Twilight's Child Page 3

  "Sanford Compton has asked that you stop by as soon as possible to get the baby. He doesn't want their pain and agony to last a moment longer than necessary," Mr. Updike told us.

  "Of course," Jimmy said. "We'll go right over."

  "Thank you, Mr. Updike," I said. "I know how difficult this was for you."

  I had a suspicion Judge Powell had chastised him for not being more assured that I had been a party to the agreement. He didn't strike me as the kind of man who made such mistakes. But in a real sense, he had been violated by Grandmother Cutler, too. He was just unwilling to face up to that, for reasons I had yet to understand.

  Some of the shadows and the skeletons in the closets of the Cutler family had been exposed and revealed, but deep in my heart I knew there were closet doors yet to be opened.

  Sanford Compton was a different man when Jimmy and I arrived at the house to get Christie this time. He allowed Frazer to show us in, and he greeted us in the hallway standing beside a box, which, he explained, contained things he had bought for Christie.

  "Some baby clothing, diapers, crib toys and the formula our pediatrician recommended. Even though I am sure you have your own doctor who might recommend something different, it will tide you over," he said. He gazed behind him at the stairway. "Patricia will be along any moment with the baby."

  "I'll just get this out to the car," Jimmy said, picking up the carton. "Thank you."

  "I am sorry how all this worked out," Sanford said when he and I were alone for a moment. "It was never our intention to add to anyone's suffering."

  "No, no. It wasn't your fault. You weren't told the truth," I said.

  "If I had been, you can be damn sure it wouldn't have gone this far," he replied, his eyes icy blue again. "Your grandmother, or the woman who called herself that, must have been some piece of work."

  I couldn't help but laugh at his description, but my joviality was short-lived, for when I lifted my gaze toward the stairway I saw Patricia Compton coming down slowly, baby Christie in her arms. My heart began to pitter-patter, both in anticipation and in anxiety, because Patricia walked as if she were under a spell. To me it appeared she could fold up at any moment and topple down the staircase, dropping the baby out of her embrace.

  "I wanted to do all of this," Sanford whispered, "but she insisted."

  I stepped forward quickly to greet her at the base of the stairway. She stopped two steps from the bottom and stared at me. Christie was wrapped in a pink blanket, her tiny nose and chin barely visible. Patricia continued to gaze at me silently. Her sad eyes and trembling lips kept me from simply reaching out to seize Christie.

  "She's just been fed, and she's dozing," Patricia finally said. "She always drops right off after a feeding. Sometimes"—Patricia smiled—"sometimes she falls asleep with the nipple of the bottle still in her lips. She just stops suckling and closes her eyes and drifts off, contented. She's a wonderful baby."

  Her eyes shifted to Sanford. Jimmy returned and approached slowly.

  "Give Miss Cutler her child now, Patricia," Sanford said firmly but softly.

  "What? Oh, yes, yes." She lifted the baby toward me, and I stepped forward quickly to take Christie in my arms. When I looked down into her little face I finally felt the shadow lift from my heart, filling with sunshine and joy. I had forgotten how blond her hair was. It looked like a crown of gold.

  "Thank you," I said, turning back to Patricia. "I am truly sorry for the pain you are suffering now."

  Patricia's lips trembled harder. Her chin began to wrinkle, and her shoulders started to shake.

  "Patricia. You promised," Sanford reminded her.

  She took a deep breath and pressed her small fists into her bosom as if to hold her sorrow inside.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered.

  "We'd better be going, Dawn," Jimmy said. "We have a long ride back."

  "Yes. Thank you for the baby's things," I told Sanford. He nodded, but I could see he, too, was holding back a flood of tears. Jimmy and I started out of the house. Just as Frazer closed the door behind us we heard Patricia Compton's wail. It was a loud, shrill scream, the moan any mother would express if her child were being taken away.

  The heavy front door was closed rapidly, and it mercifully entrapped the wail within. Even so, Jimmy and I hurried down the walkway, driven along by the horror of Patricia Compton's agony. Neither of us spoke until Jimmy had started the engine and driven off. I couldn't help but gaze back once more at the house and grounds that might have been Christie's home. Then I closed my eyes and drove the image back into the deepest closets of my memory. When I opened my eyes again I gazed down at my baby, her tiny pink face just waiting for my kisses.

