DeBeers 02 Wicked Forest

by V. C. Andrews

  "Okay," Mother said, pretending she and I were actually waiting all this time for his approval of the idea.

  "And we'll start over, as a new family,"

  "That's what we want. Linden. yes. That's what we intend to do."

  "And we'll help each other and trust each other and never betray each other."

  "No, we never will," Mother said. He looked at me. "We never will," I repeated.

  He smiled and came toward us, stood before us a moment, and then threw his arms around both of us.

  "My girls," he said. "I won't let anything bad happen to my

  Then he released us as quickly as he had embraced us, turned, and marched out of the kitchen.

  Mother and I looked at each other, not knowing whether we should cry or laugh with joy.

  "Maybe we will all be okay again," she said. "In time, maybe we will."

  .

  We had a wonderful dinner together. Linden listened with interest as I described my meeting with Professor Fuentes and my class schedule. The conversation was so bright and cheerful. He even expressed some interest in taking a class in art.

  That way I can sound as if I know what I'm doing as well as do it," he declared, and we all laughed.

  Afterward, we sat on the loggia and had coffee. Mother talked about Linden's and my grandmother, Jackie Lee Houston Montgomery,

  She had a lot of self-confidence," Mother said. "I remember how strong she was after my father was killed. That early part of my life seems like a dream now. I sometimes wonder if it ever really happened or if I imagined it.

  "My father doted on me, treated me like a little princess. Back then. I truly believed all of life would be like one long and perfect summer day, not too hot or humid, with a breeze that filled you with hope and expectation.

  "It's so important to have expectations, to have something to look forward to," she continued, directing her words almost equally to Linden and me. "You have to make room for hope in your heart. You can't live in fear of being disappointed all the time. You have to take some risks. That's what I learned from your grandmother."

  It had to be hard for your mother to start all over in a new place with a young daughter along," I said. Linden nodded.

  "Especially this place," he muttered.

  'Jackie Lee, as she liked to be called, had more than just grit. She had a fire burning in her. My father's tragic death was devastating for her and she spent a long time in mourning, but she came out of it. I remember, with a blazing anger at the world that gave her the strength to meet one challenge after another.

  "Once, she told me that she had pursued my first stepfather. Winston Montgomery, with a vengeance. Marrying him and marrying into all this was her way of getting even with an unfair fate. She would show the world she would not be defeated."

  "Then she went and defeated herself by getting involved with Kirby Scott," Linden said sharply, She brought all the evil into the house. I'd rather not have been born." he added quickly.

  Mother's joyful look of contentment quickly faded.

  "I would go through all the pain and suffering again to have you with me. Linden."

  He scowled, and glanced at me to see my reaction,

  "Good things can come from bad experiences. Linden," I said softly.

  "How do you know I'm a good thing?" he challenged. "He was my father, wasn't he? Something of him passed into me."

  'There's more of Mother in you, and that's stronger," I said. "And your grandmother. Jackie Lee," Mother said. "That's why I want you to know about her. Think of her as your heritage. and not him."

  "I feel like I have a disease in me and I have to keep my immune system strong."

  "You'll never be like him," Mother promised. Linden gazed at me again.

  "Maybe some of what he was isn't so bad. Women seem to go far that."

  It seemed as if he meant Thatcher and me.

  "He was a good-looking man." Mother said. "I'll give him that, and a charming man-- but let's not talk about him. That's the painful past. Let's just talk about our future, our hope."

  Linden grunted a reluctant agreement. I was beginning to understand him and what had turned him into the introverted man he was. For him, it was like being told the devil was your father. You were Satan's son and there were streams of evil flowing through your veins, evil that would take over and turn you into something terrible. He must have grown up looking for signs of that every time he gazed into a mirror.

  How oddly different Linden's reaction to Kirby Scott being his father and Thatcher's were Thatcher didn't feel personally threatened at all. Of course, if it was even true. Thatcher had learned about it at a much later stage of his life. His personality was already fanned and solid. Such revelations were shocking, but easily tossed overboard.

  Linden had carried the burdens of this knowledge from the moment he had learned what the word father meant. Just as I had grown up longing- to have a real mother, he had grown up longing to have a real father. I understood some of his pain. I could empathize, and that gave me more confidence in my efforts to help him.

  The ringing of the phone interrupted all our reveries. I rose first and went in to answer it.

  "It's been arranged," Thatcher said as soon as I said hello and he recognized my voice.

  "When?"

  "Tomorrow about midday. I'm going to meet with him privately. Will you be at the beach house by seven?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Good. You'll be wearing that ring sooner than you think." he predicted. "Willow Eaton. I like the sound of that, don't you?"

  "I like what it promises." I said, and he laughed.

  Mother took one look at me when I stepped back outside and knew I had spoken with Thatcher. Linden seemed to know it as well,

  "I'm going for a walk," he said sullenly, and practically leaped off the loggia.

