DeBeers 02 Wicked Forest

by V. C. Andrews

  He smiled and nodded as if he had expected that exact answer,

  "Thank you," he said. "I feel certain you will like it here. We're all very new, the school being relatively an embryo compared to other universities and colleges in the state, much less the country, so you will find much less pretension. We're all students here."

  "I was happy to find a school with a program for me so close to Palm Beach."

  "Yes. Well, then," he said, nodding at the card he had given me, "how do you like your schedule?"

  I read it, feeling his eyes on me.

  "It's fine." I said "Everything I wanted."

  "Very good. I can ask Norman to give you a tour of the campus, if you like."

  "No, that's all right," I said. "I have plenty of time before I begin. I'll be back."

  "Please don't hesitate to call my office if you have any questions or if there is something I can help you with or explain farther," he offered,

  "Thank you."

  "I have a similar commute. I come from Palm Beach Gardens." he said. parents have a rather well known restaurant in West Palm Beach. It's called Havana Molena." He smiled. "Molena is my mother's name. My sister and her husband, when he is not fishing, actually run the restaurant these days, but my father is never too far away and my mother is still the kitchen general."

  "I'll have to try it." I said.

  "If you mention my name, you get a free rum and Coke," he said, and laughed. "Well, you know when the next term begins. We operate on the trimester system. I have seen all your teachers, and here." he said, pulling a small packet out of his briefcase. "is the list of books you will need and the reading preparations."

  "Thank you," I said, taking the papers.

  "There's a map of the campus in there as well and my office hours, et cetera. Are there any other questions, concerns?" he asked.

  "Not at the moment, no. You are a big help. Thank you. Professor."

  I stood up, and he rose quickly to extend his hand.

  "Welcome, and I hope you will have a very successful and enjoyable experience here."

  "Thank you."

  He nodded. and I left thinking that he had such an intense way of looking at me. I could still feel his eyes on me even when I got into my car and drove away from the campus.

  Almost the moment I arrived back at Java del Mar, I sensed that my mother was going to back out of going to the beauty salon with me. She wasn't dressed and ready as I had hoped. At first I couldn't even find her, and thought she might have gone off looking for Linden on the beach. I called for her as soon as I stepped into the house, but she didn't respond. She wasn't in the small living room or the kitchen, and when I peeked into her bedroom. I didn't see her. The bathroom door was open and she wasn't in there. either.

  I stepped out on the loggia and gazed down the beach, but saw no one. Fortunately, out of the corner of my eye, however, I caught sight of her, her hair blowing in the sea breeze as she stood on the beach off to my left, barely visible behind a small knoll. I hurried to her. She didn't turn when I called to her. She was staring so hard at the sea, her arms folded under her breasts, her body so still, she could have been a statue.

  "Mother!" I cried, inches from her.

  She shook her head without turning to me.

  "Why aren't you dressed and ready to go to lunch with me?"

  "I'm sorry," she said quickly, then threw me a very troubled glance, "I can't do it. Go on without me. Willow."

  "Didn't you speak with Jennings and ask him to watch over Linden?"

  "Yes, but I still can't go. Willow."

  "But why. Mother? Everything has been arranged for us. There is no problem."

  For you there is no problem. Willow. I've been here so long, I can't just pick up and go out there as if nothing happened these past years. Besides, why am I doing this? I don't intend to get into the social scene here, Willow. Let's not fool ourselves. Even when we move back into the main house. I'm not going to have those elaborate parties and do all those things."

  "We're not doing it for that. Mother. We're not doing it for anyone but ourselves." I practically moaned. She smiled at me. "It will be good for you I know it will. Please. Mother. try."

  "You must not worry about me so much. Willow. I'm fine as I am. Really." She smiled at me again and patted my hand. "The truth is. I sat at my vanity table after you left to visit your college, and I realized I didn't want to change this face and this hair. This is who I've become, who I am. Willow. It's the woman your father fell in love with many years ago, the woman who stood on that dock and hoped and prayed he would come to her. I'm not ready to put her away. Do you think you can understand that?" she asked softly.

