Willow

  "What kind of an answer is 'I suppose,' " Thatcher said, not settling for my caution. 'Beauty without the beloved is like a sword through the heart Something Christina Rossetti wrote that I read once and never forgot."

  I turned away quickly. Of course, he was right, and of course, this was what my mother and my father must have suffered for so many years after having discovered a great love they were forced to give up. I couldn't help but mourn for them both. My heart ached.

  "I'm sorry," Thatcher said, reaching across the table to put his hand over mint. "I didn't mean to be so deep and serious, especially tonight."

  "No," I said, shaking my head, unable to stop the tears from clouding my eyes. "It's beautiful, and you're right."

  I took a breath to get myself back on track,

  "But according to your mother, you haven't been looking all that hard to find someone with whom you could share beauty and happiness."

  "There's a lot my mother doesn't know about me," Thatcher said almost angrily, bet there was a lot your mother didn't know about you."

  "Oh, yes," I said. laughing. "Oh, yes."

  "There, you see." He reached for the wine list. "Let's have something special tonight. We've got to celebrate my settling another case favorably, among other things," he said.

  "What other things?"

  "Our being honest with each other. Willow. I actually like that name a lot. It fits you far better than the pseudonym."

  He fixed that winning smile on me, holding me in the candlelike flame in his eyes until I realized it and looked quickly at the menu.

  Careful, Willow De Beers, I told myself. You're getting too far over that precipice.

  You're going to fail.

  .

  After a wonderful dinner and a walk along the beach, we returned to my hotel. The meal, the wine, the soft conversation, holding hands while we walked in bare feet, laughing and teasing each other... all of it gave me a pleasant sense of deep calm. He seemed to feel the same way. Neither of us said much during the ride. All that passed between us was an occasional glance and smile. He had kissed me twice on the beach, and the taste lingered on my lips. Caution and conscience flew off like ribbons loosened in my hair and carried into the darkness behind me.

  Even after we pulled up to the hotel and he got out and took my hand, we said little. We walked through the lobby, barely noticing anyone or anything else. In the elevator, we stared at the doors

  impatiently. When they opened. I felt my heart skip beats and then thump with greater anticipation. At my door, he slipped his hand around my waist. I opened the door and had started to flip the light switch when his other hand took mine gently and brought my arm down at my side.

  He closed the door, and in the darkness, we kissed again, a long, warm, and wet kiss that made my spine electric, my breasts tingle.

  "Willow, Willow," he whispered.

  He lifted me into his arms and carried me to the bed. I looked up at him and watched him start to undress. All the while. I didn't move. It seemed almost like watching a scene in a movie, like watching something that was happening to someone else.

  Shirtless, he knelt to kiss me and gently lift me so he could unzip my dress. He moved it over my shoulders and down my arms. There was just enough light coming through the windows to electrify his eyes.

  "You're so beautiful," he said.

  He cupped and kissed each of my breasts. I moaned and let my head go back onto the pillow as his lips traveled down over my stomach. In minutes, he had my dress completely off. and moments later, we were both naked.

  I heard him unwrap a contraceptive. "We're safe." he whispered.

  I knew it was important, but it sounded like a commercial. He sensed it could break our mood and was over me with his lips, his hands, as quickly as he could be. How wonderful he smelled. I loved running my hands through his hair and then feeling his firm shoulders and wrapping myself around him.

  Our lovemaking began slowly, building and building, lifting me out of my body until I felt my passion crash again and again against him like the waves outside crashing against the shoreline. My cries rose and fell with each undulating rush of pleasure. I wasn't an experienced lover. In fact. Allan was the only other man with whom I had been this intimate, but it seemed to me that Thatcher was unselfish in his loving. He was concerned and determined that I would be as pleased as he was, whereas Allan always made me feel I was there to serve his needs, and if I was lucky enough to enjoy it. all well and good.

  Thatcher and I didn't just come to an abrupt end, either, which was something that usually happened between Allan and me. Thatcher's retreat was very slow, loving, full of caresses and kisses, holding onto me as if he didn't want ever to leave me. It was like being placed softly back into yourself rather than experiencing a brusque uncoupling where I was left to break my own fall.

  We lay beside each other, catching our breath, not talking, but still holding hands.

  Finally, he spoke. "There's definitely something to be said about two people being drawn to each other magically,'' he said. My silence seemed to frighten him. "Right?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  I believed it. but I was full of mixed emotions about it, feeling both afraid and guilty.

  I could hear Daddy's questions. Do you like him, Willow?

  Yes, Daddy.

  Is it more than just a passing fancy?

  I think so, Daddy.

  Do you feel special with him?

  Oh, yes, Daddy.

  Does it seem like he .feels that way about you? Yes, yes, it does.

  We've got to take risks with people sometimes, Willow. Don't you agree?

  I do, Daddy.

  Then leave that feeling of guilt outside your door. It has no place here, it seems, right?

  Yes, right; Daddy. Yes.

  "What?" Thatcher asked. Had I spoken aloud?

  "Nothing," I told him.

