DeBeers 02 Wicked Forest

by V. C. Andrews

  and heavy from growing in my chest, making it ache.

  I glanced up at a sky turned stormy and foreboding,

  heralding rain and wind. It sent me home faster.

  -Are you all right?" Mother asked as soon as

  she set eyes on me.

  "Yes," I said, but then began to cry, She sat

  with me and listened as I described my session with

  Thatcher in his office.

  It doesn't sound very romantic. I know, but the

  world has become so complicated. I suppose," she

  said. "I can understand him feeling that. as an

  attorney, he should take care of these things, but it

  does take a bit of the glow from the candles. It's not

  something Romeo and Juliet would have considered." I laughed.

  "Yes, I can see that scene in the play. The monk

  advising the two of them to see a lawyer, especially

  because of the animosity between their two families." We laughed, and I wiped a fugitive tear from

  my cheek. "I'm too busy to think about it anyway." "Of course you are. and I'm sure it will never be

  an issue between you again."

  Was she. I wondered, or do we all say the

  things to people that we know they want to hear? We

  ignore so much about ourselves, especially our own

  mortality. Maybe the Bunny Eatons of the world were

  better off after all. See everything through rosecolored glasses, deny the dark clouds their hold over

  us, spend your life avoiding sadness and depression.

  Dedicate yourself to it with such energy and vigor,

  you never have a reason to stop and think and mourn

  lost childhood faiths.

  The storm brought rain and shut out the stars. I

  went to sleep early and didn't wait up for Thatcher,

  who came home late anyway.

  What a welcome brightness it was for me,

  therefore, to be at the terminal gate the next day,

  waiting for Amou to deplane. I had not seen her for so

  long, and I was happy to see immediately that she had put on some weight. At five feet nine, she had always been on the thin side. When I was a little girl. I worried that she would wither like fruit on a vine and get blown away by a fierce wind. My adoptive mother was also tall, but so much more substantial-looking. perhaps because of her hard demeanor. Amou always looked like a lightweight in the ring with a

  heavyweight when my adoptive mother confronted her. Why Amou staved with us so long. I'd never know. Anyone else serving such a demanding mistress would have long before found excuses to leave, I told myself it was only because of me. At

  least. I hoped it was.

  Amou wasn't as beautiful as my adoptive

  mother, but my adoptive mother was jealous of

  Amou's vibrantly red hair, which she kept long, down

  to her shoulder blades. Often I would sit beside her in

  her room while she untied her hair and brushed and

  brushed it, telling me how important it was to care for

  your hair. She had a secret formula for natural

  shampoo that involved olive oil and eggs and other

  things she wouldn't reveal, especially to my adoptive

  mother, who constantly nagged her about cutting her

  beautiful hair.

  "Why do you bother keeping it so long if you always wear it tied up anyway? What a waste of your

  time!" she would tell Amou.

  Amou always nodded as if she agreed, but

  ignored her. It was the way she handled my mother, a

  way that made me smile to remember now. In her own

  way. Amou was a better psychiatrist than my father,

  or at least as good when it came to dealing with my

  adoptive mother. She once whispered her secret to

  me.

  "Remember. Willow, a branch that does not

  bend will always break. Bend with the wind to fool

  the wind. Let the wind think it is the master, and when

  it stops, go back to being what you were. In time the

  wind will grow tired and pass you by."

  She was right. My adoptive mother eventually

  stopped criticizing her, claiming it was a waste of her

  time if Amou wasn't going to take her good advice.

  Amou said nothing. She kept those rosy, full lips in a

  tight, small smile and shifted her brown-speckled

  green eyes at me. We were conspirators by then, allies

  in a war within my own house, she and I against my

  adoptive mother, neither of us daring to challenge her

  face-to-face, but instead snaking ourselves around her,

  burrowing beneath her, flying over her, avoiding her,

  treating her as if she were invisible as much as we could until, like some exhausted conquering army, she decided to retire from the field and not be bothered

  any longer. Her indifference became our victory. "Amour I cried, and ran to her.

  She hugged and kissed me, the tears streaming

  down her face. "Look at you. Lindo! Muito lindo. My

  beautiful Willow."

  "And you. Amou. You have finally gained

  some weight."

  "Don't remind me," she said, her eyes wide,

  "My sister thinks I have two mouths and two

  stomachs when she cooks, and you know how I hate

  to waste food."

  "It looks good on you." "Never mind." "Let's go. I can't wait for you to meet Mother

  and Linden and especially Thatcher."

  We picked up her luggage and headed back to

  Jaya del Mar. During the trip I told her about Miles,

  my father's loyal servant, the funeral. how I had sold

  the property; and then I told her more about Linden

  and his problems.

  "Heartache for seua mae, for your mother." "Yes, she has suffered in so many ways, but she

  is happy now. Amou. I think that for the first time in

  years, she is truly happy."

