Twilight's Child (Cutler 3)

I rushed toward my office, and when I entered I found Jimmy on the phone. He looked at me and shook his head. I dropped my coat on the settee and went to him.

"Dawn's just returned," he said into the phone. "We'll be right up." He cradled the receiver. "That was Philip. He and Betty Ann are up at the house. Where have you been?"

"What happened, Jimmy?" I cried, ignoring his question. I pressed my palm against my pounding heart.

"Tractor trailer jackknifed, turned over and crushed the cab."

"Oh, Jimmy, how awful," I said, falling back against the desk.

"I know. A death like that is too horrible, even for someone as miserable as Clara Sue," he said, shaking his head.

"How's my mother?" I asked.

"You can just imagine. All she's been asking for is you. Where were you?" he asked again.

"I had to see Mr. Updike about some new tax laws," I lied, looking down so Jimmy wouldn't see my eyes.

"I've already spoken to Mrs. Boston, so she'll look after Fern and Christie. We had better go up to Beulla Woods without delay," he said. "Philip just told me your mother's screaming for doctors and sedatives, and Bronson is beside himself."

Jimmy took my hand, and we hurried out to his car. My heart was still pounding so hard and fast by the time we arrived that I thought I wouldn't be any good to anyone. Livingston opened the door for us as quickly as he could and stepped back, his normally gray face even more ashen. Philip and Betty Ann were in the sitting room having tea. They both rose when we entered. Betty Ann and I embraced.

"I'm afraid the news is rather gruesome," Philip said, his lips trembling. I saw the moisture in his eyes and the dry streaks where the tears had traveled down his cheeks. "It took hours for them to cut Clara Sue and her truck driver boyfriend out of the cab.

"We didn't get along well during these years," he said, turning to Jimmy as if Jimmy were some stranger, "but we used to when we were little. Most of the time we only had each other. Mother and Father were always very busy with one thing or another, and we would be left alone for hours at a time."

He smiled.

"We once made a pretend hotel in the storage building and had all the children of the hotel staff and even some guests playing along. I was the president of the hotel, and Clara Sue was . . . was Grandmother, I suppose. You should have seen her, with her hair in golden pigtails like Christie's, ordering everyone about. 'You sleep here; you clean up that corner.' She had all the guests' children working like little beavers.

"We were taking things out of the hotel and bringing them to our make-believe one. When Nussbaum finally discovered all the missing silverware and dishes he told Grandmother, and she came marching over. You should have seen the look on her face. For a moment she was speechless, and for Grandmother Cutler, that was something." He shook his head and looked dumbfounded. "Then everything began to change, and Clara Sue became a different sort of person.

"I suppose I should have spent more time with her." He looked at me hard. "Fate has a way of assuming control of your life when you fail to do so yourself."

"Where's Bronson?" I asked.

"He's upstairs with your mother," Betty Ann said. I hurried up. Jimmy remained below with Betty Ann and Philip. I knocked softly on the bedroom door, which was partially open. Bronson was sitting on the bed and holding Mother's hand. She had her right hand over her eyes and lay back against the large silk pillow. Her hair was loose and flowed every which way. The curtains and drapes were all drawn to prevent any sunlight from entering.

"Oh, Dawn," Bronson said, rising. Slowly Mother slid her hand off her eyes and gazed at me. "I'm glad you're here," Bronson began. "Maybe you can help put some sense in your mother's stubborn head. She insists that all this is somehow her fault."

"It is!" Mother cried, and she covered her eyes again. Her shoulders lifted and fell with her sobs.

"That is silly, Mother. How can you think it's your fault?" I said, approaching. "You didn't cause the truck to jackknife."

"She wouldn't have been in that truck with such a person if I had insisted she live here with us," Mother cried.

"Clara Sue wasn't the sort of young woman you could order about, Mother. We all knew that. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, no matter who thought what about it. If she hadn't met this truck driver, she would have met someone else and gone off anyway. She was rebelling," I added. Bronson nodded his agreement, but Mother shook her head.

"That's exactly it. She was rebelling, and I didn't care; I didn't mind as long as she was rebelling far away and no one knew. Now look at what's happened," she moaned.

"What were you going to do with her, Mother, chain her to the wall here? She would have gone no matter what you said."

"You always blamed me for how she was, Dawn," Mother accused, lowering her hand from her eyes again. "Don't deny it just to make me feel better now."

"I won't, Mother. What you should have done with Clara Sue, you should have done years and years ago, when she was first growing up. But that time passed, and she was her own person. For better or for worse, she was considered an adult. There's no point in blaming anyone else now. She did what she wanted, and what happened to her was horrible, but none of us wanted it to happen. There's no point in any of us making it any worse," I added firmly.

Mother stared at me a moment and then turned to Bronson.

"She's just like my mother-in-law now, Bronson. So strong, so logical and right all the time," she remarked, but her voice was filled with admiration. My face turned crimson. Mother turned back to me. "You're the strongest one of all of us now, Dawn. You are."