Lillian, Sweet Lillian


Chapter Three


A Solemn Promise




I awoke hours later, my eyes swollen and sore. My body ached horribly, especially my arm and backside. The corner of my mouth was tender, and when I lightly touched my fingertips to it, they came away crusted with my dried blood. Although it pained me greatly, I somehow managed to stand on my own two feet, faltering once or twice before regaining some balance. The house was dark, still, and silent. A small oil lamp left burning on Papa's great oak desk was my only light, and it flickered a little, sending shadows dancing on the walls past the portraits of Grandfather and Great Grandfather, darkening their already dour, sullen faces.

The sound of soft footsteps outside the office door caught my attention. At first, I thought Emily was awake, pacing the long halls as she often did, sometimes peeking into rooms as if she were searching for Satan or some other form of evil. Emily always moved so silently. These footsteps were soft, but not as quiet. It was then I realized Papa stood on the other side of the door. Part of me wanted to run and hide, to cower in some corner, but something kept me from moving. I stood rooted to the spot, my body trembling.

Slowly, the door opened, allowing dim light to flood into the office. Papa stepped inside, a candle in his hand. He didn't yell or raise his hand to strike me again like I thought he would. He reached out to tilt my face upward and stepped back to have a better look at the forming bruise. He seemed to admire it the way a painter or sculptor would admire their latest creation. The only sound he made was a slight "Mmm," noise in the back of his throat, then pulled away.

"Why do you make me do these things, Lillian?" he murmured over and over again. "Why do you make me do these things?"

Papa brought his face very close to mine as he spoke, his bourbon-soaked breath stirring my hair.

"It hurts me to do these things to you. Lord knows I would never raise a hand to you because I wanted to. You make me. You bring these things upon yourself. If only you weren't so sinful, Lillian. If only you would just do right by the Lord."

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing Papa to leave me alone. Unshed tears leaked out from the corners and slipped down my face. Papa brushed them away with none-too-gentle fingers. He wiped a tear from my bruised cheek, pressing a little harder than he had to, but rather that wince or cry out, I gritted my teeth.

"Now, it doesn't make any sense to cry, does it, Lillian? No, it doesn't. Because you brought this upon yourself. Mark my words, Lillian, this behavior stops here. I'll beat the sin right out of you if I have to, so help me."

I swallowed hard and lifted my head high in an attempt to make myself seem braver than I really was, but I couldn't shop shaking no matter what I did or how hard I tried. I still trembled like a sapling caught in a wind storm. I was certain that if Papa released me from his grip that I would have tumbled to the ground, for my legs had turned to jelly underneath my weight.

"Tomorrow, you'll not be permitted to go to school. You'll stay indoors. Don't let Georgia catch sight of you. And if anyone should ask what happened, you'll tell them that you were being reckless and fell."

Papa became silent for a moment. He pulled at the corners of his mustache, then nodded. "Yes, that's what you'll say," he said. He brought his hand to my cheek again, this time allowing his fingertips to stray over the cut on my mouth. I jerked away, hissing through my still clenched teeth at his unwanted contact.

"You should get to bed," he told me, his voice strangely soft. He handed me his candle and walked away. I stared after his retreating form until he was engulfed by the darkness.

I felt my way back up to my bedroom. On the way there, I paused, thinking that I should look in on Eugenia. Her frightened sobs still echoed in my mind. But, I didn't want to take the chance of waking her, and I especially didn't want her to see what Papa had done to me in his fit on anger. I suddenly was overcome with such weariness, my legs barely had the strength to carry me to my bed. Somehow, I managed to change into a nightgown. Then, I collapsed onto the bed and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

The sound of clattering dishes roused me the next morning. Emily stood in my bedroom, muttering something under her breath as she set a food-laden tray on my bedside table. The room was much too bright for my liking despite the fact that only one of my oil lamps was burning. I still ached everywhere and made no attempt to move.

With remarkable speed, Emily reached down and stripped the covers from my body.

"I hope you don't think that you'll be permitted to laze about this morning," she said her voice sharp as a pin.

When I didn't move, she reached down and smacked my lower leg, making me wince. "Get up, Lillian!" she bellowed at me. "Get up, get up! Papa sent me up here with your breakfast. Wasting food when others are starving is a horrible thing to do."

