DeBeers 02 Wicked Forest

by V. C. Andrews

  Stop this, Willow De Beers , I told myself. Stop this second guessing.

  However, with Bunny Eaton still hovering about the property and the sounds of men and women below setting up the tables and the decorations, I couldn't imagine closing my eyes. I was certainly not going to take any sleeping pills. All I needed was to wake up groggy on my wedding day.

  I had just changed into my nightgown and pulled back the blanket to crawl into bed when I heard a knock on my door. Thinking it was Mother. I went and opened it quickly and found Margaret Selby in her robe and slippers.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. "Oh, nothing. I just remember what it was like for me the night before my wedding and thought I would stop by to see you. I'm sure your stomach is full of pins and needles. Mine was."

  "Yes," I said. "but I'm going to try to get some sleep.

  "Oh, you won't." she said with a wave of her hand, and marched into my room. "This is such a magnificent house and property. I can tell you. Mother was very impressed and is still babbling about it. She had no idea. What sort of a home could a mother who had been in Uncle Claude's mental clinic possibly have, she would ask all the time."

  "Well, now she knows."

  "Yes, and your mother is so lovely. I don't see how anyone could tell she was mentally ill."

  "She was helped many, many years ago. Margaret. She hasn't had those sorts of problems for a long time. It's not something you see in someone's face forever."

  "I know." she declared, and looked at my wedding dress. "Your dress is much prettier than mine was. Ashley's mother really was the one who picked out my dress. She and Mother, that is. They both thought the dress I wanted was inappropriate because it showed a little more bosom than they thought was proper. Imagine. Like it's against the law to look sexy at your own wedding or something. How about all those people who are seven or eight or even nine months pregnant at their weddings? No one seems to complain about that. And they wear white, too!

  "At least I was really and truly a virgin when I got married in white. I bet you're not, are you?" she asked, after a moment of building some courage.

  "Times have changed. Margaret. That's not something on everyone's mind at the moment."

  "I just didn't think I should give myself to any man unless he was going to be my husband and give himself completely to me." she declared with a bit of a pout.

  "Your virginity is your most precious gift, your jewel, and you can't cheapen it by giving it to just anyone. And besides, later, when your husband makes love to you, he'll feel you're like a used car."

  "Who told you that?" I asked, fighting not to break out in laughter.

  -"Mother and I have discussed it many times,' she said with big eyes.

  "I don't think all men feel that way. Margaret. This isn't some very restricted society in which women are treated like second-class citizens. If it's all right for men to be lovers, why shouldn't it be for women?"

  "We're different.,"

  "That's for sure. Margaret, but we're not less.

  "Well..." She looked down and then up with an impish smile smeared like hot butter across her chubby face. "I almost did it with someone else once." she confessed in a loud whisper. "I came this close." She pinched her thumb and forefinger together. 'I was only sixteen and Randy Karlan had me pinned down in the backseat of his Lincoln Town Car, so there was lots of room, and he pulled down my panties and pushed his thing against me. He called it 'knocking on the door' and made me say. 'Who's there?' He said. 'Open.' and I had to say. 'Open who?' And he said. 'Open sesame.' and pushed until it almost happened. only I kept thinking about what Mother had told me and I screamed and turned so quickly and forcefully. I spilled him off me and he got very angry. He said he would tell everyone he had done it anyway. I cried, and he made a deal with me. I have never told anyone else about it."

  "What was the deal?"

  "I had to relieve his agony, he said. Men suffer so much more because of sex, don't they?" she asked me. and I shook my head and smiled,

  "What do you mean? Why?"

  "I don't know. They get like a bomb or something and if you don't help them explode, they could explode inside, I suppose.

  Ashley told me that. He said men need more attention than women and need to pretend things more."

  "Pretend? Like what?"

  "On our honeymoon, he made me sit on him and bounce and recite. 'Jack be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack went over the candlestick' over and over until he screamed. And now that's the way we do it all the time. Sometimes I recite it twenty times, sometimes as high as fifty, and once less than ten times. Do you do things like that with Thatcher?"

