Midnight Whispers by V. C. Andrews
"Did you ever weave beads, Jefferson?" Charlotte asked him. He shook his head. "Oh, you're going to have so much fun. And I have pounds and pounds of clay, too."
"You do?"
"Yes." She slapped her hands together. "I know what—we'll give you a room to do over. You can paint everything in it anyway you want."
"Wow!" Jefferson said, his eyes bright with excitement. Then Aunt Charlotte sat down and folded her hands. She watched us eat for a moment.
"So," she finally said. "When are your mommy and daddy coming to get you?"
I lowered my sandwich to the plate.
"They're never coming for us, Aunt Charlotte. There was a terrible fire in the hotel and they died in it. We couldn't live there anymore," I added.
"Oh dear. Died, you say?" She looked up at Luther who nodded, his face dark. "Oh, how sad for you, for everyone." She looked sympathetically at Jefferson. "Well, we won't let sadness come into The Meadows. We'll shut the door on sadness. We'll have lots of fun making things and cooking good things to eat like cookies and cakes and we'll think up games to play and listen to music."
"My sister plays the piano," Jefferson bragged.
"Oh, she does." Aunt Charlotte clapped her hands. "We have a piano in the living room, don't we, Luther?"
"Probably badly out of tune and dusty, but it's a nice piano," he said. "Charlotte's mother used to play after dinner," Luther said but then he fixed his gaze on me. "Somebody must be looking after you kids now, though, ain't they? Won't they be coming for you?"
I looked at Gavin and then shook my head. "They don't know we're here," I said.
"You run away, did you?" I didn't have to answer. He saw it in our faces.
"Please let us stay a while, Luther. We won't be any trouble," I pleaded.
"No sir, we won't," Gavin said. "I'd be glad to help you with your chores around the plantation, too," he added.
"You ever done any farm work?" Luther asked quickly.
"A little," Gavin said.
"Well, we got hay to bale, crops to harvest, pigs and chickens to feed, firewood to cut and split. Let's see your hands," he said and reached out to grab Gavin's wrist and turn his palms up. Then he put his hand alongside Gavin's. "See these, calluses. That's what comes from farm work."
"I'm not afraid of getting calluses," Gavin said sharply. Luther nodded and came close to smiling, his lips twitching in the corners. He stepped back.
"We get by on what we grow here," he said.
"I want to help too," Jefferson said.
Charlotte laughed.
"He can learn to gather the eggs," she said. Jefferson's face lit up.
"And I can help with the house chores," I said. Even with the dull lighting, I could see that the house needed hours and hours of cleaning. "We won't be a burden," I promised.
"Of course you won't, dear," Charlotte said. "They can stay, can't they, Luther?"
"I guess so. For a while anyway," he added.
"I know what," Charlotte said and clapped her hands again, "as soon as you're finished eating, you can try the piano."
"They're tired, Charlotte. They should go to sleep," Luther said.
"Oh just a little," she whined like a child. "You can play just a little, can't you, dear?"
"Yes," I said and when we finished our tea and jelly rolls, which were quite good, Charlotte led the way to the living room, holding Jefferson's hand. I was happy to see how quickly he had taken to her and how he wasn't shy or frightened anymore.
The living room was the most shocking room of all. Charlotte had repainted the walls, making one wall yellow, one blue, one green and one bright pink. Instead of paintings and portraits, she had hung up old clothes with shoes and boots dangling from the bottoms of pants and skirts. In one corner she had a display of costume jewelry. She had painted the legs of chairs and tables, each of them having four different-colored legs to match the walls. Here and there paint was splattered on the hardwood floor and even some paint had dripped over the window panes.
Gavin and I just stood there, our mouths open, gaping.
"Charlotte wanted to make this room her Happy Room," Luther explained.
"Emily never used to let us come in here much," Charlotte said. "She didn't want us messing things up," she added and then followed it with a short laugh that sounded like a hiccup. Jefferson spun around and around, his face broken into a wide, excited smile.
"Can I do this to my room?" he asked.
