Darkest Hour (Cutler 5)

"Bad luck," he said. "Just a streak of bad luck. Gotta break out of it."

I didn't move. I could hear my heart pounding so hard, I thought it would shatter in my chest. Slowly, I sat up and got off the bed. Papa didn't move, didn't speak. From the sound of his breathing, I was sure he had fallen asleep again. My body shuddered with sobs that began in my heart and remained in my chest. I went to my things, gathered them together and retreated from the room. I wanted to sleep in my own bed. I wanted to die in my own bed.

Emily shook me awake the next morning. I had fallen asleep clutching my pillow to me. When I opened my eyes, I saw her glaring down at me.

"Papa's calling for you," she said. "Can't you hear him screaming in the corridor? I have to wake you up? Get out of that bed this instant," she ordered.

I looked at the pillow and for a moment, I felt Papa's hot, sweaty body over me again. I heard him muttering his promises and calling me by other names. I felt his fingers squeezing my breasts and his mouth pressing down over mine and I screamed.

I screamed so loud and so unexpectedly that Emily fell back, her mouth agape. Then, I began to pound the pillow. I struck it with my fists over and over, sometimes missing it altogether and striking myself, but I didn't stop. I pulled at my hair and then pressed my palms against my temples and screamed again and again, bouncing on the bed and striking myself in the thighs, in the stomach and in the head.

Emily pulled her Bible from her housecoat pocket and began reading, raising her voice to cover my screams. The louder she read, the louder I screamed. Finally, my throat was too hoarse and dry and I collapsed on the bed where I shuddered and shivered, my lips trembling, my teeth clicking. Emily continued to read her Biblical passages over me and then she crossed herself again and began to retreat, singing a hymn as she did so.

She brought Papa to my bedroom door. He stood on his crutches and looked in at me.

"The devil entered her body last night," she told him. "I've started the process of driving him out."

"Hmm," Papa said. "Good," he said, and quickly returned to his own bedroom. He didn't demand I come back. Vera and Tottie came to see me and brought me something hot to eat and drink, but I wouldn't take anything, not a crumb. All I did was sip some water in the evening and in the morning. I remained in bed all that day and the next. Periodically, Emily stopped by to recite some prayers and sing a hymn.

Finally, on the morning of the third day, I rose, took a hot bath and went downstairs. Vera and Tottie were happy to see me up and about. They fawned all over me, treating me like the lady of the house. I said very little. I went in to see Mamma and sat with her most of the day, listening to her fantasies and her stories, watching her sleep, reading one of her romance novels to her. She lived in strange spurts of energy, sometimes rising to fix her hair and then retreating to bed. Sometimes she got up and dressed herself, and then she would quickly undress and get into a nightgown and robe. Her erratic behavior, her insanity, seemed soothing to me. I felt so lost and confused myself.

The days passed. Papa began to do more and more for himself. Soon he was navigating the stairway on his crutches and going to his office. Whenever he saw me, he would shift his eyes away quickly and busy himself with something. I tried not to see him; I tried to look through him. Finally, he muttered a hello or a good morning and I muttered one back.

For whatever reasons she had, Emily began to leave me alone, too. She recited her prayers and asked me to read something from the Bible from time to time, but she didn't hover over me and haunt me with her religious demands the way she had since Niles's death.

I spent a good deal of my time reading. Vera taught me how to do needlepoint and I began to do some of that. I took my walks and ate my meals in relative silence. I felt strangely outside myself; I felt like a spirit hovering above, watching my body go through its daily activities with dreary monotony.

One day I managed to get Mamma outside, but she had more headaches and stomachaches than usual and spent most of her time in bed. The only long conversation I had with Papa was about her. I asked him to send for the doctor.

"She's not imagining or pretending, Papa," I told him. "She's really in pain."

He grunted, avoided my eyes as usual, and promised to do something after he finished with his paperwork. But weeks passed without him doing anything until finally, one night, Mamma was in such pain, she was literally howling. Papa was frightened himself and sent Charles for the doctor. After he examined her, he wanted to take her to the hospital, but Papa wouldn't permit it.

"None of us Booths have gone to any hospital, not even Eugenia. Give her some tonic and she'll be just fine," he insisted.

"I think it's more serious, Jed. I need some other doctors looking at her and some tests done on her."

"Just give her some tonic," Papa repeated. Reluctantly, the doctor gave Mamma something for the pain and left. Papa told her to take the tonic every time she was in pain. He promised to get her a case of it if she liked. I told Emily he was wrong and she should convince him to listen to the doctor.

"God will look after Mamma," Emily retorted, "not a bunch of atheistic doctors."

More time passed. Mamma didn't get any better, but she didn't seem to get any worse. The tonic had a sedative effect and she slept most of the time. I was sorry for her because autumn had slipped in upon us with brighter yellows and crisper browns than I could recall. I wanted to take her for walks.

One morning, as soon as I awoke, I made up my mind I would get Mamma dressed and out of bed, but when I started to rise myself, a wave of nausea came over me and sent me scurrying to the bathroom where I vomited until my stomach ached. I couldn't imagine what had done it and done it so suddenly. I sat on the floor, my head spinning, and closed my eyes.

Then it came to me. It washed over me like a pail of ice water, but it left my face hot and my heart pounding. It had been nearly two months and I hadn't had my period. I got up quickly, dressed and hurried downstairs to, go directly to Papa's office and his medical books. I opened the one that I knew discussed pregnancy and read the shocking news I knew in my heart.

I was still sitting on the floor, the book opened in my lap, when Papa entered his office. He stopped with surprise.

"What are you doing here this hour?" he demanded. "What's that you're reading?"

"It's one of your medical books, Papa. I wanted to be sure first," I said. My voice was so full of defiance, Papa was taken aback.

"What do you mean? Sure of what?"

"Sure I was pregnant," I declared. The words fell like thunder. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped. He shook his head. "Yes, Papa, it's true. I'm pregnant," I said. "And you know why and how it happened."

Suddenly, he brought his shoulders up and pointed his finger at me.