Twisted Roots (16 page)

Despite a clear night of dazzling stars, the sky felt so close and oppressive to me. Every shadow along the highway, every sound other than an automobile that
I
heard was a threatening sound. It wouldn't surprise me to discover my twin half brothers lurking in the dark, making noises to see how terrified they could make me.
Oh, why did I run away? Why didn't I remain there and do battle with them and prove to Danielle that they were vicious liars? I knew she wouldn't want to believe that, but it would still have been better for me to stand my ground.
I
thought. Now.
I
probably looked guilty to her. and Daddy might believe it as well. He would have only their side of the story to hear and Danielle's shock at seeing me in her bedroom, bared to the waist.
I couldn't stop crying. My shoulders heaved and fell, and my chest and stomach ached. Did the man inside this impregnable estate really call Heyden? Had Elisha answered and deliberately pretended he wasn't home and not tell him about me? She was certainly capable of doing that. And what if he did reach Heyden? I realized. He had no automobile. What good would it have done? Would he come get me on his moped? Why didn't I ask the man to call Miguel?
I
thought about getting up and walking on until I came to someplace where
I
would find a phone. but when I stood up, my legs were shaky. Instead. I returned to the call box and pressed it again. Again, it took an exceptionally long time for any response. Finally the same. voice full of obvious annoyance said. "Yes?"
"It's me again.
I
was wondering if you had made the call for me."
"I did and the individual you requested said he would find a way."
"You could have told me," I said.
"This is or a public phone or any sort of rescue service. Do not use the call box again." he ordered and went silent,
"I won't!" I shouted into the box microphone. "And you can go to hell if you're not already there."
My voice echoed away and died.
I
took a deep breath and gazed down the highway. After another half dozen or so cars went by. I saw one pair of headlights closing in, the vehicle slowing down. It was a taxicab and it pulled up to the gate. Heyden was in the backseat looking out the window for me. The moment the cab stopped, he jumped out.
"Hannah, what's going on?"
I rushed into his arms and just cried. He guided me back to the taxicab, and we both got inside,
"Where to now?" the driver asked.
I couldn't see his face, but he sounded amused.
"Hannah?" Heyden asked. "You want to go home?"
"No," I said. "Take me back to your house. Heyden," I said.
He gave the driver the same address at which he had been picked up, and the driver turned around and started back,
"I don't have any money," I whispered. "or my credit card. I left it at my father's house."
"Why? What are you doing out here?"
I just shook my head. I didn't want to tell him the story. I was afraid the driver would hear everything, and I was still very embarrassed,
"Don't worry." Heyden said. "I have enough."
"I'll pay you back tomorrow." I promised.
With interest?" he asked. smiling.
I
started to cry again, but more softly, with my cheek pressed to his chest and his arm around me, holding me snugly and safely.
After we arrived at his home and he paid the driver, we went inside. It was so quiet. I asked where his sister was.
"She's at a friend's house, probably doing some drugs or drinking and who knows what else? My mother let her go even though I told her what Elisha has been into these days. It's just easier for her to say yes.
I
warned her
I
wasn't taking care of Elisha or going anywhere to rescue her if she gets into trouble," he said.
"Like you just did for me?" "There's no comparison," he said.
I
went to the bathroom, and after washing my face with cold water. I joined him in his room. He was sitting on the bed, tinkering with some chords on his Guitar. He looked up.
"Well?" he asked. "I got stuck with the taxi fare. Aren't you ever going to tell me what's going on?"
I nodded and sat beside him. He lay the guitar dawn and turned to listen. After I described it all, he shook his head with rage.
"I wish I had been there," he said.
"You can't threaten them. It does no good. They're so arrogant, they know they'll always get out of whatever trouble they cause."
"I wouldn't just threaten them." Heyden said.
"I'm not going back there," I vowed. "I'm sick of pretending they are my family. They don't want me to be part of their family. and
I
don't want to be. Not anymore."
"You're better off." he said. Then he smiled. "So they made fun of the music we create together, huh? They're just jealous ."
"I don't care what they think or say, Heyden. They can't ruin what we do. but I am worried for my uncle."
"That was surely just an idle threat. They would never go there. That sort of thing takes too much effort."
"I want to be sure he's all right. though. I'll go there tomorrow," I said.
"You look so tired, Shouldn't
I
call your stepfather and ask him to came to get you?"
"Not yet," I said. "Anyway, I'll call a cab and they'll pay him when I get there. Maybe my mother will be asleep by then, and it will be easier."
"Whatever you say," Heyden told me.
I
smiled and lay back. It felt good to sink my head into one of his pillows. He lay beside me, slipping his aim under and around my shoulders.
I
turned into him and closed my eyes. In moments I was asleep.
.
A clamor of voices and bright lights snapped open my eyes. I was alone in the bed and for
a
moment.
I
couldn't recall where I was or how I had gotten here. The confusion evaporated just before Heyden's door was opened. Miguel stood there, his shoulders hoisted, his mouth twisted in anger like
I
had never seen.
"What are you doing?" he shouted. I saw Heyden a few feet behind him.
"Your mother is beside herself with worry. Thatcher called hours ago and told us you had run out of his house. We called the Palm Beach police and they've been scouring the highways and streets searching for you. Couldn't you have had the decency to call home. Hannah? Haw could you do such a thing to us? And now, with all that's happening? How could you do this!"
"I fell asleep. I didn't mean--"
"Just get up and get into the car, Hannah. Now!" Miguel screamed at me.
I hurried out of the bedroom, pausing by Heyden. He shook his head.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to wake you. I knew you were exhausted and--"
"Hannah, get out." Miguel ordered. He turned to Heyden. "As for you, young man,
I
wouldn't advise you to call our home or encourage Hannah to come to your house. understand?"
"It's not his fault, Miguel!" I cried.
He burned his eyes into me and turned me around forcefully, his fingers like pincers in my shoulders.
"Out," he said, marching behind me, poking me to get me to move faster. His storm of rage was so fierce. I was afraid to defy him.
As we stepped out of the house. I tried to look back at Heyden, but Miguel shut the door behind us quickly.
"Get in the car!" he screamed. "Now!"
Moments later we were on our way back to Joya del Mar. Miguel's fury steaming the air between us. How could this night have turned so terrible? I never hated my twin half brothers more. but I never hated my life as much, either.

