Cutler 3 - Twilight's Child (25 page)

"We had better return to the dinner party before Mother has a fit," I said quickly, and I rushed off, feeling as if I were fleeing a dirty dream.

Claudine Monroe, Betty Ann's mother, held tight reign on the planning of Philip and Betty Ann's wedding. Mother tried to insert her opinions and ideas often, but her attempts were continually thwarted. As the wedding date drew closer Mother's complaints about the way she was being treated intensified.

"I feel as though I'm just another guest," she told me on the telephone one morning. "Now that woman (Mother had taken to calling Betty Ann's mother 'that woman') won't even answer my phone calls. I can only get her secretary . . . her secretary! She has a secretary to look after her social affairs, do you believe it? And I'm curtly told my messages will be delivered, yet that woman doesn't return the calls. Isn't that discourteous?"

"It's her wedding to plan, Mother. You had mine," I reminded her.

"Well, who else would have done it, if I hadn't? Besides, these people think they're above us, Dawn. I can't stand the way that woman talks down to me whenever we do talk. They think just because they live on the outskirts of the nation's capital and socialize with congressmen and senators, they're somehow better than we are," she complained.

"I'm sure it will be a very nice wedding, Mother. Why don't you just relax and enjoy having someone else do all the work for a change? If Betty Ann's mother is treating you like a guest, be a guest," I suggested.

"Yes, you're right. I shouldn't give her the benefit of my expertise. Let that woman do it on her own."

"I'm sure she has many professional advisers, Mother, and actually does very little on her own."

"Um . . . have you chosen the carpet for the master bedroom?" she asked, jumping to an area in which she felt she could have some input—my new house.

"I'm going with the beige," I said.

"Oh, that's such a mistake. You don't know how hard it is to keep that looking clean. Now, I think . . ."

It had gotten so that I could listen and not listen to Mother at the same time. I usually did paperwork while she babbled over the telephone, sensing when to respond with an "uh-huh" or a "yes." However, during this particular phone conversation she suddenly switched to a third topic with the shock of a headline announcement and seized my full attention. First she began to cry.

"What is it now, Mother?" I asked wearily.

"Clara Sue has left finishing school and moved in with a man," she announced, her voice crumbling.

"What? When?"

"It's been over a month, but I haven't had the strength to talk about it. I still don't, but I feel if I keep it all bottled up inside me, I will simply explode one day. All that money we've spent on her finishing school has been wasted. Bronson says there's nothing we can do or should do. She's over eighteen now."

"He's right, Mother. Not that she listened to anything you or Randolph told her before she was eighteen. What sort of man is she living with?" I asked. What I really meant was, what sort of a man would want to live with her?

"A man fifteen years older! And divorced, too," she cried. "With two children, a boy ten and a girl twelve!"

"Where did she meet him?" I wondered aloud.

"She went bowling," Mother replied, sighing. "Fortunately, people here don't know yet, but can you imagine what it is going to be like when they find out? And she intends to bring this man to Philip's graduation and wedding. I will be so disgraced—so embarrassed—but do you think she cares? Not one bit."

"Look at it this way, Mother," I said dryly, "someone else has to put up with her now."

"This is no time to be flippant, Dawn. It's a serious problem. At this period in my life I don't need anything to speed up my aging process. I'm thinking of taking those new skin treatments I read about."

"Mother, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times: anyone who wants to see wrinkles in your face has to use a magnifying glass," I said.

"I know you're just being nice, Dawn, but I can see myself in a mirror, can't I? Oh, this thing with Clara Sue," she moaned. "It will be the death of me. What should I do?"

"There's someone knocking on my office door, Mother," I said.

"I'm sure there's no one there, Dawn. You just want to get rid of me. Everyone just wants to get rid of me these days . . . Philip, that woman, Clara Sue, and now you, too," she sobbed. "Thank goodness I have Bronson."

"There really is someone knocking, Mother. We're in the season now," I reminded her.

"Oh, that hotel. It will always be my competition. First it was with Randolph, and then with Philip, and now with you."

"Responsibilities don't take care of themselves, Mother," I said.

"You sounded just like her when you said that, Dawn. Do you know that? Just like her."

"Mother . . ."