  "She has you. Why not? You brought the light

  into the house. Seu pal, he always said so, if not in

  words, with his eyes."

  "How long did you know the truth about my

  father and my mother. Amou?"

  She glanced at me,

  "You knew for a long time, didn't you?" I

  guessed.

  "From the beginning. Seu pal honored me with

  his deepest secret and knew that I would never betray

  it or him or leave you until I was sure you needed me

  no longer."

  'I'll always need you. Amou."

  "Yes, but from a distance now. Willow," she

  said, and we both laughed. The sound of her laughter

  was like a wave of warm love, remembrances,

  cherished memories raining down on me, bathing me

  in hope and happiness again.

  "I can't believe you're here, you're really here!" "Stop. I am just an old lady. Make nothing

  more of me," she warned.

  "Believe what you want." I said. "I'll treat you

  like the wind and I'll bend."

  She laughed harder and shook her head, "If

  only the doctor could be here. too."

  "He is. Amou. I believe he is."

  "So do I." she said, and we drove through the

  gates of Joya del Mar.

  "What a place!" she cried. "You have become a

  princess."

  "Hardly," I assured her.

  The moment Mother met Amou. I could see

  they would be friends forever. As was Amou's way,

  she kissed Mother on both cheeks. They looked like

  they would both begin to cry.

  "Thank you for being the mother to
my

  daughter that I was unable to be." Mother told Amou. "It was easy with such a child," Amou replied. "I wasn't always easy, Amou. What about the

  time I painted the kitchen walls with honey and you

  had ants forever?"

  "To this day. I think of that whenever I put

  honey in anything," Amou admitted.

  Jennings took Amou's things to her room. and

  Mother and I showed her Joya del Mar.

  "Um palacio!"Amou exclaimed, "This is truly a

  palace. One would think there are kings and queens in

  America."

  "Some of the people who live here in Palm

  Beach believe they are royalty, and some really are

  related to royal families in Europe." Mother told her. After we showed her about. I took her to her

  room so she could rest and dress for dinner. when. I

  hoped. Linden would appear to be introduced.

  Thatcher was in court but had promised to be back in

  time.

  "Obrigado, Willow," Amou said.

  "No. I am the one who should thank you.

  Amou. Thank you for making this trip and being here

  for me, to stand beside my mother and be part of my

  family."

  She smiled softly.

  'Seu pal described her to me, not in detail, but

  just as a beautiful woman, someone who had put

  music and light back into his life. That's what he said,

  'She is the woman who gave meaning to the word

  angelic,' he said. When he spoke of her, he had tears

  in his eyes."

  "Thank you for telling me that. Amou, Rest," I

  said, and kissed her softly.

  My heart was so full. I thought I would explode

  with happiness.

  To my joyful surprise. Linden came down to

  dinner. He had dressed well for it and brushed his

  hair, and even participated in conversation, asking Amou questions about me as a young airl, some of the

  answers embarrassing.

  After they were introduced_. Thatcher couldn't

  wait to tease her about the dreads,

  "To this day she worries about them." he joked. "Stop it," I warned him, and glared at him with

  hot eyes.

  "No, no, it's all right," Amou said. She gave

  Thatcher one of her famous intense looks-- famous,

  at least, to me. "May you always be able to make fun

  of the dreads." she told him after a long moment. He held his smile, but it was as if a prophet had

  spoken, and he couldn't wait to change the topic and

  talk about his mother's newest idea for the wedding.

  Afterward, he confessed that Amon was more than he

  had expected.

  "She's nobody's fool, wise and very sensitive.

  You were lucky to have had her," he told me. "Why,

  she even got Linden behaving like a normal person:" "She's always been magical for me."

  "Maybe we'll take a trip to Brazil next year and

  visit her," he said.

  "Oh, will we?"

  "What's to stop us? Just your work schedule or

  mint, and we can find a way around that, most of the

  time," he promised.

  That night, my heart so full of joy, we made the

  most gentle and yet passionate love we had yet. We

  fell asleep clinging to each other as if we were both

  afraid sleep would take us too far away.

  .

  The next morning. Aunt Agnes and Cousin

  Margaret Selby arrived. Aunt Agnes was astounded

  when she saw Amou and couldn't believe she had

  come all the way from Brazil to attend my wedding.

  She was cordial to Mother, but anyone could tell from

  the way she spoke to her and looked at her that she

  could never be very close or very friendly to Mother.

  The only reference she made to my father was a

  confession of surprise.

  All my life I thought of my brother as the most

  correct, proper man I knew. He was even serious as a

  little boy, so concerned at how he looked to people, he

  would wipe his mouth with his napkin practically

  after every bite at dinner. To think of Claude having

  an affair with a patient!

