DeBeers 03 Twisted Roots

by V. C. Andrews

  really leaving, nothing I did here mattered anymore. "What?" he asked, looking frantic.

  "Nothing. Okay. I'm going to the nurse's

  office."

  "Wait," he said as I started away.

  "What, Heyden? I'm doing everything you

  want," I said. exasperated.

  He smiled. "You don't know what time I'm coming by for you. We haven't decided on exactly where to meet outside your property. Some spy you'd

  make."

  "Oh. Well, what time?"

  He looked at his watch, "I'm cutting out of here

  at lunchtime. I'll pick you up at one-thirty. We need

  time to get Uncle Linden and get him to his bank." "Okay," I said.

  A part of me couldn't help wishing we would be

  discovered and stopped, and yet, there was a bigger

  part of me full of excitement and hope.

  "Remember. Don't let anyone see you or know

  you're really leaving. Otherwise, they might find a

  way to stop us. Understand?"

  "Yes." I said, my voice sounding so small I

  questioned for a moment that I had actually spoken. "See you soon," he said and walked off. The nurse called home. but Lila told her my

  mother was at her office, which was something that

  took me by surprise. The nurse called her there and

  told her I wasn't feeling well. She described my

  symptoms. I knew from the way the nurse spoke,

  listened, and nodded that my mother was diagnosing

  it as merely monthly cramps.

  "You're probably right." the nurse said and hung up. She turned to me. "Your mother is calling someone named Ricardo to come for you." she said,

  You can lie down until he arrives."

  I wasn't surprised that Miguel couldn't come.

  He was in class, but even if it was only my monthlies,

  it did shock me that Mommy would send Ricardo and

  not come herself. I remember when I was little.

  Miguel used to gently criticize Mommy for doting too

  much on my every little complaint and every change

  in mood.

  Once I even heard him say. "You must stop this

  paranoia. Willow. Hannah shows no signs of the

  manic depression your mother suffered and you think

  you suffer from time to time. It's only another ghost

  you must put to rest. Sometimes I think we should sell

  Joya Del Mar and go someplace else. Sometimes I

  think Linden is the only one with any sense among

  us."

  How could she move so quickly from a mother

  who worried over my every frown and grimace to a

  mother who could send a gardener to pick up her

  ailing daughter? Was this to be my punishment for

  somehow contributing to little Claude's death? I

  couldn't wait to get home to fill that pillowcase, and

  that was just what I rushed to do as soon as Ricardo drove up to the front door. I practically leaped out of

  the car.

  "I thought you were sick to your stomach." he

  called after me.

  I charged up the stairs, into the house, and up

  the stairway to my room. For a moment I just stood in

  the middle and turned in circles. What would I take?

  What couldn't I stand to leave behind? Did it matter

  that much? Wasn't I ever coming back?

  I started to choose toiletries and realized how

  foolish that was. Take only things you can't buy on

  the road, Hannah. I told myself and began to sift

  through my clothing. A pillowcase never looked as

  small to me as when I was trying to put in another

  skirt and another blouse. And shoes! I loved this pair

  and that. Didn't I need more than one pair of

  sneakers? What if we go into a much colder climate

  for a while? I should have a pair of boots. shouldn't I? Pictures? No. none. I would just cry over them.

  I thought. What about dolls? There was that rag doll

  that Mommy gave me years ago, telling me my

  grandmother had made it for her and had modeled the

  doll's face after Mommy's from pictures she had. Was

  it wrong to take that doll out of this house? What if I

  somehow lost it?

  No. I decided. I had to say goodbye to it for a

  while, perhaps a long, long while. No dolls, no

  remembrances of things past, no mementoes from

  parties and dances, even my own Sweet Sixteen party.

  It all belonged here, left in my past. Heyden and I

  were really starting a new life, and so was Uncle

  Linden.

  With that sort of censorship in mind, it

  suddenly became easier to pack the pillowcase. I

  wouldn't even take my toothbrush. We would do as

  Heyden had said: buy what we needed as we went

  along.

  When I was finished. I realized no one could

  look at this room and know I had left it No one would

  suspect I was really gone, not for a while, but despite

  my anger and my new hope. I couldn't just walk out

  and close the door. That was too cruel.

  I sat at my desk and debated with myself.

  Heyden had made it very clear that I tell no one I was

  leaving, not even give a hint. Yet I couldn't just walk

  out and let Mommy wait up for me, even though I had

  real doubts that she would. She would leave it up to

  Miguel. perhaps.

  Maybe not. Maybe I was being too hard on her.

  No. I had to leave her something. I pulled my

  stationery out and stared at a blank page.

  Dear Mommy and Miguel, I wrote. That was

  the easy part.

  I know that in the beginning you will be very

  angry at me, maybe even angrier than you are at me

  now. In time I hope you will understand why I am

  doing this.

  Whatever anyone says, I can't help but feel the

  clouds of blame and guilt hovering over my head

  every day here. I shall never forget that Miguel had to

  come for me when he was most needed here, and In

  my heart I fear you will never forget, either, Mommy.

