Cutler 1 - Dawn (29 page)

"Mrs. Boston, you were here when I was stolen away, right?" I asked quickly.

Her eyes grew smaller, and there was a tremble in her lips.

"Yes."

"Did you know the woman who had been my nurse for that short time ... Nurse Dalton?"

"I knew her before and knew her after. She's still living, but she needs a nurse herself these days."

"Why's that?"

"She's an invalid, suffering from diabetes. She’s with her daughter just outside of Cutler's Cove." She paused and looked at me askance. "Why are you asking questions? There's no sense dragging up bad times.”

"But how could my daddy . . . I mean Mr. Longchamp steal me right out from under my nurse’s nose? Don't you remember the details?" I pursued.

"I don't remember no details. And I don't like bringing up bad times. It happened; it's over and done. Now I got to get going and finish up my work." She started away.

Puzzled by the way she reacted to my questions, I stood there and watched her walk off.

How could she forget the details of my kidnapping? If she once knew and still knew Nurse Dalton, she surely knew the way it had happened. Why was she so nervous when I asked her questions? I wondered.

If anything, it made me want to pursue the answers even harder.

I hurried on to get out of my dirty uniform and clean up. I wanted to take a long, hot shower and wash my hair so it smelled fresh and clean for Jimmy. I'd choose one of the nicer outfits from Clara Sue's hand-me-downs and brush out my hair so it shone the way it used to before all this happened. This could be the last night Jimmy and I spent together for years, I thought. What I wanted to do was bring back happier memories, help him to recall the times when we were all cheerful and hopeful. I needed to bring back the memories as much for myself as for him.

As soon as I got into my room, I stripped off my uniform and tossed it in the corner. I took off my underthings and my shoes and socks. Then I wrapped a towel around my body and went to the little bathroom.

. It always took a few minutes to get the water hot, so I turned it on and stood back to wait when all of a sudden the bathroom door was thrust open behind me.

I gasped and quickly scooped up the towel to wrap around myself again. Philip, smiling coyly, eyes big and bright, stepped in and closed the door behind me.

"Philip, what are you doing? I'm taking a shower!" I cried.

"So? Go ahead. I don't mind." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the door provocatively.

"You get out of here, Philip, before someone comes along and hears you in here."

"No one's coming along," he said calmly. "Grandmother's busy with guests; Father's in his office, Clara Sue's with her friends, and Mother . . . Mother is debating whether or not she is well enough tonight to come to the dining room. We're safe," he said, smiling again.

"We're not safe. I don't want you in here. Please . . . go," I begged.

He continued to gaze at me, his eyes moving from my feet to my head, drinking me in with pleasure. I tightened the towel around my body, but it was too small to be an adequate covering. When I brought it higher to cover my breasts, it came up too far on my thighs, and when I lowered it, most of my bosom was revealed.

Philip's tongue moved across his lips as if he had just finished eating something delicious. Then he grinned wickedly and took a step toward me. I backed up until I was against the wall.

"What are you doing, getting all cleaned and dressed for Jimmy?"

"I'm . . . getting ready for dinner. I did a lot of work today, and I'm not very clean. So go. Please."

"You're clean enough for me," he said. I cringed as he drew closer. In a moment he had me pinioned in his arms, with his palms flat against the wall to prevent my escape. His lips brushed my cheek.

"Philip, are you forgetting who we are now and what has happened?"

"I'm not forgetting anything, especially," he said kissing my forehead and moving his lips toward mine, "our night under the stars when we were interrupted by my idiot friends. I was about to teach you things, things you should know by your age. I’m a very good teacher, you know. You'll be grateful and you don't want to learn these things from just anybody, do you?" He dropped his right hand to my shoulder.

"You've had a taste of what it's like," he said softly, his eyes fixed on me. "How can you not want more?'

"Philip, you can't. We can't. Please."

"We can as long as we know when to stop, and I promise I know that. I keep my promises, too. I'm keeping my promise to help you: with Jimmy, aren’t I?" he said, raising his eyebrows to drive home his point.

