Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

Then, like a bird reborn, I fly away and soar in the clouds.

I looked up quickly from the poem, but Arthur was not in the doorway. He had kept to his promise and retreated to his room, where I knew he waited anxiously. For a moment I was unable to move. These words were beautiful, but so revealing. I was frightened by the depth of feeling he obviously had for me. What had I done to cause him to feel so strongly about me? Was it merely because I had paid some attention to him and not ridiculed him? I didn't ask him to love me or to tell me his deepest secrets.

Even though I had done nothing I could see that would encourage him, his deep expression of love made me feel as if I had betrayed Jimmy. I knew he wouldn't like to hear how much another boy liked me. What do I do now? I wondered.

I could just hear Trisha say, "Tell him it was nice and walk away." But Arthur was too sensitive and perceptive for that. I had to be what he knew I was, what he hoped I would be. I had to be honest.

I rose from the bed and walked slowly to his room. The door was shut as always. I knocked softly.

"Come in," he said. He was sitting by his desk, the lamp on, the glow on his face making his face appear more like a mask.

"Arthur," I said, "this is a wonderful poem, a lovely poem. I don't deserve it."

"Oh yes you do," he said quickly.

"Arthur, I must tell you something I should have told you earlier. I am already in love with someone. I've loved him all my life and he loves me. We've made promises to each other that we would wait for each other. I haven't told many people this," I added quickly, "but I trust you with it just as you trust me with your secret."

He simply stared at me, that face of his still looking more like a mask, unmoving, not even his lips trembling.

"I'd still like you to keep the poem," he finally said.

"Oh, I want to, Arthur. And I will always treasure it. Especially some day when you're a famous poet," I added.

He shook his head sadly. "The only thing I will be," he said knowingly, "is a famous failure."

"Oh, please don't say that, Arthur."

He turned and looked down at his papers. "Thank you," he said, "for being so honest."

I could see he didn't want to talk anymore so I thanked him again for the poem and left. I think it hurt me almost as much as it hurt him. I was never so glad to see Trisha and bask in her energy and laughter as I was when she returned from the movies that night and brought me the latest school gossip. I didn't tell her about Arthur's poem. I had already hidden it away in my dresser drawer with some of my other precious mementos, things I never wanted to lose, but things I found full of pain as well as love, like Momma Longchamp's picture, for they reminded me of what was lost and what would never be.

As more time passed Agnes's anger at me diminished. We never discussed the incident of my comin

g home at three in the morning anymore. I knew I had a good ally in Mrs. Liddy who sang my praises, especially when it was my turn to help with the kitchen work. I often spent time with her in the kitchen watching her work. She told me her life story, how she was made into an orphan at age eight when both her parents died from Spanish flu. Her family was separated because no one wanted to take on more than one child at a time, and there were two sisters and a brother she hadn't seen for more than twenty years.

I told her my story and how much I was afraid that a similar thing would happen to Jimmy, Fern and me. As it was we had no clues as to where Fern lived.

"Despite all that's happened," I said, "I would gladly trade my real family for the family I grew up with."

Mrs. Liddy didn't seem shocked, especially after I told her some of the things that had happened to me at the hotel and how Grandmother Cutler had treated me and was still treating me.

After my revelations, Mrs. Liddy and I became even closer. She spent time showing me some of her recipes and even let me help her prepare dinner for everyone one night. Her friendship helped me pass the time.

Finally, Agnes came to me one night shortly before the Christmas holiday to tell me she was very happy with how I had behaved these past months and had decided she could put me back on probation and end my punishment. I was surprised and thought it was all Mrs. Liddy's doing until I received a phone call a few days later from my mother.

"Randolph and I and Clara Sue are coming to New York on the weekend. We are on the way to spend the holidays on a luxury liner," she said. "We would like to come by and take you out to dinner."

"What about Philip?" I asked quickly.

"Philip's not going because he is visiting with some school friends. We knew you would be busy with your lessons over the holidays," she quickly said, "so we didn't ask you to join us, but we do so much want to see you."

"Are you really well enough to take such a trip?" I asked, barely hiding my sarcasm.

"Not really," she said, "but the doctors think it would do me a world of good and it isn't often I can get Randolph leave the hotel. We'll see you soon," she added quickly. "Wear one of your nicest dresses because we'll go to a very fancy, expensive restaurant."

After I hung up, I wished I'd said I wouldn't go. I certainly wasn't looking forward to seeing Clara Sue. But despite my anger, I couldn't stop myself from being curious about everyone and how they looked. Laura Sue was still my real mother and regret it as much as I did, I couldn't deny the fact that Clara Sue was at least my half-sister.

They came by early that day. Agnes sent Clara Sue up to fetch me while she entertained my mother and Randolph in the sitting room with her theatrical stories and mementos. Without knocking, which didn't surprise me in the least, Clara Sue threw open Trisha's and my bedroom door and stood there gloating, her hands on her hips, her full bosom, which looked even fuller in her light blue dress with its tightfitting bodice, rising and falling as she breathed quickly from running up the stairs. The crinoline under her skirt made it full and gave the impression Clara Sue was even bigger than she was. She'd had her hair cut and styled with a wave falling over her left eye seductively, which made her look much older. Other than that, she hadn't changed much; she was still a good twenty pounds overweight as was evident in her plump cheeks and arms.