Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

as pretty as you look now. Good night, honey," she added, and left.
    I didn't eat much; my eyes were on the clock most of the time. I tried to envision what was happening at every hour. Now the guests were arriving. The music was playing. The twins were greeting everyone at the door. I felt sorry for Niles, who I knew had to take his position with the family and look happy and excited. Surely, he was thinking of me. A while later, I imagined people were dancing. If I were there, Niles would have asked me. I let my imagination carry me off. I began to hum and move around my small room, envisioning Niles's hand on my waist and my hand in his. Everyone at the party was watching us. We were the most handsome young couple there.
    When the music stopped, Niles suggested we get something to eat. I went over to the tray Vera had brought up and nibbled on something, pretending Niles and I were feasting on roast beef and turkey and salads. After we ate, the music started again and again we were on the dance floor. I was floating in his arms.
    "De da, de da, de, da, da, da," I sang, and swirled around my bedroom until I heard a rapping on my window and caught myself. I gasped and looked out at a dark figure staring in. He tapped on the window again. My heart was pounding. Then I heard my name and rushed to the window. It was Niles.
    "What are you doing? How did you get up here?" I cried after throwing the window up.
    "I climbed, shimmied up the rough gutter pipe. Can I come in?"
    "Oh Niles," I said, looking at my door. "If Emily should find out . . ."
    "She won't. We'll keep our voices down."
    I stepped back and he entered. He looked so handsome in his suit and tie, even though his hair was wild from the climbing and his hands were black with dirt from the gutter pipe and the roof.
    "You'll ruin your clothes. Look at you," I declared, standing back. There was a streak of dirt across his left cheek. "Go into my bathroom and wash up," I ordered. I tried to sound upset and critical, but my heart was bursting with joy. He laughed and hurried into the bathroom. A few moments later, he came out, wiping his hands on the towel.
    "Why did you do this?" I asked. I was sitting on my bed, my hands in my lap.
    "I decided without you the party was no fun anyway. I stayed for everything I had to stay for and then I snuck away. No one's even going to notice. There are so many people there and my sisters are very occupied. Their dance cards are filled for the night."
    "Tell me about the party. Is it everything it was supposed to be? Are the decorations wonderful? And the music, is the music wonderful."
    He just stood there, smiling at me.
    "Slow down," he said. "Yes, the decorations came out great and the music is very good, but don't ask me what other girls are wearing. I wasn't looking at other girls; I was thinking only of you."
    "Go on, Niles Thompson. With all those pretty young women there . . ."
    "I'm here, aren't I?" he pointed out. "Anyway," he said, stepping back to drink me in, "you look rather beautiful for a shut-in."
    "What? Oh," I said, blushing. I realized I had been caught in the midst of my make-believe. "I . . ."
    "I'm glad you dressed up like this. It makes me feel you are at the party. Well now, Miss Lillian," he said with a sweeping bow, "might I have the pleasure of dancing with you or is your card filled?"
    I laughed.
    "Miss Lillian?" he asked again.
    I stood up.
    "I do have a spare dance or two," I said.
    "How delightful," he said, and took my hand. Then he put his hand on my waist just the way I imagined he would have, and we began to move to our own music.
    For a moment, when I closed my eyes and then opened them and caught sight of ourselves in my vanity mirror, I believed we were at the party. I could hear the music and the voices and laughter of other people. He had closed his eyes too, and we moved around and around until we bumped into my night table and sent the lamp flying to the floor, the glass shattering.
    For a moment neither of us moved or said a thing. We listened for footsteps in the hallway. I indicated we should be silent and knelt down to pick up the bigger pieces of glass. One piece cut my finger and I cried out. Niles seized my hand instantly and pressed my wounded finger to his lips.
    "Go wash it," he said. "I'll finish cleaning this up. Go on."
    I did so, but I wasn't in the bathroom a moment when I heard footsteps outside my room. I poked my head out to warn Niles, who quickly went down on his