Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

all about it, don't you, Eugenia? Don't you?"
    Her chest lifted. I heard Papa and Doctor Cory come in behind me. Her chest fell and her throat rattled again, only this time her mouth opened. Doctor Cory put his fingers on the sides of her throat and then opened her eyelids. I looked up at him as he turned toward Papa and shook his head.
    "I'm sorry, Jed," he said. "She's gone."
    "NOOOO!" I screamed. "NOOOOO!"
    Doctor Cory closed Eugenia's eyes.
    I screamed again and again. Louella had her arms around me and was lifting me from the bed, but I didn't feel her. I felt as if I were floating off with Eugenia, as if I had turned to air. I looked toward the doorway for Mamma, but she wasn't there.
    "Where's Mamma?" I asked Louella. "Where is she?"
    "She couldn't come back," she said. "She ran up to her room."
    I shook my head in disbelief. Why wouldn't she want to be here for Eugenia's last moments? My dumbfounded gaze went to Papa, who stood staring down at Eugenia's body. His lips quivered, but he didn't cry. His shoulders lifted and slumped and then he turned and walked away. I looked at Doctor Cory.
    "How could this happen so quickly?" I cried. "It's not fair."
    "She often ran high fevers," he said. "Often had influenza. This one just snuck up on us. She never had a strong heart and all the illness took its toll." He shook his head. "You better be strong now, Lillian," he said. "Your mother's going to need a strong person to lean on."
    Right now, I wasn't worried about Mamma. My heart had been cut too deeply to care about anything or anyone else but my dead sister. I looked at her, shriveled by her disease, diminished and tiny in her big, soft bed and all I could do was think of her laughter, her bright eyes, her excitement whenever I would rush into the room after school to tell her the day's events.
    Funny, I thought, because I had never thought it before, but I had needed her almost as much as she had needed me. As I walked from her room through the long, dark corridors to the stairway of the great house, I realized how desperately alone I would be from now on. I had no sister to talk to, to tell my deepest secrets to, no one to confide in and trust. Living through the things I did and felt, Eugenia had become a part of me, and that's how I felt right now—like a part of me had died. My legs carried me up the stairs, but I didn't feel like I was walking. I felt like I was floating along, drifting.
    After I reached the landing and turned to go to my room, I lifted my head and saw Emily standing in the shadows of the first corner. She stepped forward, as stiff as a statue, her hands clutching her thick Bible. Her fingers looked chalk white against the dark leather cover.
    "She began to die the day you set eyes on her," Emily recited. "The dark shadow of your curse fell over her tiny soul and drowned it in the evil you brought with you to this house."
    "No," I cried. "That's not true. I loved Eugenia; I loved her more than you could love anyone," I flared, but she remained steadfast, undaunted.
    "Gaze upon the Book," she said. Her eyes were so firmly focused on me, she looked like she had hypnotized herself. She lifted the Bible and held it face out toward me. "Within are the words that will send you back to hell, words which are arrows, darts, knives to your evil soul."
    I shook my head.
    "Leave me alone. I am not evil. I am not!" I screamed, and ran from her, ran from her accusing eyes and her hateful words, ran from her stone face, her bony hands and stiff body. I ran into my room and slammed my door behind me. Then I fell upon my bed and cried until I was drained of tears.
    The shadow of Death crawled over The Meadows and cloaked the house. All the laborers and servants, Henry and Tottie, everyone was subdued and stood or sat with heads bowed in prayer. Everyone who had known Eugenia shed tears. I heard people going from and coming to the house all the rest of the afternoon. Deaths, just like births, always started a flurry of activity on the plantation. Eventually, I got up and went to the window. Even the birds seemed repressed and sad, sitting on the branches of the magnolias and cedars like sentinels watching over some sacred ground.
    I stood by the window and watched night come rolling in like a summer storm, drawing the shadows out of every corner. But there were stars, lots of stars, some twinkling brighter than ever.
    "They're welcoming Eugenia," I whispered. "It's her goodness that's making them twinkle so