DeBeers 03 Twisted Roots

by V. C. Andrews

  He repeated "I'm afraid so" each time until suddenly she began to shout at him.

  "Where were you? Why weren't you here when I needed you. Miguel? Where were you?"

  "I went to get Hannah. remember?"

  'Hannah," she repeated. Never had my name sounded more like profanity to me.

  "Yes. Remember I had located her at that boy's home."

  Blood rushed into my face. Now she would know it was my fault. She would always think of it as my fault. I was responsible for Miguel being gone. If he had been here, he might have been able to do something or get the baby to medical help faster.

  Suddenly all the jealousy I had felt, all the envy I had experienced turned dark and evil in my heart. It was as if a mask had been removed and behind it was the laughing devil himself taking pleasure in what he had done to me. what I had permitted him to do to me.

  All of the nasty little innuendos I had said to Mommy were turned around and aimed back at me, striking me as painfully as sharp arrows, "You, you, you." each was saying. I could set Mommy pointing her finger toward me. accusing. She would press it into my heart.

  I couldn't even imagine looking at her, and there was suddenly nothing I feared as much as her looking at me. No matter how much love she professed for me, no matter how many wonderful things she had said to me in the past. I would always see the accusation in her face: it would always linger and hover like some rotten slime behind the walls. seeping through at every opportunity. I would turn unexpectedly and see Mommy gazing at me with such fury and hatred. I would die a little more each and every time.

  When she started to scream again. I backed away from her room. Miguel had his hands full trying to calm her and eventually gave up and called Dr. Jacobi, a close friend of theirs. He came over quickly to give Mommy a sedative. I wished he would give me one. too. I thought. maybe even give me too much.

  While all this was going on. I sat on the floor at the foot of my bed and brought up my knees. squeezing myself into the tightest ball I could. I lowered my head to my folded arms and actually fell asleep for a while. Footsteps outside my door woke me occasionally, but when it was silent again, I fell in and out of sleep.

  Later. Miguel found me there, and although I didn't recall it with much detail, he picked me up and lay me on my bed. I wake before dawn and listened for any sounds in the house. The silence worried me. I rose and walked softly and slowly to Mommy's bedroom. where I stood outside the door and listened for a long time. I could hear her moans and Miguel's soft, consoling voice and then quiet.

  After I returned to my room, I tried to sleep a little longer, but I couldn't keep my eyes closed. Every creak, every tinkle caught my attention. It was as if my hearing had become as keen as a dog's or a cat's. Finally I gave up and rose, went to the bathroom, washed my face, and changed my clothes. By the time I was finished. I could hear Lila coming up the stairs with some breakfast for Mommy. I heard her shout that she didn't want anything. and I heard Miguel plead with her. warning her she would need her strength more than ever now.

  Not once did I hear her ask for me. I was both grateful and disappointed simultaneously. I didn't have the courage to go to her. but I was also upset with the fact that she didn't want me at her side, that she didn't turn to me for any solace or support. I might as well have died with Claude. I thought. I really didn't know what to do.

  Finally Miguel came to my room to see how I was,

  "Good, you're up," he said, "Go see your mother."

  She doesn't want to see me," I moaned.

  Of course she does. Hannah. Don't pull any childish antics or moods now," he warned.

  He looked at me so sternly, with eyes like cold steel. I had never seen him look at anyone this way, not even the drunken gardener who had called him terrible names in Spanish.

  "You think it's my fault." I told him. "Don't you?"

  "No. It's no one's fault. Hannah. It's God's will."

  "Why would God want to take the life of a little baby just born? Why bother letting him be born?" I asked, I knew Miguel and his family had a deep faith, but right now that seemed so useless to

  "We are not meant to know and understand God's will," he replied.

  Convenient, I thought, but I wouldn't say it. although I wanted to say it very much. I wanted to turn my sense of guilt and responsibility toward Miguel's god, direct it like a spotlight on the churches, the Bibles, the choirs, and the prayers to expose the emptiness and exonerate myself.

