Cutler - Midnight Whipsers Part 32

"Gavin?" I called. There was no answer.

"Jefferson?" Still no reply. Slowly, I put the clothes down and peered out the door. Once again, I saw a shadow move. "Who's there?" Although there was no answer, I had the distinct sense of another's presence.

My heart began to pound. "Gavin, if you're playing a joke on me, it's not funny." I waited, but no one spoke. Slowly, quietly, I stepped into the hallway. The floorboards creaked. I stopped and listened keenly.

The sound of heavy breathing drew my attention to the right. I took a few steps in that direction and then .

. . I saw him!

At first, I was so shocked by the sight of him, I couldn't utter a sound. He was tall and stout with dark curly hair and big dark eyes. He was unshaven and the hair over his lips and along his jaws was as dark as the-hair on his head.

Finally, I screamed and my scream sent him scurrying down the hallway and out a side door. After he was gone and I was able to think about him more calmly, I realized he had had a soft, round face filled more with curiosity than threat.

Gavin had heard my screams and came running into the house, Jefferson right behind him, with Luther and Charlotte following.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

I pointed down the corridor.

"I saw him. He was standing right there. It wasn't my imagination this time. He was tall with dark curly hair and a dark face. He had big eyes and wore baggy gray pants with black suspenders."

"Who is that?" Gavin asked and looked at Luther.

"He's harmless," Luther muttered.

"Who's harmless?" Gavin asked quickly.

"It's only Homer," Luther said. "He lives with the Douglases, our closest neighbors. Don't mind him," he added and started away.

"But Luther . . . he just came into the house and last night, I'm sure he was on the roof peering in the windows," I said. "I think he's been spying on us all the time."

"Don't mind him," he repeated and left.

"Who is he, Charlotte? Why does he come here like this?" I asked, turning to her.

She shrugged and smiled.

"He likes us and Luther always gives him things. I leave him cupcakes and cookies. All I do is leave them on the counter on the table and some time during the day, he comes and eats them. Sometimes, he helps Luther with the ch.o.r.es."

"He didn't try to hurt you, did he?" Gavin asked. "No. I think I frightened him more than he frightened me," I said.

"He just wants to know who you are and why you're here," Charlotte said. "He's shy. Maybe because his mommy and daddy found him in a field."

"They found him?"

"Just outside their house. Like Moses floating in a stream. There he was one day, crying: They had no children so they considered him a gift. But everyone knows that someone left him; someone didn't want him."

She laughed.

"Poor Homer. He thinks he fell out of the sky.

Anyway," she said clapping her hands, "Luther said I could make the chicken and we could have a party tonight. Won't that be nice?"

"Will Homer come?" Jefferson asked, wide-eyed.

"Maybe. Maybe he will," Charlotte said and hurried off to start preparing.

"Okay," Gavin said nodding, "I'm sorry for not believing you last night. Homer," he added, shaking his head. "I wonder what other surprises are in store for us here. Come on, Jefferson," he said, putting his arm around his little shoulders, "let's return to our slave labor. The menfolks have to do the real work around here," he added teasingly.

"Is that right? Well, for your information, Gavin Steven Longchamp, household ch.o.r.es are just as hard if not harder than farm ch.o.r.es, especially if the house has been neglected as long as this one has," I fired back, my hands on my hips.

"Uh oh, little nephew. We're in the doghouse.

Let's get moving while we still can."

"Huh?" Jefferson said, confused. Gavin leaned toward me to whisper.

"When you get mad, real mad," he said, "you look even more beautiful."

I felt myself flush from head to toe and was speechless as he laughed and hurried off, Jefferson tagging behind.

That evening we did have a wonderful meal. In his quiet way, Luther got into the spirit of things and brought in fresh lettuce, tomatoes and carrots from the garden, as well as one large potato for each of us.

Charlotte announced that she wanted us to eat in the formal dining room.

"Just the way we used to when Daddy had important guests," she added and Luther grunted his agreement. I dusted down and polished the long, dark mahogany table and Charlotte produced a beautiful lace tablecloth and then showed me their good china and silverware. She told me Emily used to keep all these things under lock and key in a big chest in the pantry.

