DeBeers 03 Twisted Roots

by V. C. Andrews

  She shook her head. You would never know any of that from talking to him."

  I nodded. "Generally, he's fine and functions well. He gets confused from time to time, but he has never been more charming than he has been here. and I think he really cares about Bess and is moved by her emotional pain.

  But it's like the blind leading the blind. Mrs. Stanton. I can't let it continue. I would feel

  responsible for any new problems. I -would be responsible. I brought him here."

  "I don't understand all this." she said, shaking her head again. "Why did you run away from your home? And why did that young man run away from his?"

  "We were planning to became a singing act, but that's not why I ran off," I said.

  I walked to the table and sat across from her. Where do 1 begin? I wondered. How do I explain all this quickly so someone like Mrs. Stanton will understand and not think I'm simply a spoiled brat or as unbalanced as her granddaughter?

  "I have told you the truth about my family life." I started and continued in broad strokes until I got to Mommy's pregnancy and how our lives had changed, or at least, my life. When I finished with little Claude's death and how I felt I was being held accountable for it, she shook her head and muttered, "My, my, my. my."

  "So when Heyden presented his plan to me and we saw how much my uncle Linden wanted to get out of that home, we just did it." I concluded. I had told her just enough about Heyden's home life to help her understand why he wanted to get away, too.

  Mrs. Stanton rose without speaking and went to her teapot. She poured the tea through a strainer into a pitcher filled with ice, all the while not saying a word to me. Finally she paused and turned.

  "My poor Rosemary can't come back to stop her mother's pain, but you can go back to your mama." she said. And I'm sure she's in terrible pain. too."

  "I know, That's what I intend to do. I'm sorry we didn't tell you the truth from the start, but Heyden didn't think we would be here that long, and I never anticipated doing what I did with Bess. Uncle Linden seemed to be doing so well with her, too, that I didn't want to spoil it and maybe cause you even more problems."

  She nodded. "And so Heyden's run off because you wanted to go home and he thought you were betraying him?" she asked.

  "Yes. I was hoping he would change his mind and come back here. but he hasn't. He was so angry with me."

  "From the little you've told me, it doesn't appear that he has as much waiting for him if he does go home," she said.

  "No, he doesn't, and he has been on his own for most of his life."

  She shook her head. "I live here on this farm. in a real sense imprisoned by our family tragedy. Sometimes I feel sorry for myself. I don't suppose it can be helped. I think I'm missing so much out there. I don't have any social life anymore, haven't for years since my husband's death. Most of my friends are crone, and the ones who are still living are with their families and don't have the same independence they had.

  "I watch the television, of course, but not a lot. Mast of the time, it puts me to sleep, but what I see an the news programs, the way it's all shown these days, makes me think it's all entertainment. How can people behave like that, do those things to each other, not that things like that didn't happen before. I'm sure. There just seems to be so much more of it. I think about it all, and I realize that maybe I'm not so bad off staying close to home, dealing with my own troubles."

  "I'm sorry I brought our troubles here," I said.

  She dropped her pensive look and smiled, "Oh. I don't believe you've done us any harm. darlin'. I still think you did us some good. At least poor Bess had a small respite from her pain. What are you going to do?"

  "I thought I would call my father first and see if he could help us."

  "Very wise," she said. She poured some mint iced tea into a tumbler and then into another. "I'll see that your uncle Linden gets same of this. He is fond of it," she said. "I do like him very much. and I hope he'll be all right."

  "Me, too," I said, brushing some tears off my cheeks.

  "You'll be fine, darlin'," she said. "Just go home. Go home to your mama. No matter what you think or feel, she's heartsick aver you bein' gone. I'm sure of that. Pour yourself some iced tea if you like," she said and left with the tray.

  I sat there trying to get my throat to open enough for me to talk on a phone. I did have some of her iced tea, and then I took a deep breath and went to the telephone. My fingers trembled as I punched in Daddy's office number. I thought it would be better to call him first. Despite the distance that had always been between us. I couldn't help thinking of my father as a man of action who seemed capable of moving mountains. He knew influential people, very, very wealthy people, and had even been invited to the White House. Surely, he would salve all my present problems with a snap of his fingers.

