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."
"I don't know," I said, shaking my head.
"It doesn't matter very much now," she said. She looked at the sea again. "None of it matters, except how it affects Linden and you."
"I'd like to be his friend, his sister. if I can, if he'll let me," I said.
She looked at me intently for a few moments and then glanced back at the beach house.
"I should have told him long ago. It would have been so much easier for all of us. Secrets have a way of gowing into little cancers, eating your heart and your soul."
I nodded, biting down on my lower lip, trying to squeeze back the tears that were burning beneath my lids. Surely. Daddy had suffered secrets like this as well, and for so long and so privately.
She smiled at me and stroked my hair, 'Just looking at you brings back so many wonderful memories of your father. Willow. What a wonderful name to have given you No one knew how special it was but your father and me. It made him so happy. I see his smile in your smile, the same light in your eyes. I am truly glad you have come back to me." she said. "Even after all this time.-
"But I've brought you bad news. I was afraid I would bring you pain, and I have."
"Yes, but it's over. The bad news is over," she said. It sounded so much like a prayer.
I smiled back at her.
Behind us, a tern cried mournfully as if it had overheard her words and knew that fate hadn't quite satisfied its hunger for tears. Not yet.
15
The Waters Rise
.
My mother repeated her promise to tell Linden everything that evening. If it went well, she would bring us together tomorrow, she told me. I warned her about the Eatons' big affair. She had already gotten word of it through some of the servants, who sympathized more with her and cared more for her than they did for Bunny and Asher.
I would have thought the Eatons would stay home and rest for their big extravaganza, but Bunny had Jennings inform me that they were going to another dinner party and would not be available to have dinner with me. I was to request anything I desired, however,
"Anything you want." he said. "The chef is standing by."
Jennings stood there, waiting as if I were on death row, ordering my last meal before my execution.
"I'm not terribly hungry, Jennings. Just some cheese, crackers, and fresh fruit with some coffee will be fine. I'll take it in my room." I told him.
"Very good, miss," he said with a small bow. He retreated. and I sat on my balcony and gazed down at the beach house, wandering what was happening, where and when my mother was beginning her disclosures to Linden, and how he was reacting. It kept me on pins and needles, and when the phone rang. I practically leaped out of my clothes,
It was Thatcher again. "Just checking on you to see what you're doing. Are you going into town, meeting anyone?"
"No. I'm just having something light here in my room, on the balcony. actually."
"I'll stop by to see you as soon as I get home," he promised. That's fine." I said. "Don't worry about me. "
"My parents wanted to take you along with them to their dinner party, but I wouldn't let them." he revealed, "I don't want to share you. You're liable to meet some prince of industry and drop me like yesterday's news."
"You're prince of industry enough for any girl,'" I replied, and he laughed.
"I've got to get back to the table. We're fighting over a mere five million dollars."
"Chump change," I quipped.
Now you sound like a Palm Beach girl," he teased. "See you soon. I really don't think it will be all that much longer, and I'm only a few driving minutes away now."
"If you hurry and settle, you can share my cheese and crackers."
"Um. That's the best reason to settle that I've heard all day." We both laughed before we said goodbye.
Fooling around with him over the phone buoyed my spirits some and put my nerves in the closet for a while. Then Jennings brought my light dinner. and I sat on the balcony nibbling on crackers and cheese and pieces of fruit, Funny. I thought, but I'd either been too busy or too preoccupied to think about my college friends. It also surprised me how quickly I had relegated Allan to a back shelf in my emotional memory. Maybe that was because whenever I did think about him and recalled the way he had reacted to my troubles and problems, I grew angry and disappointed.
When I was little. Daddy used to say you have to toss your bad memories and dreams into a dark hole and bury them. First, visualize the hole, and then enjoy dropping them in, one by one. Sometimes, that really did work.
I wanted it to work tonight. It was a good night to try. The darkness seemed to creep up on the world this evening, coming in from the sea and the distant horizon like some blanket being unfur
led until it reached our shore and rose up and over the house. A heavily cloudy sky made the stars play peekaboo, twinkling between the shoulders of the billowing marshmallow whiteness and then disappearing in a wall of bluish gray that ominously waved the finger of some coastal storm. I saw the breakers were higher, whiter. If the ocean could growl, it would right now, I thought.
However, it didn't rain. It turned out to be an idle threat, the clouds finally coming apart, shredding into long slivers of paper-thin fog being chased back toward the horizon by winds from the west. The sky cleared considerably. The victorious constellations brightened with pride and turned the heavens into a dazzling display of jewelry once again. I felt mesmerized by the majesty and had almost fallen asleep staring up at the sky when suddenly the loud clap of a door being slammed below jerked me back to a fully awake state of mind.
I leaned over the balcony and looked down at the beach house. Moments later. Linden appeared, walking quickly toward the beach, his arms flailing about as if he were having a vehement argument with himself. Even from this distance. I could see his hair was wild. Under the glow of the stars, his head looked on fire, in fact. He paused, gazed up at the house and at me. I thought, and then charged forward, disappearing around the bend.
What had happened? How did she tell him? What had she said about me?
