Twisted Roots (20 page)

I
wasn't surprised that Miguel couldn't come.
He was in class, but even if it was only my monthlies,
it did shock me that Mommy would send Ricardo and
not come herself. I remember when I was little.
Miguel used to gently criticize Mommy for doting too
much on my every little complaint and every change
in mood.
Once I even heard him say. "You must stop this
paranoia. Willow. Hannah shows no signs of the
manic depression your mother suffered and you think
you suffer from time to time. It's only another ghost
you must put to rest. Sometimes I think we should sell
Joya Del Mar and go someplace else. Sometimes
I
think Linden is the only one with any sense among
us."
How could she move so quickly from a mother
who worried over my every frown and grimace to a
mother who could send a gardener to pick up her
ailing daughter? Was this to be my punishment for
somehow contributing to little Claude's death? I
couldn't wait to get home to fill that pillowcase, and
that was just what I rushed to do as soon as Ricardo drove up to the front door. I practically leaped out of
the car.
"I thought you were sick to your stomach." he
called after me.
I charged up the stairs, into the house, and up
the stairway to my room. For a moment
I
just stood in
the middle and turned in circles. What would I take?
What couldn't I stand to leave behind? Did it matter
that much? Wasn't I ever coming back?
I started to choose toiletries and realized how
foolish that was. Take only things you can't buy on
the road, Hannah. I told myself and began to sift
through my clothing. A pillowcase never looked as
small to me as when I was trying to put in another
skirt and another blouse. And shoes! I loved this pair
and that. Didn't I need more than one pair of
sneakers? What if we go into a much colder climate
for a while? I should have a pair of boots. shouldn't I? Pictures? No. none.
I
would just cry over them.
I thought. What about dolls? There was that rag doll
that Mommy gave me years ago, telling me my
grandmother had made it for her and had modeled the
doll's face after Mommy's from pictures she had. Was
it wrong to take that doll out of this house? What if I
somehow lost it?
No. I decided. I had to say goodbye to it for a
while, perhaps a long, long while. No dolls, no
remembrances of things past, no mementoes from
parties and dances, even my own Sweet Sixteen party.
It all belonged here, left in my past. Heyden and I
were really starting a new life, and so was Uncle
Linden.
With that sort of censorship in mind, it
suddenly became easier to pack the pillowcase. I
wouldn't even take my toothbrush. We would do as
Heyden had said: buy what we needed as we went
along.
When I was finished.
I
realized no one could
look at this room and know I had left it No one would
suspect
I
was really gone, not for a while, but despite
my anger and my new hope. I couldn't just walk out
and close the door. That was too cruel.
I sat at my desk and debated with myself.
Heyden had made it very clear that I tell no one I was
leaving, not even give a hint. Yet I couldn't just walk
out and let Mommy wait up for me, even though I had
real doubts that she would. She would leave it up to
Miguel. perhaps.
Maybe not. Maybe I was being too hard on her.
No. I had to leave her something.
I
pulled my
stationery out and stared at a blank page.
Dear Mommy and Miguel,
I wrote. That was
the easy part.
I know that in the beginning you will be very
angry at me, maybe even angrier than you are at me
now. In time I hope you will understand why I am
doing this.
Whatever anyone says, I can't help but feel the
clouds of blame and guilt hovering over my head
every day here. I shall never forget that Miguel had to
come for me when he was most needed here, and In
my heart I fear you will never forget, either, Mommy.
I know you don't hate me. I know you can't hate me,
but for a while it will be as it has been, very hard for
you to look at me and not think about it. I understand,
but it's like living with a drill of fire pointing at me
always.
You never saw so many faults in me as you do
now, and you never had as much coldness in your
voice when you spoke to me as you do now.
For the longest time I have been trying to get
you and Miguel to understand I am not a child
anymore. I need to be treated like an adult, to be
trusted with the truth, whether it be ugly or not.
Perhaps I am, as some of my friends think and most of my friends are, spoiled. Perhaps I have been
protected too much.
