Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

After he helped me lie down, he went into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth to wash down my face and place on my forehead. "I haven't seen hovels worse than this anywhere in Europe," he muttered as he wiped my cheeks. "Solitary confinement in a military prison must be a palace compared to this."

He put the cool cloth over my forehead, sat down beside me on the bed and held my hand.

"Jimmy," I said, squeezing his fingers tightly in mine. "Are you here, are you really, really here?"

"I'm here and I don't intend leaving you for long again," he promised. He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. I smiled. Now that I felt safe, I permitted my eyes to close and took a short and much-needed rest.

I didn't sleep long and Jimmy never left the room the entire time. When my eyes first fluttered open, I panicked because I didn't see him immediately and thought that what had happened had all been only a dream. But as soon as he saw I was awake, he was at my side again. He kissed me and embraced me.

"Feeling strong enough to walk out of here?" he asked.

"Yes, Jimmy, but not without knowing what happened to my baby," I said.

"Of course. I can't believe what they've done to you," he said, brushing back some loose strands of my hair. "I want to know every detail."

"I'll tell you all of it, Jimmy—the terrible chores she made me do, how I had to sleep in the cold, the meager meals, the prayer sessions—she's a religious fanatic who treated me as if I were the devil's child. And I'm sure Grandmother Cutler knew exactly what would happen to me when she sent me here. But I want to find my baby first."

He nodded, the lines of his mouth tightening and that all too familiar glint of anger coming into his dark eyes.

"Let's go," he said in a tone of command. "I don't want us to spend one moment longer than we have to in this hell hole of a place."

He helped me to my feet. I felt stronger and my head was a great deal clearer. We walked out of the room that had been my pathetic home for so many months. Oddly enough, I had grown used to every nook and cranny in it. It was like a deprived child itself, abused, forgotten and buried in the darkness and horror of The Meadows.

As soon as we descended the stairway, I knew where Miss Emily was. The light was on in the library.

"She's hoping we'll just leave," I said. "She wants to ignore us, ignore all that she has done."

Jimmy nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on the library doorway. I took his hand into mine and we walked quickly to it.

Miss Emily was in her usual place, seated behind the great desk under her father's portrait, only this time, she didn't seem as intimidating to me, nor did the portrait. I had Jimmy at my side and could borrow freely from his strength.

She sat back as soon as we entered and formed that crooked smile on her face, a face with pale skin so thin the bones of the skull within it could be clearly seen. It was like looking at the face of Death itself, but I didn't falter.

"Well," she said. "Actually, I'm glad someone has come for you. It saves me the expense of having Luther take you to the train station in Lynchburg, and besides, Luther has more important things to do with his time."

"Yes, you've made him into your convenient slave over the years, punished him and punished him and he's accepted it, but that's for you and Luther to live with. I won't leave here until I know what you did with my baby. Who came for her? Whom did you give her to? Why did you do that?" I added in a shrill tone and approached the desk.

"I told you," she replied coldly. "The baby was too small. You wouldn't have been able to take care of it anyway. My sister did the right thing," she added and looked as if she were going to go back to her work and dismiss us.

But I rushed up to the desk and slapped my hands over her precious papers.

"What do you mean, your sister did the right thing? What right thing?"

She glared up at me, unafraid, unmoved, her eyes filled with ice. She wasn't going to speak. But Jimmy came up by my side.

"You better tell us everything," he said. "You had no right to do anything with her baby and if we have to, we'll go to the police and bring them here."

"How dare . . ."

"Look," he said, putting his hands on the desk and leaning over toward her, his patience on a leash. "I don't want us to stay here a minute longer than we have to, but we'll stay here until hell freezes over if you don't cooperate."

My heart cheered to see someone finally speak to Miss Emily the way she should have been spoken to years and years ago.

"You can be brought

up on kidnapping charges, you know. Now, what's been done with the baby? Talk!" he said, slapping the desk so hard and unexpectedly that Miss Emily jumped in her seat.

"I don't know who has the baby," she whined. "My sister made all the arrangements even before Eugenia," she said, spitting her words my way, "arrived. You will have to ask her."