  I know you don't hate me. I know you can't hate me,

  but for a while it will be as it has been, very hard for

  you to look at me and not think about it. I understand,

  but it's like living with a drill of fire pointing at me

  always.

  You never saw so many faults in me as you do

  now, and you never had as much coldness in your

  voice when you spoke to me as you do now.

  For the longest time I have been trying to get

  you and Miguel to understand I am not a child

  anymore. I need to be treated like an adult, to be

  trusted with the truth, whether it be ugly or not.

  Perhaps I am, as some of my friends think and most of my friends are, spoiled. Perhaps I have been

  protected too much.

  1 think the best way for me to mature is to go

  out on my own for a while, and I think the time we are

  apart will be good for all of us,

  Just know that a day won't pass without my

  thinking- of you and looking forward to the time when

  I can return and when we can be more than just

  mother and daughter, when we can be friends again

  as well,

  Love, Hannah

  I put the letter in an envelope and left it on my

  pillow. Then I turned and walked to the door. I had to


  stand there for a while and look at each and every

  thing, no matter how small or how insignificant it

  might first appear. Everything had some sentimental

  significance and touched me in some way, even the

  view from my windows. I would never have a view

  like it or look out on what they looked out upon again. Goodbye to all my childhood fears and my

  childhood fantasies, I thought, for all of it still lived

  somewhere within these walls, every cry, every sob,

  every laugh somewhere within them, resting, touched

  only by a dream or by a fleeting memory. This was a

  house with history, and mine was part of it. Years and years from now someone else surely would live here, and she might wonder about a chip in the wood, a scratch in the window, a piece of wrapping paper

  inside a closet. Perhaps my dreams would invade hers. Forgive me, room, I thought. You were Hever a

  disappointment, but what I seek NOW is outside and I turned and hurried out before anyone came

  home. In minutes I was walking quickly down the

  driveway, and moments later I was outside the gate.

  Heyden was there on his moped. He held up his hand.

  and I took a deep breath and hurried to him. "I was getting worried," he said. "You're almost

  fifteen minutes late."

  "Am I? Sorry."

  "Good work," he said, holding my pillowcase.

  He tied it securely to the moped and patted the seat

  behind him. "Let's go. We have a lot to do." I got on and placed my feet carefully. He

  started it, and we rolled forward.

  I looked back once even though I had made a

  pact with myself not to look back. I just couldn't help

  it. Joya del Mar had its own powers. I could almost

  hear the flowers, the trees, the house itself calling to

  me, begging me not to go.

  Or was that just the voice inside myself, tiny and frightened, soon to be drowned out by the roar of the wind passing my ears and the thunder of my own heartbeat?

  10

  On the Road

  .

  For a moment I thought Uncle Linden had

  forgotten every word we had spoken yesterday. He was sitting on the porch as usual, and he looked very relaxed and contented. The expression of surprise on his face when we pulled up on Heyden's moped convinced me he never really expected us to return, at least not as soon as this.

  "Say," he said as we walked up to the porch. "shouldn't you guys be in school?" He checked his watch. "Today a holiday or something?"

  "We've left school for good, Uncle Linden," I said. Just saying it made me tremble a little.

  "Oh?"

  "We're going ahead with the travel plans." Heyden said. "I've made all the arrangements. You remember everything we discussed last night, right?"

  Uncle Linden smiled. "You mean, leaving on a motor home?"

  "Yes, exactly."

  Uncle Linden patted his jacket's breast pocket. "My bank book is right here," he said. "I figured I'd keep it on me just in case."

  "Great. Okay. Here's our plan. We're going for a walk. At the corner of the next block there's a drugstore. I'll have a cab meet us there. We'll go directly to the owner of the motor home and pick it up."

  "That's good," Uncle Linden said. That way no one here butts into my business."

  "Hannah," Heyden said, turning to me. "Take Uncle Linden in and get only what is absolutely necessary from his room. Then tell Mrs. Robinson you're taking him for a walk."

  "There's nothing in there that I want," Uncle Linden said suddenly and stood up. "Let's just go."

  "But what about Mrs. Robinson?" I asked.

  "No, he's right." Heyden said, lowering his voice. "If she knows he went off with us, she'll tell your parents, and they might get the police to stop us before we leave somehow. This will buy us that much more time undetected, C'mon. Let's make tracks while we can do it unnoticed."

  He started away, and to my surprise. Uncle Linden, with a vigorous gait, followed. I looked back at the front door. No one had come upon us yet. but I was very nervous. I had never taken him away from the building without letting someone know, Then I thought, take him away from the building? What's that? You're taking him out of the whole state!

  "Walk him to the drugstore," Heyden said, getting on the moped. "I don't want to leave this here. I'll meet you there."

  He started up and drove off. I looked back at the residency again and then took Uncle Linden's hand, my heart thumping so hard I was sure he could feel the drumbeat in my fingers, and started across the street. We went nearly the whole block without speaking.

  "Are you very sure you want to do this with us, Uncle Linden?" I asked.

  "I'll let you in on a secret," he said, smiling. "I didn't sleep all night thinking about it."

  "Really?"

  "This is the nicest thing you could do for me. Hannah. Thank you." he said. and I walked faster. By the time we arrived at the drugstore. Heyden had called for the taxicab.