"You surely can," Charlotte said. "Tomorrow we'll pick out your room and then you'll pick our paints."
"I don't know if he should do that, Aunt Charlotte," I said.
"Of course he should, dear. He's a little boy and little boys need to do little boy things. Right, Luther?"
"It's all right with me," he said. "If Emily was here, she'd die all over again." How much he had hated her, I thought.
"Now let's all sit and listen to Christie play the piano," Charlotte said. She took Jefferson's hand and led him to the sofa.
Gavin smiled at me.
"Earn your supper," he whispered and sat down beside Jefferson and Charlotte. Luther stood in the doorway.
I went to the grand piano. Charlotte had spared it, leaving the wood the color it was and not touching the piano stool either. It was dusty, but when I tapped on the keys, I was surprised at how in tune it still was.
"Can you play 'Happy Birthday'?" Charlotte asked. "No one's played 'Happy Birthday' for me for a long time."
"Yes," I said and did so. To my surprise, Luther began to sing along and when I reached the place for a name, he bellowed "Dear Charlotte, happy birthday to you." She laughed and clapped her hands and I caught the way Luther gave her a loving glance.
I played some of Brahms' Lullaby and as I played, Jefferson's eyes began to close. Charlotte had her arm around him and he had laid his head against her soft shoulder. By the time I finished, he was fast asleep. I nodded at him and Charlotte widened her eyes and said, "Shh."
Gavin scooped Jefferson up in his arms and carried him from the room to the stairway. Charlotte followed us upstairs.
"I'll get one of Luther's clean nightshirts for him," she said and hurried out. I took off Jefferson's shoes and socks and Gavin helped undress him. He was so tired that his eyelids barely fluttered as we moved him around to get his clothing off. Charlotte returned with a flannel nightshirt. It was way too big for Jefferson, but I thought it would keep him warm and comfortable anyway. We slipped it over his head and then tucked him into bed.
"I can give you one of my nightgowns," Charlotte told me. I told her I would be all right sleeping in my underwear.
"Well then, I'm going to sleep myself. We have a big day tomorrow. So much to do and so little time to do it, as Emily used to say. She was right about that. Sometimes, Emily was right, even though Luther hates to hear me say that," she whispered. "Good night, dears. Sleep tight and don't let the bedbugs bite," she added and laughed. We watched her scurry off.
I went into the bathroom first and then crawled into my bed and turned off the kerosene lamp. The room was pitch dark, but the overcast sky had broken and the light of stars poured a gentle, soft glow through the window. I listened for Gavin and heard him return to his and Jefferson's room. Moments later there was a gentle knock on the adjoining door.
"Yes?"
"You all right?"
"Uh huh."
"Can I come in and say good night?"
"Of course you can, Gavin," I said. He opened the door farther. The lamp was still on in his and Jefferson's room, so I could see him clearly. He was wearing only his underwear. He moved to the side of my bed quickly and knelt down so he was right beside my face.
"It's funny here, isn't it? I mean, Charlotte's sweet and all, but it's like we're in another world."
"Yes, but I'm glad. I hate the world we were in before," I said. Gavin nodded, understanding.
"We can't stay here forever, you know."
"I know, but I'd like to stay here as long as
"You mean like the lord and lady of the manor?" he asked.
"Yes," I said. He laughed.
"Jefferson seems happy. All right," he said. "We'll give it a go. I'd better say good night," he whispered.
"Good night, Gavin. I'm so happy you came to help us and you're with us."
"I couldn't help but come," he said and then he leaned forward and kissed my cheek. "Good night, Christie," he said again, but he didn't move away. I turned my head toward him so he could return with his lips and put them softly on mine. He brushed my hair with his palm and then stood up.
As he turned to go to his and Jefferson's room, I caught the movement of a shadow in the window to my left and spun around.
"Gavin!" I cried and he turned back.
"What?"
"Someone was looking in the window just now," I said, sitting up quickly.
"What?" He moved to the window and looked out. "I don't see anyone." He opened the window more and stuck his head out.
