Willow (29 page)

Should I tell him the truth right here and How?
I wondered
. Should I explain whywe can't become lovers? Was it right to tell him that before I had spoken with my mother? Maybe she didn't want him to know-- or anyone to know, for that matter. What should I do?
I felt so desperate and so foolish. Why didn't I see this coming? Why did I think I could prevent it?
He stood there, with his hands on his hips, staring at the sea, the anger rising in his face like mercury in a thermometer,
"Linden, please..."
"It's all right," he said. "I've lost the moment. It happens." He started to put his things away.
"But what are you doing? We still have lots of time, don't we?"
"Artists are finicky people," he muttered. "We do illogical, inexplicable things. Don't blame yourself. It's not the first time this has happened, believe me."
"Can't we just continue so you can get your work done?"
"I can't work when I get like this. I'm sorry. I have it all in here, anyway," he said, pointing to his temple. "I took the picture, and I can replay it whenever I need to. Don't worry about it. You fulfilled your part of the bargain.'
He started to pack up. He moved with such abrupt, almost violent actions
I
was afraid to try to stop him. He loaded the boat,
"Linden..."
"Please change," he said, turning his back to me.
"I
need to go back."
"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, honest I didn't."
"Right."
"I can explain. Maybe not right at this moment. but I can and
I
will someday. I promise." I said. "and you'll understand."
"Change," he repeated, not looking at me.
I
did so quickly and handed him the clothing. He shoved it back into the bag and threw it into the boat,
"Let's go," he said.
He practically lunged at me and lifted me again, but he kept his face turned away until he had lowered me into the boat. Then he pushed off and got into it.
It seems a pity to waste the day, Linden," I said softly,
"What of it? I've wasted many," he said, and turned us away from his private little paradise.
I
looked back and watched us move farther and farther from it until we made a turn and it disappeared altogether, just like so many precious moments in both our lives.
.
It was as if the winds of fury had gathered. We made it back to the dock in what seemed to me to be half the time it had taken to get to the bay. He tied up the boat and reached in to help me step out.
"Will you want me to pose for you again tomorrow?" I asked softly.
"No, that's fine." he said. "Don't waste any more time with me." His whole body was now heavy with self-pity. I wanted so much to put my hand on his shoulder to reassure him, to promise him again that soon, very soon, he would understand, but I didn't dare touch him. He kept his back to me, and his shoulders were hoisted like the shoulders of a hawk, protective, aggressive, ready to pounce on some prey.
As
I
started off the dock and toward the main house, I saw my mother staring at me from the loggia of the beach house. She and I gazed at each other for a long moment, and then she turned and went inside. I made up my mind
I
would see her before this day was over, and
I
would tell her who I was. Somehow. however. I had a deep feeling inside me that she knew. Was it possible for a mother to pick out her child from everyone else in the world, even though she had never set eves on her since her birth? Was there a magical connection that couldn't be broken or hidden?
I would soon find out, I thought, and that both excited and frightened me.
"Well. where were you?
^"
I heard as I tucked up toward the rear loggia.
Bunny and Asher were sitting at a table having some breakfast.
"You didn't just come in from sailing with Linden, did you?" Bunny asked.
"As a matter of fact, yes. I did." I said "It was quite enjoyable. He's a good sailor."
They both looked a bit stunned and exchanged concerned glances.
"How can you get so chummy with Linden Montgomery, of all people?" Bunny practically demanded. Did she believe I was getting romantically involved with him, after she had laid a trap for Thatcher and me?
"He's really desperate for company." I explained. "I think his angry demeanor is all a facade. If people would simply be kind to him..,"
"How can anyone be kind to him? He won't respond to a simple hello or look at anyone who speaks to him. Believe me. I've had a number of my friends meet him down at the beach, and he growls at them. They all think he's absolutely mad, and when you put his artwork together with his behavior, you can come to no other conclusion. I hope you will listen to my advice and stop getting involved with him.
"Surely, lie cannot be of any value when it comes to your work," she concluded,
"On the contrary."
I
said. "He and his mother have been the most informative and valuable interviews I've had to date."