  Of course. I understood. I was trying to do exactly what she didn't want to do: close the door on the past, shut out the darkness, almost re-create myself. I had so few wonderful memories to cherish, few reasons to hold on to my old world.

  She had every reason to hold on to the only happiness she had ever known,

  "Yes," I said reluctantly.

  "Do you mean that, or do you believe I am guilty- of funny fantasy? Are you going to diagnose me with some mental malady and tell me I am only hurting myself?" she asked with a wry smile.

  "No, Mother. Psychiatrists don't want you to put away your dreams. Your fantasies serve an important purpose. I wouldn't want anyone to be unable to imagine and dream. It's only when the fantasies take over your life, control it, that the psychiatrists become concerned," I said.

  "I suppose my dream has taken over my life, has for some time now, but forgive me for wanting that and not wanting to come back to this," she said, gesturing toward the main house and the extravagant and opulent property that was representative of the kingly wealth of the people of Palm Beach. All the beauty here, all the luxury, can't replace what I have lost or perhaps refuse to lose." She smiled. 'Did you know that your father often read poetry to me?"

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "I can't recall seeing him read anything but his scientific journals or books by well-known doctors in his field."

  "Yes, he relied on literature often. He said he often found deep and complex ideas expressed simply and far more beautifully in poetry. When we parted, he quoted Dante Gabriel Rossetti and said. 'Beauty without the beloved is like a sword through the heart.' It was his way of telling me that once we parted, his life would be far less satisfying and he would never appreciate anything as much as he had with me. The same was true far me. only I didn't express it as well.

  . "In my way. I have kept him beside me all these years. To turn from that now, to start a new life with a new face and an entirely different pair of eyes... well, it would not leave me with as much satisfaction as you hope.

  I didn't know I was crying until the tears actually tickled my chin.

  "I'll be fine." she said, wiping them away and then kissing my forehead. As long as you do what you are capable of doing and you find happiness. Willow. Please don't let me hold you back or be a reason for you not to achieve it all. Please, go on and burn your way through without me dragging behind you."

  "You could never be a drag for me. Mother."

  "I know. But I would feel that way if you worried too much about me. I wouldn't be

  comfortable, and that would hinder you and even Linden," she said, looking toward the beach.

  "Where is he?"

  She sighed and shook her head sadly.

  -He's out there, trying to paint something. He's calmer now His medicine kicked in, I suppose.

  I took a deep breath. It was hard for her. It might always be hard for her. I thought.

  "Go on. Don't miss your appointment. Come back looking like a trust baby," she said, and we both laughed. Many of the rich young people here and even the older ones lived entirely off the fortunes their parents and grandparents had accumulated and were known as trust babies,

  "We can still have lunch together,' I suggested. She shook her head.

  "I've prepared egg salad for Linden. Even tho
ugh it's one of his favorite foods for lunch, he won't eat if I don't hover over him."

  All right, Then I'll have lunch with you here first."

  She scrunched up her face and pressed her lips together as she shook her head, looking like someone in pain.

  "I don't want to hold you back from doing things. Willow. That would be so wrong."

  "You're not. I haven't made any friends here yet. and I am not fond of eating alone," I said. "I'll go find Linden and tell him we're having lunch:'

  "Okay," she said. -I'll set the table on the loggia."

  "Fine," I told her, and went down the beach to search for Linden.

  I found him sitting in one of his usual places, staring out at the sea. He sat at the foot of his easel and looked like someone in meditation, As I approached. I glanced at his canvas and saw it was still blank.

  "Hi, Linden," I said. He didn't turn to me. "Mother sent me to fetch you. It's time for lunch and she's made the egg salad you love."

  I held my breath in anticipation of his response, any response, but he remained silent.