"Gavin?"
"Shh," he said and listened. Then he brought his head back in.
"What?"
"I thought I heard footsteps on the roof, but I guess it was just the wind. I'm sure it was nothing," he said. "Just a shadow."
"There's no moon tonight to make shadows, Gavin."
"Then it must have been your imagination . all those stories about Emily on a broom. Are you frightened? Will you be all right?"
I looked at the window. I was sure I had seen something, but I didn't want to ruin our first night here.
"Yes, I'll be okay."
"Good night again." He started away.
"Gavin."
"Yes?"
"Leave the door open just a little," I said. "Sure."
After he left I lay there with my eyes open, turning every once in a while to look at the window. I didn't see any more shadows or heads and my eyelids grew so heavy, I had to close them and fall asleep.
But sometime during the night, I woke up feeling certain someone had been watching me, that someone had even been in the room!
12
THROUGH THE LOOKING-GLASS
EVEN THOUGH WE WERE ALL SO EXHAUSTED BY THE TIME we went to sleep, we woke up when we heard Aunt Charlotte in the hallway singing, "Get up, get up, you sleepy heads, come on get up, get out of your beds!" Her laughter followed, and moments later when I opened my eyes, I saw Jefferson peering at me through the partially opened adjoining door. The hem of Luther's nightshirt trailed behind and around him as he scampered into my room and hopped onto my bed.
"Wake up, Christie. Wake up," he said, shaking my arm. "Gavin's moaning and groaning. He won't get up," Jefferson complained. I moaned myself. Then I rubbed my eyes and propped myself up on my elbows. Sunlight came streaming through the windows, illuminating the particles of dust that danced in its rays, making them look like tiny floating jewels.
"We had a long day yesterday, Jefferson," I explained in defense. "We're still tired."
"I'm not tired," he declared. "I wanna have breakfast and paint pictures with Aunt Charlotte. She's calling us. Come on," he said, shaking my arm again.
"Okay, okay." I took a deep breath and gazed at the window, recalling my sense of another presence. "Go get washed up and I'll help you put on your clothes," I said. He lifted Luther's nightshirt up over his ankles so he could hurry out to the bathroom, his bare feet dancing over the hardwood floors. Just after I put on my skirt and blouse, I heard a gentle knock and turned to see Gavin, who had risen and gotten dressed.
"You know it's only six-thirty in the morning," he complained, his eyelids drooping. He yawned. "Are you all right? Any more nightmares?"
"They weren't nightmares, Gavin. Someone was looking through that window last night," I said. He smiled. "Someone was here. I think he even came back after we went to sleep!"
"Okay, okay." He rubbed his stomach. "You know, I'm hungry. I wonder what they eat for breakfast."
Jefferson came rushing back in. He was brightly awake and had even tried to brush back his hair neatly. I helped him dress while Gavin washed up and then I washed my face and did what I could with my hair, absent a brush or comb. The scent of bacon drew us all down the corridor and stairway quickly. When we entered the kitchen, we found Luther finishing up a platter of bacon and eggs. Charlotte was wearing another of her personally designed potato sacks, this one covered with different colors and different sized buttons. She had sewn a large pink bow on each shoulder.
"Good morning, everyone. Did everyone have a nice sleep?" she asked. "Mr. Sandman was here last night. I heard him walking through the house, didn't you?"
"Oh, so that's who that was," Gavin said, smiling, his eyes twinkling impishly. He waited to see if I was going to tell them about the face in the window.
"I didn't hear Mr. Sandman," Jefferson said.
"That's because you were already asleep so he didn't have to put sand in your eyes," Charlotte explained. "Now sit down, everyone. We've got to have a good breakfast first and then we can do our chores, right Luther?" Luther grunted and gulped down his coffee as he rose from his seat.
"I'll be out back," he said and then looked at Gavin and added, "in the barn."
"I'll be there right after breakfast," Gavin promised. Luther nodded and left.