  "On the other hand. I suppose I should be

  grateful," she said with as plastic a smile as I had seen

  her wear. "After all, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't

  have Willow, now would we?"

  Mother took no offense at anything Aunt Agnes

  said. Afterward, she whispered to me and revealed

  that my father had "described your aunt to a T." When Bunny arrived, she and my aunt took to

  each other immediately, siding with each other at

  every opportunity. That, too, brought smiles to

  Mother's and my faces. Amou couldn't be idle and

  went into the kitchen to prepare one of her Portuguese

  chicken dishes with piri-piri sauce, a hot sauce so

  delicious that everyone raved about it.

  Margaret followed me about all day. She

  explained at least a half dozen times why her husband

  was unable to attend my wedding. Pressing business

  concerns kept him from leaving Savannah. From the

  way she spoke of him and their marriage, it seemed

  that he devoted 90 percent of his time to his work and

  10 percent to her, but she didn't seem to mind. She

  went on and on about her social activities, her charity

  functions, her full life, which to me sounded like a life

  full of activities designed to avoid facing reality. Margaret was intrigued with Linden, who didn't

  give her a moment of attention. however.

  "Is he dangerous?" she asked in a whisper. "Only if you pester him," I said. She believed

  me and kept her distance.

  To keep her occupied and get her out of my

  shadow, I introduced her to the Butterworth twins and

  later to most of the Club d'Amour. She got along well

  with all of them. although I thought Manon and her

  group were really humoring and toying with her most

  of the time.

  With all my last-minute preparations, I had no

  time to be concerned anyway. Both Mother and Amou

  hovered around me. Bunny had asked to be called to

  my last gown fitting. but I conveniently forgot,

  imagining that she would find fault with something

  simply because we hadn't taken her advice and used

  the people she wanted me to use.

  Thatcher had decided that he would spend the

  night away. He told me he was going to sleep at the

  beach house and that his friend. Addison Steele, had,

  as promised, flown in from his home in Paris to attend

  our wedding.

  "Since we spent so many wonderful nights

  there." Thatcher told me. "I think it's only fitting I

  sleep there the night before our wedding.

  I was too nervous to care or even to listen to

  half the things he was telling me. For someone who

  had avoided the wedding altar as if it were the

  guillotine, he, on the other hand, seemed very cool

  and collected.

  When we kissed good night. I asked him why

  he wasn't at least as nervous as I was. He paused to

  consider, then shook his head and shrugged. "I think because it still feels like it's happening

  to someone else. But soon enough, the reality will

  strike home and then you'll hear my knees knock," he />
  promised, kissed me on the tip of my nose, and left. An hour or so later. I had a phone call from Mr.

  Bassinger, who had just arrived in Palm Beach and

  was calling from his hotel.

  "I must apologize, Willow. I was away from the

  office on a business trip, and my wife and I had

  arranged to fly directly here for your wedding. Only

  an hour ago, they faxed me your documents. and I've

  just completed reviewing this prenuptial. The only

  thing that seems out of the ordinary is Thatcher's

  working himself into your property because of some

  agreement you and he made about the upkeep. Is that

  correct? He's paying for that?"

  "Yes. Since we're making this our home." 'That's fine, But the way this is written, it's the

  same as him levying a lien. Do you want me to get

  into it and have the wording revised? There are a few

  other minor things I would change."

  I thought for a moment,

  "No," I said. "I'm sorry I bothered you with it I

  don't even want to think about it, especially tonight." "I can understand. These things are usually

  done a lot more in advance. We can revisit it later, if

  you like," he added softly,

  "Good."

  "We're so looking forward to your wedding and

  seeing you."

  "Thank you. I'm looking forward to seeing

  you." I told him. I was, because he had been one of

  my father's closest confidants, and having him there

  was having a little more of my father. too.

  "Well, rest up," he said, and hung up. I thought about his comments for a few

  moments, then drove them out of my head with a

  vigorous shake and denial. I would let nothing do

  what my mother had warned this could do. I would let

  nothing diminish the glow of our candles.

  Not tonight.

  Not ever.

  Not if I could help it.

  Do you think you are being realistic, Willow?

  Daddy would surely ask.

  Must we always? You weren't realistic all the time, Daddy. Especiallywhen you fell in love with

  my mother.

  Was I right to be that way?

  Yes. Yes! I screamed back at him.

  He popped out of my mind like a soap bubble

  and left me staring at myself in the mirror.

  Wondering.

  13

  A Most Wonderful Wedding

  .

  How do you sleep the flight before your

  wedding-? I wondered when it came time to do so. I had periodic feelings of numbness alternating with an electric sensitivity at my nerve endings that made me jump and flinch and have shortness of breath every time I brushed against something or stopped and let myself dwell on the ceremony and reception. I don't know how many times I looked at my wedding dress, my shots, my veil, questioning whether I had made the right decision or whether I should have listened to Bunny.