Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

too. When that's done, I want you to sit yourself over there by that table and do the ciphering of these bills. I need to know what I got to pay out this month. Well," he said when I didn't move, "get to it, girl."
    "Yes, Papa," I said, and took his breakfast tray. "Oh, and on the way up, go into my office and get me a dozen of my cigars."
    "Yes, Papa."
    "And Lillian . . ."
    "Yes, Papa?"
    "Bring up that bottle of bourbon I have in the left-hand drawer and a glass. From time to time, I need something medicinal."
    "Yes, Papa," I said. I paused for a moment to see if there would be anything else. He closed his eyes so I hurried out of the room, my mind spinning. I thought Papa hated me and here he was asking me to do all these important and personal things for him. He must have concluded I was well on my way toward redemption, I thought. He certainly showed me he respected my abilities. With a little pride in my gait for the first time in months, I hurried down the corridor to the stairway. Emily was waiting for me at the bottom.
    "He's not choosing you over me because he likes you any better," she assured me. "He has decided and I have agreed that added burdens are what you need at this time. Do what he asks promptly and efficiently, but when you're finished, don't neglect your other penance," she said.
    "Yes, Emily."
    She looked at the empty tray.
    "Go on," she said. "Do what you were told to do."
    I nodded and hurried to the kitchen. On my return, I gathered all the things Papa wanted and brought them to his room. Then I went down to the linen closet and got fresh sheets. Changing Papa's bed was hard because I had to help him turn while I tugged at the linen beneath him. He groaned and shouted with pain and twice I stopped, expecting him to strike me for causing him discomfort. But he caught his breath and urged me on. I got the dirty sheet off and the clean sheet on. Then I changed his quilt and pillowcases. When that was over, I fetched him a clean nightshirt.
    "I need you to help me with this, Lillian," he said. He pulled the covers back and started to lift his nightshirt. "Come on now," he said. "I don't think you'll be surprised by what you see."
    I couldn't help but be embarrassed about it. Papa was naked underneath his shirt. I helped him lift the dirty one off, trying not to look, but except for the pictures I had seen in his books downstairs, I had never seen a man's naked form before and I couldn't help but be a bit curious. He caught my glance and stared at me a moment.
    "That's the way the good Lord made us, Lillian," he said in a strange, soft voice. I felt the heat rise into my neck and face and started to turn away to reach for his clean nightshirt, but he seized my arm so hard, I nearly screamed. "Take a good look, Lillian. You gonna see it again and again, for I want you to give me my sponge baths, understand."
    "Yes, Papa," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Papa reached over to pour himself some bourbon. He swallowed about two fingers of it quickly and then nodded toward the clean nightshirt.
    "Okay, help me put that on," he said. I did so. After that, Papa sat back in his clean bed and looked a lot more comfortable.
    "You can work on those papers now, Lillian," he said. He nodded toward them and the desk. I scooped them up quickly and went to the desk. I didn't realize how much my body was trembling until I started to jot down some numbers. My fingers shook so hard, I had to wait. When I turned, I caught Papa looking at me. He had lit one of his cigars and poured himself some more bourbon.
    A half hour later, he fell asleep and snored. I put all the totals down neatly in his books next to the proper categories and then rose slowly and tiptoed toward the door. I heard him moan and waited, but he didn't open his eyes.
    He was still sleeping when I brought up his lunch. I waited at his bedside until his eyes snapped open. He looked confused for a moment and then pulled himself up, groaning.
    "If you want, Papa," I said. "I'll feed this to you."
    He stared at me a moment and then nodded. I spooned the hot soup to him and he took it like a baby. I even wiped his lips with the napkin. Then I buttered his bread and poured him his coffee. He ate and drank silently, staring strangely at me all the while.
    "I've been thinking," he said. "It's too much trouble for me to go shouting every time I need something, especially if I need it in the middle of the night."
    I waited, not understanding.
    "I want