Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

there and sob, my shoulders shuddering, my heart so heavy I thought it had turned to stone in my chest. My memory focused on a sunny day years and years ago when Eugenia wasn't yet as sick as she would become. She, Mamma and I were in the gazebo. We were drinking fresh lemonade and Mamma was telling us stories about her youth. I held my little sister's hand and the two of us let our minds roam with Mamma, who wove us through some of the most wonderful days of her youth. She spoke with such feeling and excitement, it made us both feel we were there.
    "Oh, the South was a wonderful place then, children. There were parties and dances. The air was festive; the men always so polite and attentive, and the young women always on the verge of one heart song or another. We fell in love every day with someone else, our emotions riding the wind. It was a storybook world in which every morning began with the words, Once upon a time . . .
    "I pray, my little dears, that it will be that way for you two as well. Come, let me hug you," she said, holding her arms out to us. We buried ourselves against her breasts and felt her heart beating with joy. In those days it seemed that nothing ugly or cruel could touch us.
    "Good-bye, Mamma," I finally said. "Good-bye, Eugenia. I'll never stop missing you and loving you."
    The wind lifted my hair and the rain became heavier. I had to turn away and hurry back to the house. The party had really gotten into full swing. All of my husband's friends were loud and rowdy, swinging their women around wildly as they danced.
    "Where were you?" Bill asked when he spotted me in the doorway.
    "I went out to say good-bye to Mamma and Eugenia."
    "Who's Eugenia?"
    "My little sister who died."
    "Another little sister? Well if she's dead, how'd you say good-bye to her?" he asked. He had already consumed a great deal of alcohol and swayed when he spoke.
    "I went to the graveyard," I said dryly.
    "Graveyards ain't no place for a new bride," he muttered. "Come on. Let's show these people how to do a jig." Before I could refuse, he seized my arm and pulled me onto the dance floor. Those who were dancing stopped to make a larger space for us. Bill swung me around awkwardly. I tried to look as graceful as I could, but he tripped over his own feet and fell, bringing me down on him. All of his friends thought it was hilarious, but I couldn't have been more embarrassed. As soon as I was able to stand, I ran out and up to my room. I changed out of my wedding dress and put on traveling clothes. All my things had been packed and the trunks were set near the door.
    A little more than an hour later, Charles came up and knocked.
    "Mr. Cutler told me to get your things into his automobile, Miss Lillian," he said with a tone of apology. "He told me to tell you to come down." I nodded, sucked in my breath, and started out. Most of the guests were still there, waiting to say good-bye and wish us luck. Bill was flopped on a sofa, his tie off, his shirt collar open. He looked all flushed, but got to his feet as soon as I appeared.
    "Here she is!" he announced. "My new bride. Well, we're off to the honeymoon. I know some of you would like to come along," he added, and his friends laughed. "But there ain't room but for two in our bed."
    "Wait and see," someone yelled. There was more laughter. All of his friends gathered around him to pat him on the back and shake his hand one last time.
    Papa, who had consumed far too much alcohol, was collapsed in a chair, his head to one side.
    "Ready?" Bill asked.
    "No, but I'll go," I said. He laughed at that and started to scoop his arm under mine when he remembered something.
    "Hold on," he said and produced Papa's land title to The Meadows, the document he had won at cards. He sauntered over to him and shook his shoulders.
    "Wha . . . what?" Papa said, his eyes flickering open.
    "Here you go, Pappy," Bill said, and shoved the document into Papa's hands. Papa gazed at it dumbly for a moment and then looked up at me. I shifted my eyes and gazed at Emily who stood off with some of our relatives, sipping from a cup of tea. Her eyes met mine and for a moment, I thought there was an expression of pity and compassion in her face.
    "Let's go, Mrs. Cutler," Bill said. The crowd followed us to the door where Vera waited with Charlotte in her arms and Luther at her side. I paused to hold Charlotte one last time and kiss her cheek. She looked at me strangely, beginning to sense the finality of this