"After she died and went to h.e.l.l, Luther broke the lock and we took everything out and put back where it belonged. We're still finding things where Emily hid them in the house," she added joyfully.

"Even money under a rug!"

Luther decided it would be all right to turn on the chandeliers during dinner. With the table set with the fine china and good silverware, the goblets and linen napkins, the dining room did look elegant.

Luther produced two silver candelabra and set them on the table, too. Then we all went up to dress. Gavin decided he and I should dress up in the formal clothing we had discovered and Charlotte talked Luther into putting on a clean s.h.i.+rt and pants, as well as brus.h.i.+ng his hair.

After Gavin helped Jefferson dress, he knocked on the door of the bathroom, where I had been inside preparing myself. I had used the brushes and combs from the small cherrywood chest to fix my hair so I would look like the young woman in the old silver frame, the sides of my hair brushed back sternly, but the back of it tied and pinned with one of the pearl combs so it flowed down the back of my neck. Then I put on a string of pearls and pearl earrings.

"Is madam ready to be escorted to dinner?"

Gavin asked.

"One moment," I called and adjusted my crinoline. How did women wear all this? I wondered.

When I opened the door, it was as if Gavin and I had fallen back through time. In his top hat and tails he looked handsome and elegant, and what. had been silly and humorous up in the attic now looked proper and fine. I could see the look of surprise and pleasure in his eyes as he gazed at me. For a moment neither of us spoke.

"You both look funny," Jefferson said, laughing.

"On the contrary, little nephew," Gavin replied softly, "I have never seen a more beautiful young woman. Miss Christie," he said, offering his arm.

"Thank you, Mr. Longchamp." Jefferson's mouth dropped open as I slipped my arm through Gavin's and we sauntered down the corridor. Jefferson went running ahead of us to warn Aunt Charlotte we were coming. She stepped out to watch us descend the stairs.

"Oh, how beautiful you two look!" she exclaimed, her hands pressed together just under her chin. Luther came up behind her to look, too. He finally gave us a wide smile.

"Thank you, Aunt Charlotte," I said. Then we laughed and went into the dining room to eat our feast.

Afterward, after Charlotte, Jefferson, Gavin and I cleaned up the dinner dishes and silverware, we did what Charlotte wanted and adjourned to the formal living room so I could play the piano for them.

Charlotte brought in her homemade jelly cakes and Luther poured everyone, even Jefferson, a gla.s.s of dandelion wine. Then the four of them, Charlotte and Luther, Gavin and Jefferson, sat on the sofa and chairs to listen to me play.

Luther had lit the candles and oil lamps, but the room still had an ethereal, mystical quality because of the dark shadows in the corners and the tired, old, heavy drapes that drooped like ghosts over the windows.

As I played something first by Mozart and then by Liszt, I felt myself drift from this world. I was carried back by the music as if the notes wove a magic carpet. When I looked up at Gavin dressed in his old clothes and caught sight of my own reflection in the gla.s.s panes of a bookcase, I felt as if we had made it possible for the spirits of the Booth ancestors to reappear, if only for a few moments. I thought about the young girl in the portrait in the attic and imagined her smile in my smile, her dazzling eyes so full of life and hope now gazing at Gavin through my eyes. I heard a room full of laughter, gla.s.ses tinkling, more music, footsteps in the hallways and someone, a hundred years ago, calling my name from the top of the staircase.

I closed my eyes, my fingers gliding over the keys as if they were ghost fingers. Even the music seemed unfamiliar. I played on and on as if I would never stop. Then I opened my eyes and saw a dark shadow toward the rear of the room move. I gasped.

Instantly, my hands lifted from the keys.

"What's wrong?" Charlotte asked. I nodded in the shadow's direction. Everyone turned to look.

Charlotte smiled.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Homer," she said.

"Come over here, boy," Luther called and pointed to a seat. "Stop slinking all about the house.

Sit down and behave."

Slowly Homer emerged from the dark corner and made his way timidly across the room. He was wearing the same clothing he had been wearing when I first set eyes on him. He looked timid and shy, just as Aunt Charlotte had said.

"Homer has to be introduced," Charlotte declared firmly. Luther grunted in agreement.

