Dawn (Cutler 1)

That evening I was permitted to sit with my family in the dining room for dinner. The news about my leaving for a performing arts school spread quickly throughout the hotel. Staff members who had previously resented me wished me luck. Even some guests had heard and had something nice to say. My mother made one of her miraculous recoveries. In fact, I had never seen her look more radiantly beautiful. Her hair had a sheen, her eyes were bright and young; she laughed and spoke with more animation than she had ever before demonstrated. To her everything was delicious, people were delightful; it was the most wonderful summer in ages. She rattled on and on about our upcoming shopping spree.

"I have some friends who live in Manhattan," she said, "and first thing in the morning I'm calling them to find out what is in style these days. We don't want you going off and looking like the farmer's daughter," she said and laughed. Randolph found her laughter contagious and was livelier and more charming than ever, too.

Only Clara Sue sat with a dark, dejected look on her face. She glared at me enviously, her emotions confused. She was getting rid of me, which I knew made her happy because once again she would be the little princess and wouldn't have to share the limelight with me in any way; but I was going off to do something very exciting, and I was being pampered, not her.

"I need some new things, too," she complained when she was able to get a word in.

"But you have so much more time, Clara Sue, honey," Mother said. "We'll go shopping for your things closer to the end of the summer. Eugenia is going to New York in a few days. New York!"

"Dawn," I corrected. My mother glanced at me and then at Grandmother Cutler. She saw there was no reprimand pending. "My name is Dawn," I repeated softly.

Mother laughed.

"Of course, if you like and everyone agrees," she said, eyeing Grandmother Cutler again.

"It's what she's used to," Grandmother Cutler said. "If she wants to change her name some time in the future, she can."

Clara Sue looked surprised and upset at the same time. I smiled at her, and she looked away quickly.

Grandmother Cutler and I exchanged a knowing glance. We exchanged a few that evening. Now that our major confrontation was over, I found her acting different toward me, just as she had promised. When some guests stopped by and asked about my singing, she claimed there was an uncle in our family who used to sing and play a violin.

As I gazed around the table, I realized everyone was happy I was leaving, but for different reasons. Grandmother Cutler never wanted me; my mother found me a threat and an embarrassment now; Randolph was sincerely happy for me and my new opportunity; and Clara Sue was happy she was losing her competition for the family's attention. Only Philip, working his waiter's job, cast confused glances in my direction.

After dinner and after I had sat in the lobby with my mother listening to her chat with guests for a while, I excused myself, claiming I was tired. I wanted to write another letter to Daddy describing all that I had learned. I wanted him to know that I didn't blame him for what had been done and that I understood why he and Mamma had done it.

But when I opened the door to my room, I found Philip waiting for me. He was lying on my bed, his hands behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. He sat up quickly.

"What are you doing in here?" I demanded. "Get out. Now!"

"I wanted to speak to you. Don't worry, I just want to talk," he said, holding his hands up.

"What is it you want, Philip? Don't expect me to forgive you for what you did," I snapped. "I'll never forget what you did to me."

"You told Grandmother something, didn't you? That's why she arranged for you to go to New York so quickly. I'm right, aren't I?" I simply stared at him, not walking in any farther, finding it impossible to be in the same room alone with him after what he had done to me. "Well, did you?" he asked fearfully.

"No, Philip, I didn't, but I think it's true when people say Grandmother Cutler has eyes and ears all over this hotel." That ought to put a scare in him. "Now leave," I ordered, still standing in the doorway and holding the door open. "The sight of you makes me sick."

"Well, why would she do it? Why would she send you off like this?"

"Haven't you heard? She thinks I'm talented," I said dryly. "I thought you did, too."

"I do, but . . . it all seems so strange . . . right at the beginning of the summer season, just when you've been returned to the family, she sends you off to a special arts school?" He shook his head and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "There's something going on, something you're not telling me. Does it have to do with Jimmy's being found here, then?"

"Yes," I said quickly, but he didn't look satisfied. "I don't believe you."

"Too bad. I don't care what you believe or what you think. I'm tired, Philip, and I have a lot to do tomorrow. Please, leave." He didn't move. "Haven't you done enough to me?" I cried. "Just leave me alone."

"Dawn, you must understand what came over me before—sometimes a boy my age loses control. It happens especially when a girl leads him along and then pulls back," he said. I thought his attempt at a justification was pathetic.

"I never led you on, Philip, and I would have expected you to understand why I pulled back." I glared hatefully at him. "Don't you dare place the blame on me. You, and only you, are responsible for your actions."

"You're really mad at me, aren't you?" he asked, the smile on his face turning coy. "You're real pretty when you're angry," he said.

I stared at him in disbelief and recalled the excitement I had felt when we had first met at Emerson Peabody. How different things were then. It was like we were two completely different people. In a real way I suppose we were, I thought. We could never go back to the way things had once been . . . when I had believed in fairy tales and happy endings.

"You mustn't hate me," he said, pretending to plead for understanding. "You mustn't!" he insisted.

"I don't hate you, Philip." He smiled. "But I feel sorry for you," I added quickly, wiping the smile off his face. "You can never change what happened between us, and you can never change the way I feel about you. Whatever feelings I had for you died the night you raped me."