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"I'll just . . . see about tonight's dinner," Philip stuttered, and he left quickly. I sat down again and dropped my head in my hands.
"Dawn," Jimmy said, coming around to put his hand on my shoulder. I started to cry. That was happening to me more and more often, but I kept it hidden from everyone, especially Jimmy. For no reason at all I would suddenly find myself bursting into tears. I had no reason to; the hotel was doing well, Christie was growing more and more beautiful every day, Jimmy and I loved each other very much and wanted our new child very much; but all it would take was a dark cloud slipping over the sun or a point on my pencil breaking, and I would sit there and bawl like a baby.
Often I would awaken during that dim and lonely hour that comes before dawn, and I would lay in the semidarkness and stare around me, feeling strangely out of myself. Was I going mad?
My shoulders shook when Jimmy's hand touched me.
"Hey, what's wrong, honey?" Jimmy asked. He squatted down beside me and lifted my arm away so he could look into my face.
"I don't know," I cried through my tears. "I can't help it. I just . . . can't help it," I added, and I began to sob again. Jimmy raised me to my feet along with him and embraced me, stroking my hair softly and kissing my forehead and cheeks, kissing away the tears as fast as they emerged.
"It's all right," he whispered. "It's all right. You're just tired. Maybe not physically tired, but mentally tired, emotionally tired. A lot has happened in a short time, Dawn. You have to realize that," he coached.
I took a deep breath and swallowed back my sobs. Then I ground the tears out of my eyes and looked into Jimmy's soft, dark eyes, now filled with worry and concern.
"I'm scared, Jimmy," I confessed.
"Scared? What are you scared of? Being pregnant again?" he asked.
"No, not that. I'm happy about that. Really I am. I'm just frightened sometimes, frightened of changing, of becoming someone I'm not, someone I don't want to be. I'm not changing, though, Jimmy, am I? I'm still the same person. I'm still Dawn Longchamp, the Dawn Longchamp you fell in love with, right?" I asked frantically.
"Of course you are," he said, smiling. "I'll tell you when you've become someone horrible, don't worry."
I didn't tell Jimmy, but it felt as if the office were closing in on me, as if Grandmother Cutler could still reach me here, even though I had altered and replaced almost everything, down to the color of the pens. One day, for no reason whatsoever, I had suddenly had three chambermaids come in and wash and polish and vacuum every corner. It was as if I was afraid there was still some trace, something of her that could affect me. I never told Jimmy, but I had nightmares about it. If he had heard about my mad cleaning of the office, he didn't bring it up.
"Oh, Jimmy, I don't want to become someone horrible," I cried, throwing my arms around his neck. He held me tightly.
"You won't," he whispered. "I won't let you. I promise." "Do you, Jimmy? Do you promise?"
"Absolutely," he said. "Now wash your face. Sissy's brought Christie down to sit with us tonight. She's already greeting guests like a small princess."
I laughed.
"I bet she is. She thinks she's a princess," I said. I put my fingers on Jimmy's cheek and stared into his eyes. "Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you for loving me so much."
"Hey," he said, shaking his head. "I couldn't stop even if I wanted to."
We kissed, and
then I washed my face, and we went to play our roles as the hosts of Cutler's Cove.
The rest of the summer flew by, maybe because we were so busy and I was so occupied with Christie and with my pregnancy. One day it was the middle of July, and then it seemed like only the day after and we were looking at plans for our Labor Day weekend. As had happened every weekend this summer, we had a full house booked. Twice during the high season I had let the bandleader talk me into singing for the guests on Saturday night. He made me promise to do the same thing on Labor Day weekend, claiming that some frequent guests had actually requested it. I did have guests stop to compliment me on my singing and ask when I was going to do it again. This happened especially at dinner, when I made the rounds to greet people at their tables.
I often missed my music and tried to keep up with my piano playing. I was so happy when Trisha returned for a weekend when she was able to get away from her summer performing arts program. Just listening to her describe her acting classes and her vocal classes made me long to return to those days. As she did every time we spoke or saw each other, she brought me a tidbit of news concerning Michael Sutton.
"His show closed in London earlier than was expected," she told me when she had come to the hotel. "There have been some rumors about him."
"Rumors?" I knew how quickly show business gossip spread and that it was often exaggerated, but Trisha didn't seem to consider this a product of the rumor mill.
"About his drinking," she said. "They say he's actually had to go for treatment in Switzerland."
"How sad," I said.
"I hope he gets whatever he deserves," Trisha responded, but despite all he had done to me, I couldn't harden my heart against him. After all, every time I looked at Christie I saw his face. Her features were getting more and more distinct, and she was getting to look more and more like him. It was as if he were reemerging through our daughter, so it became impossible to hate him. I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for her when she was old enough to understand and i had to explain who her real father was. I would do it as soon as I could, because I knew her aunt Clara Sue wouldn't hesitate to tell her the first chance she got.
Because Clara Sue had stayed with her friend in New Jersey all summer and because neither Mother nor Philip made any mention of her, I rarely if ever gave her any thought. But on the Thursday before the Labor Day weekend she came to the hotel. I was upstairs taking a nap. I had reluctantly agreed to break up my day with naps, only when Philip and Jimmy promised they wouldn't hesitate to wake me if something important happened. I didn't really believe either of them, but even though my pregnancy had yet to show and I had gained only three pounds, I was feeling more and more fatigue these days, and I found myself stopping to catch my breath more often than I would have liked.
A clap of thunder woke me, and I opened my eyes and gazed out the window to see the sun suddenly take a fugitive position behind an oncoming wall of dark clouds. The thunder crashed again and swiftly came closer, with the swollen, heavy sky zigzagged by frightening electrical bolts, so I didn't hear Clara Sue come pounding down the corridor after she had gone into her old room, now stripped bare.
