Cutler 04 - Midnight Whispers

buttons. She had sewn a large pink bow on each shoulder.
    "Good morning, everyone. Did everyone have a nice sleep?" she asked. "Mr. Sandman was here last night. I heard him walking through the house, didn't you?"
    "Oh, so that's who that was," Gavin said, smiling, his eyes twinkling impishly. He waited to see if I was going to tell them about the face in the window.
    "I didn't hear Mr. Sandman," Jefferson said.
    "That's because you were already asleep so he didn't have to put sand in your eyes," Charlotte explained. "Now sit down, everyone. We've got to have a good breakfast first and then we can do our chores, right Luther?" Luther grunted and gulped down his coffee as he rose from his seat.
    "I'll be out back," he said and then looked at Gavin and added, "in the barn."
    "I'll be there right after breakfast," Gavin promised. Luther nodded and left.
    "Does everyone want eggs and bacon?" Charlotte asked. "I make them sunny-side-up because they look like little smiling faces that way."
    "It smells wonderful, Aunt Charlotte," I said. "Can I help?"
    "Everything's done. Just sit down and I'll serve you just the way I used to serve my daddy and Emily years-and years ago," she said. She served the food and then sat down and talked as we all ate, describing what life used to be like when she was a young girl.
    "After Daddy died and Emily became Miss Bossy Mouth, everything changed," she concluded sadly. "We didn't have breakfasts like this anymore. Emily made us sell most of our eggs to the grocery in Upland Station."
    "What about Grandmother Cutler?" I inquired.
    "Grandmother Cutler?"
    "Your other sister, Lillian?"
    "Oh," she said, taking on a strange, pensive look. "She was off and married when I was just a little girl," she said quickly, "and I hardly saw her, but Emily always complained about her." She leaned toward us. "Emily always complained about everyone," she whispered as if Emily were in the other room, listening. Then she clapped her hands together and smiled.
    "First, show Jefferson the paints and the brushes and let him play and then later we'll go up to the attic and you can find clothes and shoes to wear, okay? Won't that be nice?"
    "Yes, Aunt Charlotte," I said. I looked around the kitchen. There were dishes caked with food from previous meals on the counter and the floor looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks, if not months. The windows were spotted with dust and grime on both the insides and out. "I'll do what I can to help you clean up the house, too."
    "Goody, goody, goody," she said and laughed. "We'll have wonderful times, just like we used to when everyone was little and we had a golden retriever dog named Kasey Lady who poked her nose in my face every morning to wake me."
    Gavin looked at me and smiled. Aunt Charlotte was just a little girl at heart, but I didn't mind. I felt safe here, as safe and secure as I would be in a magic bubble. It was as if I finally had been able to escape the curse on the Cutlers.
    After breakfast, Gavin went out to help Luther, and Charlotte took Jefferson to her makeshift studio to give him his paints and brushes. I cleaned the kitchen. When I was finished I went exploring through the house. Halfway down the corridor, I stopped because I thought I heard someone behind me. But when I looked, no one was there. Only . . . a curtain swayed.
    "Who's there?" I called. No one responded and nothing moved. It gave me goose bumps, so I hurried to find Charlotte and Jefferson. On the way I discovered that Charlotte had painted the stems and blossoms of flowers after they had wilted, making them even brighter shades of pink and white, red and yellow, and then left them in vases everywhere. It was as if she were trying to bring rainbows into what had once been a dull and gray world.
    I found Charlotte and Jefferson in a little room off the library. When I peered in, Charlotte looked up from her needlework and smiled. Jefferson was busy painting walls and fixtures. Already, his cheeks were streaked and his arms were full of paint up to his elbows.
    "We're having fun," Charlotte said, her face beaming with joy, and then she quickly added, "Little boys are supposed to make messes of themselves."
    "You're right about that, Aunt Charlotte. Aunt Charlotte, can you show me the room now where my mother lived and I was born?"
    "Oh yes, yes, yes. That's the Bad Room," she said rising. "I was in it once, too."
    "The bad room?"
    "You'll see," she said and led me upstairs.
    When I set