DeBeers 01 Willow

by V. C. Andrews

  "The background isn't important. You're what's important." he replied.

  I took the same position and gazed around the cove. It did look untouched. But how could it remain undisturbed in the midst of one of the world's most developed water playgrounds?

  "How come this place is undiscovered?" I asked.

  "It's not exactly undiscovered. It was just left undeveloped by the original owner of the estate inland from here. I'm sure it won't be like this too much longer. I heard he's died and the family is dividing the spoils. Won't surprise me to see a hotel built over there soon. Ready?"

  "Ready? I don't have much to do."

  "Sure you do. Look out at the sea and hold that beautiful pose," he said. "In other words, relax and be yourself"

  I waited until he had been working for a good fifteen or so minutes before speaking.

  "What makes you so positive your mother was upset about your taking me sailing. Linden?"

  "I know when my mother is upset about something. We've been so close, half the time I can tell her moods even before she can Stop worrying about it. She'll be fine when she sees I'm coming back and not sailing off into the sunset with the first beautiful young woman who talks to me." he added.

  "How does she spend most of her day?"

  "She reads, watches a little television, very little, and takes care of me and the house. It's plenty. I never heard her say she was bored."

  "She never goes anywhere?"

  "Nope."

  "Not even to a movie or a restaurant?"

  He paused.

  "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I don't mean to break your concentration."

  "It's all right. No, my mother is quite introverted, as. I suppose, am I. It doesn't mean we're mentally ill," he added pointedly. "I do what shopping we need to have done. We're fine."

  "She doesn't have any old friends who call or come around?"

  He laughed. "Old friends? Hardly. She was persona non grata even before she had her problems. You can imagine how it was when she returned." He thought a moment, "There was someone who came around once."

  "Who?"

  "Someone from the place she had been at when she needed treatment," he said, and started working again.

  "You mean, like her doctor?" I held my breath. Had my father paid her a visit after all?

  "No, not her doctor. Doctors don't take that much interest in you once you're no longer their responsibility and they can no longer earn money from your troubles," he said bitterly.

  "Then who? Was it another patient from the clinic?"

  "Might have been. yes. My mother didn't want to tell me much about her. but I remember it wasn't a very pleasant visit. When she left, my mother went into a rather deep depression. It lasted days, matter of fact. So maybe she was better off not renewing old friendships. huh?"

  "Could it have been a nurse from the clinic?" He shrugged.

  "Maybe. I don't know. I thought it might have been some kind of follow-up visit, but my mother insisted it wasn't, and I never saw the woman come around again. I knew she wasn't from Palm Beach, that was for sure. I remember she had an unusual name... Nadine. I don't hear that name often. Do you?"

  "No."

  Nadine Gordon, I thought. The nurse who suspected, the one Dr. Price thought had a crush on my father. She had come here, but why?

  "Look at that," he said, pointing to the sky. A plane was spewing some advertisement by writing it in dry ice or something across the magnificent blue, "Pollution, even up there. Fm surprised the kings and queens of Palm Beach don't complain. It's crass commercialization of their air space. I guess everything's for sale: everything has a price."

  He returned to his painting as if it were a true avenue of escape from the reality around him lie despised so much. I watched him lose himself in his work again, his face tightening with the intensity of his efforts. I said nothing more, afraid to break his concentration. Nearly twenty minutes later, he seemed to realize he had been in his own world and came up out of it like something rising from the sea before us, exploding out of the water. He looked surprised at his own accomplishments.

  "Wow. You've been a great model." He studied his work in progress and nodded. "Yes, you have." he said, and turned back to me. "You know how you realize you have a great model?"

  "How?"

  "It's when you get so lost in the moment, in the artistic inspiration, that you don't even realize the model is there. I know that sounds silly or

  contradictory, but it's as if I see beyond you, within you, into your very heart and soul, and for that period of time, everything else ceases to exist for me. It just flows from you to me or through me to the canvas. Understand?"

  "I think so. yes," I said It sounds very exciting, at least for you."

  It has been. Thank you." He put his brush down and came beside me, folding his legs and sitting. Then he took a deep breath, enjoying the air. I laughed at his exuberance, and he smiled at me.

  "This is the sort of day that happens so rarely in a lifetime, a day filled with so much special feeling, you can't ever forget it or duplicate it Every moment doesn't have to be similar to the one before it, but it often seems like that, doesn't it? At least, it does for me. It's only when I work or get the opportunity to meet someone like you and get you into my work that I rise above the mediocrity.

  "Gosh, listen to me mouthing off like this," he said, catching his breath and realizing how much he had said. "I'm sorry"

  "No, it's nice. It's like being invited into a special place, an artist's world, seeing and feeling everything the way he does, at least for a moment or two Thank you for sharing it," I said.

  He stared at me. "You're remarkable," he said. "It's as if you came out of one of my dreams, my fantasies-- just appeared, sort of like a kindred spirit. You feel that, too, don't you?"

  I was at a loss for words, for a way to slip out of this far too emotional moment, but he mistook my silence for agreement and brought his lips toward mine.