"Does everyone want eggs and bacon?" Charlotte asked. "I make them sunny-side-up because they look like little smiling faces that way."
"It smells wonderful, Aunt Charlotte," I said. "Can I help?"
"Everything's done. Just sit down and I'll serve you just the way I used to serve my daddy and Emily years-and years ago," she said. She served the food and then sat down and talked as we all ate, describing what life used to be like when she was a young girl.
"After Daddy died and Emily became Miss Bossy Mouth, everything changed," she concluded sadly. "We didn't have breakfasts like this anymore. Emily made us sell most of our eggs to the grocery in Upland Station."
"What about Grandmother Cutler?" I inquired.
"Grandmother Cutler?"
"Your other sister, Lillian?"
"Oh," she said, taking on a strange, pensive look. "She was off and married when I was just a little girl," she said quickly, "and I hardly saw her, but Emily always complained about her." She leaned toward us. "Emily always complained about everyone," she whispered as if Emily were in the other room, listening. Then she clapped her hands together and smiled.
"First, show Jefferson the paints and the brushes and let him play and then later we'll go up to the attic and you can find clothes and shoes to wear, okay? Won't that be nice?"
"Yes, Aunt Charlotte," I said. I looked around the kitchen. There were dishes caked with food from previous meals on the counter and the floor looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks, if not months. The windows were spotted with dust and grime on both the insides and out. "I'll do what I can to help you clean up the house, too."
"Goody, goody, goody," she said and laughed. "We'll have wonderful times, just like we used to when everyone was little and we had a golden retriever dog named Kasey Lady who poked her nose in my face every morning to wake me."
Gavin looked at me and smiled. Aunt Charlotte was just a little girl at heart, but I didn't mind. I felt safe here, as safe and secure as I would be in a magic bubble. It was as if I finally had been able to escape the curse on the Cutlers.
After breakfast, Gavin went out to help Luther, and Charlotte took Jefferson to her makeshift studio to give him his paints and brushes. I cleaned the kitchen. When I was finished I went exploring through the house. Halfway down the corridor, I stopped because I thought I heard someone behind me. But when I looked, no one was there. Only . . . a curtain swayed.
"Who's there?" I called. No one responded and nothing moved. It gave me goose bumps, so I hurried to find Charlotte and Jefferson. On the way I discovered that Charlotte had painted the stems and bl
I found Charlotte and Jefferson in a little room off the library. When I peered in, Charlotte looked up from her needlework and smiled. Jefferson was busy painting walls and fixtures. Already, his cheeks were streaked and his arms were full of paint up to his elbows.
"We're having fun," Charlotte said, her face beaming with joy, and then she quickly added, "Little boys are supposed to make messes of themselves."
"You're right about that, Aunt Charlotte. Aunt Charlotte, can you show me the room now where my mother lived and I was born?"
"Oh yes, yes, yes. That's the Bad Room," she said rising. "I was in it once, too."
"The bad room?"
"You'll see," she said and led me upstairs.
When I set eyes on the room, I understood immediately why it would be called "The Bad Room." It looked like a prison cell. It was a small room with a narrow bed against the wall on the left. The bed had no headboard; it was just a mattress on a metal frame. Beside it was a bare nightstand. On the stand was a kerosene lamp, but I could see it had not been used for years. There were spiders living in it. The walls were dark gray and there were no mirrors or windows. To the right was a doorway to the small bathroom. I saw that the fixtures were rusted and rotten. It had been some time since water had run in that sink, I thought.
Looking around this horrid room, I sensed some of the terror and sadness my mother must have felt being locked up in it and forced to give birth in such a hovel. How lonely she must have been, and how frightened all the time. With no sunlight, no fresh air, nothing but dreary colors to gaze at, she surely must have felt like a prisoner or someone evil being punished.
"You're right to call this the Bad Room, Aunt Charlotte," I said. And then I recalled what she had said before. "Why were you put here?"
"I was naughty, too," she said. "And had a baby growing in my stomach."
"A baby? What happened to it? Was it a boy or a girl?" I asked quickly.