Oh, no, I thought. Not Philip, too. Both he and Clara Sue were taking advantage of Jimmy's troubles to get me to do things.

"Philip, please," I pleaded. "This doesn't feel right anymore. I can't help it. I'm just as sorry as you are that it's turned out this way, believe me; but there nothing we can do about it but accept it."'

"I accept it. I accept it as another challenge,” he said, slipping his hand farther down to run his fingers along the top of my towel. I clutched it desperately.

"But it’s not fair," he said, his face suddenly turning dark and angry. "You knew how much I want to touch you and hold you, and you led me to believe it would happen."

"But it's not my fault,"

"It's nobody's fault . . . or maybe it's your other father's fault, but who cares right now? As I said," he continued, working his forefinger in and under the top of my towel, "we don't have to go as far as ordinary, unrelated men and women do. It won't mean anything then, but I had promised you I would show you—"

"I don't need to be shown."

"But I do," he said, forcing the towel down against my inadequate grip. I tried twisting away, but that only helped him get a better grip and the towel slipped of my breasts. His eyes widened with appreciation.

"Philip, stop!" I screamed. He gripped the inside of my elbows, pinning my arms back.

"If anyone hears you, we'll all get into trouble," he warned, "you, me, and Jimmy especially." He brought his lips to my nipples, moving quickly from one to the other and then back again.

I closed my eyes to try to deny this was happening. Once I had dreamt of him holding me and loving me, but this was twisted and harsh. My poor confused body responded to his caresses—stirred in places it had not been stirred before, but my mind screamed
No!
I felt like someone sinking into warm, soothing quicksand. For a few seconds it felt good, but it promised only trouble.

I continued to twist and squirm under his pincerlike fingers. The tip of his tongue drew a line from one breast to another and then he began to lower his body, kissing his way down my stomach until he reached the towel that was barely around my waist. I held it in the tip of my fingers. He bit the towel and tugged at it like a mad dog.

"Philip, stop, please," I pleaded.

With one strong pull, he drew the towel away from my body and dropped it at my feet. Then he gazed up at me, his eyes mad with desire. The glint in them was enough to set my heart racing even faster and pounding even harder than it already was.

Unable to get around him because he trapped against the wall, I brought my hands to my face as soon as he released my arms to embrace my thighs and draw them to his face. I felt my legs crumble and slid down the wall to the floor, my face covered.

"Dawn," said, his breathing heavy and hard. “It feels so good holding you. We don't have think about anything else."

All I could do was cry as his hands moved over my body, exploring, caressing.

"Doesn't this feel good? Aren't you happy?” he whispered. I took my hands off my face when he took his hands from me and started unbuttoning his jeans.

It sent an electric bolt of fear up my spine. With all my strength, I tried pushing him away so I could drive him back enough for me to lunge for the door to make a quick exit. But he seized my wrist and turned them until I was on my back on the wooden floor.

"Philip!" I cried. "Stop before it's too late."

In one swift motion he slipped himself between my legs.

"Dawn . . . don't be so frightened. I can’t help wanting to be with you. I thought I could try, but you’re too pretty. It doesn't have to mean anything,' he said gasping his words.

I clenched, my hands into small fists and tried to pummel his head, but it was like a small bird slapping its wings against the snoot of a fox. He didn’t even acknowledge it; instead, he moved himself comfortably against me, his lips catching the soft flesh of my breast between them and nibbling his way over my bosom.

Suddenly I felt his hardness press itself firmly against me until he forced in that swollen, rigid male sex part of him that had to be satisfied. It drove into my tight and resisting flesh, which tore and bled.

I screamed, not caring anymore if we were discovered and if Jimmy were found. The shock of feeling him inside me drove away any concern for anything but my own violated being. My piercing screech was enough to cause his retreat.

"All right," he pleaded. "Stop. I'll stop." He drew back and stood up, quickly pulling up his underwear and pants and buckling his belt. I turned over on my stomach and cried into my arms, my body shaking.

"Wasn't it good for you?" he asked softly, kneeling beside me. I felt his palm on my lower back. "At least now you have an idea of what it will be like."