She practically gasped and then turned her head sharply to Asher, who smiled at me.
"I know what she's doing. Bunny. She's getting a variety of views and perspectives. It's very important to her project. I'm sure. A good interviewer has to win the trust of the person he or she is interviewing. right?"
"Exactly," I said.
That seemed to bring some relief to Bunny, who relaxed her shoulders and dropped her hand from the base of her throat.
"What about a cup of coffee or perhaps a mimosa?" Asher asked.
"Surely, the sea air has stirred your appetite a little," Bunny insisted.
"I would love a cup of coffee." I said, and sat at the table. The maid emerged from where she was standing just inside the French doors and poured me a cup.
"Everything we hoped for my party tomorrow night has come to pass." Bunny said. "I have well over a hundred confirmed guests and more calling in every hour.
I
have the orchestra I wanted, and when you see the menu, you will be as excited as I am. There are some surprises, too, some very important Palm Beach people and some singers and movie stars among the guests."
"Everyone loves a good party," Asher added. smiling.
"Don't you ever get tired of all this entertaining, attending events?" I asked.
"Why, of course not." Bunny said. "It's the season. Don't you know what that means? People from all over the world have come here to gather at these events, renew old acquaintances, share new discoveries. It's the most exciting time of the year for us. We would never think of missing anything, would we, Asher?"
"Gloria Van De Mere had herself brought in an ambulance to the fundraiser for battered women last week." he said by way of replying. "She had just come out of the hospital after a gall bladder operation. She went from the ambulance to a wheelchair to the ball, accompanied by her nurse."
"Gloria Van De Mere's father created the Chump Charlie Hot Dog chain." Bunny tacked on. "They are neck and neck with Holy Dog for the majority share of that fast food market"
'Absolutely brilliant people working for them," Asher said.
I
listened to them go on and on about their guests for the party, rattling off the names of businesses, chain stores. Clothing designers, drug company heirs. CEOs of major corporations, a veritable Who's Who of wealth and power in America.
All on our little doorstep." Bunny said proudly. "And all for you, dear." she pointed out. "Asher. Thatcher. and I will introduce you to everyone and anyone you wish to meet."
"I'm exhausted just thinking about it," I said. I was serious, but that made them laugh.
Afterward. I went to my room to change, and Thatcher called to tell me he was sorry but he would be tied up with meetings all the way through dinner. I told him
I
was fine and not to be concerned.
"What have you been doing with yourself?" he asked suspiciously.
"Enjoying the day," I said. "But organizing the information I have already gathered as well.'
"Good.
I'd
hate to be responsible for your failing your course," he quipped. However, there was some concern in his tone. I had the feeling he had already spoken with Bunny, who was giving him a minute-by-minute report on my comings and goings. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to stay here after all.
At precisely two-thirty, I made my way toward the beach house, hoping that my mother was sitting outside and having her tea again with Linden, When I turned the corner. however.
I
saw no one was there. Disappointed. I walked out toward the beach and stood looking at the ocean, wondering if I should just go knock on the door and ask to speak with her.
"Isabel Amou." I heard, and turned to see her standing behind me. She was wearing a light white shawl over her shoulders and a sleeveless white dress. She was barefoot, and her hair was down,
"Hello," I said.
She studied me a moment and then smiled softly and folded her arms under her breasts.
"Walk with me." she said, starting off to her left.
I
caught up quickly, my heart thumping so hard
I
thought
I
would fold up on the beach like some limp chiffon scarf.
"How is your father?" she asked after we had walked in silence for nearly a minute.
I stopped. She stopped and turned to me. "You know who I am?"
"Of course," she said. "First. I could see him in you the moment I set eyes on you, and second..."
"What?"
"Your name." She laughed softly. "A long time ago. I heard of a nanny named Isabella whose charge had nicknamed her Amou"
I remembered her letter to Daddy.
Subconsciously. perhaps, I had used the name hoping to give myself away.
"Yes, he told you that."
It wasn't a very subtle clue."
"Did he keep in touch with you much?"