Emily paused for a moment, a smile twisting her bloodless lips. "Of course, that is to be expected from someone like you," she finished, clearly satisfied with herself. "There won't be any moping or feeling sorry for yourself. You deserved every bit of what you got last night. If you were mine, I would have had you whipped until you were raw."

"I didn't do anything wrong, Emily," I insisted, forcing myself to sit upright. "I know you stretched the truth to Papa. Whatever you told him was a lie!"

Emily turned on me, her eyes colder than ice. "Don't you dare!" she shrilled. "Don't you dare try to pass me off as some kind of liar when all I'm trying to do is prevent shame from falling upon this family. Perhaps the next time you decide to go traipsing off into the forest to do things you know are sinful and wrong, you will think again."

I surveyed the breakfast Emily had brought me. Lumpy oatmeal, a single slice of burnt toast, and a small glass of milk were arranged neatly on the tray. Emily proceeded to leave, but paused before she did.

"After you eat, you will clean yourself up and put on a fresh nightgown. Mamma's been told you woke up feeling poorly and that she should stay away, so don't expect her to come and see you. After your clean, you are to tidy this room. No young lady should live in such filth," she scolded.

I looked around my bedroom in search of the mess Emily spoke of. All that I could see was my dress from the previous day, which lay rumpled at the foot of my bed.

"All the trouble you caused yesterday has Eugenia very upset. She's been moaning and groaning all morning, and she's refusing to eat a morsel until she sees you."

I was immediately filled with regret. How selfish I had been, thinking only of my own pain while Eugenia had been frightened and sobbing. I looked up at Emily and pulled my shoulders back.

"Will you let me go to her, then?" I asked, trying desperately to mask the quiver in my voice.

"Yes," Emily replied, pulling her bony shoulders up as well. "But not until you've done what I've told you. When you do go, be quick about it. And, don't let Mamma see you, either. There's no sense in getting her all worked up over nothing."

With that, Emily exited my room, slamming the door shut behind her. I took a few bites of the oatmeal, but it felt cold and stuck to the roof of my mouth. I pushed my breakfast away, then hurriedly washed my face, tugged a brush through my hair, and pulled on a new nightgown. Carefully, I slipped from my bedroom and descended the stairs, making less noise than a mouse would. Mamma's old Victrola could be heard playing softly from her sitting room. I scurried past. Thankfully, she didn't see me. She was too wrapped up in her music to notice much of anything. Silently, I slipped into Eugenia's bedroom.

"Oh!" she cried when she set eyes on me. Her little hands flitted around. "Oh, Lillian!"

She reached for me, the delicate bones of her arms all too visible under thin skin. I flew into Eugenia's arms, careful not to jar her in any way. She wrapped her arms around me very tightly–as tightly as she could, at least. I barely felt her.

"Oh, Lillian! I was so worried about you! I wasn't sure what had become of you, but Papa looked so angry!"

Eugenia continued to ramble until she noticed the bruise on the side of my face and the swollen cut at the corner of my mouth. Her mouth formed a small "o" and her eyes widened.

"Lillian, Papa did this to you."

Her tone was very soft. I grasped her hands very tightly.

"Yes, Eugenia, but you mustn't worry yourself about it. I can't have you getting upset on account of me."

"What did Mamma say?" she asked, her voice still hushed.

"Mamma doesn't know and you can't say a word to her. She isn't supposed to know. She can't."

"What will Niles say?" she cried suddenly. "He will be angry won't he, Lillian?"

I hadn't thought of Niles. I could imagine that he would be angry with whoever had struck me. No doubt, his eyes would darken and narrow until they were nothing but dusky black slits. His face would harden and contort as I repeated the whole horrible story to him.

"Niles won't know. I-I won't tell him. Papa didn't mean to strike me. He really didn't. He even apologized. I remember that he said, "Lillian, I wish I hadn't done those things to you." Papa's sorry for what he did, Eugenia."

Eugenia crossed her arms over her little chest and nodded sagely. "Papa would never strike any of us if he were in his right mind," she said, sounding very sure of herself.

"Yes," I said. "He was drunk when he did this and now he's sorry," I assured her, loosening my grip on her hand. "I should go back now. Emily asked me to be quick about this. If I can, I'll come back and see you. After dinner, maybe. Sooner if I can manage it."

I patted Eugenia's hand, then rose to leave. My sister's sad eyes followed me as I left her bedroom.