  2

  BACK AT CUTLER'S COVE

  BEFORE JIMMY AND I HAD LEFT FOR SADDLE CREEK I HAD ASKED Mrs. Boston to prepare the room across from Grandmother Cutler's suite. It had two big windows looking out over the hotel grounds, and I liked the light blue wallpaper. There was a room that had served as a nursery for Philip, me and Clara Sue, but it was from that room that my abduction had been arranged. I didn't ever want to put Christie there.

  Mrs. Boston helped me get Christie's things organized. Jimmy brought up the carton of clothes and other items Sanford Compton had given us, and Mrs. Boston unpacked it all and put it away.

  "It's a good thing to have a newborn child here now," Mrs. Boston said. "The birth of a child washes away the shadows Death leaves behind when he visits a house. And she's a beautiful baby, too," she admitted.

  I thanked her. I had half expected Mother might come in to see Christie, but she kept her suite door shut tight and didn't even acknowledge our arrival.

  After Mrs. Boston left and I had Christie sleeping comfortably in her crib, I felt someone's eyes on me and turned to see Clara Sue leaning against the door jamb. She had her arms folded under her bosom, and the corner of her lip twisted up in a smirk.

  "Aren't you embarrassed bringing her back here?" she asked in a haughty tone. "After all, she is a bastard, just like you."

  "Of course not," I said. "What happened doesn't make her any less beautiful or wonderful. And don't you ever let me hear you call her a bastard again!"

  "What are you going to tell her when she grows up and asks who her real father is?" she shot back, trying to stab me with her hateful question.

  "When she's old enough to understand, I'll tell her the truth," I said. "She's not going to be brought up in a world of lies like I was."

  "It's disgusting and disgraceful, and Grandmother would never have permitted it. It hurts the hotel's reputation," she insisted.

  I turned on her, my hands clenched into fists, and walked toward her slowly, my eyes fixed on her so firmly that the hateful smile evaporated quickly from her face and was instantly replaced by a look of fear. With every step I took forward, she took one backward.

  "I'm going to say this once and only once, so make sure you listen. Don't you ever, ever say anything to make Christie seem like something evil! If there is anything that is disgusting and disgraceful in this hotel, it's you. Keep away from Christie. I don't want you anywhere near her!" I cried. "And if I hear about you spreading any nasty stories, I'll beat those extra pounds out of your face and body myself," I added, raising a fist. Clara Sue shot me one last dark look before she fled.

  In the days that followed, little of this changed. I really began to feel like an orphan. I already knew that Randolph, who had always been distracted by his busywork, had become very melancholy after Grandmother Cutler's death. Once a man with one of the most charming smiles and the most suave, sophisticated Southern demeanor, Randolph moped about the hotel and grounds speaking to people only when it was necessary. His eyes became shadowed, and when he spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

  I had met very few men who were as concerned and as fastidious about their appearance as Randolph had been, but now he was taking even less care of his clothing, wearing wrinkled shirts and pants, creased and stained ties and scuffed sho
es. I knew Mother had to have noticed all this herself, but she chose to ignore it. I was positive that if anyone did bring it up to her, she would complain about the stress, press her palm against her forehead and declare the entire subject one of those "unmentionables."

  With Clara Sue off in a sulk most of the time, and Philip brooding because I wouldn't spend any of my free time with him, the atmosphere in the hotel became a heavy, dreary one that the guests soon felt and began to complain about. All of them missed Grandmother Cutler, who, say what I would about her, had created a charming and elegant atmosphere for her clientele. Now everyone was anxious for the summer and the high season to come to an end.

  A little more than a week after we had returned with Christie, Jimmy had to go. His leave was finished, and he had to report for duty. He had been at my side during so much of the turmoil and agony I had experienced over the past weeks that I couldn't help being frightened and depressed about his departure. Once again I felt like someone being deserted. Our parting was very sad for both of us. We said our final good-byes in the privacy of his car in front of the hotel.

