Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

eyes were full of excitement and life, and the sound of her laughter was musical.
    The night before, as usual, she had moaned and groaned about her poor wardrobe and how much wider in the hips she had grown since last year's barbecue. Neither Papa nor Emily paid any attention. I was the only one who showed any interest, but only because I wondered why she complained. Mamma had closets and closets of clothes, despite Papa's refusal to take her shopping. She managed regularly to have something new made or something new bought, and was always up on the latest styles, whether it be of hair or clothes. She had boxes and boxes of shoes and drawers and drawers of jewelry, some of which she had brought with her when she married Papa and some of which she had acquired since.
    I never thought of her as getting fat or ugly, but she insisted her hips had expanded until she looked like a hippopotamus in anything she put on. As always, Louella and Tottie were called in to help her find a solution, to choose clothes that would flatter her the most and hide her imperfections the best.
    Tottie had brushed Mamma's hair for hours while Mamma sat before her vanity mirror and went on about the preparations. Her hair was long, nearly down to her waist, but she would have it combed and pinned in a chignon. Watching all these preparations and anticipating the coiffeurs, the clothes and new styles the women would wear, stimulated my own budding femininity. I spent most of the day before the barbecue with Eugenia, brushing her hair and letting her brush mine.
    The barbecue was one of the few occasions when Mamma permitted Eugenia to mingle with other children and remain outside for hours and hours, as long as she rested in the shade and didn't run around. The joy and tumult, and especially the fresh air, brought a rosy tint to her cheeks and for a while at least, she didn't look like a sickly little girl. She was content and excited simply sitting there under a magnolia, watching the boys wrestle and show off, and the girls prance about imitating their mothers and sisters.
    Late in the afternoon after everyone had been satiated with plenty of food and drink, the guests lounged around, some of the older people actually falling asleep in the shade. The young men played horseshoes and the children were shooed farther off so their screams and laughter wouldn't disturb the adults. At this point, Eugenia, protesting but visibly tired, was brought into the house for a nap.
    Feeling sorry for her, I accompanied her and sat with her in her room until her eyelids couldn't resist the weight of sleep any longer and slowly shut. When her labored breathing became regular, I tiptoed out of her room, closing the door softly behind me. By now the other children were behind the house, eating slices of watermelon. I decided to go through the house and out one of the back doors.
    As I hurried down the corridor and past Papa's library, I heard a ripple of feminine laughter that intrigued me, for it was immediately followed by the sound of someone speaking low. Once again, the young woman giggled. Papa would be very angry if someone went into his library without his knowing about it, I thought. I backtracked a few steps and listened again. The voices had become whispers. More curious than ever, I opened the library door a little farther and peered in to see the back of Darlene Scott's dress lift slowly as the man standing in front of her moved his hand in and under her skirt. I couldn't help but gasp. They heard me and when Darlene turned, I was able to see who the man was—Papa.
    His face turned so fiery red I thought the skin would melt off it. Roughly, he pulled Darlene Scott aside and stepped toward me.
    "What are you doing in the house?" he demanded, seizing my shoulders. He leaned down toward me. His breath on my face was strong with bourbon whiskey mingled with the faint fragrance of mint. "All the children were told to stay out of the house."
    "Well?" he demanded, shaking my shoulders.
    "Oh, she's just frightened, Jed," Darlene said, coming up to him and putting her hand on his shoulder. It seemed to calm him some and he stood up straight.
    Darlene Scott was one of the prettiest young ladies in the area. She had thick, strawberry blonde curls and cornflower blue eyes. There wasn't a young man of courting age who didn't spin his head around to gaze at her cream complexion when she strolled past.
    I looked from Papa to Darlene, who smiled down at me and