"So the operator says, you're getting a busy signal because you're calling your own number. and the schizophrenic says. if you're so smart. lady, tell me, then why does someone else answer the phone?"
Bess roared with him. ''Heyden?" I asked.
Uncle Linden shook his head. "He didn't come in yet," he said and turned back to Bess and began to tell her another joke.
I hurried out of the house and stood on the front steps, looking toward the motor home. Neither Heyden nor Chubs was there. and Heyden was nowhere in sight. It was so quiet. Even the birds were hiding from the afternoon sun. My chest felt like a hive of ants were moving around inside it.
I walked quickly down to the motor home.
"Heyden!" I called. "Heyden!"
I listened but heard nothing. Then I walked around the side of the barn and called again. A door opened and Chubs emerged. He looked surprised.
"Somethin wrong, miss?"
"I'm looking for Heyden. He didn't come in for lunch and I don't see him. Is he in there with you?"
"No, ma'am, he's not. I thought he was goin' in to lunch. too," Chubs said. "You look in the motor home?"
''No," I said, a surge of hope pushing out my panic. I rushed to it and opened the door. "Heyden?" I stepped into the coach, but he wasn't in there.
Chubs waited at the door. "He's not here," I said.
"Hmm." Chubs stepped forward and gazed around the property. "Coulda taken a walk anywhere. I guess."
Something teased my brain and soon after became an image and a sound, I turned and rushed into the coach, looking everywhere. My fear found a solid place in my heart to set itself down firmly.
Heyden's guitar was gone! Maybe he went some-where to be alone arid play ft, I thought. He liked expressing his feelings through the music. I stepped out of the coach and listened again. Behind us in a patch of wildflowers, dozens of bees hummed, and from above us a jet plane dropped some thunder, but other than that. I heard nothing, nothing resembling music.
Chubs looked at his watch. -He took his guitar," I moaned.
"We was going to start workin' again in about ten minutes. I'm sure he'll be back." Chubs said. "Meanwhile. I'll get to it."
He returned to the engine. I sat in a shady place and watched the fields and the driveway, but Heyden didn't appear. After a while I heard a screen door open and close and saw Uncle Linden and Bess come out of the house. They walked toward the easel, and then. realizing I wasn't beside her. Bess stopped and looked around,
"Rosemary," she called. "Rosemai7." Her voice filled with that familiar panic I had heard in my own when I had been calling for Heyden.
I stood up and waved. "I'm over here!" I shouted.
"Oh. Come back to the rock. Mr. Montgomery wants to finish what he's doing, and then we'll take our walk."
"I'll be right there," I said.
They continued and I looked frantically in all directions. Chubs raised himself from the engine and looked at me. "He's not back," I said.
Chubs shook his head. Another thought occurred to me. and I hurried back into the motor home. I looked about and then my heart sank.
His guitar wasn't the only thing missing. Whatever he had taken along in the pillowcase was gone as well.
My worst fears were realized. Heyden had left us.
14
Making the Right Decisions
.
I had never felt as last and alone as I did at that
moment. And disappointed in someone. too! How could Heyden do this? How could he be so angry and selfish?
Chubs stood there staring at me. "What'cha gain' to do, miss?" he asked when I told him what I now believed,
"I don't know," I wailed, sucked back my tears, and looked down the long driveway. A part of me wanted to just run, run until I fell with exhaustion. A part of me wanted to sob and sob and sob. I bounced from fear to self-pity to anger, and then to a terrible sense of defeat that left me feeling weak and helpless. Chubs saw it all in my face. I think. He looked almost as upset as I did.
"Well. I'm almost finished here." he said. "In a little while, you can start out whenever you like."
"Start out?"
How? I thought. Where to? And who would drive this thing. me? Should I depend on Uncle Linden? It'd been years and years since he drove a car, much less something like this. We could get ourselves into even more trouble if we went back on the road,
"Rosemary!" Bess called again and waved harder, beckoning me.
Bring this all to an end, a voice inside was screaming at me. Stop it before it goes another step further,
Uncle Linden paused and turned my way, too. He raised his arms to ask what's going on?