  "The sea air always makes me hungry. Doesn't it do the same to you?" I asked.

  Finally, he turned slowly toward me, his eyes small. suspicious.

  "Why did you come back?" he asked, but with such an angry undertone, it took me by surprise. For a moment it was I who couldn't speak.

  "This is where I belong now. Linden. You and Mother are my family. I have nothing back in South Carolina, My father is gone and I've sold the property. Don't you want me here?"

  He stared, his face not softening, but his eyes blinking rapidly.

  "You think you'll get him to marry you? You think you'll win his devotion? He's not capable of it." he said, and smiled coldly. "I've grown up here in the shadows, watching him seduce and break the heart of one girl after another, all like you, each convinced she was the one who would make him a decent fellow. Like I said, he's not capable of it," he finished, his words filled with venom.

  "Everyone is capable of it. Linden, because after a while, everyone gets lonely." I said.

  My words were like well-aimed arrows hitting the center of the target. I could see it in the way he flinched and turned away.

  "Besides, that isn't the only reason why I returned. Linden. I've come back to be with you and Mother and pursue my career goals. I want to help you both. too. We're moving back into the main house. It will make Mother very happy, don't you think?"

  "No," he said sharply.

  "No? Why not? You sounded so happy about it before, planning your studio."

  "I was fooling myself. There are too many ghosts there." He muttered.

  "We'll drive them out then, Linden. You and I," I said. "We'll drive them out."

  He turned back to me, a new expression on his face, one that permitted a little ray of hope to pierce the mask of his unhappiness.

  "You and 1?

  "Yes. Linden. We'll set up a nice home. You'll have a wonderful studio and do great things. Oh. Linden, let's be happy. Let's try to be happy together. please." I pleaded.

  He actually flicked a small smile, but then, as if realizing he was tolerating some optimism, darkened his face quickly and pressed his lips together hard enough to form a little white line under them.

  "Come back to the house for lunch. Linden," I urged softly. "Mother is preparing the table for us on the loggia. It will be nice sitting out and having lunch together, don't you think?"

  "I thought..." He shook his head. "What?"

  "I don't know. My thoughts get so confused, as well as my memories sometimes."

  "What did you think? I'll tell you whether or not you're confused. I will." I said when he looked at me skeptically. "I'll always be honest with you. Linden."

  For the moment, at least. I won his trust.

  "I thought you were going to lunch on Worth Avenue and then to a beauty salon with Grace."

  She would rather not. We've got to go slowly with her." I said.

  He raised his eyebrows at my including him in the plan. Easy as a mask to take off. he threw away his remnants of anger and antagonism and put on a dreamy-eyed look as he turned to gaze at his canvas.

  "I don't like what I've done so far. It's not very good," he said. rising.

  I looked at the blank canvas again to see if there was something I had missed, some lightly drawn lines, perhaps, but there was nothing there. When I turned back to him. I saw he was watching me expectantly.

  "Well?" he asked. "What's your opinion? As I recall, you know something about art."

  "I... I don't think you've done enough yet for me to form any opinion. Linden." I said.

  He smiled,

  "Very diplomatic. I guess you will be a good psychiatrist someday after all," he added, and marched past his empty canvas, stopping a few yards away. "Well? Are we going back for lunch or not?"

  "What about your things?'" I was staring at the canvas.

  It's all right. No one will bother with that." he said. "Well, are we going?"

  "Oh, yes, yes," I said, and quickly caught up with him.

  We walked along quietly for a while. and when my arm grazed his, he jumped. He stopped and stared at me.

  "Are you okay?" I asked.

  "I was going to do birds today," he muttered, continuing to walk along, "but they weren't being very cooperative. They know when I want to paint them and they are capable of teasing me. Tormenting me. I should say. Just like the sea and the sky and the clouds and the stars and you!" he finished, speeding up to stay ahead of me all the way to the house, his hair flying around his head, his arms swinging as if he were pulling a rope and climbing upward and away with all his strength.