"Homer, this is Charlotte's niece Christie, her brother Jefferson and Gavin Longchamp. They're our guests for a while, so don't go around peering at them and frightening them, hear?"

Homer nodded, his eyes wide with curiosity.

"Have a jelly cake, Homer," Charlotte said and offered him one. He started to gobble it quickly and then saw the way we were staring at him and slowed down.

"Play some more music," he asked me.

"Say please, Homer," Charlotte instructed. "Always say please when you ask someone to do something for you."

"Please," he added.

I thought for a moment and then played "Camp Town Races." It brought a big, beaming smile to Homer's face. Luther enjoyed it too, and got up to pour everyone, except Jefferson, another gla.s.s of dandelion wine. I played a few other light pieces and then stopped to rest. We drank some more dandelion wine. Charlotte took out some old records and put them on a wind-up victrola.

"Madam?" Gavin said offering his hand. I got up and we danced, faking a waltz as best we could. By this time we were both feeling our wine so it didn't matter that we looked silly in our clothes pretending to know how to waltz. Charlotte thought it was wonderful and beamed a smile and clapped her hands.

Whenever I looked at Homer, I saw him smiling and laughing, too. Charlotte kept the music going and Gavin spun me around and around.

"What a mad, crazy but wonderful evening this has been," Gavin declared. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, yes, yes," I sang, and he turned me this way and that until I protested I was dizzy and we had to stop. Jefferson had fallen asleep anyway. The full day of work and play and the one gla.s.s of dandelion wine had done it.

"I guess we should say good night," I said and then laughed as the room took a quick spin. "Oh dear me," I said with my palm against my pounding heart.

"None of us are used to working so hard," I added and laughed.

"Good idea," Gavin said and went to pick up Jefferson to carry him upstairs, but Homer jumped up first.

"Let me do it," he said and scooped Jefferson up as if he were made of air. Gavin's eyes widened.

"Careful with him, Homer," Luther warned.

"He ain't a bale of hay."

"Good night, Charlotte," I said, standing in the doorway and posturing like Scarlett O'Hara. "Good night, Luther. Thank you both for a lovely evening."

"We haven't had as much fun in years and years and years. Have we, Luther?" Charlotte asked him.

"No," he said, keeping his eyes fixed on Homer.

"Come right down after you bring him to his bed, Homer," Luther ordered.

Homer nodded and moved rather softly and gracefully for a man his size as he carried Jefferson up the stairs to his and Gavin's room. He set him down gently in his bed.

"Thank you, Homer," I said. "Come see us tomorrow," I added. He nodded and then quickly left.

Gavin pulled Jefferson's shoes off and dressed him for bed while I went to the bathroom. Every time I looked at myself in the mirror, I started to giggle. I couldn't stop and was still gi: :ling when I went to my room. I sat on my bed, laughing. Gavin peeked in on me.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gavin poked his head in and asked. I responded with more laughter. He smiled and approached me. "What's so funny?"

The sight of him in his tailcoat drove me into new hysterics. Soon my stomach began to ache and I groaned, falling back on the bed and clutching myself.

"You're going to pee in your pants if you don't stop laughing," Gavin warned.

I stared up at him and then, as suddenly as I had begun to giggle, I began to cry. I bawled and bawled, the tears streaming down my face, zigzagging over my cheeks, hot, frantic tears that came from the deepest well of sorrow and pain within me. Gavin was frightened by my abrupt change in moods, but quickly knelt down beside me and began stroking my hair.

"Don't cry, don't cry. Everything's going to be all right. I promise. Please, don't cry, Christie. I can't stand it when you cry," he said and started to kiss away my tears. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. He continued to stroke my hair and whisper comforting words. My sobbing slowed until I was able to stop altogether. Then, I lifted my face, but held it close to his. Our lips were practically touching.

"Christie," he whispered. We kissed, softly at first and then harder until the tips of our tongues grazed, sending an electric thrill down my body. He kissed my neck and my naked shoulders and I moaned and lay back. I wanted his lips to go lower and lower, but he hesitated at the crest of my bosom.

"Gavin . . ."

"It's the wine," he whispered. "It's made you silly and sad."

"Gavin," I continued, looking deeply into his dark eyes, "have you ever been very close to a girl?"

"Very close?"