8
Leaving Home
.
For the rest of my life, no matter what I do, no

matter how much or how hard I pursue any career or occupy my mind and my body with activities. I shall never forget nor diminish the memory of the events that followed when Miguel and I returned to Joya Del Mar. Every little detail: where people were standing, what lights were on, what was said, and how each and every person there reacted to what was said, all of it is embedded in the blackest wall of my mind, each image rough and bright like some uncut but jagged diamond sparkling gleefully. Guilt would be forever an invisible necklace of thorns around my neck, tightening whenever the flood of these memories came rushing over me.

On the ride home from Heyden's house. Miguel calmed down enough to listen to my story. I told him the terrible things the twins had said and done.

"Why didn't you just call me then?" he asked. "I would have come to get you."
"I didn't want to add any more trouble and worry to what Mommy already had."
"So you ran off and then went to this boy's home without calling us?" He shook his head.
"I
just don't understand you,
Hannah. I thought you were a great deal brighter than that. You've never disappointed us like this. I am afraid we have overestimated not only your intelligence, but your common sense. What were you thinking?"
"I thought I would rest up and come home and no one would be the less for it. Miguel.
I
didn't mean to fall asleep. I just didn't realize how exhausted I was mentally and physically.
I
didn't mean to cause all these problems."
I
moaned and began to cry again
"All right, all right. There's no need to cry about it now, Hannah. I want to end this turmoil tonight as quickly as we can and let everyone get some very needed rest."
I
ground the tears out of my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Why did they say such terrible things and do such terrible things? Daddy would never have said anything like that," I added.
Miguel was quiet. "Well, would he?"
"You have to understand. Hannah, that when your mother and your father divorced, it was not a pleasant situation. I do not want to turn you against your father, and you cannot say I have ever said anything negative to you about him."
"I know. I know, They really don't like each other."
I
said. "Neither will let me forget it for a second."
"Well, it aces beyond just liking and disliking. Your father was not faithful.
I
don't think he will deny that, but the Eatons are a very proud family in Palm Beach. They just can't stand to be held accountable for any of their actions. They think they can buy their way through the Pearly Gates.
"Your Eaton grandparents, who have nothing to do with you, did not waste any time spreading stories about your mother so they could put on a good face in public and at their extravaganzas and big charity balls."
"Stories about her and Uncle Linden?"
"Well... yes," Miguel said. "Part of your uncle's mental difficulties concerned his relationship with your mother, and they took advantage of that."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart starting to thump. Could there be any truth to the rumors?
"In the beginning, when your mother did not reveal her true identity. Linden harbored some romantic feelings for her. He was a lost, lonely young man, often depressed and dejected. She burst onto his dismal scene like
a
bright and lovely new warm light and won his trust and affection.
"Later, when he learned who she was, he was deeply disappointed. Another sick joke pulled on him by Fate, he thought. He became even more bitter and was especially resentful of Thatcher and his attention to your mother and her growing affection for him. He grew up in Thatcher's shadow and was always somewhat envious of his success and popularity with women, I believe."
"Why didn't anyone ever tell me about all this?"
I
whined. "It's not the sort of thing you sit your child down to discuss."
"I'm not
a
child anymore!" I exclaimed.
"No, you're not. and I suppose we should have had some frank discussions with you about it all. Your mother skirts around the issues whenever she talks to you about your uncle Linden. I know. I've heard her, but she was only trying to keep the sordid, ugly part of it from you."
"I'm old enough to hear anything. Miguel." "It was done to protect you." he insisted.
But I feel so stupid. My half brothers know more about all this."
"They don't know anything but what they have heard from their grandparents, I'm sure. Maybe they did overhear Thatcher tell Danielle some of it Maybe he was trying to belittle your mother in front of her or claim he loved Danielle mare. I'm sure whatever the reason, it was a selfish one, He knows there's no truth to such a sordid lie.
"But," he continued after a moment's hesitation. "you should know that your uncle's final serious breakdown occurred when he had the delusion you were his child. In his mental turmoil he fantasized a male-female relationship with your mother. It's taken years of therapy, medication, and tender loving care to help him get over that delusion."
"Now
I'm
beginning to understand why he said some strange things the last time
I
visited with him," I admitted sadly.
"Like what?
"He was just confused.
I