"No, Dawn, the hotel's all you think about or care about these days. Honestly, I don't know why it should be so important to you. Weil," she said, sighing deeply, "goodbye, then. As soon as the gossip about Clara Sue begins, tell me so I can prepare myself for the worst," she added before hanging up.

When I told Jimmy he thought the whole thing was amusing, but I couldn't imagine why Philip hadn't told me about Clara Sue. He called at least once a week now, sometimes twice. I was surprised to discover he didn't know.

"Mother never said a thing," he claimed, "and I haven't spoken to Clara Sue for months. An older man? And divorced? Well, what do you know about that? I wondered what she would eventually do with herself. She has no aptitude for anything, never cared much about the hotel, did terribly in school and wasn't interested in going to any college . . . oh, well," he said, "at least she will be out of everyone's hair."

Somehow I doubted that.

10

THERE WERE A GREAT NUMBER OF PEOPLE AT PHILIP'S GRADUATION. Jimmy and I drove down with Bronson and Mother in Bronson's limousine. I wanted to bring Christie, but Mother insisted it was no place for a child. When we arrived and took our seats, however, we saw dozens of children, many younger than Christie. I was sure she would have enjoyed seeing the ceremony.

It was a beautiful and warm spring day, so the college had the ceremony outside. Mother was a nervous wreck, of course, looking around expectantly every five minutes, anticipating Clara Sue's arrival with her "male friend," as Mother now referred to him.

The Monroes did not sit with us. They had a contingent of their own friends and relatives to sit with, and we had only a passing meeting with Betty Ann's parents. I decided Mother was right in referring to Claudine Monroe as "that woman," for she showed little interest in meeting me and Jimmy and was rather abrupt. After the introductions she was off to meet and greet other people. Stuart Monroe was a great deal warmer and friendlier. I decided that Betty Ann had inherited her plainness from her mother, who, although tall and stately in posture, was quite unremarkable in looks and had that same pale complexion and unshiny hair.

We took our seats only moments before the coordinating director gave his signal for the band to play the march.

"Where is she?" Mother muttered, her head turning every which way like a weathervane in a crosswind.

"Perhaps she decided at the last minute not to come," Bronson suggested.

"I hope so," Mother replied.

The music started, and the audience rose as the graduates began their walk to the stage. Philip smiled our way as soon as he appeared. Strands of his gold hair uncovered by his cap caught the sun's brightness, as did his blue eyes. Bronson had brought a camera and snapped pictures. As soon as all the graduates were on the stage we sat down, and the commencement festivities began. I had all but forgotten about Clara Sue until the middle of the main speaker's talk. He was a state senator and had everyone's rapt attention when suddenly we heard a wave of murmuring behind us, and we all turned to look.

Clara Sue and her "male friend" were coming down the center aisle, Clara Sue giggling at the disruption she was causing. She held her older man's hand and charged ahead, looking as though she were dragging him to a seat. But that wasn't what shocked everyone. It was what she was wearing—a short, tight black leather mini skirt and a flimsy white silk off-shoulder blouse that revealed more than just the top of her full bosom. In fact, as she bounced down the aisle in her spiked heels, it looked as if her breasts might pop up and out of the garment any moment.

Her hair was still permed, but fluffed out in a wild mane. She wore pounds of makeup: heavy blue eyeliner, a deep red lipstick and layers and layers of rouge. Her long gold leaf earrings dangled and swung as she pranced, deliberately turning every which way to smile at the gawking men.

Her "male friend" was tall and thin with prematurely graying hair. He had a thin nose and round eyes with an abundant mouth and sharply clipped jaw. Dressed in a gray suit and tie, he looked like some businessman Clara Sue had fished off the street to accompany her.

When Clara Sue finally found our aisle she stopped. Bronson had saved two seats beside him, which would keep Clara Sue as far away from Jimmy and me as possible. She disturbed everyone in her way, falling over one elderly gentleman as she approached us. His eyes goggled as her breasts spilled toward his face. Flustered, all he could do was wait until Clara Sue's "male friend" helped her back to her feet and guided her along, his hands on her hips. She plopped into the seat beside Bronson, laughing. Eyes glared angrily from every head around us. The commotion had reached the senator, who paused in his speech. Mercifully he continued, taking the attention from us.

