Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

be afraid. You'll see," she threatened, and then pivoted on her heels and marched away.
    I walked slowly after her, trying to make sense out of what she had said.
    Mamma was waiting in the sitting room for me when I entered the house. She got up and came out to greet me. The moment she saw the mud-stained dress and shoes, she uttered a cry, her hands fluttering up to her throat like frightened little birds.
    "What happened?" she asked tearfully.
    "I fell into a puddle this morning on the way to school, Mamma."
    "Oh, you poor dear." She held out her arms and I ran to her, ran to her embrace and her comforting kisses. She took me upstairs and I pulled off my new dress and shoes. "There's mud all over your neck and hair. You'll have to take a bath. Emily didn't say a word about this. She just marched into the house as usual and went right to her room. I'm going to have a word or two with her right away. In the meanwhile, you take that bath," Mamma said.
    "Mamma," I called as she started toward my door. She turned around.
    "What?"
    "Emily said I wasn't her sister; she said your sister was my real mother and she died giving birth to me," I told her, and waited, holding my breath, anticipating Mamma's denial and laughter at such a fantastic story. But instead, she looked troubled and confused.
    "Oh dear," Mamma said. "She promised."
    "Promised what, Mamma?"
    "Promised not to tell until you were much, much older. Oh dear," Mamma said. She screwed her face into as angry an expression as she was capable of having. "The Captain is going to be furious with her, too," she added. "I declare that child has a streak in her and where it came from I'll never know."
    "But Mamma, she said I wasn't her sister."
    "I'll tell you all about it, honey," Mamma promised. "Don't cry."
    "But Mamma, does that mean Eugenia's not my sister, either?"
    Mamma bit down on her lower lip and looked as if she was going to cry herself.
    "I'll be right back," she said, and hurried away. I flopped back on my bed and stared after her.
    What did all this mean? How could Mamma and Papa not be my mamma and papa and Eugenia not be my sister?
    This day was supposed to be one of the happiest days of my life, the day I started school, but at that moment, it appeared to be the most dreadful day I had ever lived.

 
    2
NO DENYING THE TRUTH
     
    When Mamma returned to talk to me, I was curled up in bed with the blanket drawn up to my chin. Shortly after she had left me, I was seized with a terrible chill that made my teeth click. Even with my blanket wound tightly around my body, I couldn't get warm enough to stop shivering. I felt as if I had fallen into that cold puddle again.
    "Oh, you poor dear," Mamma lamented, and hurried to my side. She thought I had gone to bed only because of the terrible things that had been said. She brushed back the strands of my hair that had dropped over my forehead and kissed me on the cheek. The moment she did so, she sat up sharply. "You're burning up!" she said.
    "No, I'm not, Mamma. I'm co . . . co . . . cold," I told her, but she shook her head.
    "You must have gotten a chill after you fell into that puddle and walked around all day in a damp dress. Now you've got a terrible fever. The teacher should have sent you home directly."
    "No, Mamma. I got my dress dry and Miss Walker gave me half of her own sandwich," I said. Mamma gazed at me as if I were babbling gibberish and shook her head. Then she pressed her palm to my forehead again and gasped.
    "You're scorching. I've got to send for Doctor Cory," she decided, and rushed out to find Henry.
    Ever since Eugenia had been born with a lung ailment, the smallest sign of illness in me, Emily or Papa stirred a tempest of worry in Mamma. She would pace about and wring her hands. Her face would whiten with panic, her eyes become washed in anxiety. Old Doctor Cory had been called here so often that Papa said his horse could make the trip blindfolded. Sometimes, Mamma was in such a frenzy, she would insist that Henry bring him immediately in our carriage and not wait for him to harness his horses to his own.
    Doctor Cory lived on the north side of Upland Station in a small house. He was a Northerner who had been brought South by his family when he was only six. Papa called him a "converted Yankee." Doctor Cory was one of the first residents of Upland Station to have a telephone installed, but we still had none. Papa said that if he put one of those gossip machines in the house, Mamma would