  "Just like an ant cannot hope to understand the mind of a man, we cannot hope to fully understand the mind of God. We are not gods." he insisted with a firmness that obviously gave him the strength to continue and be strong for Mommy.

  Reluctantly I had to admire and even envy him for that. I nodded. With my head bowed, moving slowly, like someone heading toward her own funeral. I went to Mommy's room. She was lying there and looking up at the ceiling. She had a cold washcloth on her forehead.

  "Mommy," I managed and she turned slowly, oh, ever so slowly to me, and looked at me and shook her head.

  'He's gone." she said.

  "I know," I told her, my lips and my chin quivering. I was hoping she would lift her arms and urge me to run to her, but she turned away instead and gazed up at the ceiling again.

  "He's gone." she chanted. "He was here for so short a time and now he's gone."

  "I'm sorry, Mommy," I said "I feel so sick and sad inside." She closed her eyes.

  I didn't know what else to say. Should I ask her if she was going to try to have another child? Would that sound too crass?

  Should I ask her if there was anything she wanted me to do? What could there possibly be to do? Dig a little grave? Lila would bring up anything she wanted to eat or drink. What was my purpose here now?

  I looked back at Miguel, who was standing in the doorway. He lowered his eyes and then told me to go have some breakfast,

  "It's going to be a very difficult time for all of us," he said. "We'll all need our strength to help each other get through it. Hannah."

  I nodded and looked back at Mommy.

  Suddenly, abruptly, she brought her hands to her swollen breasts and cried. "It's time to feed him!"

  "Easy, Willow," Miguel said, corning in quickly.

  "Oh," Mommy cried. "I ache so badly!"

  "I'll call Dr. Jacobi. Willow."

  "What good is that? What will he tell you? Bring my baby back to me. Bring him back!" she demanded and began to pound her own body. Miguel had to hold her hands down. I winced with every blow as if the blows struck me. He held on to her firmly, and she stopped and settled down again, sinking back into herself like someone who wanted to disappear.

  .

  The funeral was so heavily attended that strangers thought a local dignitary had died. A sizable contingent came from the college. There were even some students of Miguel's. Of course, his family was large, relatives coming from Miami, as well as out of state. I never realized how many people Mommy knew and how many with whom she did business. I was surprised to see Daddy and half wondered if Mrs. Gouter hadn't been the one to remind him. Danielle was with him. too. I couldn't look at her. I was afraid she would have eyes full of accusations.

  Mommy didn't seem to notice anyone. With glassy, empty eyes, she received their hugs and kisses and their words of sympathy, but I was sure she would remember none of it She was on some sedation and barely able to walk and stand. Miguel was truly a tower of strength, not taking much time to serve his awn grief until we were at the cemetery and the reality of little Claude's death was upon him. There, he cried softly.

  When it was over, we returned to Soya del Mar. where Miguel and I greeted mourners. Daddy and Danielle did not come. but I was happy about that. Mommy didn't stay downstairs with Miguel and me. She just wanted to sleep. Food and drink and conversation lifted the shroud of gloom from our home for a little while, but after the last visitors expressed their final regrets and left, the pall rushed in with the power of the tides and once again d
eepened the shadows and the stillness in our house.

  "Well," Miguel said, gazing at the empty room. "that's that. We've got to rebuild," he told me. I had no idea what that meant. but I nodded anyway. "I'll look in on your mother. Hannah." he said and went up to her.

  Heyden had been afraid to come to the cemetery. I saw him at the church. but I barely acknowledged him. I was afraid to, but now I felt guilty about that. This was in no way his fault or had anything to do with him, vet somehow, he had been stained because I was at his home and had gone to him first after my fiasco at Daddy's house, rather than to Miguel and Mommy. If only I had... if only I had.

  As far as I knew, Uncle Linden knew nothing of little Claude's death. I couldn't imagine Mommy 1.vanting someone to tell him about it. and Miguel wouldn't have done so on his own. After all that had happened and had been said. I wasn't going to suggest he be told. either. That bothered me as much as what was directed at poor Heyden. Uncle Linden should have been given the opportunity to be with his family, to comfort and console Mommy and me.