  The familiar cold, official voice of Mrs. Gower greeted me. If my father had told her anything about my running off. she didn't reveal it in her tone.

  "He is at a meeting in Miami." she said. "I'll see if I can patch you through to his cellular,"

  I waited, finding it hard to take deep breaths. It felt as if a strap had been tightened around my back and chest, preventing it from expanding.

  "Hannah?" I finally heard. "Where the hell are you?"

  "I'm some place in South Carolina. Daddy, near a place called Anderson."

  "South Carolina! How did you get there?"

  "We rented a motor home. It broke down and-- "

  "A motor home? Was this your crazy uncle's idea?"

  "No," I said.

  "Well, you'd better just turn around, young lady, and get your rear end back home pronto. I'm very disappointed in you, especially after that bit you pulled with your brother's at the house. Danielle is still upset over it."

  That wasn't my fault. Daddy. I didn't get a chance to explain and--"

  "Well, put an end to all this silly nonsense. Just get home," he said.

  "I can't!" I screamed into the phone. "Daddy?" It was silent. Had he hung up already? "Daddy?" There was no response. I clicked the receiver frantically and then realized he had hung up.

  Panicked. I called his office again.

  "Didn't you speak with him?" Mrs. Gouter sounded annoyed. "We were cut off." I claimed, I could almost hear her lips click like a matchstick. Moments later she was back on the line,

  "Your father cannot speak with you now. He has just gone into the courtroom."

  "But I didn't get a chance to explain anything," I moaned,

  "He said to tell you to get home immediately and not to call him again until you are home."

  "I'm trying to get home. but I have no one to drive the motor home back and--"

  "That's all he said. I have to pick up another call," she said sharply, and then she cut me off just as abruptly as Daddy had. The line went dead.

  I stood there holding the receiver and feeling like an astronaut whose tether had snapped. I was floating in space, feeling lost and helpless. I had so hoped I wouldn't have to call Mommy and Miguel first, I wanted to spare them any more burdens. and I knew it wasn't going to be easy talking to them over the phone. Now I had no choice.

  Lila answered the phone. I could hear how excited she was to hear that it was me calling. I had decided to ask first for Miguel, hoping he was there. He was..

  "Hannah," he began. "Agradezca a Dios. Thank God. Where are you?"

  Hearing his voice and his jay in hearing mine was so dramatic a contrast to what I had just gone through speaking with Daddy and his secretary that I just burst into tears.

  "Miguel," I sobbed, my voice cracking so badly. I had actually pain in my throat trying to get the next few words out. "I need your help."

  "What is it? Where are you? Dios mio!"

  I sucked in enough breath to continue and explain all that had happened and where we were. The words flew out of my mouth so quickly. I was sure he didn't understand it all.

  "A motor home?" he asked, astonished when I was finished.


  "Yes."

  'Dios mio. And Linden?" he asked.

  "He's fine. Miguel. Really, he is." I took a deep breath and asked. "How's Mommy?"

  "Whoever said. 'Physician, heal thyself.' couldn't imagine emotional and psychological illness." he replied as an answer.

  "It's from the Bible," I said "Luke. I used it in a term paper last year."

  Miguel laughed. "We miss you so much. Hannah."

  "I miss you. too," I said through my tears. "I'm so sorry. Miguel."

  "Okay. Let's leave all that for later and concentrate on what we have to do to get you and Linden back home safely," he said. "You're sure Heyden has run off?"

  "Yes. I'm afraid so."

  'Let me have the telephone number there. I'll see what I can arrange and then get back to you."

  I read it to him from the little label on the phone, and he said he would be calling back very soon, After I hung up. I had a sense of great relief. Miguel was a college professor. He didn't have the access to power and influence Daddy had, and yet he was the one who would come up with the solutions. The irony wasn't lost on me, but neither was the sadness and disappointment. I vowed I would never make a similar mistake in judgment again, and I hoped I wasn't optimistic in making it.