"I have some letters," she said, smiling softly-- at the memory of each and every word on the stationery,
I
was sure. "It was more difficult for me to write to him, but I did what I could, Did he send you to me?"
Not directly, no. but I think he wanted me to meet you someday," I said.
"Wanted?"
Every muscle in her body, every tiny muscle in her face, froze in anticipation. The tears in my eyes were answer enough.
"When?" she asked, holding her breath.
"Last week," I said.
She looked out at the sea so quickly it was as if she expected something out there to confirm my words. "How?"
"An unexpected heart attack." I said, my throat closing, my words cracking.
She lowered her head, turned, and continued to walk.
I
followed alongside her. Neither of us spoke for a while.
"Once, a long time ago, we played a game of fantasy." she said. " 'One day.' he told me. 'I will no longer be able to control myself.
I
will no longer care about the consequences. and I will come to you.' I knew he was wishing more than promising. but
I
joined him.
" 'And I'll be waiting for you,' I said 'I'll never stop waiting for you. I'll expect you to come at night.'
" 'I'll come by boat. You'll see the light of it in the darkness growing brighter, larger, as I draw closer.'
" 'And I'll be on the dock, waving a lantern to guide you.' I told him.
"Silly. I suppose, especially for us, especially for people who knew how dangerous fantasy could become, but it was our little extravagance, our flirtation with the forbidden, forbidden happiness."
She paused and turned to me with a hard, serious look on her face. "You must never think badly of him for what happened between us at the clinic. For us, it was no longer a clinic. I was no longer a patient, and he was no longer a doctor."
"I know," I said. 1 read his diary."
"His diary?" She smiled. "Your father kept a diary?"
"Yes. It was almost a bigger surprise than what was in it," I said.
"Someday, maybe, you will give it to me to read."
I didn't say yes. I wasn't sure what to do. Was it something my father had wanted her to read? Did he know for certain that I would seek her out? She seemed to understand my indecisiveness and kept walking, silent, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. I looked back at the beach house.
"Did you say anything to Linden today? After we returned from the sailing?" I asked.
She shook her head, stopped, and tried to swallow down her grief. "I must tell him. I know," she said. "He will not understand. He has suffered so much because of me already. I hate to add another lump of pain to the burden he carries." She sighed deeply, so deeply I thought her heart had cracked. "But I know I must. I know." she said. Then she turned to me and smiled. "You are as beautiful as he described. He did a wonderful job with you, he and that nanny of yours. I know how unpleasant your adoptive mother was. I know that from between the lines of what he wrote.
"He didn't want me to feel any guilt, and so he made it sound much better than it was for you. I'm sure."
"She was truly more of a mother to me. my Amou"
"I'm glad of that." She paused and shook her head. It was painful for him, watching you grow up."
"Why?"
"He wrote how much you reminded him of me and how he felt he had to keep his deep love for you in control so your adoptive mother would never suspect you were really his daughter. He hated being so formal with you at times."
"And I hated it, too, but recently we grew closer to each other." "I am glad of that."
"I'd like to spend more time with you, too, get to know you and let you get to know me," I said. "the way a mother and a daughter should know each other.'
"Yes. I'd like that. You're not in college?"
"I took a leave of absence after I was given Daddy's diary and learned about you."
"What do these people, the Eatons, think? Have you told them the truth about why you are here?"
"Oh, no. never. They think I'm on some sort of study project, as you were first told. No one but me and Dr. Price knows the truth about us."
"Yes, and someone else," she said. "Nadine Gordon?"
"Yes," she said with surprise. "Who told you about her? Was she in your father's diary. too?"
"No. Dr. Price told me of her. But today Linden told me she had come to see you some time ago. Why?"
"She hoped to blackmail me. She was a despicable person, jealous, cruel to the patients, and especially to me,"
"What did you do?"
"I threw her out."
"I would have thought she would have tried to blackmail my father, not you."
"That was the irony of it all. She truly did love your father and couldn't get herself to be cruel to him. Whereas she would enjoy being cruel to me. For all I know, however, she might have extracted something from him."