1 think the best way for me to mature is to go
out on my own for a while, and I think the time we are
apart will be good for all of us,
Just know that a day won't pass without my
thinking
^-
of you and looking forward to the time when
I can return and when we can be more than just
mother and daughter, when we can be friends again
as well,
Love, Hannah
I
put the letter in an envelope and left it on my
pillow. Then
I
turned and walked to the door. I had to
stand there for a while and look at each and every
thing, no matter how small or how insignificant it
might first appear. Everything had some sentimental
significance and touched me in some way, even the
view from my windows. I would never have a view
like it or look out on what they looked out upon again. Goodbye to all my childhood fears and my
childhood fantasies,
I
thought, for all of it still lived
somewhere within these walls, every cry, every sob,
every laugh somewhere within them, resting, touched
only by a dream or by a fleeting memory. This was a
house with history, and mine was part of it. Years and years from now someone else surely would live here, and she might wonder about a chip in the wood, a scratch in the window, a piece of wrapping paper
inside a closet. Perhaps my dreams would invade hers. Forgive me, room,
I
thought. You were Hever a
disappointment, but what I seek NOW is outside and I turned and hurried out before anyone came
home. In minutes I was walking quickly down the
driveway, and moments later I was outside the gate.
Heyden was there on his moped. He held up his hand.
and I took a deep breath and hurried to him. "I was getting worried," he said. "You're almost
fifteen minutes late."
"Am
I?
Sorry."
"Good work," he said, holding my pillowcase.
He tied it securely to the moped and patted the seat
behind him. "Let's go. We have a lot to do." I got on and placed my feet carefully. He
started it, and we rolled forward.
I looked back once even though
I
had made a
pact with myself not to look back. I just couldn't help
it. Joya del Mar had its own powers.
I
could almost
hear the flowers, the trees, the house itself calling to
me, begging me not to go.
Or was that just the voice inside myself, tiny and frightened, soon to be drowned out by the roar of the wind passing my ears and the thunder of my own heartbeat?

10
On the Road
.
For a moment I thought Uncle Linden had

forgotten every word we had spoken yesterday. He was sitting on the porch as usual, and he looked very relaxed and contented. The expression of surprise on his face when we pulled up on Heyden's moped convinced me he never really expected us to return, at least not as soon as this.

"Say," he said as we walked up to the porch. "shouldn't you guys be in school?" He checked his watch. "Today a holiday or something?"

"We've left school for good, Uncle Linden," I said. Just saying it made me tremble a little.
"Oh?"
"We're going ahead with the travel plans." Heyden said. "I've made all the arrangements. You remember everything we discussed last night, right?"
Uncle Linden smiled. "You mean, leaving on a motor home?"
"Yes, exactly."
Uncle Linden patted his jacket's breast pocket. "My bank book is right here," he said. "I figured I'd keep it on me just in case."
"Great. Okay. Here's our plan. We're going for a walk. At the corner of the next block there's a drugstore. I'll have a cab meet us there. We'll go directly to the owner of the motor home and pick it up."
"That's good," Uncle Linden said. That way no one here butts into my business."
"Hannah," Heyden said, turning to me. "Take Uncle Linden in and get only what is absolutely necessary from his room. Then tell Mrs. Robinson you're taking him for a walk."
"There's nothing in there that
I
want," Uncle Linden said suddenly and stood up. "Let's just go."
"But what about Mrs. Robinson?" I asked.
"No, he's right." Heyden said, lowering his voice. "If she knows he went off with us, she'll tell your parents, and they might get the police to stop us before we leave somehow. This will buy us that much more time undetected, C'mon. Let's make tracks while we can do it unnoticed."
He started away, and to my surprise. Uncle Linden, with a vigorous gait, followed.
I
looked back at the front door. No one had come upon us yet. but
I
was very nervous. I had never taken him away from the building without letting someone know, Then I thought, take him away from the building? What's that? You're taking him out of the whole state!
"Walk him to the drugstore," Heyden said, getting on the moped.
"I
don't want to leave this here. I'll meet you there."
He started up and drove off. I looked back at the residency again and then took Uncle Linden's hand, my heart thumping so hard
I
was sure he could feel the drumbeat in my fingers, and started across the street. We went nearly the whole block without speaking.
"Are you very sure you want to do this with us, Uncle Linden?" I asked.
"I'll let you in on a secret," he said, smiling. "I didn't sleep all night thinking about it."
"Really?"
"This is the nicest thing you could do for me. Hannah. Thank you." he said. and I walked faster. By the time we arrived at the drugstore. Heyden had called for the taxicab.
"Where is your moped?"
I
asked, seeing our packed pillowcases beside him.
