Child of Darkness (30 page)

"Wonderful new opportunity? That's why you made me so sexy for him, to please him? You wanted to get him off your back," I said, not meaning to make it sound like a pun.
"But you do please him!" she said. "More than I do."
"Like that's an accomplishment? The clothes, the jewelry, the school, the car! All of it was like a bribe?"
"Don't you enjoy it all? Don't you want to keep it forever? You don't want to go back to that life you had in an orphanage? Even with that old house and land you supposedly own, you won't have anything close to this. I've taught you how to appreciate the good things, haven't I? You're getting something wonderful in return. You will go to one of the best colleges someday."
"And they thought my family was crazy," I muttered. "You can't just use people like this," I said, shaking my head at her. "It's horrible."
"Are you saying you'd be willing to give all this up?"
"Of course I'm saying that, Ami."
"You're not thinking right," she insisted. She stood up and smiled. "You're still having problems from the pills, and it's affecting your thinking. After a little rest, when you give everything deep thought--"
"I'll never agree to such a thing," I said, as thinly as I could.
My head was pounding. I squeezed my temples with my thumb and fingers.
"I'm tired. I've got to get some sleep," I said.
"Of course you do. Everything will be different once you've had some rest," she said.
I shook my head at her.
"I really do feel sorry for you," I said, and lowered my head to the pillow.
She came to the bed.
"I didn't want to hurt you. I don't. I'm making sure you have the best things in life. Please believe me," she said.
"I believe you. I believe you really think that," I said.
She misunderstood and smiled.
"I knew you would."
I shook my head and licked my lips. They felt so dry, about to crack.
"I'm thirsty," I said, reaching for my glass of water. She handed it to me eagerly.
For a moment I distrusted even that, and first I smelled the water. There was no odor, so I drank it. I didn't realize how dehydrated I was. I nearly emptied the glass, and then she took it from me and put it on the table.
"I'm only doing what's best for both of us," she said. "You'll have to trust me."
I didn't like the way she said that. I glanced at the water glass again. She wouldn't dare give me another pill. She wouldn't, I thought.
But it was too late.
I could feel it taking effect immediately, as I still had some of the previous dosage working inside me. I felt her brush my hair and then lift my nightgown to my waist and fold over my blanket until it was down below my knees, as if she was preparing me for sacrifice in some ancient ritual.
I could feel myself trying to bring a scream for help up out of the depths of my very being, but it was too heavy. It faltered and fell back. I was waving my arms and kicking my legs, but I had no control of where and how they moved. My whole body was in turmoil, in free fall. I was like a pilot who had lost all of his controls and could only sit and watch the winds carry the plane randomly to some disaster. I felt just as trapped and helpless inside my own body.
Sometime after Ami left--I had no idea how long--I felt myself being lifted and was vaguely aware of my feet touching the floor. A very strong arm was around my waist. I was limp, but lying against someone so strong, I dreamed I was leaning against a tree. Once or twice my body left the ground, and I was actually being carried along. I put up no resistance. I remember thinking, It's not my body anymore anyway. Forget about it. It's going away from you. Let him do what he wants to it. It doesn't matter.
I floated into sleep even while I was moving, and when I woke up, I was just as confused as I had been the first time I had been drugged, if not more so. These surroundings were so unfamiliar, I thought I might still be sleeping and dreaming.
I was in a much smaller room with two small windows, the curtains drawn closed, but sheer enough to let in some daylight. It gave the room an eerie glow, a look of dusk.
There was a dark wood dresser with a large black candle flickering on the top of it. To the right of the dresser was a small gray settee. The bed I was in was a quarter of the size of the bed I had in my room, and a cream-colored comforter was pulled up to my chin. Above me a ceiling fan turned very slowly. I closed and then opened my eyes to see if it would all be gone, but it wasn't. Then I turned ever so slowly to my left. I felt eyes on me.
There sat Mrs. Cukor, staring at me.
"Where am I?" I asked her.
"You're in my room," she said.
"How did I get here?"
"I brought you here," she said. "You've been here all night."
"What time is it?"
"It's nearly one o'clock," she said.
One thing I noticed about her right away was there was none of that gloom and doom in her voice. She sounded softer.