  He propped himself on his elbow and leaned over me, running his forefinger down my nose to my lips and then between my breasts.

  It sounded like you said yes. I hope it was a critique of our lovemaking," he kidded.

  "More than that. It was a critique of the whole night," I said.

  He laughed. "So, did I succeed?"

  "With what?"

  "Getting you to reconsider whether you would leave or not?" he asked.

  "Maybe that was why I said yes." I told him, and he smiled and kissed me again.

  He didn't leave for another hour. I assured him that as soon as I was up, packed, and checked out. I would drive to Joya del Mar. He had a full day in court, but he promised he would be home in time for dinner.

  "Knowing my mother." he said. "I'm sure she'll do something extra special. I'll call her as soon as I can, let her know you are coming first thing in the morning, and ask her to go easy and give you a chance to settle in."

  "Okay," I said. Despite the opportunity and my desire to be near him. I was still very nervous. This could lead to even bigger and bigger mistakes. I thought. I promised myself that the moment I saw that happening or the moment I felt uncomfortable. I would leave.

  Maybe I would just go home and write a long letter to my mother and leave it at that. Maybe that made a lot more sense, or maybe it was too late to do anything like that. It wouldn't be much longer before I would know.

  My intention to sleep late, have breakfast in my room, and then dress and leave calmly was shattered by the ringing of my phone at seven-thirty. It was Aunt Agnes. Hearing her voice was almost more of a shock than the phone ringing- itself. It was as if she had somehow broken through my wall, a wall built to keep out reality and responsibility.

  "What are you doing there?" she screamed.

  It took me a moment to clear my head. I had been in such a comfortable sleep, gliding on a cloud, feeling warm and snug and safe.

  "Aunt Agnes?"

  "Yes, yes. Whom did you expect? I tried to reach you at your college residence, and then I called the dean's office, and
they told me you had taken a leave of absence. It sounds more like a leave of your senses."

  "How did you find me?" I asked. annoyed.

  "I forced that man at your house to tell me. I practically had to threaten him with police action."

  "You had no right to do that. Aunt Agnes."

  "I have no right? I have a responsibility to my poor dead brother's memory to look after you. Willow."

  Her concern for me was quite out of character. What did she really want?

  "What is it? Why are you calling me?"

  "The condition of the house, for one." "What condition?"

  "I had people go there to pick up my things, and the report I received was absolutely horrible. Your socalled caretaker is back to his drinking."

  "No, he can't be," I said.

  "Well, he is. What are you doing down there? And at The Breakers! What is this? Why did you leave college? Why didn't you tell me first, ask my opinion? Well?"

  "I have some personal things to sort out. Aunt Agnes. I need to be alone."

  "In Palm Beach! And at The Breakers! What sort of alone is that? Are you with someone? Well?"

  "I don't want to discuss it over the phone. Aunt Agnes. It's really not any of your business. Thank you for your concern."

  "What? What about the house? He's liable to set it on fire."

  "I'll call him. I'm sure whoever told you those things exaggerated. He's probably feeling low about Daddy's death and just needed to be comforted."

  "With alcohol? What sort of comfort does that bring?"

  "Please, Aunt Agnes, It's very early."

  "Early? It's nearly eight. What sort of things are you sorting out doing there. Willow? You know, a young woman with your inheritance becomes a target for unscrupulous gigolos, especially in Palm Beach. You're not experienced enough or old enough to handle yourself in those circumstances. Don't you sign any papers, and don't you marry anyone. I should come right down there," she threatened.

  So that was it. I thought. She was worried I would give away the family jewels.

  "No one is taking advantage of me, Aunt Agnes. That's not why I'm here."

  "Well, why are you there? Why can't you tell your mint?"

  "I'm not ready to tell anyone anything. You'll just have to trust me," I said.

  "Your father would be very upset with you, Willow."

  Was she right? Would Daddy have disapproved of all of this, especially confronting my mother now?

  "You had better come to me."

  "No, Aunt Agnes. Thank you. Thanks for calling."

  I hung up, and then I took the receiver off the hook.

  I'll be gone today, and she won't be able to find me, I thought. No one will be able to find tree until I find myself.

  10

  Love or Madness?

  .

  Now that Aunt Agnes had stirred the cauldron of turmoil inside me like some witch who worked her curses over the telephone. I couldn't remain in bed. I ordered in my breakfast and packed my things. Fuming over her phone call. I decided to call Miles to see how much of what she was saying was purely exaggeration. It rang so long I thought he wasn't going to answer at all or that he might have already been driven out by Aunt Agnes. Finally, he picked up.

  "De Beers residence," he said, and cleared his throat. He sounded as if he might have been crying.

  "Miles, are you all right?" I asked immediately.

  "Willow? Is that you?"

  "Yes, Miles."

  "Listen to me." he said in a throaty whisper before I could ask him anything. "I have strange and wondrous news to tell you."

  "What?"

  'The last few nights. I heard sounds coming from your father's office. At first. I thought it might just be field mice. so I laid some traps. I caught nothing. This morning, I rose before dawn and walked as quietly as I could to the office. You'll never imagine what I found."