  I would wait. I thought, for the right time and then ask Miguel to bring it up with Mommy. If they wanted, I would take on the responsibility of informing Uncle Linden. I really believed he listened to me more than he listened to anyone else now anyway, I would be the best one to bring him the news and help him understand it.

  For the remainder of the afternoon, I sat alone on the rear loggia and looked out at the sea, watching the sinking sun change the shades of light and shadows, Eventually. Miguel came looking for me.

  "How is she?" I asked when he stepped out on the loggia.

  "As good as can be expected," he said.

  I wanted to ask if she had asked for me. but I just looked out at the water,

  "You should go up to her,' he finally said.

  "Okay."

  How sad it was that my going up to see my mother to comfort her and give her love was so difficult for me now. I walked with very tentative steps, delaying the meeting as long as I could. She was sitting up in her bed, sipping some herbal tea when I stepped into the room.

  'How are you. Mommy?" I asked.

  "How can I be?" she replied. It is truly as if a piece of me has been ripped away, a part of me has died. There's an emptiness in me that I don't think I'll ever fill. Hannah. My future has been taken away from me, and nothing will ever look beautiful, taste delicious, or feel good ever again. Pray to God every day that nothing like this happens to you," she said.

  "It's happened to me. too," I protested. "He was my brother,"

  "No one but a mother could understand," she replied. "The relationship is too special, too close. No relationship compares to it. These are things I have always known, of course, but it's different when it's actually happening to you."

  She sighed. "I'm the one who always advises people to talk out their problems and feelings, and here I am hating every utterance. wishing I were mute. Perhaps I'll appreciate my clients more now." she said. "Just like them. I need time to mourn, to suffer."

  "I don't want you to suffer. Mommy."

  "Yes, well, it's too late for that, and it really doesn't matter what you want or I want, does it?" she said bitterly. "Miguel wants me to turn to faith. What did we do to have so deep and long a family curse put an us? How long do you pay for the sins of your fathers?" she asked. She wasn't asking me, of course. She was asking Fate itself.

  She put her teacup down and lowered herself in the bed,

  "Do me a favor, Hannah," she said. "and close the curtains. I want to sleep."

  "But aren't you hungry or--"

  "I just want to sleep." she said. "Close the door when you leave." she added and shut her eyes.

  Maybe she was shutting them so she didn't have to look upon me. I thought, and did what she wanted,

  .

  Eventually Mommy emerged from her bedroom and from her state of mourning, but the gloom and the pall that had come into our home remained. She avoided lights and music. She ate only what she needed to survive and never with any gusto or appetite. Her work at the office was restricted to mostly office duties, reports, and some consultations for the time being.

  Although I never heard her mention Miguel's having to fetch me that dreadful night, she avoided asking me anything about it as well. Nevertheless. I longed to tell her what had happened at Daddy's home and what the twins had said and done, but it was as if that day, those hours were gone from her memory. and I was far too frightened and nervous about bringing any of it up myself.

  Finally, one night at dinner, nearly ten days later, she brought up Uncle Linden.

  "I suppose he should know about little Claude." she said.

  "Do you want me to go over there?" Miguel asked her.

  "Half the time I wander if he remembers who you are. Miguel. No. I'll have to do it. I suppose."

  "I can do it. Mommy," I offered.

  She looked at me with a very strange, very foreign expression. It gave me the eerie feeling she didn't remember who I was. It was as if some stranger had popped into the chair and dared to make such an offer to do so personal a thing.

  "No," she said. "He won't understand it if it comes from you." I didn't dare challenge her.

  "I'll go with you at least. Willow," Miguel said.

  "Fine. Let's do it this weekend." she said and continued to nibble at her food.

  Later, without fully understanding why, I burst into tears in my room. I kept my sobs subdued so no one would hear me, and then I did my homework and went to sleep.