"Don't worry," she continued. "They have no idea you're in here. They think you somehow wandered out of the house. The front door was left open. Perhaps your spirit has already left. You have to catch up to it."
"What are you talking about?" I struggled to sit up and my head spun.
She reached to her side and handed me a glass of a strange-colored liquid.
"Drink this," she said.
I grimaced.
"You'll recognize it," she said confidently.
I took it and brought it to my lips slowly, inhaling. There were familiar aromas.
"It's an Old World herbal mixture. Some ivy, some juniper, of course some garlic, and a little of my own ingredients. Drink it fast," she said. "It will help purify your blood."
Memories of Mama's drinks returned, giving me the trust and faith I needed. I drank it all as quickly as I could. Something in it warmed my chest and stomach.
"Rest a while," she said, urging me to lower my head to the pillow again.
"Why did you bring me here?"
She just smiled at me.
"You know why," she said.
My mind was still so cloudy, but I began to recall my conversation with Ami and all that had happened. It made me want to cry, and I couldn't help but start to sob.
"No, no," she said. "You must be stronger now, not weaker. You can cry later if you want," she said.
"But why are you suddenly helping me? I thought you hated me."
"I didn't hate you. I hate what was coming in here with you, or what was coming back here because of you."
"You knew from the start what they wanted to do with me?"
"No, not exactly, but it wasn't long before I. . ." "Before what?"
"Was told," she said.
"Told? Who told you?"
She smiled again.
"You know. You had stopped listening to the voices, but I never stopped."
Could it be? Should I ask?
"Was it. . . Noble?"
"I don't know any names. I heard a voice that whispered in my ear every night and told me to be vigilant. That was why I did what I could."
"And that was why you put those things in my bed, on my door?"
"And more that you don't even know about," she said. "It wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry. That's why I brought you here now."
"They'll be very angry at you now," I said.
She shook her head.
"It doesn't matter. They can't do me any harm."
"Why are they so afraid of you?"
"Mrs. Emerson is afraid of her own shadow," she said. "She's up in her room, sedated in fact. I brought her the pills myself. She'll sleep away most of the day."
"And Wade?"
"He left very early for work this morning. He doesn't know any of it yet."
"But Basil. . . why should he put up with you once he finds out what you've done?"
She took on a look that turned her face into cold stone for a moment, her marbled eyes gazing into a memory. When she spoke, it was almost as if someone from beyond was speaking through her. Her voice was that different.
"There are so many different ways to sign over your soul to the devil," she said. "When you swallow a great lie, it festers and eats away at your spirit. That was what happened to the first Mrs. Emerson. I did all I could with her, too, but it was too great a dark secret to keep buried in her craw. I watched her weaken and weaken with time."
She sighed deeply, her voice softening again. "She was tortured by her own power to love."
"How can that be? How can you be tortured by love?"
"Who she loved was not her own," she said. "What agony it was for her to look upon what should have been her own and mourn the death of a child never born. I stood by and watched her cry inside herself whenever she smiled or hugged Wade or kissed his cheeks."
"You mean Wade was not her son?"
She shook her head.
"He's Mr. Emerson's son, but it wasn't his wife who gave birth to him in this house. I delivered him myself," she said.
"Where is his real mother?"
"In her own hell, I imagine. I don't know where she is. She was given money and sent away. She was a helpless young girl, not much older than you are. The first Mrs. Emerson did everything to have people believe the baby was her own, isolating herself from society, fabricating a pregnancy she wished so hard was true."
"Why did she do it?"
"She was that devoted to Mr. Emerson, and her heart wouldn't let her cast a child into the wind. Only she and I and Mr. Emerson knew the truth, and now it is only he and I."
"Wade never was told?"
"Never. There's no reason to tell him now," she said. "Mr. Emerson came to believe that he, himself, had been the cause of evil being brought into the house, his wife's death and then his son's and his daughter-in-law's failure to give him the grandchild he believes in his heart will somehow redeem him. From time to time, in one of his drunken states, he'd confide as much to me. I don't disagree, nor do I comfort him in any way."
"So he keeps you here because he's afraid you'll tell what you know, and because he thinks you can protect him with your candles and herbs and powers?"