  As if the air between us was filled with shocking electricity. I pulled back and away from him abruptly. He was caught, committed, exposed, his desire naked, and that filled his face with blood so fast I thought the top of his head would explode. It instantly retreated, forming deep white patches of anger and disappointment at the corners of his lips.

  "Am I that distasteful?" he asked. infuriated.

  "No, no," I said. "I was just taken by such surprise."

  "Right. I forgot. You're becoming Thatcher Eaton's latest amusement, off-limits to the likes of someone like me." He pushed himself to his feet,

  "No, Linden. I'm no one's amusement."

  "Oh, no, you're in control of everything. Just like all the others he's paraded through that house and taken to his bedroom." He paused and looked down at me. "You have been to his bedroom already, haven't you?"

  "That's not really something I'd like to discuss. Linden."

  "Of course not he said, darkening his eyes, eyes that seemed to know all the wicked and tricky ways of the world,

  Should I tell him the truth right here and How? I wondered. Should I explain whywe can't become lovers? Was it right to tell him that before I had spoken with my mother? Maybe she didn't want him to know-- or anyone to know, for that matter. What should I do?

  I felt so desperate and so foolish. Why didn't I see this coming? Why did I think I could prevent it?

  He stood there, with his hands on his hips, staring at the sea, the anger rising in his face like mercury in a thermometer,

  "Linden, please..."

  "It's all right," he said. "I've lost the moment. It happens." He started to put his things away.

  "But what are you doing? We still have lots of time, don't we?"

  "Artists are finicky people," he muttered. "We do illogical, inexplicable things. Don't blame yourself. It's not the first time this has happened, believe me."

  "Can't we just continue so you can get your work done?"

  "I can't work when I get like this. I'm sorr
y. I have it all in here, anyway," he said, pointing to his temple. "I took the picture, and I can replay it whenever I need to. Don't worry about it. You fulfilled your part of the bargain.'

  He started to pack up. He moved with such abrupt, almost violent actions I was afraid to try to stop him. He loaded the boat,

  "Linden..."

  "Please change," he said, turning his back to me. "I need to go back."

  "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, honest I didn't."

  "Right."

  "I can explain. Maybe not right at this moment. but I can and I will someday. I promise." I said. "and you'll understand."

  "Change," he repeated, not looking at me.

  I did so quickly and handed him the clothing. He shoved it back into the bag and threw it into the boat,

  "Let's go," he said.

  He practically lunged at me and lifted me again, but he kept his face turned away until he had lowered me into the boat. Then he pushed off and got into it.

  It seems a pity to waste the day, Linden," I said softly,

  "What of it? I've wasted many," he said, and turned us away from his private little paradise.

  I looked back and watched us move farther and farther from it until we made a turn and it disappeared altogether, just like so many precious moments in both our lives.

  .

  It was as if the winds of fury had gathered. We made it back to the dock in what seemed to me to be half the time it had taken to get to the bay. He tied up the boat and reached in to help me step out.

  "Will you want me to pose for you again tomorrow?" I asked softly.

  "No, that's fine." he said. "Don't waste any more time with me." His whole body was now heavy with self-pity. I wanted so much to put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him, to promise him again that soon, very soon, he would understand, but I didn't dare touch him. He kept his back to me, and his shoulders were hoisted like the shoulders of a hawk, protective, aggressive, ready to pounce on some prey.

  As I started off the dock and toward the main house, I saw my mother staring at me from the loggia of the beach house. She and I gazed at each other for a long moment, and then she turned and went inside. I made up my mind I would see her before this day was over, and I would tell her who I was. Somehow. however. I had a deep feeling inside me that she knew. Was it possible for a mother to pick out her child from everyone else in the world, even though she had never set eves on her since her birth? Was there a magical connection that couldn't be broken or hidden?

  I would soon find out, I thought, and that both excited and frightened me.

  "Well. where were you?" I heard as I tucked up toward the rear loggia.

  Bunny and Asher were sitting at a table having some breakfast.

  "You didn't just come in from sailing with Linden, did you?" Bunny asked.

  "As a matter of fact, yes. I did." I said "It was quite enjoyable. He's a good sailor."

  They both looked a bit stunned and exchanged concerned glances.

  "How can you get so chummy with Linden Montgomery, of all people?" Bunny practically demanded. Did she believe I was getting romantically involved with him, after she had laid a trap for Thatcher and me?

  "He's really desperate for company." I explained. "I think his angry demeanor is all a facade. If people would simply be kind to him..,"

  "How can anyone be kind to him? He won't respond to a simple hello or look at anyone who speaks to him. Believe me. I've had a number of my friends meet him down at the beach, and he growls at them. They all think he's absolutely mad, and when you put his artwork together with his behavior, you can come to no other conclusion. I hope you will listen to my advice and stop getting involved with him.

  "Surely, lie cannot be of any value when it comes to your work," she concluded,

  "On the contrary." I said. "He and his mother have been the most informative and valuable interviews I've had to date."

  She practically gasped and then turned her head sharply to Asher, who smiled at me.

  "I know what she's doing. Bunny. She's getting a variety of views and perspectives. It's very important to her project. I'm sure. A good interviewer has to win the trust of the person he or she is interviewing. right?"

