Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

hesitated.
    "She would wish for a bosom," I replied. Eugenia gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
    "Oh my," she said. "If Emily just heard you."
    "I don't care. Do you know what the boys at school call her behind her back?" I said, sitting beside her on the bed.
    "What?"
    "They call her Miss Ironing Board."
    "Oh, they don't?"
    "It's her own fault, the way she dresses and flattens out what little bosom she has. She doesn't want to be a woman and she doesn't want to be a man."
    "What does she want to be?" Eugenia asked, and waited patiently for my reply.
    "A saint," I finally said. "She's as cold and as hard as the statues in church anyway. But," I added with a sigh, "at least she's stayed out of our way these last few days and has even been a little nicer to me at school. She gave me her apple at lunch yesterday."
    "You ate two?"
    "I gave one to Niles," I confessed.
    "Did Emily see?"
    "No. She was inside all during lunch helping Miss Walker correct spelling papers." We were both silent a moment and then I took Eugenia's hand into mine. "Guess what?" I said. "Niles wants to meet us again on Saturday. He wants to take a walk with us to the creek. Mamma's got her lunch party here so she won't mind us being out of her hair. Pray for a nice day again," I said.
    "I will. I'll pray twice a day." Eugenia looked happier than she had in a long time, even though she spent more time in bed than ever. "I'm suddenly very hungry," she announced. "Is it almost time for dinner?"
    "I'll see Louella about it," I said, getting up. "Oh, Eugenia," I said at the door, "I know Emily's been nicer to us, but I still think we should keep next Saturday a secret."
    "Okay," Eugenia said. "Cross my heart and hope to die."
    "Don't say that!" I cried.
    "What?"
    "Don't ever say 'hope to die.' "
    "It's just a saying. Roberta Smith's always saying it whenever I see her at our barbecues. Every time someone asks her something, she adds, hope . . ."
    "Eugenia!"
    "Okay," she said, snuggling up in her blanket. She smiled. "Tell Niles I look forward to seeing him Saturday."
    "I will. Now I'll see about dinner," I said, and left her dreaming about doing the things me and my friends took for granted each and every day.
    I know Eugenia didn't say anything to Emily about Saturday. She was too worried something might happen to stop us from going. But maybe Emily came to her door while she was praying for a nice day or maybe she was in the shadows spying and listening when Eugenia and I spoke. Perhaps, she just had anticipated it. Whatever, I'm sure she spent every day plotting.
    Just because we were looking forward to it so hard, Saturday took forever to come, but when it finally did arrive, it entered the week with a burst of warm sunshine that came streaming through my windows to caress my cheeks and open my eyes. I sat up full of joy. When I gazed out the window, I saw a sea of blue rolling from one horizon to the other. A gentle breeze brushed through the honeysuckle. The world outside was inviting, waiting.
    In the kitchen Louella told me Eugenia had been up at the crack of dawn.
    "I've never seen her so hungry in the morning," she remarked. "I've got to hurry her breakfast before she changes her mind. She's gotten so thin, you can practically see right through her," she added sadly.
    I took Eugenia's breakfast to her and found her sitting up and waiting.
    "We should have planned a picnic, Lillian," she complained. "It's too long to wait until after lunch."
    "Next time we will," I said. I placed her tray on her bed table and watched her eat. Although she was hungrier than usual, she still pecked at her food like a frightened bird. It took her twice as long to do everything a healthy girl her age would do.
    "We have a beautiful day, don't we, Lillian?" "Magnificent."
    "God must have heard all my prayers."
    "I bet He had no chance to hear anything else," I quipped, and Eugenia laughed. Her laughter was music to my ears, even though it was still expressed in a thin, small voice.
    I returned to the dining room to take my breakfast with Emily and Mamma. Papa had already gotten up and left early to go to Lynchburg to a meeting of the smaller tobacco farmers who were, according to Papa, in a life-and-death struggle with the corporations. Even without Papa's presence, we said a prayer before we ate. Emily saw to that. The passages she chose and the way she read them should have made me suspicious but I was so happy about our adventure that I barely noticed.
    She