"I can't protect him against himself," she said. "He's really a very lonely man. So is young Mr. Emerson, and especially so is Ami Emerson."
"We're all orphans in one way or another, aren't we?" I thought aloud.
She just smiled softly and nodded.
"What will happen when they do find out I'm in this room?"
"They won't," she said. "Rest. Let the medicine help you. I'll bring down clothes for you, and things you'll need."
She stood up.
"Then what?" I asked.
"Then you should go home," she said, as if it was the simplest and clearest answer of all. "Surely you know that," she said, and quietly left the room.
I fell asleep again, but when I woke this time, I felt stronger and my mind was clearer. Like Mama's wonder cures, Mrs. Cukor's had done what it was intended to do. I saw a suitcase on the floor to the right of the door and a pair of jeans, a warm blouse and sweater, a pair of shoes, socks, and panties neatly laid out on the small settee.
I sat up slowly and then slipped my feet into the pair of slippers that had been left beside the bed. I was still in my nightgown. Never having been down this side of the house, I didn't know where the bathroom was exactly. I opened the door carefully, making as little noise as I could, and listened first. The house was very quiet, so I stepped out and saw that the bathroom was just down the narrow hallway on the right.
The cold water felt good on my face. I couldn't believe how droopy my eyes were, however. My hair was a mess. It looked like mice had been trampling through it all night. When I came out of the bathroom, I con-fronted Mrs. McAlister, who was just stepping out of her room. I froze. She looked at me, but then jerked her head in that mechanical way and continued down the hallway as though I wasn't there.
Mrs. Cukor didn't return to her room until after I had dressed.
"You'll need this," she said, and handed me an envelope.
I opened it and looked at a stack of twentydollar bills.
"Where did this come from?" I asked her.
"Never mind that. You'll need it. There's a taxicab coming in a few minutes. It will take you into the city to the bus depot. You don't want to touch that man's car again," she added, before I could even mention the possibility.
"Thank you for helping me," I said.
"I'm not helping you as much as I'm helping him," she told me. "You're not the one who needs the help," she continued when she saw the confused expression on my face.
"Thank you anyway," I said.
She picked up my suitcase when I started to reach for it.
"I carried it in; carry it out," she said. I thought it might have some superstitious meaning for her, so I didn't resist. I wasn't exactly feeling like a ball of fire anyway.
"And Ami?"
"Still in her room."
"I wish I could say good-bye to Wade," I thought aloud.
"I'll say good-bye for you when the time is right for such a thing," she said.
I followed her out and down the hallway to the main part of the house. How empty it seemed to me now, despite all its luxurious furnishings, the artwork and expensive accessories in every room. Our footsteps even seemed to echo. I paused at the office door and gazed at the painting of the first Mrs. Emerson. Now I understood that cryptic half smile on her face, I thought. Mrs. Cukor saw what I was looking at and then urged me to continue.
The phone rang, and Mrs. McAlister stuck her head out of the kitchen doorway to tell us that a taxicab was waiting down at the gate.
"Well, let the man in, you fool," Mrs. Cukor snapped at her. "You don't expect me to walk the length of that driveway with this, do you?"
Mrs. McAlister disappeared quickly back into the kitchen. Mrs. Cukor shook her head, glanced at me, and continued toward the front door. I paused once again to look up the stairway, half expecting to see Ami at the top, looking down at me. She wasn't there, of course.
I stepped out behind Mrs. Cukor. The afternoon sun was very bright, making my eyes tear and forcing me to shade them as I watched the glittering taxicab come up the driveway. As soon as it came to a stop, Mrs. Cukor rushed to the rear door and opened it. The driver stepped out and came around to take the suitcase from her so he could put it into the trunk.
I hesitated, trying to think of a way to thank her again.
"There's nothing to say," she told me. She had a touch of clairvoyance, for sure. "What's done is done, and what must be done will be done. Go find yourself and where you belong," she advised.
I got into the taxicab, and she closed the door and folded those heavy arms across her bosom, standing back like a palace guard who'd give her life before surrendering. Her face was that firm, her eyes that determined. I pressed my palm against the window, and she at least nodded at me as the taxicab began to leave. I looked back and saw that she didn't move until we were actually out the gate, and then we made a turn and she was gone.