  "What?" I said, holding my breath. Had someone burglarized my father's office? Had Aunt Agnes, wondering why I had spent so much time there, gone back there to search it?

  "Your father's computer was on It was on and running. There were words on the screen."

  "I don't understand. Miles. What are you saying? Someone was searching my father's computer files?"

  "No, no, no No one has come into the house uninvited."

  "Then... what do you mean?"

  'Don't you see, Willow? Your father is completing his unfinished work. All you will have to do when it's completed is print it off and send it to his publisher. He can't rest in peace until that happens. I'm sure of it.'

  For a long moment. I couldn't speak. I had never heard Miles talk like this.

  "Miles, are you positive the computer was on?'

  "Oh, yes, yes. I saw the glow coming from the desk and looked very closely."

  "Did you shut off the computer. Miles?"

  "No. no. I didn't touch a thing. I haven't touched a thing in the office since... since your father's passing. When I went back and looked again, there were additional lines on the screen."

  "Miles, be honest with me now Are you drinking? Aunt Agnes thinks you are."

  "Oh, no, no," he said. "I'm fine. All is fine."

  "Okay," I said "I'll call you in a day or so and let you know where you can reach me."

  "Wondrous," he said. "Wondrous."

  "Miles, someone will be coming to the house from Bell's real estate agency early next week. Let them look around, and they will set up a schedule with you to show interested buyers the property," I told him, remembering arrangements I had begun right before I left for Palm Beach.

  "They have already called. Willow. They will be here on Monday. Maybe that's why your father is working so hard and fast," he said, the excitement in his voice rising. "Of course. Now it makes sense. He wants to be sure his work is completed before the estate is sold out from under him."

  I didn't know what to say to him over the phone.

  "I'll call you" was all I could manage, and then I hung up. Regardless of my feelings toward Aunt Agnes. I couldn't deny having the same sort of anxieties about Miles now, I would have to get back there soon, I thought, His story about my father's computer actually put a chill in me. It was madness with meaning, for I knew my father had left a book unfinished, and I knew how he must have hated that and perhaps even had it as his last thought.

  In the meantime. I decided it would be prudent for me to phone Mr. Bassinger, Luckily. he was in his office. I asked him if he could manage to stop by and check things out. I explained my concern without accusing Miles of drinking, but I did tell him what Miles had said about the computer.

  "I understand." Mr. Bassinger said, reading between the lines. "I'll see to it."

  "Thank you. When you want to reach me. I'll be at this number." I said. and read the number off Bunny's card.

  "I'll call you as soon as I can," he promised.

  As soon as I had my breakfast and dressed. I went down and checked out of the hotel. My luggage was loaded into my car. and I was off to Java del Mar. The shaky timbre of Miles's voice and his story lingered like the insistent aftermath of a particularly vivid nightmare. I couldn't help but imagine the ghost of my father seated in front of his computer. The image remained on the screen of my imagination all the way to my mother's family estate.

  Jennings answered the call box in his dry, impatient tone of voice again, shutting me off abruptly and starting the gates the instant he heard my name.

  However, he was there waiting for me when I drove up. "I'll take your bags to your room, miss." he told me. "Oh. thank you. Where is Mrs, Eaton?"

  "She has not yet risen. but Mr. Eaton left me word concerning your arrangements." he said. "Would you like a cold drink on the rear loggia after you are settled in? Iced tea. perhaps?" he asked.

  Even if he wasn't the most pleasant person I had met. he was at least efficient and professional. I thought.

  "Yes. that would be nice."

  "Very good, miss." he said. and I entered the
house and went up to what would be my room. I walked out onto the balcony and looked at the ocean. It was a truly magnificent day, the clouds pasted like puffs of smoke against the vibrantly blue sky. I could see a luxury cruise ship gliding along as if the ocean had turned to aqua ice. There were dozens of sailboats and yachts, turning it all into a zrand playground for the rich and fortunate.

  What was exciting about having the ocean in your backyard was that the scene changed so often. There was always something new to look at, and nature itself was never uninteresting or monotonous. Someday, I thought. I would like to live near the sea.

  Jennings put my luggage on luggage stands and then asked me if I would like him to unpack them.

  "No, that's fine. I'll do it all later." I said.

  "Very good. Your iced tea will be ready in a few minutes," he said, and left.

  Now that I was alone in the room that had supposedly been my mother's, the room in which all the terrible things had happened to her. I felt a strange foreboding, as if I were truly trespassing on the forbidden past. Perhaps Daddy in his wisdom had good reason to keep all this from me. Perhaps I was defying fate or challenging it by coming here and trying to unravel the twisted and painful past that had bound my parents and left them locked up in a room filled with ill-fated love and unfulfilled promises. Every kiss, every touch was definitely a promise of sorts. Love, especially a great and all-consuming one, so enriched their lives that they were surely surprised by reality themselves. Even someone as intelligent and perceiving as my father had fallen victim to the longings of his own heart. Otherwise, he would never have begun this journey that led to nowhere except disappointment, defeat, and pain, not only for himself but for my mother, whom I am sure he never meant to harm.