I didn't know what to do. I started toward them, my mind reeling as it would had I just been spun around and around on a Ferris wheel.
"Oh, don't look so sad. Rosemary. We're not going to be sitting here much longer, are we, Linden?"
"Ten, fifteen minutes more is all I need. I have down what I want." he said.
I looked at him. I had to make him stop, make him understand.
"Heyden's gone," I said softly, hoping not only that Bess wouldn't hear, but more important, that she wouldn't hear the panic in my voice, which might set off her own,
"Gone?"
"He's run off, taken his things and run off."
Uncle Linden blinked his eyes rapidly. I could almost see reality seeping in under this wonderful day of illusion. He glanced at Bess and then turned back to me.
"Gone?" he asked, either failing to understand or refusing to understand.
"Yes." I said. "He took his guitar and his things and he left."
"But..." Uncle Linden looked at the motor home, "It's being repaired, isn't it?"
"It's almost done."
"Then... why did he leave?"
"I told him I wanted to return," I said "I told him I thought we should go home."
"Oh."
He looked at Bess. who was sitting back now, bathing her face in the sunlight.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Linden." I said. "We haven't much choice now. We've got to get back."
He nodded, "Let's just finish here," he said and nodded at the rock. "Just a little longer."
Why? I wanted to ask, but seeing how he looked at Bess and how innocent and vulnerable she appeared. I understood, This was something he had to do: this was a gift he had to give.
I rejoined her at the rock, and he returned to his work. He looked more intense about it, more determined. Every once in a while I glanced at the driveway, hoping that Heyden had come to his senses, calmed down, and decided to come back, but there was no sight of him.
'Okay," Uncle Linden said, seeing how fidgety I was, "I have what I need. Thank you. ladies."
He stepped forward, took Bess's hand, and kissed it, following with a stage bow.
"I shall be eternally grateful," he said, and she laughed that thin laugh that reminded me of tinkling chandeliers.
We heard the motor home engine being started and a few moments later heard it ran. Chubs stepped out and waved to us excitedly.
"Oh, my chariot has been repaired," Uncle Linden said. "Shall we inspect it, ladies?" he asked me and Bess.
She smiled, but suddenly looked more tentative and unsure of herself. She glanced at me and then tamed and gazed at the field behind her as if something was drawing her to it. I looked as well and saw only little balls of insects circling madly in the afternoon sun.
"Would you escort me, Bess?" Uncle Linden pursued. It will take only a few minutes," he added.
She glanced at me again, looking suddenly fearful, and then shook her head.
"Na," she said. "I can't. I... I have to walk."
Uncle Linden smiled with confusion. "We will walk. Bess. Right after we talk to Mr. Dawson." he said.
She shook her head and looked at me, the fear blossoming in her eyes. I understood. I thought. She saw something threatening in the motor home. It would bring her back to reality because it would take me away.
Rosemary would be gone again,
"I've got to walk," she insisted and started away.
"Bess!" Uncle Linden called.
"We've got to tell her the truth, Uncle Linden, the truth about everything."
"I know." he said. nodding. "Poor thing. She's so fragile. Every smile, every laugh is so thin and on the verge of shattering."
"We should pay Chubs far the work he has done for us," I said, looking his way. "I hope you didn't give Heyden all your money."
"No, no. He took only what we needed when we needed it. Yes, let's pay Chubs. Absolutely. Let's do that."
Bess hadn't gone far. About a hundred feet or so she began to walk in a circle as though the small flies had given her an idea. We started far the motor home. The front door of the house opened, and Mrs. Stanton came out and looked in Bess's direction. Even from this distance I could see the concern on her face.
What was I going to do? I hoped that perhaps Heyden was just hiding somewhere nearby and once he heard the engine started, he would come aut, too, but I didn't see him anywhere. He was really gone.
As we approached, Chubs came forward, wiping his hands on a rag.
"She's about as good as she's gonna be," he said. "I've done all I can."
"Well, we appreciate what you've done. How much do we owe you?" Uncle Linden asked, taking out his remaining cash.
