It was so cold, I had no choice but to quickly pull the ugly gown over my head. It smelled like mothballs and felt rough against my skin. I knelt down and looked under the bed for the blanket she had told me would be there. I dragged it out and shook it. Dust particles flew everywhere. Then I pulled back the cover sheet on the narrow bed. The bed sheet looked clean, but was cold and rough to the touch. I was shivering too much to care and quickly slipped into the bed and drew the blanket over me.
It seemed to take forever for Miss Emily to return. I was beginning to think she wouldn't when, finally, she appeared with a hot water bottle wrapped in a white towel. She thrust it at me and I took it gratefully and brought it to my trembling body. The warmth felt like a gentle pair of hands quickly wiping away the cold.
"It's so cold here," I said. "I'll only get sick."
"Of course you won't get sick. If anything, you will get stronger. Difficulties and hardships toughen us and allow us to battle the devil and his followers. Life was too soft and easy for you; that's why you got into trouble," she declared.
"My life was far from easy. You don't know anything about me," I cried, but I was weak and tired from the trip, the cold and the entire ordeal. My words had no fire. They sounded terribly pathetic, even to me.
"I know enough about you," she said. "If you behave and you are cooperative, we will succeed and you will have a second chance, but if you persist in being a spoiled young lady, you will make things harder for both of us and, eventually, impossible for you. Do I make myself quite clear?" She was waiting for my response. "Well?"
"Yes," I said, "but in the morning I want to go to the general store and call to find out where my things are. I need my things," I insisted. "Luther will drive me."
"Luther doesn't have time to spend on nonsense. He has his chores. It was hard enough for him to leave to get you. As it is he will have to work well into the night to make up for it. One final thing," she said, approaching the bed. I could only lie there all cramped up around the water bottle, borrowing from its warmth.
"I don't want you having much to do with Charlotte or encouraging her to say or do any of her silly things. You are not to pay attention to her," she warned. "Don't listen to any of the stupid things she says."
"What's wrong with her?" I asked.
"The same thing that will probably be wrong with your offspring," she replied.
"Why?"
"She, too, was born out of wedlock, the result of one of my father's sexual indiscretions. As a result she is an idiot," Miss Emily spat. "I keep her only because . . . she has no other place to go. Besides, it would be a disgrace to put her someplace because she still carries the Booth name.
"Anyway," she said, that sneer forming, "now you know what you have to look forward to," she added, and before I could respond, she bent over and blew out the kerosene lamp beside my bed. Then, she started away with her own, closed the door and left me in pitch darkness.
I began to sob.
Perhaps Miss Emily was right, I thought; perhaps I was a terrible sinner.
For surely, I was now as close as I could be to hell on earth.
13
UGLY REALITIES
"Get up, get up, get out of bed, you silly, silly sleepy head," I heard someone sing.
I unfolded myself slowly. I had been sleeping with my body as tight as a fist, the hot water bottle against my stomach. My muscles ached as I stretched out. Then I peered over the blanket toward the door. It was open, but there was no one there. Had I dreamt it?
Someone giggled.
"Who's there?" I asked, sitting up and embracing myself. Without the morning light through a window, the room was still quite dark, but there was some light coming through a window in the corridor.
"Who is it?" I demanded. When she giggled again, I recognized the childlike tones. "Charlotte?"
She stepped into the doorway. Her hair was still tied into two thick braids and she still wore the same faded pink shift with the yellow ribbon belt. I saw she continued to wear her father's old slippers, too.
"Emily sent me to fetch you. She says you should have been up and down to breakfast already," she added, forming as serious a face as she could. "Besides," she said, changing her expression quickly to a smile, "today is my birthday."
"Is it? That's very nice. Happy birthday," I said, yawning. I had had one of the worst nights of sleep ever. Every part of my body ached, from the back of my neck to my ankles. I was as stiff as a wet blouse frozen on a winter clothes line.
I swung my legs over the bed and found my boots. The insides were so cold it was like stepping into a puddle of ice water. I couldn't stop rubbing my arms. Charlotte stood there staring at me and smiling.
"How old are you, today?" I
asked. Her smile evaporated quickly.