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“Princess Tulip,” I said.
“Yes, that’s her name. I knew you loved her stories, so when I heard the story of the earrings, well, I just had to get them for you.” He sighed. “Even if they did cost a fortune.”
A fortune? Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? Well, this was another story altogether. I looked at them again, considering, and decided I liked them after all. No, I decided I loved them! And I chided myself for thinking my papa didn’t love me.
“I love them, Papa! Thank you!” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck. His smiled faded a little. I didn’t know why.
“You can be very much like your mother, Cruella,” he said.
And I thought that was the sweetest thing he could have ever said to me.
Ticktock, darlings! We can’t dwell in the past forever. But that’s exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it, in telling you my story? This chapter is hard for me, my dears. We are moving forward in time five years, to the summer I was sixteen, when my life changed forever in so many unforeseeable ways.
In the weeks before and after my father’s death, Anita was my sole companion. Mama was off visiting her sister when Papa became ill, and we were having a heck of a time trying to reach her so we could let her know she should come home … Miss Pricket was away, too, tending to her sick aunt. I don’t know what I would have done if Anita wasn’t with me in those dark days.
His illness came on suddenly and without warning. My father’s Clark Gable smile and bright flashing eyes became dim and faded. He wasn’t the man I knew, the man who sat with me in the evenings before I went to sleep and brought me books of fairy tales and adventures, or priceless jade earrings from distant enchanted lands. The man who danced with me in my bedroom and made me laugh at the most inappropriate times. He was a shadow of himself, and I was afraid to see him like that. The doctor said his heart was weak, and it broke mine to see him so fragile and so pale. I wanted to remember him as strong, laughing, and cheeky.
When the doctor finally emerged from Papa’s room, I jumped. He lowered his eyes, and that’s when he told me.
“I’m sorry, Cruella,” he said.
I stood outside of his bedroom door for what felt like an eternity after the doctor left. After he told me my papa would die. I couldn’t fathom it. And I couldn
’t bring myself to face him. I couldn’t let him see the look of grief on my face. I wanted to be strong for him, but I couldn’t do it.
Then Anita appeared, like an angel. Ever since she was a little girl she seemed angelic to me with her small features, light hair, and sharp little nose. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she was a lady. A real lady. And to me she was. The only things that gave her away were her bookishness, and the smart and efficient way she dressed. Anita wasn’t in for frills. She dressed sensibly, but she still managed to look stylish in her simple, light blue A-line skirt and pink blouse. She had been down in the kitchen with the servants arranging for the evening meal and generally acting in my mother’s place so I would be free to focus on my papa.
“Cruella, what are you doing? Are you okay?” she asked. Anita was taking care of everyone. Not only the servants, by keeping them informed and reassuring them, but me as well. I don’t know how she did it all.
“The doctor just left, Anita. He said …” She put her hand on my arm softly. She could tell I was about to cry.
“I know, Cruella, he told me,” she said, trying not to cry herself. “You must be devastated. How is your father doing now? Is he sleeping?”
“I haven’t been in since the doctor left. I can’t go in there, Anita. I can’t face him.” I was so afraid to see my father so frail. Perhaps if Mama had been there I could have been braver, but I couldn’t find the courage to say goodbye to him. I couldn’t face that he was actually leaving us.
“Of course you can, Cruella. You have to,” said Anita, squeezing my arm. “He loves you so much, Cruella. And I know you love him.”
“I wish Mama was here. Has Jackson tried calling again? She will be devastated if she …” Anita gave me a weak smile. She knew my mother would be grief-stricken if she wasn’t able to say goodbye.
“Oh, Cruella, I know. But even if he did reach her I don’t think she would be home in time. At least that’s how the doctor made it sound. I was so afraid that is what he would say. But Cruella, you have to be brave. You’re the strongest girl I know, and you have to be strong for your papa. Your mama isn’t here, and he needs you.” She took my hand sweetly, but I could feel her strength even in her light touch. I felt she was the strongest person I knew, aside from my mama. How else could she endure her life as it was, living between worlds, not fitting in with the servants downstairs or with the family upstairs? How else could she have taken my mama’s place and helped me through my papa’s illness? As far I was concerned, she was my family. “Go now, Cruella. Kiss your father before it’s too late. Tell him you love him. Tell him all the things you ever wanted him to know. Let him take your sweet words with him to a place you cannot follow.” I wanted to cry right then. Anita’s words touched me so deeply. But I had to be brave for my poor papa. I had to be strong.
His room was dark and stuffy. Not a place for such a great man to spend his final hours. In the dim light, I could hardly see him sleeping in his bed when I entered the room. His nurse was sitting in a chair nearby, dozing. A tiny beam of light from a small opening in the curtains reflected off her white uniform. She started awake when I opened the curtains, infusing the room with light.
“Miss Cruella! What are you doing? You will wake your father!” The groggy nurse blinked at the bright light with a very sour look on her face.
“It’s dreary in here,” I said, looking around the room. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get the small record player from my father’s study and bring it in here?” The nurse looked shocked at my tone. I was a little shocked at it, too, to be honest. It just came out of me with no warning. But I had a plan.
“Excuse me?” was all the nurse could muster, blinking at me over and over and shielding her eyes from the sunlight that now poured into the room.
“Listen carefully,” I said, speaking concisely. “Go into my father’s study, find the small record player, and bring it here. I won’t repeat myself again.” I said it all very slowly so the dim-witted nurse would understand. But still she looked at me, puzzled.
“I’m paid to be a nurse, Miss Cruella. Not a servant.” The jumped-up little nurse wasn’t having it. Well, neither was I.
“I see. Well, I doubt we’re paying you to fall asleep on the job! So if you can’t make yourself useful and get me that record player, then I suppose I will have to dismiss you. It’s up to you. You can be of some use or leave. It’s very simple.” The woman went out of the room, and I rang the servants’ bell, not sure if she was coming back with the record player or not.
“Cruella, what are you up to? Causing mayhem and mischief as usual?” It was my papa. My little spat with the nurse had roused him. He looked so small to me in his bed. So frail. It broke my heart.
“Papa! I’m sorry I woke you.” And then I saw it, his mischievous smile. My papa was still in there. He hadn’t completely faded away. “Oh, Papa, let me help you.” I went to the bed to help him up as Jackson came into the room.