If Mother could have crawled under her seat, she would have. She had slumped back and down as far as she could and stared ahead as though what was going on had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

"Sorry we're late," Clara Sue told Bronson in a giggle loud enough for anyone within five rows of us to hear, "but I misplaced the invitation and forgot the time."

"Shh," someone said.

"I've got to introduce Charlie," she moaned.

"After the speech," Bronson advised, and he put his forefinger to his lips. Clara Sue pouted and then caught my gaze. She glared hatefully at me, her eyes turning crystal hard and cola, and then she folded her arms under her scantily covered bosom and sat back like a sulking child.

Right after the speech ended the diplomas were handed out. Clara Sue, not interested in any of it, again attempted to introduce her "male friend." I could see Bronson thought it was best to get it all over with.

"This is Charlie Goodwin," Clara Sue said. "He owns his own bowling alley in Tampa. My stepfather and my mother," Clara Sue said, indicating Bronson and Mother.

Bronson shook his hand, but Mother simply batted her eyelashes and flashed a quick smile. Of course, Clara Sue made no attempt to introduce Jimmy and me. Bronson had to do that after the diplomas were handed out and the graduates began leaving the stage. When we were introduced, Charlie Goodwin moved his eyes over me as if he had the power to undress me with his gaze. I didn't like the way he tucked his mouth in at the corner when he smiled.

"Pleased to meet you," he said. His slim, bony hand seemed to slide over mine. I couldn't wait to pull my fingers away. He gave Jimmy only a passing glance and looked at me again. Immediately Clara Sue rubbed up against him and whispered into his ear. His eyes widened, and lie laughed. I could see he was titillated and thrilled by everything Clara Sue did and by the attention this young, voluptuous woman showered on him.

Just before Philip arrived Mother pulled Clara Sue aside. I couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Don't you realize what you're doing to me, dressing like that and making such a shocking entrance?" she cried. "And coming here with that—that man," she sputtered.

"Oh, please, Mother," Clara Sue responded. "Don't start. I'm very happy with Charlie."

"Happy? How can you be happy with a man twice your age?" Mother complained.

"He's not twice my age, and I like his gray hair," Clara Sue said. "It makes him look distinguished."

"Distinguished! That man hardly looks distinguished," Mother spat.

"Here comes Philip. I've got to introduce him," Clara Sue declared, and she rushed off before Mother could say another word. Mother was practically swooning with embarrassment at this point anyway, and we had to leave the graduation ceremony as soon as we had met and congratulated Philip and Betty Ann.

All the way home Mother moaned and cried about how much she had been disgraced by Clara Sue's behavior.

"Can you imagine what the Monroes must think of us? And what their friends must think? Poor Philip. I felt so sorry for him, too, especially when Clara Sue introduced that man in front of all Philip's college friends. What could she possibly want with such a person? Can anyone tell me?"

When neither Bronson nor I responded, she turned to Jimmy.

"What do you think, James?" she asked. "You were in the army; you should know about such things."

What Jimmy's being in the army had to do with it none of us knew, but Jimmy had an answer ready for her.

"It's just a rebellious fling," he said. Mother nodded. Then Jimmy leaned toward me, and under his breath he added, "I'm sure it won't be her last."

Philip insisted on returning to the hotel and working during the week before his wedding. Jimmy thought he would have too much on his mind to be of any real use, but Philip said if he didn't keep busy, he would go mad. We were only two weeks or so away from moving into our new house, and Philip spent a great deal of time over there with Jimmy checking on the finishing touches.

"I think the anticipation of getting married is driving Philip mad," Jimmy told me one evening.

"Why do you say that, Jimmy?" I asked. We were getting ready for bed.

"I don't mind him following me over to the house, and I don't even mind him hovering over my shoulder every time I look at something, but the questions . . ." Jimmy shook his head.

"Like what, Jimmy?"

"Like where exactly will our bed be located in our room? What side do you sleep on? Which closet is yours and which is mine? Why should he care about that? Today he sat at the vanity table and stared into the mirror the whole time I was in our suite. I left, and when I came back I thought he was gone, but I found him in the master bathroom, standing by the tub, just gazing down at it. He was in some kind of daze, because I had to call him three times to get his attention.