  Mrs. Stanton returned to the kitchen, her face full of relief and joy.

  "Your uncle wanted to see Bess very much. He was so insistent. I let him go up and he is sitting at her bedside and talking softly to her When I left them, he was holding her hand, and she was smiling peacefully, looking just like she did when she was a little girl listening to a fairy tale. He has a way with him. Are you sure he wasn't one of the doctors at the clinic and not one of the patients?" she asked. smiling.

  "I wish that were so." I said.

  She nodded. "People who are in pain can help each other best sometimes." she said. "Were you able to reach your mother or your father on the phone?"

  "I reached my stepfather," I told her "He'll be calling soon with a plan to come get me. Uncle Linden, and the motor home."

  "Good," she said. "In the meantime, I think I'll work on dinner for us all. I was thinking about making chicken with peaches. You can bet I have a good recipe for that. It's really my mother's."

  ''Oh, we cannot impose on your hospitality anymore. Mrs. Stanton."

  "You're not imposin', darlin'. It's good to feel useful. Too often people my age are put out to pasture."

  "You'll never be put out to pasture. Mrs. Stanton." "Not if I can help it." she vowed.

  We just looked at each other a moment, and then she hugged me.

  "Everything will be fine, darlin'. You're making the right decisions now. You'll set."

  How someone with all her burdens could even care amazed me and made me feel even sorrier than I did for all the trouble I had caused everyone. I held my tears back and thanked her. Then I went upstairs quietly and stood outside Bess's bedroom door, eavesdropping on Uncle Linden.

  "My grandmother was the one who encouraged my art," I heard him say. "When I was a little boy, I would doodle on anything. Sometimes I did it on her tablecloths, and she would chastise me, but afterward, she would hand me a pad of plain paper and tell me to go off somewhere and draw her a picture.

  "My mother bought me my first artist set when I was only nine. It was pretty sophisticated for a child. I had an easel and two dozen oil paints and acrylic brushes. It wasn't a toy. And then. when I was twelve, she located an art instructor who came around to give me lessons once a week.

  "The Eatons were disdainful. I remember Thatcher would make fun of me or his friends would. They nicknamed me Van Gogh and told me to cut off an ear. Clowns. All of them, even now, despite their wealth. Every stupid thing they do is just on a bigger scale. That's all," he said with vehemence.

  "Willow was different right from the beginning. though. She liked my work and let me paint her, just like you did. Bess. Later. as I told you. I sold a few pieces of my work to Palm Beach people who didn't care how much I wanted. I didn't want to sell my art to those kind of people. I really didn't think they liked the work. It was just another thing to them, know what I mean?"

  He paused. I didn't hear her speak. so I looked through the door.

  He was seated at the bedside. holding Bess's hand, but her eyes were closed, and it was apparent to me she had fallen asleep. I smiled because it didn't matter to Uncle Linden.

  He continued to talk, to tell her about his love of art and some of the pictures he had done, and as he did so, he continued to hold on to her hand as well,

  I heard the phone ringing, and a moment later Mrs. Stanton called to me.

  It's for you, darlin'," she said. and I hurried down to the phone. It was Miguel,

  "All right. Here's the plan. I'm flying into an airport about thirty-six miles from Anderson. We'll be renting a car and coming to get you and Linden. Hannah."

  "We? Is Mommy going to come on this trip?" I asked quickly, hopefully.

  "No. There's no point in putting her through such a trip. I have Ricardo coming with me. He'll drive the motor home back. You. Linden. and I will return to the airport and make the last flight out. It will be a series of connecting flights that will bring us into West Palm Beach toward morning, but there is no better way to do it quickly, and quickly is what we want, Hannah." he said firmly.

  "Okay."

  "When I land and get the rental car. I'll call again. Have someone nearby who can give me clear directions to the Stanton farm. okay? We'll have to get things organized and turn right around. You understand?"

  "Yes, Miguel."

  'How is Linden doing now?"

