Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

I fell asleep that night dreaming about Michael's and my mock wedding ceremony and praying with all my heart that what we had pretended would someday become reality.

I went to Michael's apartment at least once a week after that. After our lovemaking we would sip wine and listen to music and talk about our careers. Michael had many offers for roles to play waiting in the wings and promised that he would soon be arranging for me to have auditions so that I could join him on the stage.

"Of course," he said, "I wouldn't put you in a tryout until I believed you were ready. We will have to work harder and harder on your lessons and get you to the point where no one will want to turn you away."

He hadn't forgotten about his other promise to help me find my real father. He said that his agent friends were still looking into a history of performers who traveled the beach cities and would have played a hotel like Cutler's Cove. He claimed it wouldn't be long now before we would have a list of names and could go about crossing off those who were obviously not my father.

"What will we do with the names that remain?" I asked.

"Perhaps you will get your mother to tell you a little more and then we will be able to narrow it down to one or two. Let's wait to see how many there are first," he replied.

Of course, I was impatient and excited about someday confronting my real father. I had made up my mind he couldn't be worse than my mother. He was a victim, just like me.

The weeks passed 1 ore quickly for me now, and before I knew it, we were about to begin our Thanksgiving holiday. Everyone was leaving to spend it with their families. Michael asked me to remain behind after our private lesson that week and as soon as Richard Taylor left, he turned to me.

"What are you going to do with your holiday? Are you going back to the hotel?" he asked.

"I don't want to," I said, "and no one really wants me to. My mother hasn't phoned for weeks."

"Good," he said. "I'm not going anywhere either and I have an idea if you can find a way to manage it so no one knows."

"What idea?" I asked excitedly.

"I want you to come to my apartment and stay with me for the entire long weekend. We'll have our own holiday. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes, Michael," I said. "I would love it. I'll cook our Thanksgiving dinner. I'm a good cook, you know."

He laughed at my exuberance.

"I don't doubt you are. But no one must know, of course, and we won't be able to go about the city together. People recognize me and if you are seen with me . . ."

"I'll find a way, Michael. I will," I promised and spent the rest of the day thinking about it. I considered telling Agnes I was returning to Cutler's Cove, but then I was afraid she would speak to Grandmother Cutler and they would discover I had been lying. I was desperate for an idea when Trisha gave me one by asking me if I would like to come home with her for the holidays.

"Oh, Trisha," I said, "I would, I really would, but at a different time. Allan has asked me to spend the holiday with him, only I didn't know how I could manage it until now. That is, if you will go along with it."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I'll tell Agnes I'm going home with you for Thanksgiving," I said.

From the way Trisha gazed at me, I didn't think she would agree. For a long moment, she just stared.

"You're getting so involved with him," she finally said. "Are you sure you should?"

"I've never been happier with anyone, nor could I be. As soon as I can, I will tell the world and he and I won't have to sneak about. I can't wait for that day, but until then . . . Oh Trisha," I said, "I know it's unfair to ask you to lie, but you don't really have to lie. If I

'm ever discovered, I will take all the blame. I'll say I did promise to go home with you and you thought I would, but I changed my mind at the last moment and there was nothing you could do about it."

"I'm not worried about myself," she said. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be," I said. "I couldn't be happier or feel safer than I do when I'm with him."

"All right," she said, "I'll help you if you're positive this is what you want to do."

"Oh, I am. Thank you, Trisha, thank you," I cried and embraced her. She smiled, but her eyes were filled with concern.

I, of course, could fill my eyes with nothing but Michael. Everywhere I looked, I imagined him. He was walking through the school grounds; he was crossing a street; he was gazing back at me in my mirror. He lived behind my eyelids. I heard his voice, his whispers of love. When I closed my eyes and envisioned him, I felt his lips on mine.

I told Agnes I was going home with Trisha for Thanksgiving, being sure to do it when Trisha wasn't with me.