Darkest Hour

by V. C. Andrews

  I was in the bathroom when she came to my room. I had just taken off my skirt and I was standing in front of the mirror in my brassiere and panties, brushing my hair down. Mamma always had me pin it up in the morning for school and it felt good at the end of the day to unfasten the strands and brush them until they lay softly over my shoulders. I was proud of my hair; it was almost midway down my back.

  Emily had come into my room so quietly, I didn't know she was there until she appeared in the bathroom door. I turned with a start and caught her staring at me. For a moment I thought her eyes were green with envy, but that look quickly changed to one of disapproval.

  "What do you want?" I demanded. She continued to gaze at me without speaking for a moment, her eyes drinking in my body. What she thought made her draw the corners of her mouth in.

  "You should wear a tighter brassiere," she finally declared. "Your little breasts bounce too much when you walk and anyone can see all you've got, just like Shirley Potter," she said, smirking.

  Shirley Potter's family was the poorest we knew. Shirley had to wear hand-me-downs and some were too tight and some were too big. She was two years older than I was, and the way the boys would spin their heads around to peek down her blouse whenever she bent over was a favorite topic for Emily and the Thompson twins.

  "Mamma bought this for me," I replied. "It's my size."

  "It's too loose," she insisted and then nearly smiled and added, "I know you let Niles Thompson put his fingers in there when you were in the woods with him, didn't you? And I bet it wasn't the first time either."

  "No, I didn't, and you shouldn't have told Papa I was buttoning my blouse when I came out of the woods."

  "You were!"

  "I was not."

  She stepped closer to me, undaunted. Despite her thinness, Emily could be more intimidating than Miss Walker and certainly more intimidating than Mamma.

  "Do you know what happens sometimes when you let a boy touch you in there?" she asked. "You break out into a rash all over your neck and it could stay for days. One of these times that will happen and Papa will take one look at you and see the blotches and he'll know."

  "I didn't let him," I whined, and cowered back. I hated how Emily could glare. Her expression turned into a tight smile. She spoke with her lips so thin, I thought they would snap.

  "It shoots out of them, you know, the seed. Even if it just lands on your panties, it could seep in and make you pregnant."

  I stared at her. What did she mean, it shoots out of them? How could it? Was she right?

  "Do you know what else they do?" she continued. "They touch themselves and make themselves swell up until the seed comes gushing out into their hands and then . . . they touch you there," she said, glancing at the space between my thighs, "and that can make you pregnant, too."

  "No, it can't," I said, but not confidently. "You're just trying to scare me."

  She smiled.

  "Think I care if you get pregnant and have to walk around with a fat belly at your age? Think I care if you scream in excruciating pain because the baby's too big to come out? Go on, get pregnant," she challenged. "Maybe the same thing will happen to you that happened to your real mother and then we'll be rid of you finally." She turned and started away. Then she stopped and looked back. "Next time he touches you, you'd better be sure he hasn't touched himself first," she warned, and left me standing there in fear. I started to shake with anxiety and quickly put on my after-school clothes.

  That night after dinner, I went quietly into Papa's office. He was away on one of his business trips so I could go in there without fear of his seeing what it was I wanted to do. I wanted to read from the book he had that explained the human body and reproduction, to see if there was anything written that confirmed the things Emily had told me. I couldn't find anything, but that didn't make me feel any easier. I was too frightened to ask Mamma about it and I didn't know anyone but Shirley Potter who knew anything about boys and sex. I thought I would eventually work up enough nerve to ask her.

  The next day, after lunch, just as Eugenia and I had planned, I helped her into her wheelchair and we went out for our usual afternoon outing. Emily had gone upstairs to her room and Mamma was away having lunch at Emma Whitehall's with her other lady friends. Papa still hadn't returned from his business trip to Richmond.

