Darkest Hour (Cutler 5)

"You will," she said, stepping back confidently. "You joke about it now, but someday, you will."

Her self-assurance gave me the willies. I couldn't wait to get back to Cutler's Cove and, indeed, I didn't return to The Meadows until nearly a year later when a message arrived telling us Papa had died.

There were very few people at his funeral. Even Bill did not accompany me, claiming he had an important business trip to make, one that couldn't be postponed. Papa had few if any friends left. All of his gambling pals had either died or gone off someplace and most of the other plantation owners had long since succumbed to hard times and sold off their land, a parcel at a time. None of Papa's relatives were interested in making the trip.

Papa had died a lonely man, still drinking himself to sleep every night. One morning, he simply didn't awaken. Emily didn't shed a tear, at least in my presence. She was satisfied that God had taken him because it was his time. It was a very simple funeral after which Emily provided only tea and some cakes. Even the minister didn't stay.

I thought about taking Charlotte back with me, but Vera and Charles talked me out of it.

"She's comfortable here with Luther," Vera said. "It would break both their hearts to separate them."

I could see that Vera really meant it would break her heart, for she had become a mother to Charlotte and from what I observed, Charlotte felt that way about her, too. Of course, Emily was opposed to my taking Charlotte to that "sinful Sodom and Gomorrah on the beach." In the end, I decided it was best to leave her, even with Emily, for Charlotte seemed unimpressed and certainly undisturbed by Emily's religious fanaticism. Of course, I had never told Bill about the truth of Charlotte's birth and I had no intention of ever telling anyone,. She would remain my sister and not my daughter.

"Perhaps you and Charles will bring Luther and Charlotte to Cutler's Cove one day," I told Vera, "and visit for a while."

She nodded, but the idea of such a trip seemed to her as difficult as a trip to the moon.

"Do you think you'll all be all right here now, Vera?" I asked one final time before leaving.

"Oh yes," she said. "Mr. Booth had long since stopped making any difference as far as running this place goes. His passing will have no effect on what we have or do. Charles will see to the chores. Charles and Luther, I should say, for he's become a right strong and efficient assistant. Charles will be the first to say so."

"And my sister . . . Emily?"

"We've grown accustomed to her. Matter of fact, we wouldn't know what we'd do without her hymns and prayers. Charles says it's better than those picture shows we've heard about. You never know when you'll look out and find her floating through the mansion, candle in hand, waving some cross at a shadow. And who knows, maybe she does keep the devil out."

I laughed.

"Things have gone all right for you, Miss Lillian, haven't they?" Vera asked, her eyes smaller. She had gotten gray and her crow's feet had gone deeper and longer.

"I've made my nest and found my reasons to keep going, Vera, if that's what you mean," I told her.

She nodded.

"I thought you would. Well, I'd better see to supper. I'll say my good-bye now."

We hugged and then I went to say good-bye to Charlotte. She was sprawled on the floor in what had once been Mamma's reading room, looking through an old album of family photographs. Luther sat on the chaise looking down at the pictures with her. They both looked up when I appeared in the doorway.

"I'm leaving now, children," I said. "Looking at the family pictures?"

"Yes ma'am," Luther said, nodding.

"Here's one of you and me and Emily," Charlotte said, pointing down. I looked at it and recalled when Papa had had that picture taken.

"Yes," I said.

"We know most people in the book," Luther said, "but not this one." He turned the pages back and stopped to point at a small photograph. I took the book into my hands and gazed at it. It was my real mother. For a moment I couldn't speak.

"It's . . . Mamma's younger sister Violet," I said.

"She was very pretty," Charlotte said. "Right, Luther?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"Wasn't she, Lil?" Charlotte asked.

I smiled at her. "Very pretty."

"Did you know her?" Luther asked.