guess. He told me my father had nothing to do with the baby, with little Claude."
Miguel was silent a moment. thinking. "Yes. I suppose he has his relapses, his trips down those old, strange highways, but for the most part, he's doing well." Miguel assured me.
"Yes, he is," I insisted.
I took another deep breath and settled back. Perhaps the worst was over.
I
thought. I just wouldn't go to my father's house anymore. and I would have nothing to do with the twins. I had lived without them in my life up until now. I saw no reason why
I
couldn't continue.
I
would apologize to Mommy profusely. I thought, and somehow, make it all up to her
However, that opportunity was not to be. As we made the turn through the gated entrance of Joya Del Mar, we could see red lights blinking.
"What the... what's that?" Miguel muttered.
"It's an ambulance!"
I
cried.
Miguel sped up and pulled alongside the ambulance. The doors were open, and we could see two paramedics bent over a gurney. Lila was in the open doorway of the house. She stood as still as a mannequin, her right hand up, the fingers bent and touching her temple, her left hand clutched in a fist at her side.
"What's happening here?" Miguel shouted at the paramedics.
One turned to him while the other continued doing what
I
would later learn was CPR. The gurney was high enough up to hide the tiny body of little Claude.
"We're trying to revive him," the paramedic told Miguel. "What? Lila!" he screamed. "Where's Willow?"
"Oh. Mr. Fuentes, she's just lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I can't get her to say a word or get up or anything. I ran down here hoping to bring her good news."
"My son!" Miguel cried, more to himself than to me or the paramedics.
He then leaped into the ambulance and gazed down at the baby.
The paramedic who had spoken shook his head. He did it so slowly, it was truly like a slow-motion sequence in a movie. My ears began to ring. Some terribly laud noise was raging through my body. I looked up at Lila, who had crumbled against the doorjamb, her body shuddering like someone who had seized a live electric wire.
I realized what the terrible loud noise was.
It was coming from me.
I
was screaming as hard as I could, a single note, high-pitched,
ricocheting off the front of Java del Mar and shattering in the air around us.
The second paramedic took hold of Miguel as he began to collapse. He held him at the waist and kept him standing. I stopped screaming and hurried up to Lila, who turned and embraced me. We held on to each other with a desperation that froze my heart. Then I looked up the stairs. Mommy was coming down slowly, moving like a sleepwalker.
"Mommy!" I called. She didn't hear me. She continued toward us and emerged on the portico as Miguel came out of the ambulance.
He looked up at her. He was crying hard now. and I remember how strange it looked for a grown man to bawl like a little boy. It made me cry harder. too.
Mommy started toward him, but not halfway there, she crumbled as if she had turned to liquid and poured down to her feet.
"MOMMY!" I screamed with all my strength and being,
"WILLOW!" Miguel cried and ran to her. The paramedics were at his side in seconds.
They gave her smelling salts and revived her, but she shook her head vigorously, wanting to deny reality certainly, and wanting only to return to her blissful state of unconsciousness. They kept her awake and, using another stretcher, lifted her and carried her back into the house at Miguel's direction, bringing her back to their bedroom.
Terrified and vet unable to stop myself from doing it. I went to the ambulance and gazed at little Claude. His little mouth was barely open. His eyes were shut.
I
touched his tiny fingers, realizing that I had not been with him very much at all when he was alive. How I wished my contact with him could somehow resurrect him. Wouldn't Mommy love me then? Of course, that was not to be.
-Goodbye, little Claude," I whispered and I stepped out. Lila put her arm around my shoulders, and we walked into the house.
"How did this happen?" I wondered aloud. Mommy had been practically still attached to my little brother through an invisible umbilical cord.
She fell asleep. She tried not to, but she was exhausted, and when she woke, he was already in trouble," Lila explained through her sobs and tears. "I heard her screaming for Miguel, but he had already gone after you. so
I
went to the phone and called 911."
Her explanation felt like a ton of rocks falling on me and then turning to ice. Mommy had been shouting for Miguel, but he was gone to get me? I had been the one to pull him away at the most critical of moments?
I gazed up the stairway at the sound of the paramedics coming down, talking softly to
themselves. I heard them say little Claude would have to be taken to the hospital for an autopsy.
Lila walked away, her head down.
"I'll make something, maybe coffee, maybe tea," she babbled to herself.
Slowly I headed upstairs, my legs feeling detached from the rest of me, carrying the rest of me like a true burden up the stairway. In the hallway outside of Mommy's room. I heard her wailing and pausing to continually ask Miguel if it was true. if Claude was really gone.
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.