  Eugenia felt so much lighter to me when I lifted her from her bed and helped her into her chair. I could feel her bones protruding. Her eyes seemed to have sunk deeper into her skull and her lips looked so much paler than they had looked just a few days ago, but she was so enthusiastic that her shortage of strength didn't dissuade her and what she lacked in energy, she replaced with excitement.

  I wheeled her down the driveway slowly, pretending interest in the Cherokee roses and wild violets. The buds of the flowering crab trees had burst into a deep pink. In the fields around us, the wild honeysuckle wove a carpet of white and rose. The blue jays and mockingbirds seemed just as excited by our venturing into their midst as we were. They flitted from branch to branch, jabbering and following us along the way. In the distance, a row of small puffy clouds floated in a cotton caravan from one end of the sky to the other.

  With the air so warm and the sky so blue, we couldn't have chosen a nicer spring day for a walk. If ever nature could make us appreciate being alive, she could do it this day, I thought.

  Eugenia seemed to feel the same way, taking in every sight and sound, her head moving from left to right as I rolled her forward over the gravel. I thought she was probably overdressed, but she clung tightly to her shawl with one hand and held down the blanket over her lap with the other. When we turned the corner at the bottom of the driveway, I paused and we both looked back and then at each other, smiling like co-conspirators. Then I moved her out on the road. It was the first time she had ever been wheeled there. I pushed her along as quickly as I could. A few moments later, Niles Thompson stepped out from behind a tree to greet us.

  My heart began to race. I looked back again to be sure no one saw us meet.

  "Hi," Niles said. "How are you, Eugenia?"

  "I'm okay," she said quickly, her eyes dancing as she looked from Niles to me and then back to Niles.

  "So you want to see my magic pond, huh?" he asked her. She nodded.

  "Let's go quickly, Niles," I said.

  "Let me push her," he offered.

  "Be careful," I warned, and we started away. Moments later, we were turning Eugenia up the path. It wasn't really wide enough for the chair in places, but Niles pushed the wheels over brush and roots, stopping at one point to lift the front of the chair. I could see that Eugenia was relishing each and every moment of our secret trip. Finally, we were at the pond.

  "Oh!" Eugenia exclaimed, clapping her small hands. "It's so beautiful here."

  As if nature wanted the moment to be special for her, a fish jumped up and dove back into the water, but before we could laugh with joy, a flock of sparrows burst into the air, lifting so suddenly and with such synchronization from the branches, they looked like leaves taking flight. Bullfrogs leaped into the water and then out again as if they were performing for us. Then Niles said, "Look," and pointed across the pond where a doe had appeared and was drinking. She gazed at us for a moment. Unafraid, she took her drink and then casually turned to disappear in the forest again.

  "This really is a magical place!" Eugenia cried. "I feel it."

  "I did the first time I saw it, too," Niles said. "You know what you've got to do. You've got to dip your finger into the water."

  "How can I?"

  Niles looked at me.

  "I can carry you to the water," Niles said.

  "Oh Niles, if you should drop her . . ."

  "He won't," Eugenia declared with prophetic certainty. "Do it, Niles. Carry me."

  Niles looked at me again and I nodded, but I was full of trepidation. If he dropped her and she got soaked, Papa would lock me in the smokehouse for days, I thought. But Niles lifted Eugenia out
of the chair with graceful ease. She blushed because of the way he held her in his arms. Without hesitation, he stepped into the water and lowered her until her fingers reached the surface.

  "Close your eyes and wish," Niles told her. She did so and then he carried her back to the wheelchair. After she was settled in again, she thanked him.

  "Want to know what I wished?" she asked me.

  "If you tell it, it might not come true," I said, glancing at Niles.

  "Not if she tells it only to you," Niles explained, as if he was an authority on magic ponds and wishes.

  "Bend down, Lillian. Bend down," Eugenia ordered. I did so and she brought her lips to my ear.

  "I wished you and Niles would kiss again, right here, right before my eyes," she said. I couldn't help but blush. When I stood straight up again, Eugenia had a wicked smile on her face. "You said this was a magic pond. My wish has to come true," she teased.

