Midnight Whispers (Cutler 4)

"Well, he will be here tomorrow, honey. No sense in making more trouble, everyone's plenty upset as it is," she added wisely. She came forward and put her arm around Jefferson. He turned and buried his face in the nook between her shoulder and neck. She winked at me and then picked him up.

"Jefferson needs something to drink and something to eat," she said. "Maybe some chocolate milk, okay?" Jefferson nodded, but kept his face buried.

I tried to smile at Mrs. Boston but failed. Thank God she was with us, I thought.

People began arriving to offer their condolences all the next day and into the evening. Aunt Bet made herself prim and proper and took over the house, greeting people and making arrangements. She made sure Richard and Melanie were dressed in their formal clothes: Richard wearing a dark blue suit and tie and Melanie wearing a dark blue dress with matching shoes. Both had their hair brushed and styled, not a lock out of place. They sat as still as statues on the sofa.

Aunt Bet came into my room to see what I would be wearing and then went to see Jefferson. I followed her because I knew he wouldn't like her telling him what to wear. As I expected, when she went to his closet and began picking things out for him, he glared defiantly.

"My mommy says I can wear that only on special occasions," he snapped at her.

"This is a special occasion, Jefferson. You can't greet people looking like a ruffian, can you? You want to look nice."

"I don't care," Jefferson retorted. His face flamed red.

"Of course you care, dear. Now you will wear this and then, let's see . . ."

"I'll pick out the proper things for him to wear, Aunt Bet," I said, coming in behind her quickly.

"Oh." She stared a moment and then smiled. "Of course. I'm sure you'll choose the right things. Call me if you need anything, dear," she said and pivoted to leave.

"I'm not wearing what she wants me to wear," Jefferson repeated, his cheeks still crimson with anger.

"You don't have to," I said. "You can wear this outfit instead," I suggested. "If you want," I added. He glared a moment and then softened.

"Okay," he said. "But I'm not taking a bath."

"Suit yourself," I said, shrugging.

"Are you taking a bath?"

"I have to shower before I put on clothes," I said. "Mommy always liked you to be clean," I added pointedly. He thought a moment and then nodded.

"I'll take a shower too."

"Do you need any help?"

"I can do it by myself," he said sharply. I watched him begin to organize his clothes. He resembled a little old man. Tragedy and great sorrow, I thought, make us grow older very quickly.

Gavin, Edwina and Granddaddy Longchamp arrived late in the evening. Uncle Philip had them put up in one of the guest houses we used when the hotel became overbooked. One look at Granddaddy Longchamp's face was enough to tell me how much the tragedy had crushed and overwhelmed him. In one fell swoop, he had lost his son and the young woman he had always considered his daughter. He looked years older, the lines in his face sharply deeper, his eyes darker and his skin paler. He moved slowly and spoke very little. Edwina and I hugged and cried, and then Gavin and I had a chance to be alone.

"Where's Fern?" Gavin asked.

"No one seems to know," I said.

"She should have been the first one here to help you with Jefferson," Gavin said angrily.

"Maybe it's better she's not. She's never been much help to anyone but herself," I said. "Maybe she's feeling bad that she and Daddy had such a terrible argument the last time she saw him."

"Not Fern," Gavin concluded. We stared at each other. We had just naturally wandered away from everyone and found ourselves in the den. Mommy and Daddy often used it as a second office. There was a large cherrywood desk and chair, walls of bookcases, a big grandfather's clock and a ruby leather settee. Gavin gazed at the family pictures on the desk and shelves and at the framed letters of commendation Mommy had received for her performances at Sarah Bernhardt.

"She was so proud of those," I said. He nodded. "I can't believe it," he said without turning to me. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up soon."

"Me too."

"She was more than a sister-in-law to me. She was a sister," he said. "And I always wanted to be like Jimmy."

"You will be, Gavin. He was very proud of you and never stopped bragging about you and how well you do in school."