Dawn (Cutler 1) - Page 69

"I set out looking for you as soon as I arrived," Philip said, not taking a step closer. "I haven't even unpacked. I just threw down my things and asked Mrs. Boston where I could find you. She told me Grandmother

put you downstairs and started you working as a chambermaid," he added. "That's my grandmother—I mean, our grandmother—for you."

He paused again. The silences between our sentences were deep, and the small distance between us seemed like miles. Rapid and dramatic events had made him feel like a stranger to me. I was having trouble thinking of things to say and how to say them.

But suddenly he smiled the same way he always had with that twinkle in his eyes, that impish grin in his face. He shook his head.

"I can't think of you as my sister. I can't. This is too much," he said.

"What can we do, Philip? It's true."

"I don't know." He kept shaking his head. "So," he said, stepping closer, "how do you like the hotel? It's quite a place, isn't it? The grounds are beautiful. When it's not raining like this," he added.

"I've only been able to explore the inside of the hotel. I haven't had much of a chance to explore outside," I said. "Mostly, I've been working and spending time alone in my room."

"Oh." His smile widened. "Well, now that I've arrived, you will have more to do. I'll show you every nook and cranny. I'll re-explore everything with you, show you my favorite places, my old hiding places . . ."

For a moment we let our gazes lock. My face felt hot, my heart raced. What did he see when he looked at me? Did he still think me the nicest and prettiest girl he had met?

"On your day off," he continued quickly, "we'll walk along the beach and look for seashells and—"

"I don't have a day off," I said.

"What? No day off? Of course you do. Everybody gets a day off. I'll speak to Mr. Stanley right away about it."

I shrugged and put my polishing cloth and polish in my little cart. He came closer.

"Dawn," he said, reaching for my hand. When his fingers touched mine, I pulled away instinctively. I couldn't help it. What had once been thrilling now seemed as soiled as the linens I changed every morning. It felt wrong to look deeply into his eyes, wrong to hear him speak softly to me, wrong to have him care about me. I even felt guilty talking to him alone in the card room.

"Not a day has passed when I didn't think about you and what a horror you've been going through. I wanted to call you, even to leave school and come home to see you, but Grandmother thought it would be better to wait," he said, and I looked up at him sharply.

"Grandmother?"

"Yes."

"What did you tell her about us?" I asked quickly.

"Tell her?" He shrugged as if it had all been so simple and so harmless. "Just how you and I had become such good friends and what a wonderful person you were and how beautifully you sang. She asked me about your mother and father, and I told her about your mother's illness and death and how surprised I was to learn what they had done."

"I don't know why they did what they did or why any of this happened," I said, shaking my head. I looked away to hide the tears in my eyes.

"Grandmother felt the same way. It had been a terrible surprise to her, too, when it happened," he said. I spun around.

"Why . . . why did you call your grandmother? Why didn't you speak with . . . your father or mother?" It was still hard for me to think of them as my parents, too.

"Oh, I've always gone to Grandmother for most things," he replied, smiling. "She's always been in charge. At least, as long as I can remember, and . . . you've met Mother," he said, raising his eyes toward the ceiling. "She's having a hard enough time about it all as it is. Father would only ask Grandmother for advice anyway if I had called him. She's quite a woman, isn't she?"

"She's a tyrant," I snapped.

"What?" He kept his smile.

"She wants to change my name from Dawn to Eugenia, only I won't agree. She's insisting everyone in the hotel call me Eugenia, and they're all afraid to do otherwise."

"I'll talk to her. I’ll get her to understand, you'll see."

"I don't care if she understands or not. I won't change my name to please her," I declared firmly.

He nodded, impressed with my determination. We stared at each other again.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Cutler Horror
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