'You don't owe me anythin'. sir. You and the young lady here have been kind to Mrs. Lilliann and Bess, and that's payment enough, thank you."
"Bess!" I heard Mrs. Stanton call, her voice full of apprehension.
I turned and looked at Bess. She was still walking in the circle, but walking faster and faster with her head down, mumbling.
"What is she doing?" I cried.
Bess stopped, turned, started in the opposite direction and then stopped and started another circle, moving faster vet and still talking to herself.
"Charles!" Mrs. Stanton screamed.
Chubs shot forward. Uncle Linden trailing behind him. I followed slowly,
"Now, now. Miss Bess, now. now," Chubs coaxed as he approached her.
She didn't stop until he reached out and took her arm. For a few moments she tottered, her legs still moving forward and then her body twisting. Suddenly she collapsed, folding up like a puppet whose strings were cut. Chubs didn't let her hit the ground. He caught her and in one easy, sweeping motion lifted her into his arms and started toward the house, carrying her as if she were only a child.
Uncle Linden stopped and watched as Chubs walked by I came up beside him.
"She was doing so well," he said. "She was doing so well. She was happy. Wasn't she happy, Hannah?"
"Yes. Uncle Linden, but you knew it was only temporary."
"Poor thing," he said. He started after them and then stopped and turned to me, a look of confusion on his face. "What are we doing?" he asked,
remembering what I had told him about Heyden.
"I don't know. Uncle Linden."
He shook his head. "I don't either,' he said and shaking his head, continued toward the house.
I looked back at his easel and thought I might as well gather all his things together and put them in the motor home. One way or another, we weren't going to stay here much longer. I thought.
I closed up his paint case, putting the brushes back carefully, and then I went to take the canvas off the easel. The cloth covering it fell away, and I stood there gaping in shock. There were no definitive shapes, nothing that resembled Bess or me or even a young girl taken from a photograph. Everything was in the abstract, if it could even be called that. It was just a mix of lines, circles and colors. It could best be described as an artist's mad rambling perhaps, a nightmare of hues and shades, shadows and light. Did he actually look at this and see something? Did he believe anyone else could? Or was this all some sort of artistic note taking that he would later convert into a picture?
I gazed back at the house. They had all gone inside. including Uncle Linden. I couldn't imagine what Mrs. Stanton would think if she saw this I quickly threw the cloth over the canvas and put it under my arm. I folded his easel and then grasped the handle of his paint case. Struggling, but somehow managing. I carried it all to the motor home and got it all inside.
Afterward, when I entered the house. I found Uncle Linden pacing in the foyer.
"What's going on?" I asked.
They took her upstairs. She was still
unconscious. What should we do?"
"What can we do. Uncle Linden?" I wanted to say we had our own problems now. but I didn't want to sound like Heyden. She needs medical care."
"Yes," he said. "Perhaps."
Chubs appeared at the top of the stairway and started down. "How is she?" I asked.
"She's breathin' all right. She's just... like she is, like she's been ever since. Often, she'll fall into these deep sleeps. Maybe she feels better that way," he said, shaking his head.
"Can we see her?" Uncle Linden asked quickly.
"I don't know. I don't know what good it'll do. Mrs. Liliann is with her. You can go up and knock on the door. I suppose," he added. He rubbed his lower back, "Got word rain's comin'," he said. "It always does when I have an ache right here. More reliable than the weatherman."
We watched him leave the house, and then Uncle Linden turned to me and said. "We should at least see haw she is before we decide to do anything."
'Okay," I said and followed him up the stairway.
We could hear Mrs. Stanton humming what sounded like a lullaby in Bess's bedroom. Uncle Linden paused at the open door and knocked an the jamb. We both looked in and saw Mrs. Stanton sitting on the bed and holding Bess's hand. Bess was under the blanket, her hair spread over the pillow, her face looking as pale as someone's who never set foot outside. "How's she doing?" Uncle Linden asked.
"She's fine." Mrs. Stanton said, forcing a smile. "Just fine." Bess turned slowly and looked at us.