  .

  Linden was quiet during lunch, looking like he was daydreaming as he chewed and swallowed. The way he gazed through us and not at us made Mother nervous. She talked, leaping into every quiet moment as if afraid Linden would do or say something terrible if she didn't. She spoke mostly about the main house and what it would be like to move back into it.

  "Just about all of the furniture in there belongs with the house, you know. Even most of the art on the walls. It's a big house to take care of. Willow. We'll have to decide what we want to use and what we want to shut away, knowing how little help we can afford."

  "That's fine with me. Mother."

  "It's still going to be a very expensive house to keep up. The utilities and all. I mean." she said.

  "We can manage." I assured her. "Besides, Linden is going to work and sell lots of his paintings." I smiled at him.

  "Yes," my mother agreed, "he can do that if he puts his mind to ft."

  Linden lifted his gaze from the table and looked from her to me and back to her, his face full of surprise.

  "I don't know if I'll sell any more of my work. Mother," he said.

  "Of course you will. Linden. As long as you try. You'll try, won't you?" she asked him.

  He nodded,

  "Yes. I will, Mother," he said.

  "Good." She sighed. "Maybe this is a new beginning. then."

  Linden looked surprised again, and then he looked at me as if he finally had realized I had come back and we were all together. He nodded,

  "Maybe," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe."

  I smiled, but he didn't. His smiles had become as rare as diamonds and, for us, more valuable and important.

  Afterward. I went to the beauty salon by myself. I was still disappointed that my mother hadn't come along. I had so looked forward to a real day together as mother and daughter. but I realized now that I had to move even more slowly. There were many miles to make up, a great stretch of emotional pain to ease and stop. It wasn't going to happen overnight. It might never happen completely, but as Daddy used to say, "An inch at a time is still moving forward.'

  The beauty parlor was very busy. The receptionist was not at all diplomatic about her disappointment in my canceling Mother's

  appointment.

  "Do you know how valua
ble that time slot is?" she chastised. She didn't look much older than I was, if she was older at all, but she had a very snooty attitude from the start.

  She wore black leather pants and a white translucent blouse that did nothing to hide her small but firm bosom, and she had bleached hair. I thought she wore too much makeup and was especially heavyhanded with her lipstick. Her swollen lips looked like they were made of wax,

  "I'll pay for it anyway," I said.

  "That's not the point," she wailed with more volume than necessary. I knew she was trying to attract the attention of those women in nearby chairs and their beauticians. "We have clients we had to turn away, and pleasing our clientele is our first priority," she recited.

  "Oh really," I said sharply. "Well. I don't see how you succeed with your attitude."

  "My attitude?"

  "What is happening here?" I heard a male voice ask from behind me, and turned to see a man with his dark hair in a ponytail. He wore black slacks and a frilly red shirt with the sleeves folded back over his slim wrists. His black pearl eyes flicked from the receptionist to me.

  "She just arrived and canceled one of her appointments." The receptionist wailed. "With no notice!"

  "I see."

  "It couldn't be helped." I said "I apologized and offered to pay for it anyway. It was my mother's appointment."

  "Oh, you are Miss De Beers?"

  "Yes."

  "I am Renardo de Palma. It's fine. Candace. There is no need to be histrionic." he added with a tone of authority and chastisement that brought immediate tears to her eyes.

  "I'm just doing my job." she moaned.

  "I'll take charge of this." he told her firmly. "Is your mother ill. then?" he asked me in a far softer, more concerned tone of voice, even though it lacked real sincerity. I thought he had a smile smooth enough to charm a cobra.

  "Yes," I said, thinking that was the best and fastest explanation.

  "These things happen. No earthquake. Please, let me take care of you personally,' he offered, turning me toward the workstations, "Don't mind her. She's my brother's child so I have to employ her." he said with a wave of his hand. The receptionist smirked. His brutal honesty brought a smile to my face.