Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

thing to do. Mean thing," he muttered, and left.
    "Where are you going?" Eugenia asked when I rose from the bed, tired and listless.
    "Back upstairs, to sleep. I'm exhausted."
    "Will you come back after dinner?"
    "I'll try," I said. I hated myself this way, hated feeling sorry for myself, especially in front of Eugenia who had more reason to feel sorry for herself than anyone I knew, but my hair had been so beautiful. Its length and texture, its softness and its rich color had made me feel older and more feminine. I knew how boys gazed at me. Now, no one would look at me except to laugh at the little idiot who got herself sprayed by a skunk.
    Late in the afternoon, Tottie came by to tell me Niles had come to the front door to ask after Eugenia and me.
    "Oh, Tottie, did you tell him what happened? You didn't, did you?" I cried.
    Tottie shrugged.
    "I didn't know what else to tell him, Miss Lillian."
    "What did you say? What did you tell him?" I demanded quickly.
    "I just told him you got sprayed by a skunk in the toolshed and you had to cut your hair off."
    "Oh no."
    "He's still downstairs," Tottie said. "Mrs. Booth's talking to him."
    "Oh no," I moaned again, and fell back on the bed. I was so embarrassed, I didn't think I could ever let him look at me again.
    "Mrs. Booth, she says you should come down and say hello to your gentleman caller."
    "Come down! Never. I'm not leaving this room. I'm not and tell her it's Emily's fault."
    Tottie left and I pulled the blanket up around myself again. Mamma didn't come up to see me. She retreated to her music and her books. The afternoon passed into the early evening. I heard Papa come home, heard his heavy footsteps in the hallway. When he reached my door, I held my breath, expecting him to come in to see what had been done and ask me what had happened, but he walked past my door. Either Mamma hadn't told him or she had made it sound like nothing, I thought sadly. Later, I heard him go by on his way down to dinner and again, he didn't stop. Tottie was sent up to tell me dinner was ready, but I told her I wasn't hungry. Not five minutes later, she returned huffing and puffing from her run up the stairs to tell me Papa insisted I come down.
    "The Captain says he don't care if you eat a morsel, but you get yourself in your seat," Tottie related. "He looks angry enough to butcher all the hogs in one fell swoop," she added. "You'd better come down, Miss Lillian."
    Reluctantly, I rose from the bed. Numbly, I gazed at myself in the mirror. I shook my head trying to deny what I saw, but it wouldn't go away. I nearly burst into fresh tears. Louella had done the best she could, of course, but she was just out to cut my hair down as short as she could. Some strands were longer than others and my hair looked jagged around the ears. I tied one of Mamma's scarves around my head and went downstairs.
    Emily's smile was faint and sardonic as I took my place at the table. Then her expression changed until her face was carved in her habitual look of disapproval, her back straight, her arms folded. The Bible was opened on the table before her. I gave her the most hateful glare I could, but all it did was brighten the look of pleasure in those gray orbs.
    Mamma smiled. Papa scrutinized me sharply, his mustache twitching.
    "Take off that scarf at the dinner table," he commanded.
    "But Papa," I moaned, "I look horrible."
    "Vanity is a sin," he said. "When the Devil wanted to tempt Eve in Paradise, he told her she was as beautiful as God. Take it off." I hesitated, hoping Mamma would come to my aid, but she sat there quietly, a pained look on her face. "Take it off, I said!" Papa demanded.
    I did so, my eyes down. When I glanced up, I saw how pleased Emily was.
    "Next time you'll pay more attention to where you're going and what's happening around you," Papa said.
    "But Papa . . ."
    He put his hand up before I could continue.
    "I don't want to hear no more about this incident. I heard enough from your mother. Emily . . ."
    Emily's face smiled as much as it ever did and she gazed down at the Bible.
    "'The Lord is my shepherd,' " she began. I didn't hear her reading. I sat there, my heart as cold as stone. Tears streamed down my cheeks and dripped off my chin, but I didn't wipe them away. If Papa noticed, he didn't care. As soon as Emily finished her reading, he began to eat. Mamma started to relate the new gossip she had learned at her luncheon. Papa appeared to listen, nodding occasionally and even