Twisted Roots

  As in all of his recent pictures, the background was somewhat abstract, but the colors were vibrant and true, I thought.

  "It's a wonderful picture. Linden." Mommy told him. "I want you to help me get it to her," he said.

  "We can do that right away. I'll have it packaged properly and sent express delivery," she promised.

  "Good." He stepped back to admire his own work,

  "And you did the little girl from a photograph?" Mommy asked, showing her admiration.

  He turned and looked at her, shaking his head. "Oh. no. Willow," he said. "She was there. I saw her. Wasn't she, Hannah?"

  I smiled. "Yes. Uncle Linden. She was there."

  Afterward, we had some iced tea on the porch. Uncle Linden had gotten Mrs. Robinson to buy some mint tea. He made a point of telling us, however, that somehow, it didn't taste as good as Mrs. Stanton's.

  "She has secret ingredients for everything. I bet. Next time I see her. I'll coax her into telling me." he said.

  I thought it was nice that he expected there would be a next time. Mommy thought it was healthy for him to have a goal like that, to want to return to see someone else. He then revealed that he was writing letters. too.

  "Well, when you're ready, then, Linden, you should take a trip like that." Mommy said.

  "Yes. I should. When I'm ready," he agreed.

  We took the picture with us when we left. and Mommy went directly to the packaging store to have it prepared and delivered. Afterward, we both agreed it was one of the nicest visits we had ever had with Uncle Linden.

  "I am still amazed at how he did this picture. Mommy. What were all those lines and that mess I saw?"

  "Maybe what you suspected: an artist's notes. Linden always had a visual mind, a real

  photographer's memory. He took his snapshots and kept them in his head along with the colors he saw and put down on that canvas. It is something amazing," she agreed. "Maybe he will came out of there one day," she concluded and then looked at me and smiled. "but not to go off in a broken-down motor home."

  I laughed with her. Time can make mistakes and trouble seem funny in retrospect. I thought, although I couldn't find it in myself to laugh or think lightly of what Heyden had done.

  One afternoon the following week. I called his house just to see if there was any possibility he was home, He hadn't returned to school and his absence was the hottest topic of the week. Gradually it ended, and it was almost as if he had never attended. My friends stopped asking me about him, especially when they saw they couldn't get any satisfactory responses. I really had nothing to tell.

  No one answered his telephone, so I tried it one night and did get his mother. I asked for him and she said she didn't know his whereabouts. She

  remembered me, of course. I hesitated, but then I asked her about Elisha.

  "She's in one of those places for juvenile offenders," she said. I heard her start to sob and then stop and say, "which is best for her."

  I wished her goad luck and hung up.

  Occasionally, over the next week, I glanced at one or another of the songs Heyden had written. I had my copies. I even sang them, but after a while I put them away. I wished I could put away the painful memories as easily, but nothing lingered as vividly in my mind as the vision of Heyden's angry face when he accused me of betraying him.

  Had I betrayed him?

  Had I betrayed myself as well?

  Forgiveness, Mommy had said. It all begins with that.

  Throughout this time I worked harder at my school assignments. I went sailing with Mommy and Miguel, and we went to his family restaurant more often. I met some new relatives on his side, and we had some wonderful family gatherings, one during which I was asked to sing a Cuban song I had learned at school, a song I knew was one of Miguel's favorites.

  What I didn't know was they were planning a big party for my seventeenth birthday. It fell on the upcoming weekend, and what they had decided to do was close the restaurant and dedicate the night to me. Somehow, those friends of mine they had invited at school had managed to keep the secret. Mommy and Miguel had me believe we were just going out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, only when we arrived at the restaurant and entered, the party crowd of Miguel's family, my friends, all burst out with a "Surprise! Happy birthday!"

  I was overwhelmed, but I did look for Daddy, Danielle, and the twins.

  "I invited them," Mommy said when I asked her about them. "I made sure Mrs. Gouter knew to put it on your father's calendar, and as far as I knew, they were coming. Maybe, they'll still be coming,' she said. "It's like your father to be late anyway. But let's not worry about it. Let's have a good time."

  We did. There was music and wonderful food and a pile of presents that rivaled the one I saw my half brothers go through on their birthdays, except the gifts weren't as expensive, of course. I got up and sang with Miguel's cousins. My friends at school who at first looked reluctant at being there and remained somewhat clannish during the early part of the celebration gradually warmed to the food and music. Before the night ended, they came to tell me how much they had enjoyed themselves, and I even could see some envy. Ironically, I. the daughter of a broken marriage, tossed about in a sea of adult turmoil, was suddenly the one with family, with people who loved and cared about me.

  I remembered a line in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: The eye sees itself but by reflection.

  How true it was. We never see ourselves truly and what we have unless and until we look into the faces of others and see ourselves reflected.

  How full my heart was, how much I loved Mommy and Miguel. There was so much going on, I had actually forgotten Daddy and his family had not attended, but the reason for that came at the end of the evening to one of Mommy's friends, Morgan Williams, who had been carrying her cellular.