  At school Heyden had been avoiding me. I tried to talk to him a few times, but he politely excused himself. My girlfriends, even the most jealous ones, put aside their jibes and sarcasm and were warmer to me out of sympathy. I accepted their consolation even though I had doubts about the sincerity. I needed someone to consider my feelings, offer me warm hugs and embraces and soft words.

  The dreariness of Joya del Mar and the emptiness that had come into my own life reached a peak after Mommy and Miguel returned from visiting Uncle Linden late in the afternoon and telling him the tragic news. I waited anxiously at home, and when they came into the house. I immediately went to them and asked how he had taken it.

  Miguel shook his head. meaning I should not pursue it. but Mommy did say, "He blamed it on me not listening to his advice. Can you believe that?"

  My quizzical look brought a strange, eerie laugh out of her,

  "He doesn't know what year this is, where he is, or what's happened. Maybe he's better off in limbo," she muttered.

  "No." I made the mistake of saying too loud. She turned to me. 'He's always been sensible with me. mostly," I said. "It was just with this. little Claude...."

  "Listen to her," Mommy said. "She doesn't need to go to college. She can hang her shingle out tomorrow. Your precious uncle is a disturbed man. Hannah. He will never, never. never leave that place. Get it in your head!" she screamed. "Why I went over there and subjected myself to his madness at a time like this, I'll never know.

  "Yes," she quickly added, glaring at me. "I do know. It's your persistent concern for him and your making me feel guilty about him. Now see? What good has that done? He's no better off. He's worse, in fact. I forbid you to go there anymore. I absolutely forbid it!" she cried.

  "Easy," Miguel told her.

  She shook her head and marched upstairs.

  "She's very upset. I'll see to her." Miguel said. "Let us know when dinner is ready. Maybe I can get her to eat something substantial tonight."

  Let them know when dinner is ready, I thought, I'm just like another servant here now, But I didn't cry. My pool of tears was dry. I replaced sorrow with anger instead. How unfair it was to blame me for Uncle Linden. Would I be blamed for everything that happened to this family now?

  My rage filled me with courage. Without anyone's permission. I charged out of the house and got into Mommy's car. In moments I was driving away and heading for Heyden's house, Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to listen to me. We wou
ld not be held accountable and punished for what happened. What we had together was good, and I was determined it would agian.

  Fortunately, he was home when I arrived. When I stepped up to the front door. I could hear him practicing an his guitar. I knocked and waited, but he was singing as well, and he didn't hear me. The door was unlocked, so I entered.

  "Heyden," I called. "Heyden."

  He heard me and stopped playing.

  -Hannah," he said, emerging from his roam. "What are you doing here?"

  "I came to see you. Don't you want me here?" I asked sharply.

  "Sure, but... your stepfather said..."

  "I don't care what he said or what anyone says, Heyden. There's nothing wrong with us seeing each other, and there is especially nothing wrong with us singing together."

  He smiled.

  "Never thought there was." he said with a shrug. "but who am I to take on the high and the mighty?"

  "You're Heyden Reynolds and I'm Hannah Eaton, and we are the high and the mighty," I replied.

  He laughed,

  "C'mon, maybe I'll turn that into a song."

  I laughed, too.

  It was as if a damn had broken and all my joy and happiness, shut up and stifled, could come pouring out again. How I welcomed it.

  As soon as I entered his bedroom. Heyden's eyes and mine met and told each other how much we had really missed each other. I was so hungry_ for affection and love. I couldn't wait for him to put his arms around me and bring his lips to mine. For me the kiss 'vas like a long drink of water after traipsing through a desert. I wanted to remain in his arms forever.

  This time my tears were tears of joy.

  "Hey," he said, wiping them off my cheeks gently, "What's happening. Hannah?"

  "Oh, Heyden, I am more than a stranger in my own house now. I feel so unwanted. And my mother has forbidden me to visit my Uncle Linden!"

  "Why?"

  "She blames me for everything, I know. If Miguel hadn't come for me, he might have been able to do something for little Claude. And now even my uncle's madness is somehow my fault."