"Now, now, Christie," Doctor Stanley said. "You've got to get a hold on yourself, dear. You don't want to get yourself so sick you can't be of help to your little brother, do you?"
"Where is he?" I asked quickly. "Where's Jefferson?"
"He's in his room, dear," Aunt Bet said. "Sleeping."
"But he'll be waking up soon and he will need you," Doctor Stanley said. "He'll need his big sister. Now you just get yourself some rest, try to take a little tea and some toast and jelly. You have a very difficult and trying few days ahead of you, Christie. A great deal has fallen on your young shoulders. Do you understand?" Doctor Stanley asked. I nodded. "Good. I'm terribly sorry for your sorrow and for this tragedy and I will be here to help you as much as you need it," he added.
I looked at him again. Mommy had liked him and had believed in him enough to trust him with our family's health. Mommy would want me to listen to him, I thought.
"Thank you, Doctor Stanley," I said. He smiled again and then he left.
"Tell me what happened, Aunt Bet," I said as soon as we were alone.
"We don't know every detail yet," she said. "Something exploded in the basement while Jimmy was down there. It caused an immediate fire. The smoke flew up into the rest of the hotel and set off alarms. Guests were ushered out. Philip was everywhere, charging down corridors, knocking on doors, screaming and helping people. Your mother and I helped clear the lobby and then we left together when we felt sure everyone had been evacuated. The fire was building so quickly, we could already see the flames toward the rear of the lobby.
"When we got outside, Dawn cried out for Jimmy and realized he hadn't emerged. She was frantic. The firemen hadn't yet arrived, but the police were there. One policeman tried to stop her from rushing back in, but she broke out of his grip and charged through the front entrance, screaming she had to get Jimmy. That was the last I saw of her," she added and began to sob silently.
"And afterward?" I said, determined to know it all.
"Afterward, when they were able to get into the basement, the firemen found them together. Your mother had reached Jimmy, but they had been trapped in a storage room. They died clinging to each other," she concluded and took a deep breath.
"Philip's devastated," she continued, now speaking like one in a trance. "He's wandering about the wreckage in disbelief. He's so angry, no one dares go near him."
I closed my eyes. Maybe, if I closed them hard and tight enough and squeezed my body until it hurt, I could drive away this nightmare. I would open my eyes in a moment and it would be morning, a bright, sunny late spring morning. Jefferson will be charging through my door any moment, I thought, and Mommy will come in after him, telling him to leave me alone and get dressed. Yes . . . yes.
"How's she doin'?" Mrs. Boston asked from the doorway and my dream-prayer died.
"The doctor said to give her sweet tea and some toast and jelly," Aunt Bet said sharply. "Get it immediately." She was never as nice to the staff as Mommy was and frequently spoke harshly to the servants. Mommy said it was because of the way Aunt Bet had been brought up. Her parents were so rich, she had always lived like royalty.
"Yes ma'am," Mrs. Boston replied.
"I don't want anything," I said defiantly.
"Now come on, Christie. You heard what the doctor said. You're going to need your strength," Aunt Bet advised. Reluctantly, I nodded. They were right; I couldn't bury myself in make-believe and refuse to face the truth. Jefferson needed me to be strong. But I felt like a small lost child myself, scared of tomorrow. How could I be strong enough for someone else when inside I was shaking so hard I could barely breathe?
"Do Granddaddy Longchamp and Gavin know what's happened yet?" I asked. "And Aunt Fern?"
Aunt Bet nodded. "I have Mr. Dorfman calling everyone who should be informed," she said.
"And Bronson and Grandmother Laura?"
"Yes. Bronson is beside himself. Thankfully, I think, your grandmother is too confused to understand."
"I'd better go see Jefferson," I said, sitting up again, this time more slowly. My body ached as if I had been running for hours and hours.
"He's still sleeping, Christie," Aunt Bet said. "I promise I'll let you know as soon as he awakens. Just lie here and rest,
" she ordered. "I'm going to see about Richard and Melanie. My poor dears: they are so upset." She sighed deeply, patted me on the hand and got up. "Rest," she said and shook her head. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. Then she turned and left me.
I closed my eyes and fought the urge to sob and sob and sob until my throat ached badly. A short time later, I heard someone enter my room and opened my eyes to see Uncle Philip carrying a tray with my cup of tea and toast on it. Although his face was ashen with grief and mourning, he had brushed his hair, straightened his clothing, buttoned his shirt and retied his tie, the knot as perfect as ever. He set the tray down on my night table and smiled. His eyes were no longer glazed with confusion.
"How's my poor princess doing?" he asked.
"I can't believe my parents are gone, Uncle Philip. I won't believe it," I said, shaking my head.
He fixed his eyes on me and I watched them grow small and dark. His lips trembled and then he turned back to the tray. "You need something hot in your stomach."
"Where's Mrs. Boston?" I asked.