  "Eugenia! You should have wished something for yourself only."

  "If it's only for yourself, it probably won't come true," Niles said.

  "Niles. Don't encourage her."

  "I suppose if you whispered in my ear what she wished now that she's told you, it won't be bad. As long as the frogs don't hear it," he added, coming up with his own rules instantly.

  "I will not!"

  "Tell him, Lillian," Eugenia urged. "Go on. Please. Go on."

  "Eugenia." I was blushing all over by now, feeling those blotches Emily said would come, even though Niles and I hadn't touched. But I didn't care. I loved the feeling.

  "You'd better tell me," Niles teased. "She might get very upset."

  "I will," Eugenia threatened and folded her arms across her body, pretending to fall into a pout.

  "Eugenia." My heart was pounding. I looked at Niles, who seemed to know already.

  "Well?" he said.

  "I told her what you and I did here the first time. She wants us to do it again," I said quickly. Niles's eyes brightened and he smiled.

  "What a wonderful wish. Well, we can't disappoint her," Niles said. "We have to keep up the pond's reputation for magic anyway."

  He stepped up to me and this time put his hands on my arms to bring me closer to him. I closed my eyes and his lips met mine. He held them there much longer and then he stepped back.

  "Satisfied, little sister?" I asked, hiding my embarrassment. She nodded, her face bright with excitement.

  "Well, I wished something too," Niles said. "I wished I could thank Eugenia for wanting to come to my pond, thank her with a kiss," he said. Eugenia's mouth dropped open as Niles stepped up to her and kissed her quickly on the cheek. She put her hand there as if he had left his lips on her skin.

  "We'd better start back," I said. "Before we're missed."

  "Right," Niles said. He turned Eugenia around and we pushed her through the forest and to the road again. Niles walked along with us until we reached our driveway.

  "Did you enjoy the trip to the pond, Eugenia?" he asked.

  "Oh yes," she said.

  "I'll come visiting you soon," he promised. "So long, Lillian."

  We watched him walk off and then I started to push Eugenia up the driveway.

  "He's the nicest boy I ever met," she said. "I really wished that someday you and Niles would become engaged and marry."

  "You did?"

  "Uh-huh. Would you like that?" she asked. I thought for a moment.

  "Yes," I said. "I think I would."

  "Then maybe Niles was right; maybe it is a magic pond."

  "Oh Eugenia, you should have wished for yourself."

  "Selfish wishes don't come true, Niles said."

  "I'll go back and wish for you," I promised. "Very soon."

  "I know you will," Eugenia said, leaning back in her chair. Fatigue was settling in quickly, washing over her like a dark, stormy cloud.

  Just as we reached the front of the house, the door was ripped open and Emily stepped out, her arms folded across her chest. She glared down at us.

  "Where were you two?" she demanded.

  "We just went for a nice walk," I said.

  "You've been gone a long time," she said suspiciously.

  "Oh Emily," Eugenia said. "Don't throw cold water on everything nice anyone does. Next time, maybe you'll come walking with us."

  "You've kept her outside too long," Emily said. "Look at her. She's exhausted."

  "No, I'm not," Eugenia said.

  "Mamma's going to be angry when she comes back," Emily said, ignoring her.

  "Don't tell her, Emily. Don't be a tattletale. It's not nice. You shouldn't have told Papa about Lillian and Niles, either. It just makes for hard feelings and trouble," Eugenia chastised. "And Lillian didn't do anything bad. You know she wouldn't."

  I held my breath. Emily's face turned crimson for the first time in a long time. She could argue with anyone, embarrass and snap at adults as well as children, if she had to, but she couldn't be nasty to Eugenia. Her eyes flared at me instead.

  "It's just like her to turn you against me," Emily declared, and pivoted to go back into the house.

  Eugenia's defense of me drained her of her last ounce of strength. She dropped her head to the side. I called for Henry quickly to help me carry her up the steps and into the house. Once inside, I wheeled her to her room and got her back into her bed. She was as limp as a rag doll. In moments, she was asleep, but I think she was dreaming about the pond, because even in her dreadful fatigue, she slept with a small smile on her lips.