  "He has such dramatic mood swings," Mother said, shaking her head and looking after him. "Even with his medication. I remember going through that same mental turmoil, and I vividly remember what it was like to see it in the other patients at the clinic, especially after your father had succeeded in making me well enough to have clear eyes. There was one suicide while I was there, you know,"

  "No. I didn't know that. Daddy never brought home his work experiences, and certainly wouldn't have mentioned something like that to me or in front of me. I kind of doubt he would have told my adoptive mother either. She wasn't very sympathetic when it came to his work-related problems."

  "I know," Mother said. "He told me about her-- or. should I say. complained to me about her-- often. We all stumble into little traps here and there. he said."

  "It was more than a little trap. at least to me. It was more like a pool of quicksand.'

  She laughed, but looked worriedly after Linden. "I'll ao walk with him," I said.

  She nodded gratefully. and I stepped off the loggia and followed Linden into the night.

  He was standing at the edge of the water as if he were teasing the tide that reached inches from his feet. He stood with his hands in his pockets.

  "I love the warm evening sea breeze." I said as I approached him.

  He didn't respond. I stood beside him and gazed out at the sea. An ocean liner was sliding across the horizon, its many lights festive. Although we couldn't hear anything. I imagined the music and the food and how excited and happy all of the passengers were, embarking from a Florida port on the start of their cruise.

  "Do you ever want to go on one of those cruises?" I asked. He turned slowly,

  "I've been on a cruise with my grandmother. I was only fourteen. Grace wouldn't go. She hardly came out of the house in those days, much less mixed with people socially. Grandmother Jackie Lee loved parties, and a cruise like that was just a continuous party."

  "Did you enjoy it?"

  "No," he said quickly. Then he added. "Most of the time I didn't, but back then I still thought Jackie Lee was my real mother. so I did what she wanted me to do. Once," he said, gazi
ng at the ship. '1 met a nice girl who promised to write to me. She was from New York."

  -She never wrote?"

  "People make more promises on cruises, promises they won't keep. That's what Grandmother Jackie Lee told me."

  "You must have been very fond of her."

  "I was, but even a woman with her strength and insight could easily become a victim," he said through tight lips. "What happened to her. what Kirby Scott did, wasn't her fault. He could charm a snake. Men like him know what buttons to push in a woman, what fantasies to promise, and they always have a good and seemingly reasonable excuse for their selfish acts.

  He almost had Jackie Lee convinced he didn't rape Grace, you know. He almost had her believing it was Grace's fault. That was part of what... what drove her mad. How would you like it if your mother believed you were responsible for something like that? It wasn't what he had done to Grace that turned him out of the house: it was what he had done to our fortune. He left because there wasn't am-thing left to plunder here.

  "Grace knew that deep down, and it broke her heart. It broke mine, too. when I learned it all," he said.

  How clear and in control of himself he suddenly sounded, but he also sounded like someone speaking in a state of hypnosis. His eyes never left the ocean liner until it disappeared over the horizon,

  "People are complicated. Linden," I said. "It seems we spend most of our lives forgiving someone for something. If we didn't, we would live with little balls of hate and anger choking us inside.

  "It's easy for me to say. I know, but you've got to let go of some of the past. Linden. You've got to think about the future more and more."

  "Future," he said, laughing. "What sort of future do I have?"

  "A good one. You're going to do wonderful things artistically. We're going to create a new home for Grace, and you're going to get out and meet more people and travel and do all the things you've dreamed of doing."

  He looked at me as if I was the one suffering mental turmoil,

  "You will." I insisted. "but you've got to stop worrying about me so much. I'll be fine. I won't fall into any traps,"

  In the light of the stars, his face glowed, and I could see him raise his eyebrows and tighten his lips at the corners.

  "Besides," I said. "I want you to get yourself strong and well enough so that if I do slip, you'll be there to pull me up. okay?" He nodded softly,

  "Be my big brother," I urged. "Be the brother I never had, but so desperately needed."

  His smile widened and softened.

  I put my arm around his waist and pressed my head to his shoulder for a moment.

  When I raised it, he was glowing brighter than the stars. "Let's keep walking," I said, taking his hand.

  We said nothing more. We simply strolled along the beach and back. The silence was like a balm on our old wounds. That and the night filled with boat lights and starlight dazzled us. It was the warmest, closest time we had vet had together.

  And when we returned, the healthy, happy radiance on Linden's face filled my mother's heart with joy.

  "We'll be all right," I whispered to her. "'We'll be just fine."

  I kissed Linden's cheek and said good night, thanking him for the walk.

  Later. when I laid my head on my pillow and gazed out my window. I saw the clouds rolling in from the west, unfolding like a dark charcoal blanket, reminding me that just like the promises made on cruises, promises made under the stars could be lost and forgotten if we weren't careful.

  I felt like a little girl again and imagined Daddy standing in my doorway. He had come to take me through his catechism designed to bring me to some sensible conclusions.

  Could you be taking on too much responsibility here too quickly, Willow?

  I don't know. Maybe.

  If you are, do you know how to retreat without hurting yourself or someone else?

  I guess not. no.

  Would you go walking- in the darkness in a strange new place without any light at all?

  No.

  What should you do first, then? Find some light.

  Will you do that, Willow?