"Sold it." he said. "for twenty bucks." He showed me the bill.
"You sold it for only twenty dollars?"
Had to get rid of it fast, and this young guy standing here waiting for a bus couldn't believe his luck."
"I'll bet," I said.
"I don't have any need for it now." Heyden declared, beaming,
Uncle Linden nodded, "He's right." he said. "It's like we're throwing all our excess weight overboard to keep the boat floating."
The taxicab arrived and we got in. Heyden gave him the bank's address, and in moments we were on our way.
I
had, in what was surely my mother's way of thinking, truly kidnapped my uncle.
Heyden asked the taxi driver to wait for us outside the bank and we entered. The suspicious way the tall, lean, bald-headed bank teller looked at us with his beady eyes made my heart skip beats. but Uncle Linden had identification in his wallet, and after the teller conferred with a female manager who was at a desk behind him, he returned to the window, smiled, and asked how Uncle Linden wanted the money. Uncle Linden turned to Heyden, who told him in what denominations to have it cashed. Less than twenty minutes later the three of us emerged, got back into the taxicab, and headed for the address for the motor home. The location was just outside of Jupiter Beach, which made it a very expensive taxi ride, but money didn't seem to matter very much anymore.
When we arrived, my heart sank. The motor home looked nothing like it had in the picture Heyden had showed me. I could see he was disappointed as well, but didn't want to reveal it. The compact mini motor home was built on a one-tan van cab. The door on the cab was banged in so badly. I wondered if it actually opened and closed. There were dents all over the coach's body. The window of the cabover had been hit with what looked like a BB pellet or a rock and although still intact, had a spidery web of cracks from one end to another. The front bumper was bashed on the right side and one of the tires was missing a wheel cover. Parts of the outside looked rusted, some places so badly they were peppered with holes.
"Heyden," I whispered. "Does it work?"
"Sure. The owner guarantees it's in good operating condition," he told me as we got out.
Uncle Linden was still smiling. It was as though he was looking through rose-colored glasses now and saw a brand-spanking-new vehicle instead of the wreck I saw before us.
"It doesn't matter what it looks like on the outside. Hannah," Heyden said as we started toward the A-frame old house with a small porch and anemic front lawn. It was scarred with patches of dirt and inundated with weeds. "It's what it will do for us that matters."
He turned to Uncle Linden. "Let me conclude our business arrangements. Uncle Linden."
"Sure, sure. Let's do it," he said, handing Heyden the envelope full of money.
Heyden went to the front door and knocked. No one came, so he knocked again, harder and louder.
"Didn't you tell the owner we were coming today?" I asked.
"Absolutely. I called him from the drugstore right after I called for the cab."
We waited, but still no one opened the door. Suddenly the door of the coach opened and a stout bald-headed man with just a patch of grayish brown hair behind each ear emerged. He was in a torn T-shirt and a pair of faded brown shorts that hung like an afterthought under his protruding belly. He was barefoot, one of his toenails so black, it looked dipped in ink.
"Yo there!" he called to us.
He had a can of beer in his left hand and took a gulp as he beckoned. Then he wiped his thick lips with the back of his right hand, crushed the emptied beer can in his left hand, and tossed it toward an opened garbage pail. The can hit the edge of the pail and bounced off to the right.
"Would you believe I was on the starting five of my high school basketball team?" he asked. laughing. He had a lower front tooth missing, and there were blotches of pale red over his cheeks and under his chin.
"Hi, I'm Heyden Reynolds. This is my uncle Linden Montgomery and his daughter Hannah."
"Pleased to meetcha." he said. offering Uncle Linden his thick-fingered hand, the fingertips of which were stained with nicotine.
Uncle Linden smiled and shook it.
"I know she don't look like much on the outside." the owner said, turning to the motor home. "but she runs like a thoroughbred, dependable.
I
take good care of it. and I'd expect you to do the same." he added, raising his untrimmed gray-brown eyebrows and lowering his head simultaneously. His jowls ballooned,
"Absolutely," Heyden said.
"She's all gassed up and ready to roll," the owner said. He looked at our pillowcases. "That all you taking?"
"Na. we're picking other things up after we leave," Heyden said quickly.
"Good. good. You brought the money in cash?" he asked, directing himself to Uncle Linden now.
"Yes, yes, we did."