My lunch was brought to me in the same fashion as my breakfast. Emily brought that tray up, too. When she saw that my breakfast was for the most part, untouched, she glowered, but said nothing. My lunch was very bland and made up of chicken broth, weak tea, and some cool water. I took a little broth and sipped at the water, but I didn't have much appetite.

I stayed in bed for the next few hours, reading quietly, or looking at a few of my old picture books. They still held the same beauty for me as they had many years ago. A light tapping at my window caught my attention. I glanced up and saw Niles, perched precariously outside. He peeked past my curtains, and when he saw me, he brightened. Again, he tapped at the window and beckoned for me to come and open it.

It was too late to run. He'd already seen me. So, I shook my hair in front of my face, hoping that it covered the unsightly discoloration, and moved to open the window. Once the window was cracked enough so he could fit through the opening, I took hold of his hand and pulled him inside.

Niles Thompson, what on earth are you doing outside my bedroom window?" I asked him. Quickly, I looked him over from head to toe, making sure he was all right.

"I climbed," he stated proudly, his eyes glowing. "I told you the first day we met that I am an expert climber." Then, lowering his voice, he continued. "I thought this would be the only way I would be able to see you. I was worried when you weren't in school today?"

A gasp escaped from Niles' lips and his eyes narrowed. He reached out to gingerly touch my bruised cheek.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his voice gentle yet rough. I didn't answer right away. Something in Niles' eyes was frightening and the words flew from my mouth, leaving me slack-jawed and gaping, unsure of what to say. I looked to the door, afraid that Papa or Emily would burst in at any moment.

"Lillian." Niles' voice became very soft. "Please, tell me who did this. Tell me," he urged.

"I fell," I told him. "This morning. I was being reckless and fell..."

"Please don't lie to me."

How could I tell him what had really happened? Tears filled my eyes, threatening to fall down my cheeks. A pent up sob burst forth, taking Niles by surprise. He reeled, jerking back at my sudden outburst of emotion.

"Oh, Niles!" I cried. "I'm afraid!"

"Afraid? Afraid of what?" Niles asked, his dark eyebrows knitted close together.

"I'm afraid to tell you what really happened. I'm afraid that you'll be angry."

"Lillian..."

Niles was genuinely confused. "Why are you saying these things? Please, just tell me."

"It was Papa," I whispered hoarsely. "Papa did this."

Niles blanched. "Your papa?"

I nodded, biting my lower lip furiously. Unable to hold back any longer, I burst into tears. My tears dripped down my cheeks and onto my chin and lips. A split second later, I was in Niles' arms.

"Poor Lillian. My poor Lillian," he murmured, touching his lips to my injured cheek lightly, I hardly felt it. With his arms around me, I felt completely at ease. His embrace was warm, gentle, and comforting, and knowing that he thought of me as his made my heart feel lofty although the tears still coursed down my flushed cheeks.

"Emily told Papa you and I were doing sinful things yesterday afternoon. And Emily's word is as good as gospel around here, at least with Papa it is." I told him between hiccups.

"Emily may pretend to be good and holy, but she's rotten as they come on the inside," Niles hissed. "We did nothing sinful."

"All Emily has to do is point her bony little finger at someone and they're dammed for life, it seems, I chimed in.

"Well," said Niles sharply, "Your Papa was still wrong to strike you. All that talk about being a true southern gentlemen! I have a mind to find him and teach him what it really means to be a gentlemen," he fumed.

Although Niles was tall, broad, and sturdy for his age, Papa towered over him, and if provoked, he would probably thrash him without a second thought.

"Niles, no," I admonished him gently. "Please, you shouldn't say those kind of things."

Niles was silent, but the anger didn't leave his eyes until I kissed him full on the mouth. The ire was gone, and in its place was surprise.

"Lillian!" he laughed, a small smile beginning to form on his full lips.

I had even shocked myself. Never would I have dared to be so forward, but I wasn't ashamed of what I had done. I was glad.

"You shouldn't stay here, Niles. If Papa or Emily should see us..."

Niles' lips pressed firmly against my own silenced me.

"I know," he said. "I'm late getting home, anyway."

I walked Niles back to the window. We parted with another chaste kiss, like something out of Romeo and Juliet, or one of Mamma's romance novels. Before he started to climb down, he looked into my eyes, his face so serious, he looked as if he'd aged fifty years in a matter of seconds.

"Someday, I'll get you out of here. The two of us will be together, I promise you that."

I held my breath as he climbed down, exhaling only after he was safely back on the ground. He waved to me, then hurried toward home.