  "No, Margaret," I said. "And if I did. I wouldn't tell you."

  'I just do what I have to do to make my husband a happy man so we can have a happy marriage."

  'Do you have a happy marriage?' I asked, "Yes," she said quickly and firmly.

  "Then that works for you, Margaret. and I'm happy for your happiness."

  She nodded and rose, walking slowly toward the door.

  All through the night before my wedding. I thought only about the honeymoon night. I was so afraid I wouldn't be good and Ashley would hate me." She paused and looked at me with the eyes of someone who was ready to confess a great sin. "I even practiced," she revealed.

  "With 'Jack be nimble. Jack be quick'?"

  "No, silly. I didn't know about that yet. I practiced with a pillow. To this day." she whispered. "when I go home, back to Mother. I mean, I look in my room at that pillow I call Ashley, and I get a little excited and go home and wait for Ashley and hope he wants to play 'Jack be nimble.' There. I've told someone, but you're almost a therapist so it isn't so terrible to tell you, and we're cousins anyway and should be like sisters, right?"

  "Your secret is safe with me. Margaret."

  "Good." She opened the door. "I feel a little sorry for you." ,,why?"

  You won't have any surprises tomorrow night. You already know what it's like."

  "That's not true. Margaret. It's never quite the same every time, and love is something you build upon. You don't get married. and then that's that. Marriage is really only the beginning."

  She stared at me.

  Then her lips began to tremble.

  For me." she said, her eyes glassing over with tears, "it was really the end.

  She closed the door between us. and I thought how deep and secret is the pain some women carry at the very bottom of their hearts.

  .

  The day began with the musical sound of bells, bells, bells. Bells were everywhere, including in my imagination. Doorbells, rehearsal bells, the ringing- of phone bells. The house soon resembled the backstage of some Broadway show. Bunny had asked for a guest room for herself and Asher to use as a changing room and also as a salon to greet people during the day. She brought along her hairdresser and someone to help with her makeup. A small army of valets arrived to handle the parking of cars. The caterers set up and began to dress up the various food stations. A half dozen bartenders arrived, and then a meeting was held with the waiters and waitresses, spelling out how they were to serve and clean up. Bunny insisted that not an empty glass or a discarded dish be left on a table more than a minute.

  I didn't hear from Thatcher all clay, but Whitney and Hans and their children arrived early and came to see me. "before it all begins, while we still have the proper time to wish you well." Hans said. Whitney remained silent, looking at me as she would through a mask. "Welcome to the family," Hans added. Whitney muttered an assent and gave me the coldest, quickest hug, one that left me questioning whether or not it had even occurred. The children were polite but so stiff they seemed propped up like pieces of scenery. It was a relief when they all left.

  I wanted air, but every time I emerged from my suite. Bunny pounced on me. insisting I remain in seclusion,

  "Tell her. Grace," she cried, enlisting Mother as an ally. "Tell her how she has to remain fresh and calm.

  For once. Mother sided with her. Even
Amou agreed I should not involve myself in anything but myself.

  "Today is a day to dote on yourself. Willow. You're truly queen for a day today." Bunny cried, and waved her hand as though she held a magic wand in it to carry out her wishes.

  I retreated. I was too nervous to greet people and be involved in any last-minute decisions anyway. Time felt like maple syrup, dripping- its seconds and minutes along so slowly. I could look at the clock twice and see the hour and minute hands on the same numbers.

  I ate very little, and what I did eat threatened to march right back up and take its original place on the plate. It was hard enough to hold down a glass of water. Amou nursed some food into me, telling me if I tried to do everything on a completely empty stomach. I would surely faint away,

  "Just last year I saw a bride pass out at the altar." she said. ''My cousin's daughter. It took nearly half an hour to get her back on her feet, and she was wobbly throughout the rest of the wedding."