"And you have a credit card for me to use for some sort of guarantee?"
"Yes,"
I
said when Heyden nodded to me. I produced the card and the owner took it, looked at it, looked at me, and then at Uncle Linden,
"I thought von said the name was Montgomery. This here card says Hannah Eaton?"
My heart sank.
Uncle Linden smiled, "This is my daughter." he said. "but my wife has remarried. This trip is a way for us to get to know each other again, if you get what I mean."
Heyden smiled. I had to admit to myself that Uncle Linden's quick thinking was impressive.
I
guess Heyden's right.
I
thought. Uncle Linden didn't need to be under any doctor's microscope.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, sure," the owner said, nodding, but he still looked suspicious. "Okay, let's do the paperwork. I've rented this baby out ten times without a single problem." he added, sounding more threatening now. "She has a rebuilt Ford engine under the hood. Should give you no trouble if you don't abuse her."
"We won't do that." Uncle Linden said with a calm sense of assurance that obviously impressed the owner.
He grunted. "I was just in there checking every appliance and everything else. Nothin's broken. You can go in there and confirm that while I go get the paperwork,' he said and headed for the house.
"Thank you." Uncle Linden said.
He nodded and walked off.
Heyden looked at me and then at Uncle Linden. "You're doing great. Uncle Linden. Thanks."
"Piece of cake." Uncle Linden said, still looking quite amused and excited. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing toward the coach door.
"Right." Heyden opened it, and we all stepped up and in. The first thing that struck me was the odor. It smelled like stale beer and cheese. Of course, there was no linen of any sort, not that I would want to use it if there had been. Heyden and I checked the refrigerator, the stove, the microwave, and the sink. Everything did appear to be working despite appearances that would suggest otherwise.
"I hope the toilet works." I muttered to myself. All the faucets were rusty, stains in the sinks. The floor of the coach had a cheap linoleum broken in many places. The layout was simple with a bedroom in the rear. The sofa opened to produce another bed, the one Uncle Linden would have.
It suddenly occurred to me that Uncle Linden would know Heyden and I had slept together and would be sleeping together now. When I gazed at the one real bed.
I
felt myself flush with the realization. What would we do?
Heyden came up beside me, anticipating my thoughts.
"I'm sleeping in the cabover." Heyden whispered. "Don't worry about it."
I
looked back at Uncle Linden, who was still smiling as he moved through the coach and then went to the driver's seat.
"It's been a long time since I drove!" he shouted back to us. "I'd better let you get
it
under way. Maybe
later
I'll take
a
turn at it."
"Right," Heyden said, smiling at me. "He's like a kid again." We heard the door open and the owner stepped up.
"Well?" he said. "Everything's in order. right?"
"Yes." Heyden said quickly.
The owner handed my card back to me.
"I copied all the numbers down." he said and turned to Heyden. "You folks break anything, you folks fix it."
"We understand." Heyden said, trying desperately not to appear too anxious. He reminded me of a horse. chafing at the bit.
The owner held his gaze steady, "I hope so." he said.
Heyden handed him the cash, and he counted it out and then he gave Heyden the keys.
"I got the time marked down. The deal is six months to the day. You bring it back late, you pay for an extra day."
"Okay," Heyden said. "Thanks."
The owner looked at Uncle Linden, who was sitting in the driver's seat and gazing out as if he could already see the beautiful scenery.
"Yeah. well. mind everything
I
told You. The manuals are all here."
"Thanks again." Heyden said.
The owner looked at us one more time and then stepped out and closed the door.
Heyden turned to me.
"We've got it," he said, his eyes as bright and joyful as Christmas lights. "We're off. Uncle Linden," he said.
"What? Oh. Good. good," Uncle Linden said and got out of the driver's seat.
Heyden got into it. studied the dashboard a moment, and then started the engine. I thought it made a lot of noise. but he didn't seem to notice.
"Fasten your seatbelts!" he cried, then shifted and started out of the driveway. I had to admit he looked as if he had been driving motor homes far years. Seconds later we were moving down the street.
"I'm going to get us to the 95." he said. "We'll go for a while and then pull off and find a department store."
"Good plan." Uncle Linden said. He had taken the seat beside him.
I found I was holding my breath on and off. I actually felt a little numb.
We were doing it. We were actually leaving. Heyden started to hum what had become our theme song,
Leaving on a Motor Home
.