Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

so."
    "And my sister . . . Emily?"
    "We've grown accustomed to her. Matter of fact, we wouldn't know what we'd do without her hymns and prayers. Charles says it's better than those picture shows we've heard about. You never know when you'll look out and find her floating through the mansion, candle in hand, waving some cross at a shadow. And who knows, maybe she does keep the devil out."
    I laughed.
    "Things have gone all right for you, Miss Lillian, haven't they?" Vera asked, her eyes smaller. She had gotten gray and her crow's feet had gone deeper and longer.
    "I've made my nest and found my reasons to keep going, Vera, if that's what you mean," I told her.
    She nodded.
    "I thought you would. Well, I'd better see to supper. I'll say my good-bye now."
    We hugged and then I went to say good-bye to Charlotte. She was sprawled on the floor in what had once been Mamma's reading room, looking through an old album of family photographs. Luther sat on the chaise looking down at the pictures with her. They both looked up when I appeared in the doorway.
    "I'm leaving now, children," I said. "Looking at the family pictures?"
    "Yes ma'am," Luther said, nodding.
    "Here's one of you and me and Emily," Charlotte said, pointing down. I looked at it and recalled when Papa had had that picture taken.
    "Yes," I said.
    "We know most people in the book," Luther said, "but not this one." He turned the pages back and stopped to point at a small photograph. I took the book into my hands and gazed at it. It was my real mother. For a moment I couldn't speak.
    "It's . . . Mamma's younger sister Violet," I said.
    "She was very pretty," Charlotte said. "Right, Luther?"
    "Yes," he agreed.
    "Wasn't she, Lil?" Charlotte asked.
    I smiled at her. "Very pretty."
    "Did you know her?" Luther asked.
    "No. She died before . . . just after I was born."
    "You look a lot like her," he said, and then turned crimson at his own outburst.
    "Thank you, Luther." I knelt down and kissed him and hugged and kissed Charlotte.
    "Good-bye, children. Be good," I said.
    "Or Emily will get mad," Charlotte recited. It made me smile through my tears.
    I hurried out and never looked back.
     
    Something happened to Bill during the business trip he had made instead of accompanying me to Papa's funeral, for when he returned days later, he was remarkably changed. He was quieter, more restrained, and spent long periods of time just sitting on the porch sipping tea or coffee and staring out at the ocean. He didn't wander through the hotel, teasing the young chambermaids, nor did he hold any of his card games in the game room for the waiters, bellhops and busboys, sometimes shamefully taking their hard-earned tips away.
    I thought he might have gotten sick, even though he didn't look pale or weak. I asked him a few times if he was feeling all right. He said he was, each time staring at me for a moment before going off.
    Finally one night nearly a week later, he came into our bedroom after I had already gotten under the covers. After our initial months together, we made love less and less frequently until long periods of time passed without us as much as exchanging a kiss. He knew that whenever I did kiss him or make love with him, I did so more out of a sense of marital duty than affection, even though he was still quite handsome.
    Never did our lovemaking result in my becoming pregnant. In my own mind I thought it was simply because of my terrible experience giving birth to Charlotte. Yet as far as I knew, there was nothing physically wrong with me, no reason for me not to become pregnant. It just never happened.
    Bill came over to my side of the bed and sat down, his hands folded in his lap, his head lowered.
    "What is it?" I asked. His curious behavior made my heart beat faster. Slowly, he raised his head and fixed his eyes on me—eyes full of sadness and pain.
    "I got to tell you something. I've not been solely conducting business on my trips, especially the trips to Richmond. I've been gambling and . . . carousing." I released a trapped breath.
    "It doesn't come as any surprise to me, Bill," I said, sitting back. "I never demanded to know about your trips and I'm not demanding it now."
    "I know and I appreciate that. In fact, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate you," he said softly.
    "Why this sudden reform?" I asked.
    "I had a bad experience on this last trip. I was gambling on the train and it became one of these games that lasts for days. We took it off the train