  "That sounds like one of your famous stories, Amou, the sort you would lay on me when I was a little girl and resisted eating or taking a bath, like that little girl you knew who had a nest of beetles under her dirty arm."

  She laughed, and swore it was the truth about the bride fainting. In the end. I ate something and held it down.

  Suddenly. I realized I had neither seen nor heard anything about Linden all day. so I asked Mother about him. She smiled, but her eyes revealed some concern.

  "He's been secluded in his studio. I know he had some lunch," she added. "This is not a day for you to be worrying about him anyway. Willow. Let me do that. I'll help him with his tuxedo and bow tie. He'll be fine." she assured me, but it came out like a prayer.

  Finally, it came time to do my hair and makeup and get dressed. I tolerated only Mother and Amou in the room and locked the door against any other entrant. especially Aunt Ants and Margaret. By now. Bunny was too involved in herself to care about anyone else, and for once I thought her selfishness was good.

  Periodically, I gazed out the window at the reception area below and began to see guests arriving, all the men in black tie, the women in gowns fresh from Paris, New York. and London. I spotted Marian and her husband and the women of the Club d'Amour with their escorts. Then I saw Professor Fuentes arrive alone. Mr. Bassinger and his wife, and Mr. Ross with his. I felt like a performer peeking through the curtains at the audience. The orchestra began to play. My heart began to pound so hard. I thought I would surely be just like the woman in Amou's tale of warning and faint at my own altar.

  The woman Bunny had hired to supervise the wedding reception. Robin Monroe, knocked on my door and declared. "It's time far the bride to make her way down." Her voice was so deep and formal, it sounded like I was being called to an execution. I had already had my last meal.

  Both Mother and Amou turned to me and smiled. I rose and, with my head bowed, began my walk,

  "You look so beautiful." Mother whispered. She squeezed my hand.

  Amaze walked beside us. Never had she looked more stately and strong to me. How lucky I was to have her at my side again. I heard the wedding march begin. Mother and I hugged Amou. who went out to take her seat, and then we started down the steps to the aisle. I'd had no concept of what six hundred people would look like, all their eyes turned on me. For a moment I thought all the air had gone out of my lungs. I don't know how my legs held me up and were able to continue moving forward, but they did.

  There, ahead of me was Thatcher with Linden at his side, both looking handsome in their tuxedos,

  "Here you go," Mother whispered. It almost sounded like she was saving it to herself.

  I took another deep breath and stepped forward, entering the glow of Thatcher's smile and just glimpsing Linden's eyes a-dazzle with a glow of wonder. For a split second. I had the feeling he thought it was he who was the groom and not Thatcher. It was like a finger tickling behind my heart, and then my eyes went forward, the minister began, and all else. everything I had thought and worried about all day, disappeared in the rhythm of his voice and the meaning of his words.

  .

  ''Congratulations." Professor Fuentes said. He hesitated a split second, then leaned forward to kiss my cheek.

  I introduced him to Thatcher.

  "You are the only man who has spent more time with her than I have," Thatcher declared. "Of course. I approve."

  "Thank you. It has always been a pleasure to spend time with Willow," Professor Fuentes replied.

  Before Thatcher could respond with one of his witticisms. Bunny pushed forward in the greeting line to introduce some distant relatives. "who have come directly from a vacation in Hong Kong," she emphasized. But that's our family. No cost is too great when it comes to celebrating such an important event."

  I greeted them and turned to the next guests. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Professor Fuentes talking to Manon Florette and Liana Knapp. His eyes went from them to me, and I could see in them his cry for help. It made me laugh. I shrugged, indicating the line of guests that snaked around the entire patio. He was on his own. I wouldn't be able to rescue him until much later.

  It was exhausting, and of course there was no way I could remember all the names. Some people simply wished us the best, while others had to talk about their own weddings or tell us where they had been on their honeymoons. Finally, we were able to retreat to the dais and get off our feet, but almost immediately there was a call for us to kiss, and then we were invited to get up and dance to our chosen song Actually, it was my chosen song. Thatcher had left it up to me. and I'd chose "Love Is a ManySplendored Thing." It was Daddy's favorite.