  I think it is true that you can feel and sense significant events, especially when they involve people close to you. I heard Mrs. Williams call to Mommy as we were saving good night to some of Miguel's relatives, There was a drastic note in Mrs. Williams's voice, Mommy's name came out like a cry for help. It was enough to turn her with concern, her happy smile holding barely in a trembling of lips.

  "Morgan?"

  "Oh, my God. Willow," she said, walking toward us. Miguel turned, too, and the three of us stood side by side.

  "Courtney Lucas just called me. There was a terrible boating accident early this evening involving Thatcher's boys, Their speedboat hit another."

  "And?" Mommy asked, her question hanging in the air. Instinctively she had reached out for Miguel's hand, and I had moved closer to her.

  "One of the twins was killed." she said. "Cade.'

  Epilogue

  Forgiveness

  .

  I suppose that there was same cruel and impish

  creature of Fate who had decided Cade would be killed on my birthday. The irony of that struck Mommy, too, but we didn't dwell on it, and she was quick to emphasize that I should in no way ever feel responsible.

  "Too often." she said. "guilt is like some random infection people catch. There's no reason for it, but they suffer it until and unless we can help them see it doesn't belong with them."

  I think I began by feeling the sorriest for Danielle, of course, but at the funeral and afterward, despite how he had treated me all my life. I ached for Adrian. He looked amputated, half of him gone. He did everything with an air of tentativeness and uncertainty, whether it be speaking or merely standing. I could see him checking for his brother at his side and saw how he realized he was gone, forever and ever. It would be as if his sentences were only half completed, his laughter unfinished. Words spoken to a trusted second half would fall back into thoughts. Everywhere he went and every place he stood would seem deeper, wider. longer. Every sound he made would echo.

  At the cemetery he looked years younger, a little boy clinging to Danielle, who was overcome with grief. It wasn't until then that Daddy appeared dazed. He was so calm and collected at church and af
terward, greeting people with his professional, distinguished manner. Only when he looked at Mommy did I see his lips quiver. He and Mommy embraced far the longest time I had ever seen them hold each other, and I thought, how odd that is to see your mother and your father hold each other and think of it as remarkable. He smiled when I kissed him and then patted my hand as if I was the one who had experienced the deepest loss and not him or Danielle.

  My nonfamily seemed impatient at church. I saw my younger cousins squirming uncomfortably, Asher Eaton, still a very distinguished-looking man, had the most sensitive and deeply saddened look of all on his face. Occasionally I caught him looking my way. and I thought he was even smiling at me. Bunny Eaton had her eyes closed as if she were sitting in a dentist's chair and waiting for it all to end. She did not come to the cemetery. I overheard someone in my nonfamily say she had never been in a cemetery, and when she is driving somewhere and a cemetery appears, she turns away quickly or closes her eyes.

  Later we learned that their solution to all this grief was to jet off to Paris for a shopping spree. Not once did I hear anyone voice what was on most everyone's mind: The accident was the result of Daddy's spoiling those boys. They weren't mature enough to own and operate such a powerful boat. They didn't have the self-discipline.

  And then, as if impish Fate were sprinkling salt on wounds, the sordid story of Daddy's current infidelity snaked its way into our home over the rumor highway.

  "Your father's marriage is coming apart. Hannah," Mommy warned me soon afterward. "It wasn't strong enough in the beginning and hardly strong enough to weather such a tragedy and all these new complications."'

  In the end Adrian went off with Danielle to live in France with her family. I never had a chance to say goodbye to him. Just like all the news I learned about that family, I heard about it from friends who were mare tuned into the Palm Beach social scene than I was, I was sorry I had never had a chance to say goodbye to Danielle. I liked her. Perhaps I would see her again and even see Adrian someplace. sometime. An unpredictable future carried hope with it That was its best asset after all.

  Despite my interest in a musical career or maybe because of it, I followed Mommy's advice and decided to pursue a liberal arts education first. I was starting my senior year. and Mommy and I began to think about colleges for me to consider. My life began to take some shape. and I could feel myself moving forward like a rocket that had dropped away its initial lift and was now sailing with a definite sense of purpose.

  Of course. I continued to visit Uncle Linden as often and for as long a visit as I could manage, and Mommy and Miguel had him visiting us at Joya del Mar more frequently. Mrs. Stanton had written to him to tell him how much Bess appreciated his picture. I called her and she told me Bess was doing better, and, because of our visit, she had gone ahead and made arrangements for Bess to get professional help. It was working. Bess had even gone to the cemetery.

  In the fall Mommy made arrangements for Uncle Linden to visit the Stantons. It was her birthday present to him. She took care of all the transportation. He called a day after he had arrived there, especially to tell me that he had taken Bess on that walk and that he was inspired to do a picture of the lake despite the fence. which Chubs might soon take down anyway.

  "I'm like Bess." Uncle Linden said. "I don't see the fence. I see the water and the ducks and the reflection of the foliage on the silvery surface."

  "I can't wait to see your picture, Uncle Linden," I told him. He promised that I would be the first, after Bess, of course.