  It was a gray day, overcast with clouds that looked so heavy, I thought they were made out of iron. They loomed over the ocean, which had turned a dull gray itself and looked like a field of cement. Across the grounds, leaves blown by a severe wind rained down and were then scattered everywhere. They seemed to hop madly over the lawns and driveway.

  "Don't look so sad," Jimmy cajoled. "I'll call you every chance I get, and I'll be back as soon as I get my next leave."

  "I can't help the way I feel, Jimmy. This is a big hotel with many people in it, but no one's there for me," I said. I couldn't keep the tears from burning under my lids. Jimmy's dark eyes gleamed.

  "I just knew you were going to be this way when I left. I just knew it. And so," he said, stretching, "I had to move up my plans."

  "Move up your plans?" I smiled through my emerging tears. "I don't understand." Like a Cheshire cat he sat there grinning at me. "Are you going to explain?"

  "Uh-huh," Jimmy said, and he dug into his uniform jacket and came up with something in his closed fist. I waited as he brought his hand to me and then opened his fist. Glittering there in his palm was the prettiest diamond engagement ring I had ever seen, and big, too! My breath caught and held and for a moment. I couldn't speak.

  "Jimmy, when did you get this? How did you get something so expensive?" I finally cried, practically bouncing on the seat. He laughed and slipped it on my finger.

  "I got it in Europe," he confessed, "when I took a short hop over to Amsterdam. That's where the real bargains in diamonds are, you know," he added, proud of the worldly knowledge he had acquired during his travels. "Of course, my buddies made fun of me saving every nickel and dime I could, but"—he took my hand into his and gazed into my eyes—"it was worth it just to see the look on your face and to be able to wipe some sadness out of your eyes."

  I shook my head. My heart beat with such excitement, it took my breath away. In fact, I felt a little dizzy, and for a moment the car seemed to spin.

  "You all right?" Jimmy asked when I gasped.

  "Yes. I suppose I'm just . . . so surprised. Oh, Jimmy," I said, and I threw my arms around him. Then we kissed as we had never kissed before, both of us clinging lovingly to each other. I held on to him as long as I could, and then we pulled away from each other, and he wiped the tears from my cheeks gently with his handkerchief.

  "Just think," he said, his dark eyes twinkling with that impish brightness I had learned to love, "someday soon I'll be making you Dawn Longchamp again."

  "That's right. Oh, Jimmy, isn't that funny? I can't wait." We kissed again, and then he said he really had to be going.

  "They don't take kindly to us being late. It's not like getting assigned detention at Emerson Peabody," he said with a smile. "Well, take care of yourself and little Christie," he said.

  I hated getting out of the car, but I had to let him go. He rolled down his window, and we kissed good-bye one last time. Then he started the engine and drove off. I waved until his car disappeared around the bend in the driveway.

  The cold winds of autumn lifted my hair and made it dance over my forehead. I embraced myself and turned to go back into the hotel, the sight of the diamond engagement ring on my finger filling me with warmth and hope.

  The combination of the excitement and the sadness in saying good-bye to Jimmy left me very tired and eager to go upstairs and take a nap alongside Christie. I walked up the stairs slowly, not thinking of anything at all, my eyes half closed. When I entered the room I went directly to Christie's crib. I wanted to place her beside me on the bed and sleep with her cradled in my arms. But when I leaned over to get her, I found she wasn't there.

  For a moment it didn't register in my mind. It was as if my eyes were playing practical jokes on me. I actually smiled in disbelief, closed my eyes and opened them. That didn't help. Christie was gone!

  Mrs. Boston must have taken her somewhere, I thought. My heart began to pound. No, it did more than pound; it thumped sharply, as if it were trying to break out of my chest. I lost my breath, and for a few seconds I stood there gasping. Then I caught hold of myself, forced myself to stay calm and left the room to go down to find Mrs. Boston. I didn't find her in her room. I finally found her in the kitchen talking to Nussbaum, the chef. They both turned as I came walking briskly toward them. I was sure my face was terribly flushed. I felt as if my skin were on fire. I could barely speak.