  The food was served and the music played on. How happy Mother looked. Every once in a while. I caught her staring at us, her eyes so full of light. She and Amou had similar looks, both sharing their joy, and both telling me at different times how proud my father would have been.

  Before the reception ended. Professor Fuentes asked me to dance. Thatcher was already dancing with Sharon Hollis. In fact, every member of the Club d'Amour danced with him at one point or another before our wedding party had ended.

  "This is truly the most wonderful wedding I have ever attended." Professor Fuentes said. "Not that I have attended all that many, mind you. but I can't imagine anything grander than this."

  "Much of it was done to please Thatcher's family. I would have preferred eloping."

  He laughed.

  "Me, too, whenever I marry." he confessed. "But so much of what we do in our lives is done to please the people we love and who love us. Is that not so?"

  "Very so." I said.

  "I'll be going soon," Professor Fuentes said after the dance. -"Have a wonderful honeymoon. I do hope you will continue with your studies afterward."

  "Of course I will. Professor."

  "That's good." he said, nodded, and walked off. As I headed back to the dais. Linden stepped in my way. I had been so distracted and busy during the reception, I hadn't noticed him. I realized quickly that I hadn't because he hadn't been there much.

  "Linden, where have you been?" I asked. "Did you eat?"

  "I've been putting the finishing touches on your gift." he said. "It's ready."

  "That's wonderful," I said.

  "I want you to see it before you leave."

  "That's all right. We'll see it as soon as we return. Linden."

  "No," he said firmly. "You must see it before you go."

  My heart started to trip. I looked to Mother, who was watching us with worry while she tried to pay attention to whatever Whitney's husband happened to be saying to her.

  "All right. Linden," I said calmly. "I'll tell Thatcher"

  "You could come look first, if you like. Or you could bring him, too. I don't care. It's a wedding gift."

  "All right, Linden. Just give me a little time to get his attention." I said.

  "That shouldn't be hard. Ever!" he snapped, and walked back to the dais to take his seat. For the next half hour, he sat there glaring
at the guests like he was in a sulk. Mother spoke to him and I saw both the Butterworth twins talk to him, but he never took his eyes off me for long. I could feel them even when I had my back to him-- especially when I had my back to him.

  "Linden wants to give us our wedding present before we leave, Thatcher." I told him when I was able to pull him aside. He looked a little bleary-eyed from toasting with one group of friends and associates after another.

  "What wedding present?"

  "A picture he's painted," I said. "You know. I've told you about it before."

  "Oh. boy. I can just imagine what it will be... two skeletons in bed, or a woman on fire and her husband trying to douse it with gasoline."

  "Stop it, Thatcher. We'll just go and look at it and make him happy by telling him how wonderful it is."

  "Okay, okay. Whatever you say, my love. Your wish is my command."

  "You're not drunk, are you?"

  "Absolutely not He raised his right hand and pretended his left was on a Bible. "I solemnly swear I am as sober as a Palm Beach magistrate."

  "You idiot," I said, laughing at him.

  When I turned back to Linden, he had his head down. "I'll get him and we'll sneak off for a minute. Thatcher."

  "Fight," he said. "Then we sneak away. The limo is waiting to take us to the airport Jennings saw to our bags."

  I went to Linden, who shot up out of his chair so dramatically, it stopped some nearby

  conversations. I smiled at Mother to indicate it was all right, and he and I joined Thatcher.

  "So, it's time for the unveiling, then, eh. Linden?" Thatcher asked him.

  "It's not a gravesite monument," Linden muttered.

  Thatcher smiled at me, and we hurried up the walk and into the house.

  "It's nice of you to have devoted so much of your time and effort to a gift for us. Linden," Thatcher said.

  Linden gave him such a look of "oh, please" that I couldn't contain a small laugh. Thatcher actually blanched, his lips a bit white in the corners.