Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

wore on, more and more of our neighbors heard about Eugenia's passing and arrived to express their condolences. Emily took her position alongside the minister just inside the door of Eugenia's room. She was beside the minister most of the time, her head bowed with his, her lips moving almost in synchronization with his as he recited prayers and psalms. At one point I even heard her correct him when he slipped on a sentence.
    The men retreated as quickly as they could and joined Papa in his den for a whiskey, while the women gathered around Mamma and comforted her in the sitting room. She was sprawled out on her chaise most of the day, her long, black dress draped over the edges, her heart-shaped face pale. Her friends would come by, kiss and hug her, and she would cling to their hands for long moments while they sniffled and sobbed.
    Louella was ordered to prepare trays of food and drink and the house servants brought them around to our mourners. At one point in the afternoon, there were so many people present, it reminded me of one of our glorious parties. Voices did begin to rise. Here and there, I heard laughter. By late afternoon, the men were arguing politics and business with Papa as if this were no different from any of his other gatherings. I couldn't help but appreciate Emily who never smiled, barely ate, and never let go of her Bible. She stood her ground, a living reminder of the spiritual and pious reasons for the occasion. Most people couldn't stand looking at her or being around her long. I could see in their faces how she depressed them.
    Eugenia was to be buried in the family graveyard on The Meadows, of course. When the undertakers arrived with the coffin, I felt so weak in the knees, I couldn't stand. Just the sight of the dark oak box being carried in made me feel as if someone had punched me in the stomach. I went into my bathroom and vomited every little morsel I had managed to swallow that day.
    Mamma was asked if she wanted to go down and gaze upon Eugenia one more time before they closed the coffin lid. She couldn't do it, but I did. I had to find the strength to say my last good-bye to Eugenia. I entered the room slowly, my heart thumping. The minister greeted me at the door.
    "Your sister looks beautiful," he said. "They've done a fine job."
    I gazed up at his gaunt, bony face in astonishment. How could anyone look beautiful in death? Eugenia wasn't going to a party. She was about to be buried and shut away in darkness forever and ever, and if there was a Heaven for her soul to reside, how her body looked now had nothing to do with what she was to be for eternity.
    I turned away from him and approached the coffin. Emily was standing on the other side, her eyes closed, her head tilted slightly up as she pressed her Bible to her bosom. I wished I had come in to Eugenia's room late at night when no one was here. What I wanted to say to her, I didn't want anyone, especially Emily, to hear. I had to say it all silently.
    "Good-bye, Eugenia. I'll miss you forever. But whenever I laugh, I know I'll hear you laughing with me. Whenever I cry, I know I'll hear you crying too. I'll fall in love with someone wonderful for both of us and I'll love him twice as hard because you will be with me. Everything I do, I'll do for you, too.
    "Good-bye my dear sister, my little sister who never thought of me as anyone else but her sister. Good-bye, Eugenia," I whispered, and leaned over the coffin to place my lips on her cold cheek. When I stepped back, Emily's eyes snapped open like the eyes of a toy doll.
    She glared at me, her face suddenly full of terror. It was as if she saw someone or something else, something that frightened her to the bone. Even the minister was taken with her reaction and stepped back, his hand on his heart.
    "What is it, Sister?" he asked her.
    "Satan!" Emily screamed. "I see Satan!"
    "No, Sister," the minister said. "No."
    But Emily was firm. She lifted her arm up and straight at me, her finger pointing.
    "Get thee back, Satan," she ordered.
    The minister turned to me, his face now registering fear, too. I could read his thoughts in his look of terror. If Emily, his most devout follower, the most religious young person he had ever confronted, said she had a vision of Satan before her, it must be so.
    I ran from the room and went up to my own room to wait for the funeral to begin. The minutes seemed like hours. Finally, the time came and I went out to accompany Mamma and Papa. Papa had