V. C. Andrews - Cutler Family 4 Midnight Whispers

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WE WALKED ALL THE WAY INTO CUTLER'S COVE. JEFFERson had never been outside this late. The stillness around us, the gleam of the stars on the inky calm ocean and the depth of the pockets of darkness in every corner kept him clinging to my side, his little hand wrapped tightly around mine. The only sounds we heard were the squeaks and creaks of the docks and Mats as the waves lifted and fell, and the click-clack of our own footsteps over the sidewalk and street. It wasn't until the street lights of the seaside village loomed brightly ahead of us that Jefferson relaxed some. His surprise and excitement overtook his fear and fatigue and he began to throw questions at me.

Where are we going, Christie? Why are we walking so much? Why don't we just ask Julius to drive us?

Because I don't want anyone to know we're leaving, Jefferson. I told you---we're running off, I said, my voice low. It just seemed natural to whisper.

Why? Jefferson whispered too. Christie? He pumped my hand. Why?

I spun around on him.

Do you want to stay and live with Aunt Bet and Uncle Philip, Richard and Melanie for the rest of your life? Do you?

Frightened by my outburst, he shook his head, his eyes wide.

Neither do I, so we're running off.

But where will we go? he demanded. Who will we live with?

I walked on faster, practically dragging him along. Where were we going? It wasn't until this very moment that I actually thought of a destination. We couldn't go to Aunt Trisha. She was on a road trip. Suddenly, I had an idea.

We're going to New York City, I said finally. We're going to find my real father and live with him. Nothing can be worse than where we're living now and whom we're living with, I muttered.

I didn't look back to see how Jefferson had reacted to the idea; I just continued along, moving us down the side of the street, clinging to the shadows for protection. I didn't want anyone to see us and report us.

One of the only places open in Cutler's Cove this late at night was the bus depot. It was a small station with a lobby that had just one worn wooden

bench, a water fountain and a cigarette machine. Behind the counter was a man who had salt-and- pepper curly hair, the spiraling curls falling over his forehead. He looked at least fifty years old. When we entered, he was reading a paperback novel. For a moment he didn't realize we were there. Then he sat up quickly and gazed at us, his squirrel-like eyes full of curiosity and surprise.

Well, what are you two doing out so late? he demanded, his slightly gray eyebrows lifting and turning like two question marks.

"We're here to catch the next bus to New York

City, I said, trying to sound older. My cousin dropped us off at the wrong place and we walked," I added. He scrutinized us suspiciously.

How much is it to New York City? I asked firmly. And when is the next bus?

"New York City, huh? Well, round trip fare is .

.."

No, just one way, I said quickly. He looked up sharply. We have another way to get back, I added.

Hmm .. well, his fare would be half, he said, nodding at Jefferson. He considered me. You would pay full adult, he said. I didn't want to put out the

extra money, since we didn't have all that much, but I was happy he thought I was old enough to travel alone with my brother. Bus don't run directly to New York from here, you know, he added and began punching up the tickets. It stops at Virginia Beach and then again in Delaware.

That's all right, I said, setting down my suit- case and stepping up to the counter.

Actually, you're in luck because we've got a bus due through here in twenty minutes. But it's only a shuttle that runs through two more stations before it reaches Virginia Beach. You'll have to get off there and take the .. he checked his schedule card. The first one's the eight-forty. Goes to Port Authority station, New York City.

Port Authority is fine, I said and counted out the money on the counter carefully. He raised his eyebrows again.

You been to New York before? he asked skeptically.

Many times. My father lives there, I said quickly.

Oh, I see. One of them families where the father's one place and the mother's another, huh?

Yes, I replied. His eyes softened and he

seemed more sympathetic. "And your mother don't want to take you to see

your father, I imagine? No sir. He nodded, smirking. Well, I suppose I could squeeze you in for the

cheaper fare. It's no skin off my back," he added. After I got our tickets, I directed Jefferson to

the bench. He stared at the ticket seller until the man went back to his paperback book. Then he turned and fixed his eyes on me with that sharply inquisitive gaze.

Why did you tell all those lies? he demanded.

Shh, I said. I pulled him closer. If I didn't, he wouldn't sell us the tickets. He would call the police and tell them he had a pair of runaways.

The police would arrest us and put us in hand- cuffs? Jefferson asked, incredulous.

They wouldn't arrest us, but they would take us back to the hotel.

Mommy said it's wrong to tell lies, he re- minded me.

She didn't mean these kinds of lies; she meant lies that hurt other people, especially people you love and who love you, I explained. Jefferson narrowed his eyes and considered it. I saw him digest the idea

and then sit back with approval. Shortly afterward, the shuttle bus arrived. There were a half-dozen other people on the bus, sitting mostly in the center and rear and apparently asleep.

Up awful early, the driver said. Yes sir. Well, it's the best time to travel, he said. He

took our suitcases to put in the luggage compartment and then he went in to talk to the station attendant. I settled Jefferson and myself in the second seat on the right and looked at the driver and the ticket seller through the window. They both gazed our way. My heart was pounding. Were they discussing us? Would they call the police? After a few more minutes, the two of them laughed about something and the bus driver returned. He closed the door and started the engine. I held my breath and tightened my grip on Jefferson's little hand. A moment later we were pulling away from the station. The bus turned down the main street of Cutler's Cove and the driver accelerated. We drove past the stores and shops I had known all my life. We passed the mayor's office and the police station and then we passed the school. Soon we were on the road to Virginia Beach, and Cutler's Cove fell farther and farther behind us. This was my

first time traveling alone, but I closed my eyes and swallowed my fear.

Jefferson fell asleep during the ride to Virginia Beach and was practically walking in his sleep when I led him off the bus to wait at the much bigger and busier Virginia Beach station. But the activity and noise were not enough to keep his eyes open. He drifted off again, falling asleep against my shoulder as we waited for the next bus.

This time, after we boarded and took our seats, I fell asleep too. Hours and hours later, when we stopped again to pick up passengers in Delaware, I awoke and found that it was raining. Jefferson's eyes snapped open a few moments later and he immediately asked to go to the bathroom.

I hope you're not afraid to go in by yourself, Jefferson, I said. I can't go in there with you.

I'm not afraid. It's just a bathroom, he de- clared bravely, but he looked very worried as he went in. While he was in the bathroom, I went too and then I bought us some things to eat.