"Who's that. Grandma?" She squinted at us. "They come about the peaches?"
"Yes." she said. "They've come about the peaches. I'll just take care of them, and then I'll be right back. You want some mint iced tea?"
"That would be nice. Thank you, Grandma."
Mrs. Stanton started to rise, but Bess seized her arm.
"Tell Rosemary to come in now. Grandma. Tell her it's getting to be time for her bath. She's been outside long enough."
"I will. dear."
"Tell her I'll brush her hair afterward, just like always. Don't forget."
"I won't, darlin'. You just rest and everything will be all right."
"Yes. Everything will be all right." she parroted and turned away.
Mrs. Stanton fixed her blanket for her, brushed back her hair a little, kissed her on the forehead just as she would kiss a little girl, and then turned and walked out.
"It was all a bit too much for her. I'm afraid. I thought it might be. I'm sorry." She smiled at Uncle Linden. "You were very nice, though, a fresh drink of water, a cool breeze that came through the heat of all this sorrow. I'm grateful to the both of you.
"Charles says your vehicle is ready to roll. too. I guess you'll be on your way. then."
"No," I said quickly, too quickly. It raised her eyebrows, "No? What do you mean. darlin'?"
"Heyden has run off." I told her. "He was the one who could drive that thing."
"Oh, dear, why would he run off?" she asked, pulling us farther away from Bess's bedroom door.
I glanced at Uncle Linden. He was looking back at the doorway, seemingly not hearing a word I was saving.
"I have to talk to you. Mrs. Stanton. We haven't told you the whole truth, I'm afraid." I said.
She held her smile, but her eyes darkened a bit.
"Oh. I see. We'll let's go downstairs. I do want to prepare some more iced tea and bring a glass of it up to Bess," she said and started away.
I reached out and gently grasped Uncle Linden's ann. "Come on. Uncle Linden. We have to let her rest."
&nbs
p; "Yes," he said. "She should rest."
He followed along and we descended the stairway, Mrs. Stanton was already down and turning to the kitchen. To me she looked as if she was running off, fleeing from me, fleeing from any more deception, any more lies. I got Uncle Linden to sit and wait in the living room. He promised he wouldn't go anywhere until I had returned. I thought he was beginning to look very tired and confused again himself, and that made my heart pound even faster and harder before I turned to go to speak to Mrs. Stanton.
She was at the stove in the kitchen heating water in which to steep her tea leaves. She glanced my way when I entered, but she turned back to the stove quickly as if she had to keep an eye on the pot.
"I'm sorry. Mrs. Stanton. I thought we would just leave right after the repair of the motor home, but with Heyden running off like this. I don't know what to do."
I thought she wasn't listening to me. She turned off the fire under the pot and began to pour the water into her teapot.
"Linden is not my father." I began.
She raised her shoulders as if to ward off an impending blow to the back of her neck. Then she turned slowly and looked at me, some anger seeping into her face.
"Not your father? I don't understand. Who is he. then?"
"He's my uncle. Heyden isn't my cousin. He is my boyfriend. We were all running away," I confessed quickly. I didn't think I could say it all if I didn't say it fast.
Curiosity replaced the small red patches of raze that had blossomed in her cheeks.
"Running away? Why? From whom?"
"We each had different reasons, different things we were fleeing. Heyden had come up with the idea of the motor home. and Uncle Linden had money he had earned from the sale of some of his pictures over the years. He was in what they call a residency, an intermediate home between the mental clinic he had been in for years and living in what I guess is described as the outside world. I hate to call it the normal world," I added.
She put her right palm against her chest and sank herself into the nearest chair.
"A mental clinic?" She looked toward the doorway as if she could see him. "What was wrong with him?"
He was diagnosed as a severe manic depressive at the start. I've heard my mother say he also had characteristics of classic paranoia. I don't know all the technical stuff. By the time I was old enough to visit with him on my own, he seemed fine to me. He was always loving and gentle and always looked forward to my visits eagerly. We drew closer and closer until I was the one looking after him the most."
DeBeers 03 Twisted Roots Page 27