  "He's doing very well." I said.

  "A journey like this could have been very traumatic for him."

  "It wasn't," I said. "You don't have to worry about him. Really." I wanted to add he was doing better than I was, but I didn't.

  'All right. I'm hoping to be there in three to four hours, Hannah."

  "Okay," I said "I'm sorry."

  "So am I," he said. "So am I. Just hang on and take care of yourself."

  I hung up. A moment later I heard Mrs. Stanton's hurried footsteps. When she stepped into the kitchen, she had to catch her breath,

  "What's wrong?" I asked.

  "You'd better go upstairs to your uncle," she said. "Quickly!"

  15

  A More-Happy Birthday

  .

  Uncle Linden was standing outside of Bess's

  bedroom, his ear against the door, which was now closed.

  "What are you doing. Uncle Linden?" I asked.

  He turned slowly, his eyes so distant they sent an electric surge of fear down my spine. He was more like a blind man, trying to understand from where my voice had come.

  "Shhh," he said, bringing his finger to his lips. "Willow's sleeping. She's needs her rest."

  "Oh, dear," Mrs. Stanton said, standing behind me on the stairway. "Why is he calling her Willow?"

  "Did you close the door. Uncle Linden?"

  "Of course. We've got to let her sleep. A pregnant woman needs her rest." he said.

  "You see," Mrs. Stanton moaned. "He's not making any sense. I'll have to go get Charles."

  "Wait," I pleaded. "Let me see what I can do first."

  "But my Bess, she might be frightened."

  "I think she's still asleep." I said. She probably doesn't know the door is closed and he's out here."

  I gently turned him from the door. "Uncle Linden, you have to come away from here now. We're going downstairs. We'll be going home soon."

  "No, I have to stand guard. I have to stay here. Thatcher might return and annoy her."

  'Thatcher can't return. He's gone for good. Uncle Linden. Don't worry. Come along. We want to rest before dinner. We have a long journey ahead of us. Please come with me,' I pleaded, taking his hand.

  He started to pull it away, but I held it tightly.

  "Uncle Linden, think, think!" I urged, pumping his arm with every word, trying to shake hi
m out of his trance. "You're here with me. Hannah. You're not in Joya del Mar. It's years and years later. Uncle Linden. I've already been born. You don't have to worry."

  He turned back to the closed door. I tugged harder on his arm.

  "Look at me!" I said sharply. "Look at me now. Uncle Linden," I demanded.

  He turned and gazed into my face. "You see it's Hannah. Hannah!" 'Hannah?"

  "Come along. Uncle Linden. You're tired. You have to rest yourself. Remember how far we have come. Please," I said, still holding tightly to his hand.

  Like someone whose blood had drained from his head and then started to slowly return, his face regained color, his eyes became less distant.

  "Hannah?"

  "Yes, it's Hannah." I said a little softer. calmer. "I'm here with you. Come along. Uncle Linden. You'll be fme. Everyone will be fine."

  "Our Hannah?"

  "Yes, Uncle Linden."

  "Oh." He nodded, blinking fast, and then rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "I had such a bad dream." He looked around. "Where are we again?"

  "We're at Mrs. Stanton's farmhouse in South Carolina.

  Remember? Our rented motor home broke down, and she was nice enough to take us in?"

  "Oh, yes. right. I must have fallen asleep." he said. "I feel like I was walking in a dream,"

  "I think you were," I said, breathing with relief. I looked back at Mrs. Stanton and nodded. "He's all right now. Come on. Uncle Linden. Let's rest up downstairs."

  I tugged him gently and he followed.

  "Oh." he said when he saw Mrs. Stanton standing there on the stairs. "I hope I haven't caused any problems for you. I had a bad dream. I think."

  "It's all right," she said. "You should rest. Go on down to the sitting room and relax, Mr.

  Montgomery. I'm preparing us a nice dinner."

  "Thank you." He looked at me. "Let's get out of this nice lady's way. Hannah," he said as if I were the one holding us back from doing that.

  I smiled. "Right, Uncle Linden."