  One afternoon in October I returned from school and found a letter waiting for me on the entryway table. There was simply an HR and a New Orleans address on it. My heart immediately began to pound like a Caribbean steel drum. I didn't open it until I was out by the beach. There. I plopped myself down in the sand and with trembling fingers tore open the envelope. A clipping fell out first. It was from a music handout in New Orleans, and it featured Heyden with his guitar under the headline Something Original in N'orleans. It talked about his songs being featured at a nightclub and how he was part of his father's act now, handling the intermissions and building his own reputation.

  There was a letter included.

  Dear Hannah, It has taken me this long to write to you because I have not had the nerve to expect you would bother opening an envelope that I would send to you. I debated leaving my name and address of but then I thought I would never know if had received it, and besides, it was cowardly.

  What I did to you in South Carolina was the most cowardly and selfish thing I have ever done, and I hope you believe me when I tell you not a day has gone by since when I don't stop and suffer regret about it.

  I can't offer a decent defense of myself except to repeatwhat I had said that day. I had nothing to return to compared to you I have another confession to make to that regard.

  When you first came to me with your troubles, I knew in my heart that you were better off staying where you were and working them out because I knew in my heart that you had a loving mother and from

  what I saw of your stepfather, a very dedicated and loving man at home as well. I didn't discourage you when it came to running, away because I wanted a means to run away myself

  However, believe me when I tell you I truly felt and still feel that we would have made a wonderful and successful act. I was just selfish of me to put that ahead of your own happiness.

  As you can see, I'm beginning to get somewhere in this music business. It's not a great deal, but it's a start and I have grown closer to my father. We both feel bad about Elisha, and it our hope that someday she can come to New Orleans. My mother seems content without all the problems. Perhaps she -was just not meant to be a mother. I don't love her any less for it, but I don't think there is anything I can do, and I know she wouldn't want me to waste my life trying.

  I've written a song about you. I'm refining; it, but I expect to be singing it soon. Maybe someday someone will record it and you will hear it and you will think of me and the good times we had together and nor the bad times. That's all I can expect and all I can ask.

  As you know, your name means grace," so I call the song"With the Grace of Her Smile.-

  With the grace of her smile she lights up my day,

  With the grace of her smile she drives the dark away,

  With the grace of her smile she opens my heart

  And with the glow of that smile, I can feel my life start.-That's how it begins. I won't put it all here, I want you to hear it. The music is so important to it, and I'd like you have some surprises. Good surprises from me for a change.

  I -wonder if you're smiling or if you're crumpling this up and tossing it the the garbage. I can't blame you if you do. I can only hope you don't, but not so long ago, although it seems so, you taught me how to hope.

  Heyden

  I didn't crumple it up and throw it away. I folded it and put it back into the envelope, and then I put the envelope in my dresser drawer and I didn't look at it again for some time. And then one day I went out to the dock and stood where Mommy had told me my grandmother had stood staring out at the sea at night, looking for the light of the boat that was to bring my grandfather back to her. I stood there with the wind snapping around me. and I watched the breakers and saw the clouds rushing across the blue sky, and I thought Mommy was right.

  Forgiveness.

  That's where it begins.

  And I went upstairs and wrote a letter. Dear Hannah,

  When I read how you and your boyfriend. Heyden, had run away together. I couldn't help but think haw I felt the day Harley and I left home. He was searching for the father he had never known. and I loved him so much I wanted to be with him during his most troubled and frightening time. Our story is in the book The Enid of the .Rainbow.

  So many of us leave home to find home, only to discover that what we left behind was what we wanted and needed. I fully understood why you felt lost and alone back home, and of course, your baby brother's death w
as a major traumatic event for you.

  My mother. Rain, had a very hard early life. She was brought up in an area in Washington. D.C., where just going to school every day was a dangerous mission. There were gangs and a great deal of violence. She didn't know until she was in her senior year of high school that the family she was living with was not her real family. Can you imagine the emotional crisis she endured when she learned this and then. when she was returned to her real family?

  Her mother didn't want her returned to her. Rain was born as a result of her mother's affair at college with an African-American man who later became a college professor in England. How my mother met him is told in Lightning, Strikes, As it turned out. because she did reconnect. I have had a wonderful relationship with my grandfather, but that didn't come so easy. Nothing did, just like nothing came easy for you.

  After my mother had a tragic accident and was paralyzed and in a wheelchair, she fell in love with my father, who was her therapist. and as a result. I was born. This is all told in Eye Of The Storm. I can't say anyone had more loving parents than I did. Hannah. but living on our property was my mother's stepbrother and his wife and his stepson. Harley. We grew up together. but Harley was always in trouble and resented his stepfather, who was very strict and who he believed never loved him or wanted him.

  I suppose we were always in lave. but we were brought up so close. it was like falling in love with a relative. Everyone just assumed I would go my way and Harley would go his, but in time we supported each other emotionally, and when his appall-unit; to confront his real father arose, I couldn't let him go alone. The result, as you will see when you read my story. The End of the Rainbow, was quite unexpected and almost tragic for both Harley and me. In the end it was his stepfather who became his hero as well as mine.