"I've heard about men acting that way when they're in love, but . . . What's the matter, Dawn?" Jimmy asked. "You have the strangest expression on your face." He laughed. "Actually, you look like someone who's seen a ghost. Is something wrong?"

"No," I said quickly. I smiled up at Jimmy. "Actually," I said, making it up as fast as I could, "I was just remembering how I was that day you came to New York to visit me at school. I was on pins and needles the whole time, and when you were late—"

"I remember," he said. "I was so nervous, but the moment I set eyes on you I stopped worrying. I knew we just had to be together; it just had to happen.

"Do you think Philip and Betty Ann have that kind of love?" Jimmy asked.

I turned away.

"I don't know, Jimmy. She appears to love him very much."

"Well, I'm just happy now that things ended up the way they did—that you turned out to be his sister and not mine. I don't know if I would ever have found anyone else," he said.

"Oh, Jimmy." Half undressed, I sat on the bed.

"Hey . . . you're crying. Why are you crying?" he asked, sitting beside me and putting his arm around my shoulder.

"I'm just happy I'm with you and you're with me," I said. "Really I am."

He smiled, and we kissed.

That night we tried once more to have our baby. I couldn't have wanted it any more than I did when we made love this time, but after we were finished and had kissed and turned away from each other to sleep, I had this empty feeling inside, this knowledge that we hadn't found the magic moment yet. I began to wonder if we ever would again. It was a frightening thought. What if the only child I would have was the one I had had with Michael? It would surely break Jimmy's heart. He craved family so and was constantly inquiring as to whether Mr. Updike's detective had made any headway in his search for Fern. I couldn't tell him that we had stopped searching because we had run into one dead end after another. I didn't have the courage to tell him that the facts were simply inaccessible to us; it was the law, and Mr. Updike had advised me that to pursue it was verging on something illegal.

My mind was in such a turmoil, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes and tried, I saw Philip standing in my nearly completed new bedroom, gazing licentiously at my vanity table and tub—but in my imagination I saw myself in the tub, taking a bath. I lifted my head, and suddenly there was Philip in the doorway, smiling down at me. I tried to get him to leave, but he stepped in further and offered to wash my back. I couldn't help but imagine him forcing himself on me again, running that washcloth over my shoulders and then down and over my breasts.

I moaned, frightened that these thoughts had even entered my mind. But it wasn't my fault, I told myself. It was Philip's. Somehow, slyly, surreptitiously, with the stealth of a fox in a chicken coop, he was creeping through the shadows and entering my world, first in little ways, and then bursting in upon me, upon my very thoughts.

I couldn't help but relive his sexual attack on me in the shower. I had been so frustrated, so trapped; I had been unable to shout out for fear I would bring attention. In the end I had been unable to hold him off.

And here I was feeling muzzled once again. I was afraid to mention anything to Jimmy, terrified of what he would do if he discovered any of this. In my heart I sensed he had some suspicions that just hadn't found their way into words yet. But someday they would, and when that day came . . . I groaned just imagining the crisis.

"Dawn?" Jimmy said. "Are you all right?"

"What? Oh, yes. I just had a bad dream," I said. "What was it about?"

"I don't want to talk about it. I'm all right. Really," I said.

He kissed me to reassure me, and then I did finally fall asleep, hoping that somehow I could put these fears to rest.

But one afternoon late in the week Philip wandered into my office and sat down. When I asked him what he wanted, he said nothing in particular; he just wanted to watch me work for a while. I sat back, unable to hide my annoyance.

"I don't think well under glass," I said. "Really, Philip, if you have nothing to do, why don't you go visit Mother? She's the one who's on pins and needles these days and could use your company."

Mother just dreaded the thought of attending Philip's wedding now that she knew for sure that Clara Sue and Charlie would be there. She was positive Clara Sue would do something terrible again, just as she had done at Philip's graduation, and embarrass the family. But despite her reticence, she couldn't help but be intrigued with the gala event. She went out of her way to find the most expensive, and most striking new gown. She had her personal hairdresser experiment with a half dozen different styles until she settled on one. Every day so far during the entire week before the wedding she had had facial treatments. She went on an intensive diet because she thought her waist was a little wide and her arms a little flabby. One day she was in a panic because she thought she saw the beginnings of a double chin. She came to the hotel to have me confirm it wasn't so.