Darkest Hour (Cutler 5)

"Yes, Papa," I said. My hands were trembling so much that the blanket actually shook. How I wished Papa would have simply hired a professional nurse to take care of him. I washed around his cast, trying to keep my eyes focused on his leg. I felt the heat in my face and knew I was crimson with embarrassment. When I glanced at his face, I saw Papa had his eyes wide open and he was scrutinizing me closely.

"You know," he said, "you do look a lot like your real mother now. She was a very pretty young lady. When I was courting Georgia, I used to tease Violet and say, 'I'll forget Georgia and wait for you, Violet.' She was a very shy young lady and she would get all red and hide her face behind a book or go running off."

He emptied the whiskey in his glass in a gulp and nodded to his own memory.

"A pretty girl, a very pretty girl," he muttered, and then he fixed his gaze on me. It made my heart skip a beat and I quickly lowered my own eyes to the water in the basin and rinsed the sponge.

"I'll get a towel and dry you, Papa," I said.

"You're not finished yet, Lillian," he said. "You've got to do all of me. A man's got to be clean all over," he said. My heart was pounding. There was only one area I hadn't washed.

"Go on, Lillian," he said. "Go on," he coaxed in a more demanding tone when I hesitated. I brought the sponge to his most private parts and moved it about quickly. He closed his eyes and a soft moan escaped his lips. When I felt him twitch, I jumped back, but he. seized my wrist and held me firmly, squeezing so tightly, I grimaced in pain.

"How far did you go with that boy, Lillian? Did you come close to losing your innocence? Is that what this reminds you of? Tell me," he said, shaking my arm.

Tears burned beneath my eyelids. "No, Papa. Please, let me go. You're hurting me."

He relaxed his grip, but nodded with a disapproving look.

"Your mother ain't done her duty with you. You don't know what to expect, what you've got to know before you go out in the world. It's not a man's responsibility to teach you, but with Georgia like she is, I'll have to take up the slack. Only I don't want anyone knowing what goes on between us, Lillian. That's private, hear?"

What did he mean, "teach me"? Teach me what and how? I was trembling so hard, my knees knocked, but I saw he was waiting for an answer, so I nodded quickly.

"All right," Papa said, releasing me. "Go get the towel."

I hurried to the bathroom and returned with the towel. Papa had poured himself another glass of whiskey and was sipping it as I brought the towel to his shoulders. I felt his eyes move with me every time I turned or reached. I dried him as quickly as I could, but when I started on his legs, I tried not to look as I worked.

Suddenly, he laughed in a strange way.

"Scares you, don't it?" he said, and laughed again. I was afraid the whiskey had stirred up the monsters once more.

"No, Papa."

"Sure it does," he said. "A grown man is scary to a young girl." Then he grew serious, seized my wrist and pulled me so close to him, I felt his hot breath on my face. "When a man is aroused, Lillian, he gets bigger, but a grown woman is pleased about that, not scared. You'll see; you'll understand," he predicted. "All right, enough about it," he added quickly. "Just get on with what you're doing."

I finished wiping his feet and then I folded the towel and helped him put on his nightshirt. After I pulled up his blanket, I brought the basin, sponge and towel into the bathroom. My heart was still pounding. I couldn't wait to leave the room. Papa was behaving in such a bizarre way. His eyes washed over my body as if I were the one naked and not he. But when I returned from the bathroom, he looked his old self again and he. asked me to read him a Bible selection.

"Read until I fall asleep and then make yourself your bed there," he said, nodding at the settee. "Put on your nightgown and get some sleep, too."

"Yes, Papa.” I sat beside the bed and began to read The Book of Job. As I read, I saw that Papa's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until he could keep them open no longer and he drifted to sleep. When he began to snore, I closed the Bible softly and went back to my room to get my nightgown.

The whole house was quiet by now, quiet and dark. I wondered what Mamma was doing. How I wished she was well enough to take care of Papa. I listened by her door, but I heard nothing. On my way back to Papa's room, I saw Emily standing just inside her doorway gazing out at me.

"Where are you going with your nightgown?" she demanded.

"Papa wants me to sleep on the settee in his room in case he needs something during the night," I explained.

She didn't respond. Instead, she closed her door.

I reentered Papa's room. He was still asleep so I moved about as quietly as I could. I got into my nightgown, made my bed, whispered my prayers, and went to sleep myself. Hours later, Papa woke me.

"Lillian," he called. "Get over here. I'm cold."

"Cold, Papa?" I didn't think it was very cold. "Do you want another blanket?"

"No," he said. "Get in here beside me," he said. "All I need is the warmth from your young body." "What? What do you mean, Papa?"

"It ain't so unusual, Lillian. Why my grandfather used to have young slave girls keeping him warm. He called them bed warmers. Come on," he urged, lifting his blanket. "Just lay up against me," he said.