  "Where is your moped?" I asked, seeing our packed pillowcases beside him.

  "Sold it." he said. "for twenty bucks." He showed me the bill.

  "You sold it for only twenty dollars?"

  Had to get rid of it fast, and this young guy standing here waiting for a bus couldn't believe his luck."

  "I'll bet," I said.

  "I don't have any need for it now." Heyden declared, beaming,

  Uncle Linden nodded, "He's right." he said. "It's like we're throwing all our excess weight overboard to keep the boat floating."

  The taxicab arrived and we got in. Heyden gave him the bank's address, and in moments we were on our way. I had, in what was surely my mother's way of thinking, truly kidnapped my uncle.

  Heyden asked the taxi driver to wait for us outside the bank and we entered. The suspicious way the tall, lean, bald-headed bank teller looked at us with his beady eyes made my heart skip beats. but Uncle Linden had identification in his wallet, and after the teller conferred with a female manager who was at a desk behind him, he returned to the window, smiled, and asked how Uncle Linden wanted the money. Uncle Linden turned to Heyden, who told him in what denominations to have it cashed. Less than twenty minutes later the three of us emerged, got back into the taxicab, and headed for the address for the motor home. The location was just outside of Jupiter Beach, which made it a very expensive taxi ride, but money didn't seem to matter very much anymore.

  When we arrived, my heart sank. The motor home looked nothing like it had in the picture Heyden had showed me. I could see he was disappointed as well, but didn't want to reveal it. The compact mini motor home was built on a one-tan van cab. The door on the cab was banged in so badly. I wondered if it actually opened and closed. There were dents all over the coach's body. The window of the cabover had been hit with what looked like a BB pellet or a rock and although still intact, had a spidery web of cracks from one end to another. The front bumper was bashed on the right side and one of the tires was missing a wheel cover. Parts of the outside looked rusted, some places so badly they were peppered with holes.

  "Heyden," I whispered. "Does it work?"

  "Sure. The owner guarantees it's in good operating condition," he told me as we got out.

  Uncle Linden was still smiling. It was as though he was looking through rose-colored glasses now and saw a brand-spanking-new vehicle instead of the wreck I saw before us.

  "It doesn't matter what it looks like on the outside. Hannah," Heyden said as we started toward the A-frame old house with a small porch and anemic front lawn. It was scarred with patches of dirt and inundated with weeds. "It's what it will do for us that matters."

  He turned to Uncle Linden. "Let me conclude our business arrangements. Uncle Linden."

  "Sure, sure. Let's do it," he said, handing Heyden the envelope full of money.

  Heyden went to the f
ront door and knocked. No one came, so he knocked again, harder and louder.

  "Didn't you tell the owner we were coming today?" I asked.

  "Absolutely. I called him from the drugstore right after I called for the cab."

  We waited, but still no one opened the door. Suddenly the door of the coach opened and a stout bald-headed man with just a patch of grayish brown hair behind each ear emerged. He was in a torn T-shirt and a pair of faded brown shorts that hung like an afterthought under his protruding belly. He was barefoot, one of his toenails so black, it looked dipped in ink.

  "Yo there!" he called to us.

  He had a can of beer in his left hand and took a gulp as he beckoned. Then he wiped his thick lips with the back of his right hand, crushed the emptied beer can in his left hand, and tossed it toward an opened garbage pail. The can hit the edge of the pail and bounced off to the right.

  "Would you believe I was on the starting five of my high school basketball team?" he asked. laughing. He had a lower front tooth missing, and there were blotches of pale red over his cheeks and under his chin.

  "Hi, I'm Heyden Reynolds. This is my uncle Linden Montgomery and his daughter Hannah."

  "Pleased to meetcha." he said. offering Uncle Linden his thick-fingered hand, the fingertips of which were stained with nicotine.

  Uncle Linden smiled and shook it.

  "I know she don't look like much on the outside." the owner said, turning to the motor home. "but she runs like a thoroughbred, dependable. I take good care of it. and I'd expect you to do the same." he added, raising his untrimmed gray-brown eyebrows and lowering his head simultaneously. His jowls ballooned,

  "Absolutely," Heyden said.

  "She's all gassed up and ready to roll," the owner said. He looked at our pillowcases. "That all you taking?"

  "Na. we're picking other things up after we leave," Heyden said quickly.

  "Good. good. You brought the money in cash?" he asked, directing himself to Uncle Linden now.

  "Yes, yes, we did."

  "And you have a credit card for me to use for some sort of guarantee?"

  "Yes," I said when Heyden nodded to me. I produced the card and the owner took it, looked at it, looked at me, and then at Uncle Linden,

  "I thought von said the name was Montgomery. This here card says Hannah Eaton?"

  My heart sank.

  Uncle Linden smiled, "This is my daughter." he said. "but my wife has remarried. This trip is a way for us to get to know each other again, if you get what I mean."

  Heyden smiled. I had to admit to myself that Uncle Linden's quick thinking was impressive. I guess Heyden's right. I thought. Uncle Linden didn't need to be under any doctor's microscope.