"Go away. Leave me alone, Philip. Please!" I cried through my tears.

"It's just the shock of it all," he said. "All girls have the same reaction." He stood up. "It's all right," he repeated, more to convince himself, it seemed, than to convince me.

"Dawn," he whispered. "Don't hate me for wanting you."

"Just leave me alone, Philip," I demanded in a much sterner tone. There was another long pause and then I heard him open the bathroom door and leave.

I turned over to be sure he was gone. This time I made sure the door was locked. Then I gazed down at myself. There were red blotches over my breasts and stomach where he had nibbled and sucked on me. I shuddered. His violation of me, although short, left me feeling unclean. The only way I could stop myself from sobbing was to step into the shower and let the now hot water run over my body, practically scalding my flesh. I endured the heat, feeling it was cleansing me and washing away the memory of Phillip’s fingers and kisses. I scrubbed myself with such intensity, I brought new red blotches, making my skin scream with pain. All during my shower my tears mixed in with the water, seeming to fall as freely. What had once held the promise of romantic ecstasy and wonder had now turned sordid and depraved. I scrubbed and scrubbed.

Finally exhausted from the effort to wash away what had just happened, I stepped out of the shower and dried myself. I returned to my bedroom and feeling more tired than I could ever remember, lay down. I couldn’t cry anymore. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, awakening when I heard a gentle rapping at my door.

He’s returned, I thought, my heart racing again. I decided to remain still and see if he would believe I was already gone. The knocking got louder, and then I heard, “Dawn?”

It was my father. Had Phillip upset about my rebuffing him gone to him and told him about Jimmy? I got up slowly, my arms and legs as sore as would be had I been working out in a farm field all day. I put on my robe and opened the door.

“Hi,” he said. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

“I’m . . .” I wanted to tell him all of it, wanted to shout it out as a way of getting rid of the memory. I wanted to scream about all my violations, this sexual one being the most recent. I wanted to demand retribution, demand love and concern, demand to be treated like human being at least, if not a member of the family. But I could only look down and shake my head.

"I'm very tired," I said.

"Oh. I’ll see about getting you a day off."

"Thank you."

"I have something for you," my father said and reached into his breast pocket to pull out an envelope. "What's that?"

"The receipt of delivery from the prison. Ormand Longchamp has your letter," he said. "I did what I promised."

I took the receipt slowly from his hand and gazed upon the official signature. Daddy had received my letter and most likely had already set his eyes upon my words. At least now I could look forward hopefully to receiving his reply.

"But you mustn't be upset if he doesn't write back," my father advised. "I'm sure by now he's ashamed and would have a hard time facing you. Most likely, he doesn't know what to say."

I nodded, staring down at the official receipt.

"It's still hard for me to understand," I said, squeezing back my tears. I looked up at him sharply. "How could he have stolen me right out from under my nurse's nose?"

"Oh, he was very clever about it. He waited until she had left the nursery to go visit Mrs. Boston in her room. It wasn't that she neglected you. You had fallen asleep, and she had taken a break. She and Mrs. Boston were good friends. He must have been hiding in the corridors, watching and waiting for his opportunity. When it came he went in and took you and snuck out the back way."

I looked up sharply.

"Nurse Dalton had gone to Mrs. Boston's room?"

He nodded. But why didn’t Mrs. Boston tell me this when I asked her how Daddy could have taken me right out from under Nurse Dalton’s eyes? I wondered. That was such an important detail; how could she forget it?

“We didn’t know you had been taken until Mrs. Dalton returned and discovered you gone,” my father continued. “At first she thought we had taken you into our room. She came to our door, frantic.

“ 'What do you mean?' I said. 'We don’t have her.’ We didn’t think Grandmother Cutler would have taken you into her suite, but Mrs. Dalton and I ran out to see, and then realization hit me. And I went running through the hotel. But it was far too late.

“One of the staff members had seen Ormand Longchamp in the family section of the hotel. We put two and two together and came to the realization about what he had done. By the time we contacted the police, he and his wife were gone from Cutler’s Cove and of course, we had no idea what direction they had headed.