Hidden Leaves

by V. C. Andrews

  I was in so desperate a state of mind during our ride home that I didn't realize we were there until Miles turned off the car engine,

  "You all right. Dr. De Beers?" he asked, turning to me. I was just sitting there in the rear seat staring at my thoughts.

  "What? Oh. Yes, Miles, thank you," I said and stepped out. It wasn't until I was about to open the front door that the whole plan came to me. Willow. Sometimes it isn't until the final moments that we find solutions. The prospect of that great chasm before us makes us churn our brains and search our hearts with the power of the survival instinct. I guess.

  Alberta was upstairs in her room. So that I would know what was happening that night, she had taped the invitation to the mayor's ball, a charity event, on the balustrade. I couldn't miss it the moment I started up the stairs. If I was ever not in the mood to go to one of her affairs, it was tonight, I thought, but with every step I took. I went farther and farther out on thin ice.

  I paused at her door a moment, questioning my ability to do what I had decided. If I couldn't do this from the very beginning. I thought, I certainly couldn't carry it forward afterward, when it was most necessary to wear the masks and take on the behavior dictated by the fabrications I was about to create.

  I knocked on her door, and a moment later she responded. I entered her bedroom. In her robe and slippers, she was sitting at her vanity table toying with some new way to set her hair. Her face was covered in one of those special, expensive creams she bought to keep wrinkles from forming and her skin from being anything but alabaster. I was never able to look at her when she performed these rituals to whatever goddess of beauty she worshiped and not laugh to myself at how comical she appeared. She went from mud packs, to milk and herbal coatings, ware cucumbers on her eyes, and even had a mix that included skunk ail. Alberta had her own personal complexion expert the same way some people had personal trainers, and this person always seemed to come up with same new discovery. Of course, each one was more expensive than the former.

  She turned in her chair and looked at me. For once, she was able to see past herself and really read my mood. "What's wrong now, Claude?" she asked.

  I closed the door slowly, dramatically, behind me and went to the dressing bench at her bed,

  "My goodness, what happened now?" she cried. "Did one of your troubled patients commit suicide or something? Is there going to be a scandal in the paper? What?"

  "There could be a scandal," I began. This was where my strength with her lay. This was the only way to get her to care. I thought. 'But I have a way to prevent it, I believe. I will need your full cooperation. however."

  Her eyes, mere dark pools within those layers and layers of cream, somehow deepened and widened with surprise. She began to wipe off the cream.

  "What happened?" she demanded.

  "We've had something of an incident at the clinic." I said. "Apparently, one of our attendants has impregnated a patient."

  "Impregnated a patient? You mean, raped a woman?"

  I nodded.

  "Can't you speak plainly and simply. Claude? Well, what is the problem? Have someone come in and give her an abortion." she said.

  I shook my head.

  "Can't be done. It's far too late, and there are other complications, complications for the patient," I added before she could ask.

  "Too late. You mean no one noticed this patient was pregnant for months and months and months?"

  "Yes, that's it. Alberta." She stared at me.

  "As it turns out. Alberta, this patient happens to be the daughter of a very wealthy, powerful woman who, with her attorney, could create great problems for the clinic and... for us." I said.

  I could hear her take a very deep breath. She brought her hand to her heart and sat back against the vanity table.

  "For us?"

  "Well, of course. I'm the head doctor. Alberta. Everything reflects on me no matter what."

  "What about Ralston? Why isn't it just as much his fault?" she asked, now wiping her face more vigorously.

  "That doesn't help us. Alberta. Of course he would share the responsibility, as you say."

  "His wife isn't as involved in society. She doesn't do anything. It won't matter to her nearly as much." Alberta complained.

  "Exactly."

  "Well, what are you going to do. Claude? Will it be in tomorrow's papers ?"

  "No. It won't be in any papers ever if we handle it the way I want to handle it. Alberta."

  "And what way is that. Claude?" she asked, her face now cleared of the cream.

  "I can keep the baby's birth relatively unknown. I'll conduct my own private and quiet investigation in the clinic as to who is responsible."

  "Good," she said. "Then you can solve the problem."

  "Well, not quite," I said "I would like to adopt the baby, like us to adopt the baby," I corrected,

  Her mouth came unhinged.

  "You and I have not been able to have our own child, and I thought--"

  "Are you mad? Are you as crazy as the people you treat in that nuthouse? Adopt a crazy woman's baby!"

  "She's not a crazy woman. Alberta. She is someone who suffered from acute depression, but she is well on her way to being healthy enough to go home and--"

  "So let her take the baby home. too."

  Her mother won't permit that. Alberta, and she has the wherewithal to carry out any threats she makes, believe me," I said, imposing a heavy, dark look on my face to impress her.

  She thought a moment and then shook her head.

  "Then give the baby away, to some adoption agency. It's as simple as that."

  "No, we can't take that chance. Alberta. In this day and age people can find their origins. Whoever adopts the baby will have a right to know where the child came from, especially if it came from a clinic like mine. There could be an even bigger scandal if we were caught doing that. It could blow up in our faces, and then where would we be? When you lose control of the situation, you take a bigger chance."

