Read Online The Mirk and Midnight Hour by Jane Nickerson - Free Book Online Page B

been making her feel despicable and inferior? That we were even? This was a new thought.
    Sunny still faced away. Now it was her turn to rub her forehead as if it ached.
    In a surprising, jerky movement, Miss Elsa kicked out her legs beneath her skirt and put her arms over her head, moaning.
    Sunny gave a great sigh. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mama, go take your medicine.”
    “Yes,” Miss Elsa said, rising. “Yes. I need it, don’t I? Excuse me.…” She drifted from the room.
    “Bless her heart,” Sunny said, shaking her head.
    “What is her medicine?” I asked.
    Sunny was silent for a moment, gnawing at her lip, before replying. “Laudanum, if you must know.” She looked down at the carpet and burrowed the toe of her slipper into a hole. “Your father is aware of it and scolded her, so that’s why she didn’t have any this morning. She’s trying to cut back, but it makes her miserable.”
    “Does she take many doses?”
    “Only constantly,” Sunny said shortly.
    “That much?”
    She groaned. “Surely you’ve noticed she’s never really with us. I’ve always felt a bit like an orphan.”
    I tried to return to my book but ended up going over the same page three times without really seeing it. How often had I felt unnoticed around my invalid mother? And I had had a homey home, a father, a brother, Laney, and Aunt Permilla as well. I glanced at my stepsister. “Did you always live with your uncle?”
    “Yes. Ever since I was a bitty baby. Our aunt kept us cooped up in one little room. She didn’t like to be reminded we lived there.” Sunny tossed her curls and looked away so I couldn’t see her expression.
    I sat silently stroking Goblin and thinking. “Sunny, this is your house now too,” I said at last. “Let’s paint this room. Paint doesn’t cost much and we could do it ourselves. What color do you think?”
    She turned and looked searchingly into my face. Then she gave a little cry, smiled brilliantly, and threw her arms around me. I braced myself.
    “Oh, you darling thing!” she said. “A cheery buttercup yellow, I’m thinking. Sorry I was cross. You know I can’t help my temper—it’s the Irish coming out.”
    Later, when Sunny was pacing the floor and making her plans, I took a cup of warm honey milk to Miss Elsa’s room. She was huddled on a chair by the window.
    “Are you all right, ma’am?” I asked. “I’ve brought you something to drink.”
    “Thank you,” she said, lowering her hands. She looked appalling. “How considerate, Violet, dear.”
    I dropped to the floor beside her. “Does your head ache terribly?”
    “Not now that I’ve taken my medicine. Your papa doesn’t like me to use it. I know I’m weak and foolish. I’ve tried and tried to quit, and obviously I lack character. I began dosing myself because of my headaches, but now … I seem to need it always. And it helps me be more creative with my painting. It really does. I’ll take less … starting tomorrow.” She let her gaze drift toward the window. “Perhaps I’ll wander outside since I feel better. Find something to trim my bonnet …”
    A while after I rejoined Sunny in the sitting room, Miss Elsa floated in with a basket of cut blossoms. To our amusement—and my amazement—she began sewing real flowers to her oldest, shabbiest bonnet. Sunny and I looked at each other, then ran to fetch our own.
    I hollered to Laney in the kitchen, “Come in here and bring your bonnet!” Sunny sniffed but said nothing.
    Laney entered, mystified. Her eyes widened when she saw what we were doing. “Y’all are crazy,” she said, shaking her finger. However, she pulled a needle from my pincushion and threaded it.
    We stitched away, dissolving into giggles as each creation got more and more flamboyant. Tiger lilies dripped down the sides, crape myrtle fronds became plumes, and daisies lined the interiors.
    Miss Elsa did not work for long. Soon after Laney entered, she drooped onto the sofa and closed