doorway. I made my way up the stairs quickly and went directly to my room. I undressed, put on my nightgown, and slipped into bed. As usual I turned off all but my small night light. And then, only moments after I had turned over in bed and closed my eyes, I heard my door creak open.
    My heart began to pound when I didn't hear Jefferson's cry and footsteps. I didn't move; I didn't turn to see who it was; I didn't have to. In seconds I could smell the scent of the whiskey. I held my breath. It was Uncle Philip. Was he just checking to see if I was in my bed? Why did he linger so long? Finally, I heard the door close and I released my breath in relief, but before I could turn around, I heard his footsteps and realized he was at the side of my bed.
    I kept my eyes closed and didn't move, pretending to be asleep. He stood there staring down at me for the longest time, but I didn't open my eyes or acknowledge his presence. I was too frightened. I heard him release a deep sigh and then finally, I heard him walk away. When I heard the door open and close again, I turned my head and saw he was gone. Then I sighed with relief myself.
    What a strange and wondrous night this proved to be, I thought. Mysteries hung in the air around me like pockets of thick sea fog. I lay there wondering for the longest time and then finally drew sleep around me like a cocoon and curled up slowly in its warm, protective walls.
    I awoke to the sounds of great commotion and, a moment later, Jefferson came charging into my bedroom. I could hear Aunt Bet in the hallway crying for Uncle Philip to send for the doctor. Even though it was quite bright outside, I gazed at the clock and saw it was not quite five-thirty in the morning. Jefferson looked very frightened.
    "What is it?"
    "It's Richard," he said, his eyes wide. "He's got a bad tummy ache, so bad he's crying."
    "Really?" I said dryly. "Maybe he ate some of his own sour grapes."
    "Melanie ate them, too," Jefferson added excitedly.
    "Melanie too? What do you mean?"
    "She's got a tummy ache also and Aunt Bet is angry about it. Can I sleep with you? They're making too much noise," he said.
    "Get into my bed," I said, but I got up and reached for my robe. "I'll see what's going on."
    Uncle Philip, still in his pajamas, was in the hallway, his hair disheveled. He looked confused and sleepy and yawned hard and loud. He scrubbed his face with his palms and went to Melanie's doorway.
    "What is it? What's all the noise?" he demanded.
    "She's as white as a ghost and so is Richard. Go look at him," Aunt Bet cried from inside. "They've been poisoned!" she added.
    "What? That's ridiculous," Uncle Philip said. He turned and saw me standing there. "Oh, Christie." He smiled. "I'm sorry they woke you."
    "What's happening, Uncle Philip?" I asked.
    "I don't know. It's always like this," he said. "When one of the twins gets sick, the other one inevitably does too. It's as if every germ that attacks them has a twin in waiting," he added,