  "I won't do it. I won't have a crazy child brought up as our own."

  "There's nothing wrong with the child. Alberta. The problem the woman suffers comes from behavioral, social problems, not genetic." I said.

  "Don't give me that medical gobbledygook. Claude. A disturbed person is giving birth to a ... a what? Is it a boy or a girl?''

  "We don't know that yet. Alberta. but I assure you there is nothing mentally wrong to be inherited."

  She shook her head. "It's too late for us. Claude. I'm not suited to be a mother now. I can't raise an infant, especially not my own. I won't do it Find another solution," she ordered and turned back to her vanity mirror.

  "I have some ideas. Alberta. Just listen." I pleaded.

  She didn't respond. She went about her cosmetics as if I was already gone.

  'I will hire a nanny immediately who will be solely responsible for the child. You won't have an iota of work in that regard."

  "Ridiculous."

  "She and I will be solely in charge of the infant's upbringing."

  "What is this?" she asked, turning back to me. "Some sort of psychological study you want to do?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "In a way that's lame." She stared a moment. thinking.

  "People will admire you for this. Alberta. What a great act of charity to be performing. adoption. You will just have to keep the child's origins to yourself"

  "Who would want to admit to having the child of a nutcase?" she fired back. She was still shaking her head. "I can't imagine it. I just can't."

  "We would improve the house, of course, fix up a nursery, prepare quarters for the nanny..."

  She turned to me again, her eyes narrowing, "Improve the house? Does that include my

  landscaping designs?" she asked.

  "If you think that's absolutely necessary. I suppose..."

  "Absolutely necessary? What do you think I've been shouting about all these months? Of course it's absolutely necessary. Have we had a dinne
r here recently? No. And you know why. Claude. I've been too embarrassed about our grounds to have any distinguished guests come here."

  "I understand." I said I felt as if my arm was being so twisted behind my back. I could do nothing but surrender to every demand she would make.

  She sat there. considering, "You will hire someone who will be completely responsible for the child? I will have nothing to do with caring for this... infant?"

  "Just as I said. yes."

  "And we'll get started immediately on all the improvements?"

  "I would want them done in time for the child's arrival here. yes."

  She thought again. "I suppose we could make some sort of social announcement about it, about the need to adopt needy little babies. There is Clair Softer's child welfare organization, the one that holds that auction dinner every year at the Ritz."

  "Oh. I'm sure you can do something significant with all that, Alberta." I said quickly.

  "Don't patronize me. Claude." she fired back, her face screwed tightly, "Don't think I don't see how you are manipulating me here."

  "I'm--"

  "That's okay," she continued. "I'll let you manipulate me as long as I get what I want. I just knew that clinic of yours would be the death of us. You can't spend your entire life around disturbed people day and night and not be damaged in some way or another. Why can't you simply have a practice like some of your colleagues and work a nine to five office with weekends off and vacations and--"

  "Maybe someday. Alberta," I said to stop her.

  She looked at me and shook her head. "Na. Claude, you'll never do it. All right." she said with a deep sigh. "I'll agree under the conditions you have outlined and promised. What I will expect from you now is a lot more attention to my needs. however. I am tired of showing up to my affairs without my husband, the distinguished doctor, at my side."

  "I understand." I said. She didn't know it, but there was practically nothing I wouldn't have agreed to do that night.

  "Good." she said. "Good. Well, go on, get ready. We have an important occasion to attend this evening," she ordered.

  Why was it when I stood up and left that bedroom that night, Willow. that I felt as if I had just made a pact with the devil?

  When I told Grace, she was ecstatic, of course. I left out all the promises and stipulations I had made with Alberta. and I made it sound more like Alberta was positive and encouraging. Why give Grace any more to worry about? I thought.

  "Oh. Claude, at least our child will be with you." she said. ''How wonderful."

  "That way, Grace, you will always be with me. too," I said. "and in time--"

  "Let's not talk about anything else just yet. Claude." she said. "Let's just take it all a step at a time. Please," she begged. "No fantasies for now."

  I laughed and agreed.

  Six weeks later you were born, Willow. Grace and I had sat many nights discussing what we would name you if you were a girl, and she thought naming you after the clinic itself was a wonderful idea.

  "It ties the baby even closer to us." she said.

  She was seeing so many things faster and clearer than I was those days. I was still tiptoeing around Alberta, terrified that she would somehow change her mind. To ensure she didn't. I moved quickly on renovations, each major change and expense locking up our deal more tightly. She didn't miss a chance to complain in advance, of course, making me promise to get rid of you should you prove to be a psychologically ill child.

  In the meantime I concentrated on finding your nanny. Obviously, she had to be a very special person. Willow. She had to be someone in whom I could confide. Whoever it was, she was sure to see Alberta's indifference to the infant, and in time would surely realize the complexities of our situation. She had to be someone who could tolerate Alberta. too. So you see, this was to be a very difficult search.