  Yes, Daddy.

  Before you go too much further?

  Yes. Daddy,

  Okay, then. Good night Willow.

  Good night, Daddy-.

  The door closed on my imaginary conversation, but it had been enough to send me back in time.

  In my memory, the house turned down the volume of all its sounds. My. adoptive mother's muffled voice came up through the floor like a bad record and then stopped.

  Somewhere from the rear. I could hear Amou singing a Portuguese folk song as she folded clothes.

  Then it was completely quiet.

  And sleep, like the blanket of clouds outside the window, shut off the stars, even the ones I carried with me forever.

  6

  Dressed to Kill

  .

  Almost as soon as I woke up the next morning.

  I couldn't stop thinking about Thatcher and his meeting with the infamous Kirby Scott. If doctors could x-ray nerves. I was sure they would diagnose mine with split ends. To keep my mind occupied. I decided to return to the college campus, go to the bookstore, and get all the material Professor Fuentes had given me to read before my classes started. Once there. I found a few other books I had wanted as well, and in twenty minutes I had my arms so full. I felt like I would topple over if someone bumped me.

  Someone didn't bump me. However, he tapped me on the shoulder, and when I turned, slowly and carefully I looked into the ebony eyes of Professor Fuentes.

  "I see you had no trouble finding your way around."

  "No."

  "Here, let me help you with some of that," he said, and began taking books off my pile before I could object. He looked at some of them.

  "Ambitious," he declared, nodding. "Anyone else would be quite content with what is required. But this is a very good quality to have. Despite what everyone thinks." he added in a loud whisper, "the true student teaches himself."

  He laughed.

  "Don't let my colleagues know I said such a blasphemous thing."

  "My father loved to say you can lead a horse--"

  "--to water, but you can't teach it to drink," he recited with me. We both laughed,

  "Are you getting anything else? There are still a few thousand left to choose," he said, waving at the stacks.

  "No. I believe I have what I need."

  He stood by and watched me open my purse to get out my credit card while the cashier began to total my purchases.

  "So," he said after I handed her the card. "how are you enjoying living here so far?"

  "Except for the traffic and what I call Florida lights. fine." I said.

  'Florida lights?"

  "Those four-way traffic lights. If you miss the green, you're there long enough to read a chapter in one of these texts," I told him, and he laughed harder.

  "But don't you have the same sort of traffic lights back in South Carolina?"

  "Yes, but somehow not on every single intersection," I told him, and signed my credit card slip. As I reached for the bags, he seized one quickly.

  "Let me help you to your car." he offered,

  "Thank you. This really is personal service," I said. I thought he blushed a little, but he followed me out.

  "Thank you," I said when he and I had put everything into the car.

  'Delighted. You're welcome." he said.

  He stood staring at me, looking like he was thinking very hard about something. His eyes held me. and I waited with a small smile of amusement,

  "Are you in a hurry?" he finally asked.

  Not in particular. no. Why?"

  "I was supposed to have a luncheon with the dean of students today, but he had one of his small crises and just canceled on me. How would you like to join me for lunch? I know this little nothing place that serves the best chicken burritos and chiles renews in southeastern America. Unless you don't like Mexican food."
>
  "I don't eat it very often, but when I've had it. I've enjoyed it."

  "Is that a si?"

  "Si, "I said.

  "Muy bien, You can leave your car here and come with me., or follow me in your car."

  "Why don't we just go in my car?" I suggested.

  "Now, why didn't I think of that?" he said. laughing. "Actually. I did." he admitted as he got in. "but I didn't think it was proper to ask you to drive me."

  "The Latin male thing?"

  "Old habits die hard-- not that I am anything like a male chauvinist. I am the modern Latin man," he declared. "The truth is. I have to admit to an ulterior motive for asking you to join me for lunch."

  "Oh?" I said, starting the car and pulling out of my parking space.

  "I can't help being curious about you, your life with your father in particular. I hope you don't mind, but I have read everything he wrote, and I even have a letter he sent me after I wrote to him, asking him about something in one of his books. I thought he had a very clear and accurate view of human behavior. I imagine he was a very calm, well-organized man, not easily shaken or disturbed. Am I right?"

  "Yes," I said "My father was that."

  "And yet capable of great passion--

  compassion. I should say," he corrected.

  I nodded.

  "Oh, just make a quick left turn here and then take the first right. Yes, that's it on the corner. Don't be discouraged by its outward appearance. This is a book that definitely should not be judged by its cover." he added.

  I parked and we entered a very small place. Although it looked clean and well maintained, there were paper tablecloths and even plastic knives and forks, which gave it a truly unpretentious appearance. The menu was on a plain sheet of paper and, according to the heading, was changed daily. Everyone knew Professor Fuentes and greeted him warmly. He introduced me as one of his newest students. We took the table near the front window.

  "Why don't you order for me. too?" I asked, seeing that the menu was in Spanish.

  "No problem."

  He gave the waitress our order, then sat forward, his face resuming an intense expression.

  "If I ask anything that is impolite, please, don't hesitate to tell me," he said.