Twilight's Child (Cutler 3)

Jimmy nodded and bit down on his lower lip.

I closed my eyes and turned away. It was no use, I thought. That black cloud that had always seemed to hover above us when we were young was still hovering above us. I would never be happy, and that meant that Jimmy would never be happy. I wished I had never agreed to marry him, for when I did, I tied him forever to whatever curse had been cast over me.

"Dr. Lester says you're going to be all right," Jimmy said reassuringly. "He says in time we can try again. He says there's no reason why—"

"Oh, Jimmy, there will always be a reason," I cried, turning back to him. "There will always be something making life miserable for us, turning

everything sweet into something sour. Why hope? Why care?"

"Don't talk like that, Dawn," he begged. "Please don't. It's not true anyway. Good things have happened to us and will continue to happen. Why, we've got the hotel and—"

"The hotel," I spat out hatefully, unable to lock in the bitterness. "Don't you see? It was Grandmother Cutler's ultimate revenge, my having inherited so much."

Jimmy shook his head.

"Yes, Jimmy," I said more firmly. I tried to sit up, but the pain in my abdomen kept me down. Even so, I continued. "The hotel is a weight, a burden, not a blessing. In the end it will destroy us. I want to sell out. Yes, that's what we'll do. We'll sell out and take whatever money we can to start a brand new life someplace else . . . you and me and Christie."

"We'll see,” Jimmy said, trying to calm me. "We'll see."

"She's still there, Jimmy," I insisted. "She was the one striking at me through Clara Sue, don't you see? It was she!"

"Easy, Dawn. You're only getting yourself more upset and making yourself sicker."

"She was the one kicking me. She was the one who killed my baby," I muttered, closing my eyes. "It was she." I must have fallen asleep again and dreamed. In my nightmare it was indeed Grandmother Cutler who was kicking me over and over, smiling as she drove her tiny foot with a sharply pointed shoe into my stomach. I shuddered and woke with a start. I knew I had slept for a while, for it was dark outside. Jimmy was standing in the doorway talking softly to Philip.

"She's awake," Philip said. They both returned to my bedside.

"Hi, Dawn," Philip said. "How are you?"

"Tired," I replied. "Very tired, but very thirsty." Jimmy reached for my plastic cup of water and straw and brought it to my lips immediately. The cool liquid felt good, felt as though it was putting out the simmering ashes of the fire that had been started inside me. I made myself smile for Jimmy.

"She's become a monster," Philip began. "I told her I don't ever want to consider her my sister again. As far as I was concerned, she could go jump off a cliff."

"We still might press charges against her," Jimmy said. I shook my head.

"You should," Philip agreed. "She needs to be locked up someplace and the key thrown away."

There was a knock on the door, and we all turned to see Bronson and Mother.

Mother wore a sable wrap over a scarlet dress. She had her hair pinned up and had so much makeup and jewelry on that I thought she and Bronson must be stopping by after attending a formal function or the theater.

"It's so cold out. There's such a bitter chill in the air," she said, pulling the fur wrap tighter around herself as she entered. "Why is that window open?"

"It's all right," I said softly.

"Well," she said after taking a deep breath and pulling her shoulders back, "how are you?"

"I'll be all right," I said.

"Good, good. I just can't stand being in hospitals. They smell so . . . medicinal. It makes me want to faint. I didn't even go to the hospital to visit my own mother until I had to," she said, as if that was something to be proud of.

Bronson stepped up beside Philip and smiled at me.

"I was sorry to hear what happened," he said, shaking his head sadly. "When she came to Beulla Woods I forbade her to leave her room."

"She's probably gone by now," Philip said, "doing whatever she wants. She's a wild animal."

"That will change," Bronson said sharply. He fixed his eyes on Philip so firmly that Philip had to swing his eyes away. "Your mother found out just yesterday that she failed almost every subject at school," he added, and Mother released a tiny cry that sounded like the whimper of a mouse. "Somehow she had intercepted all the school reports and kept them from us," Bronson added, but when I gazed at Mother I wondered if that was so, or if Mother herself had simply put it all aside and ignored it until she had to face up to reality.