  "What is it, Dawn?" Mrs. Boston asked, seeing the wild look in my eyes. She didn't have Christie in her arms and wouldn't have brought her in here anyway.

  "Christie . . ." I had to swallow before I could continue. "Christie's missing," I said, and my tears burst forth, charging out of my eyes like water crashing through a weakened dam.

  "Vot are you sayin'?" Nussbaum asked.

  "Missing?" Mrs. Boston said. She shook her head. "There must be some mistake."

  "No, no mistake. She's not in her crib," I cried.

  "Here, here," Nussbaum said, embracing me. "I'm sure she's all right." He shifted his eyes quickly to Mrs. Boston, whose face now registered some deep concern.

  "Let's go up," she said sharply. I followed her out, and we hurried through the corridor and up the stairs. Once again I confronted an empty crib. Mrs. Boston shook her head.

  "I don't understand," she said. "I left her not twenty minutes ago. She was sleeping so soundly."

  "Oh, no," I said, no longer able to stay in control. Christie was gone. She was really gone! "Oh, no!" I screamed. I screamed so loud and so shrilly, it brought Mother out of her suite.

  "What is it?" she demanded, giving me an annoyed look. "It's the baby," Mrs. Boston said. "She's gone. Someone's taken the baby."

  Those words turned my mother's face into a mask of horror. Her mouth contorted, and her eyes seemed to sink deeper into her skull even as they grew larger and larger, her pupils dilating with fear. She had heard those words before, of course, when I had been taken, only then she had had to pretend. It was as if she had been thrown back through time and made to relive it. She shook her head and backed away.

  "No," she said. "It must be . . . must be, a mistake. This can't be happening. Not again. I can't deal with this. Why can there never be any happiness in this cursed place?" she muttered, and she ran from the room.

  "Let's get help," Mrs. Boston said.

  I couldn't keep myself from shaking. Jimmy had just left me, just when I needed him the most, I thought. Oh, please, please, God, don't let Christie be gone. Not again. Not to have the same fate I had. Could my mother be right? Was this place cursed? It seemed like a cruel joke fate wanted to pull over and over. I smothered my tears and followed Mrs. Boston out of the room. We charged down the stairs to the lobby, where she gathered the staff around us.

  "Someone's taken Christie from her crib," she announced. "We need everyone in the hotel lookin'."

  Everyone was equally shocked and concerned.
The bellhops fanned out. The receptionists joined the search. Dining room staff members who were relaxing in the lobby took the outside and circled the hotel. As more and more people found out what was happening, the search party enlarged until it involved almost everyone in the hotel.

  Philip, who had been in the card room playing poker with some of the dining room staff, came running.

  "The baby's actually missing?" he asked. I could only nod. I sat on a soft chair and embraced myself, feeling that if I let go, I would literally fall apart. My stomach felt as if it was ready to empty itself at any minute, I felt so nauseous. My throat was choked so tightly, I couldn't swallow. Every once in a while I had to close my eyes and struggle for a breath. Chambermaids, receptionists, Mrs. Boston, everyone tried to comfort me.

  Finally we heard someone shouting from the far end of the lobby. It was one of the chambermaids.

  "The baby's been found," she cried.

  "Christie. Christie," I called, and somehow I found the strength to stand. It was as if I were floating over the lobby floor as I walked forward. Moments later Millie Francis, the lady in charge of the laundry, came walking out of the corridor carrying Christie cradled in her arms.

  "Is she all right?" I cried.

  "Just fine," Millie said. She handed my baby over to me gently. Christie's eyes were open wide in surprise. Her face was filled with curiosity as I held her tightly, not wanting to think of what I would have done if we hadn't found her.

  "Where was she?" I demanded.

  "I almost missed her. She's such a good baby. She was lying there so quietly."

  "Lying where?" I asked quickly.

  "In the laundry room, in a bin, on top of a pile of towels," she said.

  Everyone looked at one another in astonishment.

  "How could she get down there, and who would put her in a laundry bin?" asked Mrs. Bradly, one of our older receptionists.

  "Sick joke, if someone did that," one of the bellhops said.

  "Thank you," I said, turning to them all. "Thank you all for helping."