  I walked back through the house on my way to the stairs, but just as I reached Papa's office, Emily stepped out and seized my arm so abruptly, I gasped. She pulled me back against the wall.

  "You took her to that stupid pond, didn't you?" she demanded. I shook my head. "Don't lie to me. I'm not stupid. I saw the little twigs and grass stuck in the spokes of the wheelchair's wheels. Papa's going to be in a rage," she threatened, bringing her face so close to mine, I could see the tiny mole just under her right eye. "Niles was there, too, wasn't he?" she charged, shaking my arm.

  "Let me go!" I cried. "You're horrible."

  "You've turned her against me, haven't you?" She released me but smiled. "It's all right. I expected no less from the living curse. You plant your evil seeds everywhere, in everyone and everyplace you go.

  "But your time is coming. The weight of my prayers will smother you," she threatened.

  "Leave me alone!" I screamed, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I'm not a curse, I'm not."

  She held her evil smile, a smile that chased me upstairs, but it seeped in under my door, and at night it even slipped into my dreams.

  Whether it was because of the things Eugenia had said to her or whether it was a result of the machinations of her own evil mind, Emily didn't tell Mamma or Papa anything about my outing with Eugenia. That night at dinner, she sat quietly, contented to be holding the threat over my head. I ignored her the best I could, but Emily's eyes were so big and so glaring at times, it was hard to avoid her gaze.

  But it didn't matter; she had her own special revenge prepared, and like always, she would justify it with some religious belief. In her hands, the Bible became a weapon and she wielded it unmercifully whenever she felt it was necessary. No punishment was too severe, no amount of tears shed too much. No matter how much she hurt us, she went to sleep contented with the belief that she had carried out divine work.

  As Henry once said, looking right at Emily, "The devil, he ain't got no better soldier than the self-righteous man or woman who swings that dreadful sword."

  I was soon to feel the sharp end of it.

  6

  VICIOUS TRICKS

  Of all the people I would meet in my life who were able to go about their business normally from day to day while plotting behind your back, none would be as conniving or as good at it as Emily. She could have taught the best spies how to spy; she could have given. Brutus lessons before he betrayed Julius Caesar. I was convinced that the devil himself studied her and
then took action.

  During the week that followed Eugenia's and my Saturday outing, Emily didn't say another word about it, nor did she exhibit any more anger or belligerency than usual. She seemed very involved in her work for the minister and the Sunday School as well as the public school and was even gone from the house more than she often was. She didn't behave much differently toward Eugenia. If anything, she appeared to be a little more pleasant, one night even volunteering to bring Eugenia her dinner.

  Once a week she would visit Eugenia anyway to give her religious instruction—read a Biblical story or explain the teachings of the church. On more than one occasion, Eugenia fell asleep as Emily was reading and Emily got very upset about it and refused to accept Eugenia's apologies.

  But this time, when she went in and read from St. Matthew, and Eugenia fell asleep, Emily didn't stop to lecture about the importance of staying awake and paying attention when the Bible was being read aloud. She didn't slap the book closed so hard that Eugenia's eyes would pop open. Instead, she got up quietly and slipped out of the room as softly as one of Henry's ghosts. Even Eugenia was feeling better about her.

  "She's sorry for what she did," Eugenia concluded. "She just wants us to love her."

  "I don't think she wants anyone to love her, not Mamma, not Papa, maybe not even God," I replied, but I saw how my being angry at Emily disturbed Eugenia, so I smiled, thinking of something else. "Imagine if she really did change," I said. "Imagine if she let her hair, grow and wore a pretty silk ribbon in it, or she wore a nice dress instead of those old gray sacks and clodhopper shoes with fat heels that make her look even taller than she is."

  Eugenia smiled as if what I was saying were pipe dreams made of smoke.