Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

"I hate anyone who is that weak and self-indulgent," she said slowly and with a sneer. "She has never been anything but a lead weight, despite her beauty.

"In fact, her beauty is a deception. My foolish son, just like any other man, couldn't see past it in time to save himself and still can't.

"I'm sure," she added, "someday you will find a doting fool to look after you just as Randolph looks after your mother, but until then you will do as I say. "The doctor will release you after breakfast tomorrow. I have already spoken with him. Be prepared to leave. All the arrangements are perfect and no one is to be made to wait on you. Do you understand?"

"I understand who you are," I said, finally fixing my eyes firmly on hers, "and how unhappy you must be and must have been most of your life."

Her eyes flared and she pulled herself up into her habitual queenly posture.

"How dare you . . . how dare you think you can feel sorry for anyone, especially for me."

"But I do," I said calmly, so calmly I even surprised myself. "I don't hate you as much as I pity you and hate the things that made you like you are."

"Save your pity for yourself," she snapped back. "You will need it," she added and spun on her heels so quickly, she almost lost her balance. Then she stalked out of my hospital room, her cane tapping like a tiny hammer over the tiles as she turned and disappeared down the corridor.

I fell back against my pillow, too weak and defeated now to bother with tears. What difference did it make anymore? I thought. Michael was gone; Jimmy was sure to hate me once he found out the truth; Daddy Longchamp had a new life and was even expecting a new child. All the people I loved and cared about were far away. Grandmother Cutler could do what she wanted with me, and I had no one to blame for it but myself.

Goodbye to dreams of singing and being a stage star. Goodbye to the magic of love and romance and believing that fairy tales sometimes come true. Goodbye to being carefree and young, hopeful and energetic.

I could see the clouds moving over the sun and dropping shadows like torrents of rain over the city. A gloomy darkness crept into my hospital room, chilling me. I pulled the blanket over myself and clung to the warmth within. Tomorrow, I would be whisked out of the city of my dreams. I would disappear as if I never existed. Poor Madame Steichen, I thought. How disappointed in me she must be. All her hard work and faith tossed aside.

When we had first met and spoke, Michael had told me that passion makes us desperate, but he never told me that it could leave us lonely and empty, too. He didn't want me to know the danger in letting myself love him.

Had it been the same for my mother? Is that what turned her into the weak person she was? Was Grandmother Cutler right in saying I was just like her? Would I become the same kind of person eventually?

Just thinking about these things exhausted me. I couldn't keep my eyes open and didn't want to, for it was only in sleep that I had any relief from the harsh reality that had fallen around me and trapped me. Now I was once again a prisoner of fate, and Grandmother Cutler was truly once again my warden.

Doctor Stevens appeared early in the morning to give me his final examination and declare me well enough to leave. He signed me out and the nurse arrived to help me dress and get ready after I had had my breakfast. I realized that by the time Trisha arrived, I would be gone, so I requested the use of a telephone. Agnes answered.

"Agnes," I cried, "it's me, Dawn."

"Dawn?" There was a silence.

"Yes. I'm phoning from the hospital."

"Dawn? I'm afraid you must have the wrong number," she said coldly. "I don't know anyone named Dawn."

"Agnes, please," I begged, "don't do this. I have to speak with Trisha."

"Trisha has gone to school," she replied, but I knew Trisha's class schedule. She couldn't have left yet.

"Agnes, please," I begged. "I'm leaving soon and I won't have any other chance to speak with Trisha. She will make a wasted trip to the hospital because I will be gone. Won't you tell her I'm on the phone. Please."

"Oh, dear," she said suddenly, her voice rising in pitch, "I do wish I could consider your production, but I've already committed myself to another."

"Agnes!"

"Perhaps you will consider changing your production dates." She laughed. "Other producers have done that to accommodate me."

I saw it was no use. She was either doing this because Trisha was nearby and she didn't want her to know she was speaking to me, or she had really gone off on one of her memories and was far gone.

"Agnes," I said through my tears, "won't you let me speak with Trisha."

"I'm sorry, but I'm very busy," she replied and hung up.

"Agnes!" I cried into a dead receiver. I cradled it and started to cry. How would Trisha know where I was or what had happened to me?

The nurse asked me what was wrong and I explained that I had a friend coming later in the day, but I would already be gone and I couldn't reach her now.