  Ralston helped me here. His wife. Palma. was Portuguese and had relatives in Brazil. An aunt of hers had a friend who wanted to come to America. Her name was Isabella Martino, the woman you would come to call Amou because she used the Portuguese phrase Amou Una whenever she spoke to you, a phrase that meant "laved one." How lucky I was to find her. Willow.

  I arranged for her trip to America and, through some influential friends of mine in the government, made it possible for her to stay here and work for us. As soon as I met her. I liked her. You never knew this. but I had her meet your mother just before you were barn.

  We didn't tell Isabella everything immediately. I was afraid that the weight of such information might frighten her off. It turned out to be an unnecessary fear. Na one could have handled it all as well as your wonderful Amou did. She understood everything quickly, and nothing- more quickly or more deeply than she understood Grace's love for me and mine for her. Later, some

  time after that one and only meeting she had with Grace with me present, of course, she told me she knew then, just by the way we looked at each other, and spoke to each other that we were the parents of the child.

  I began by telling Amou all the things I had told Alberta. She accepted it. She would believe anything I wanted her to believe. That was clear. The most emotionally nervous time for me was the first time I introduced her to Alberta. I had told Alberta that I believed I had found a wonderful nanny. She had little interest in whether the nanny was as good for the child as I said she was. She couldn't have made that any clearer to Amou than she did that first meeting at our home.

  After I showed Isabella where her quarters would be and where the nursery was, right next to her room with an adjoining door. I introduced her to our current household help, Miles in particular. I could see he liked her very much. Later, of course. Amou would take aver more of the household chores, especially the cooking. Alberta, despite herself, liked Amou's cooking, and Amou quickly learned how to handle your stepmother.

  "You understand," Alberta told her during that first meeting. that you will be totally in charge of this infant. You won't have much time off. The only way you will be able to have a day off is if Claude finds a suitable baby-sitter. I am far too busy to have any of those responsibilities."

  "I have no place to spend a day off. Mrs. De Beers," Isabella told her. "This home, these grounds are so beautiful, I will enjoy my free time here. I'm sure."

  "Yes, well, the grounds weren't always as beautiful as they are now," Alberta made a point of telling her, glaring at me at the same time. "I am still in the process of completing the project."

  "You are doing some job," Isabella said. "There are beautiful gardens around some magnificent estates in Brazil that don't compare.'

  'Well, I'm glad someone can come here and immediately appreciate my efforts. If you have any problems with the baby, medical or otherwise, you will call my husband to discuss them. You understand that?"

  "Si. Yes," Isabella said, glancing at me. We had already discussed all that, and I had prepared her for Alberta's indifference.

  "It's very important that the child be kept from my guests whenever I have a dinner party. I don't want some screaming infant tearing their attention away."

  "Yo comprendo," Isabella said.

  "What?"

  "Oh. I'm sorry. I forget sometimes and speak Portuguese. It means I understand. Mrs, De Beers."

  "Great. I don't know a word of Portuguese, Claude."

  As you can see. Alberta. Isabella speaks English. It's understandable she would slip into her own language occasionally."

  "Well, whenever you talk to me, make an effort not to do that," she ordered Isabella.

  "Si. I mean yes. Mrs. De Beers."

  "Si is okay," Alberta relented. "It's very common to hear that these days with all the Spanish and Mexican people around us, but other than that--"

  "I understand," Isabella said, this time with some emphasis. It brought a slight smile to my lips that Alberta did not catch.

  "Well, all right." she said, waving her hand at me. "you're my husband's employee. Just remember that. When do you expect this little invasio
n to occur. Claude?" she asked. and I gave her my estimate.

  "I'll never get used to it," she vowed and left us.

  Isabella looked at me with those dark, wise eves of hers you will never forget. We exchanged so much without speaking.

  She was there at your birth, Willow. You went from your mother's arms to hers and the love that bonded them forever passed through you to each of them. I witnessed it and felt it and so did Grace.

  Afterward, we held on to each other and she wept softly. My heart was so torn. I didn't think I would have the strength to leave her. I had to, of course, and it took all of my powers to stop thinking about her alone, without the child she had just birthed, your beautiful little face one from her eyes. She had held you and studied you like someone who knew she had to memorize every part of you to hold you again in her heart.

  Amou and I brought you home that night. Alberta never came downstairs to look at you. She was preparing for a meeting of her Woman's Club. I told her you were there in the nursery.

  "I hope I don't hear any wailing in the middle of the night," she said.

  "You won't," I promised.

  Then I went downstairs to the nursery and sat beside you while you slept. and I wondered when you would know the truth of your birth and if you would ever feel it before I had told it to you.

  As I sit here writing all this now, I think about the times I felt your eyes on me and the times I had your full story on the tip of my tongue. I have always been afraid of what the weight of all that truth would do to you. I know how you have suffered with Alberta's ranting about your origins, and I have often assured you that what she says is not true. I must confess that Amou does a better job of it than I do. As more and more time passed, I felt myself moving further and further away from the opportunity or the chance to tell you everything. I have guarded your mother and my secrets closely for many reasons. Willow, not the least of which remains my terrible sense of guilt.

  For I permitted her to leave you and for that and all that followed. I will forever be ashamed.