  "Exactly," I said.

  That seemed to bring some relief to Bunny, who relaxed her shoulders and dropped her hand from the base of her throat.

  "What about a cup of coffee or perhaps a mimosa?" Asher asked.

  "Surely, the sea air has stirred your appetite a little," Bunny insisted.

  "I would love a cup of coffee." I said, and sat at the table. The maid emerged from where she was standing just inside the French doors and poured me a cup.

  "Everything we hoped for my party tomorrow night has come to pass." Bunny said. "I have well over a hundred confirmed guests and more calling in every hour. I have the orchestra I wanted, and when you see the menu, you will be as excited as I am. There are some surprises, too, some very important Palm Beach people and some singers and movie stars among the guests."

  "Everyone loves a good party," Asher added. smiling.

  "Don't you ever get tired of all this entertaining, attending events?" I asked.

  "Why, of course not." Bunny said. "It's the season. Don't you know what that means? People from all over the world have come here to gather at these events, renew old acquaintances, share new discoveries. It's the most exciting time of the year for us. We would never think of missing anything, would we, Asher?"

  "Gloria Van De Mere had herself brought in an ambulance to the fundraiser for battered women last week." he said by way of replying. "She had just come out of the hospital after a gall bladder operation. She went from the ambulance to a wheelchair to the ball, accompanied by her nurse."

  "Gloria Van De Mere's father created the Chump Charlie Hot Dog chain." Bunny tacked on. "They are neck and neck with Holy Dog for the majority share of that fast food market"

  'Absolutely brilliant people working for them," Asher said.

  I listened to them go on and on about their guests for the party, rattling off the names of businesses, chain stores. Clothing designers, drug company heirs. CEOs of major corporations, a veritable Who's Who of wealth and power in America.

  All on our little doorstep." Bunny said proudly. "And all for you, dear." she pointed out. "Asher. Thatcher. and I will introduce you to everyone and anyone you wish to meet."

  "I'm exhausted just thinking about it," I said. I was serious, but that made them laugh.

  Afterward. I went to my room to change, and Thatcher called to tell me he was sorry but he would be tied up with meetings all the way through dinner. I told him I was fine and not to be concerned.

  "What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked suspiciously.

  "Enjoying the day," I said. "But organizing the information I have already gathered as well.'

  "Good. I'd hate to be responsible for your failing your course," he quipped. However, there was some concern in his tone. I had the feeling he had already spoken with Bunny, who was giving him a minute-by-minute report on my comings and goings. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay here after all.

  At precisely two-thirty, I made my way toward the beach house, hoping that my mother was sitting outside and having her tea again with Linden, When I turned the corner. however.

  I saw no one was there. Disappointed. I walked out toward the beach and stood looking at the ocean, wondering if I should just go knock on the door and ask to speak with her.

  "Isabel Amou." I heard, and turned to see her standing behind me. She was wearing a light white shawl over her shoulders and a sleeveless white dress. She was barefoot, and her hair was down,

  "Hello," I said.

  She studied me a moment and then smiled softly and folded her arms under her breasts.

  "Walk with me." she said, starting off to her left.

  I caught up quickly, my heart thumping so hard I thought I would fold up on the beach like some limp chiffon scarf.


  "How is your father?" she asked after we had walked in silence for nearly a minute.

  I stopped. She stopped and turned to me. "You know who I am?"

  "Of course," she said. "First. I could see him in you the moment I set eyes on you, and second..."

  "What?"

  "Your name." She laughed softly. "A long time ago. I heard of a nanny named Isabella whose charge had nicknamed her Amou"

  I remembered her letter to Daddy.

  Subconsciously. perhaps, I had used the name hoping to give myself away.

  "Yes, he told you that."

  It wasn't a very subtle clue."

  "Did he keep in touch with you much?"

  "I have some letters," she said, smiling softly-- at the memory of each and every word on the stationery, I was sure. "It was more difficult for me to write to him, but I did what I could, Did he send you to me?"

  Not directly, no. but I think he wanted me to meet you someday," I said.

  "Wanted?"

  Every muscle in her body, every tiny muscle in her face, froze in anticipation. The tears in my eyes were answer enough.

  "When?" she asked, holding her breath.

  "Last week," I said.

  She looked out at the sea so quickly it was as if she expected something out there to confirm my words. "How?"

  "An unexpected heart attack." I said, my throat closing, my words cracking.

  She lowered her head, turned, and continued to walk. I followed alongside her. Neither of us spoke for a while.

  "Once, a long time ago, we played a game of fantasy." she said. " 'One day.' he told me. 'I will no longer be able to control myself. I will no longer care about the consequences. and I will come to you.' I knew he was wishing more than promising. but I joined him.

  " 'And I'll be waiting for you,' I said 'I'll never stop waiting for you. I'll expect you to come at night.'

  " 'I'll come by boat. You'll see the light of it in the darkness growing brighter, larger, as I draw closer.'

  " 'And I'll be on the dock, waving a lantern to guide you.' I told him.

  "Silly. I suppose, especially for us, especially for people who knew how dangerous fantasy could become, but it was our little extravagance, our flirtation with the forbidden, forbidden happiness."