I looked back at the beach house, but my mother wasn't coming out after him. Concerned now. I hurried out and down the stairs to the rear loggia. I looked for signs of Linden and saw none. I was worried for him. I remembered how shocked and disturbed I was reading my father's story, but for Linden to hear it from his mother now, so many years later, must have been twice as traumatic. He had to understand that he wasn't alone, that I shared his astonishment. I thought, and started after him.
I trudged along the beach until I was well beyond the property, but I didn't see him. I called out for him and listened, but he didn't respond. On my way back to the house. I paused where he and I had first begun the painting and saw something piled on the sand. Approaching, I discovered it was his clothing. I spun about and searched the sea. Finally, I spotted his head just above the water, bobbing with the waves. I ran down to the shoreline and called out to him. Either he couldn't hear me, or he wouldn't.
I saw his head disappear, and my heart just about dropped into my stomach.
"Linden!"
I turned toward the house. There was no one else outside. I spun around like a madwoman, screaming for someone. anyone. In the inky darkness, there were only the shadowy shapes of some bushes and trees. What was the point of my shouting? Looking out again. I saw his head emerge and then go under once more. Now in a true panic. I stripped off my clothing as quickly as I could and waded into the sea.
We had a pool at home. and I was a fairly good swimmer, but it was one thing to swim in a pool of calm water and another to swim against the powerful ocean, especially the way it was tonight. It wasn't long before I was breathing hard, from both the effort and my fear. I swallowed water, spit and choked and fought to keep myself moving toward him, or at least where I had last seen his head. For a few moments, I could not see him at all, and when I turned about in the water. I realized I had swum out quite far.
I shouted and shouted for him. The sea made me bob and struggle, but I kept it up as long as I could until I actually felt the cold pang of fear travel up my spine along with my desperate attempts to catch my breath. In a purely defensive mode now. I started back toward the shore. A wave lifted me and brought me down so hard I thought I had all the breath knocked out of me. It was as if a strong hand were holding me under. too.
I cried out in desperation and started to panic, flailing about wildly to keep myself afloat. Suddenly. I felt something wrap itself around my waist and pull me forward. Shocked and terrified. I started to battle against it, only to realize it was Linden, holding me up.
"What are you doing?" he screamed. "Stop it! Swim slowly, calm down."
He kept his arm around me until I started my stroke again, and together we drew closer to the beach until. finally, I could stand. I coughed and spit out the saltwater and then, finally, catching my breath, turned to him. In the starlight, we were both naked. glimmering.
"What were you doing?" he asked me. "I thought you... were drowning," I said.
"That's right. I was drowning," he replied, "but the ocean refused to accept it."
He trudged back to the shore and fell onto the sand. I walked out as quickly as I could and started for my clothing.
"You were going to save me?" he asked, the laugh in his voice. "You, by yourself?"
"Yes," I said. "I was."
"Another one who hopes to save the world?" he asked with cynicism dripping from his lips. "You see how hard it was for you to fight against the waves out there," he said. "Get used to it. Willow. I know now that's your real name. Willow, Well. Willow, there's a tide of fate sweeping over both of us. You have as much chance of stopping it as you do turning that sea around."
"I don't believe that," I said.
"Yeah, well, from what I hear from my mother... our mother, I should say, you haven't been aware of it very long. You haven't lived under the curse long enough to know it's there along with fate itself, playing with us, amusing itself, tinkering with our hearts and minds, fooling with our emotions, sometimes even permitting us to taste a little happiness so that when it pulls it away from us, we can fully understand just how much we have lost and how terrible is our particular destiny.
"Welcome to the family," he said, then spun around and walked toward his clothes.
"I don't believe any of that, Linden," I called to him across our patch of darkness, "And I know you don't. either."
He laughed, madly.
"Together," I continued as I struggled to get on my clothes, "we can make sense out of this. We can restore understanding and love and hope to our mother and to ourselves."
"Please," he said. "You don't know what you're talking about. Don't make me feel any sicker than I do, if that's possible. If there is one thing that can do it, though," he said, approaching me. "it's false hopes and stupid cotton-candy dreams. Just listen to the ocean," he said. "Come out here at night and listen to it whenever you get so you believe you can change anything, and you'll hear the same song men and women have heard since time began, the same roar of laughter. That's the voice of fate. Shouting back at it is like shouting directly into a wall."
"No," I said.
He seized my shoulders and spun me around to face him. I pressed the blouse I was holding against my naked breasts. He stared at me a moment and then turned me again so I would face in the direction of the house. I could see the lights in the upstairs hallway,
"A long time ago, our mother was raped in that very house: not seduced, raped. And I was born of that. I'm tainted with it, spoiled, understand? I have his blood in me. Years later, our mother, as you know, was raped again, when she was just as vulnerable, and you were born of that."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not true. That's not how it was."
"And you were born," he repeated. "So you see, we're really very much alike, aren't we? Maybe we should forget we're half-brother and half-sister. huh? Maybe we should give into the stream of lust that has produced us."
"No," I said as he pulled my arms apart so that my blouse came away from my naked bosom. He stared down at me.
"Maybe we should confirm it all right on this beach." he spat.
My heart was pounding so hard that I didn't have the strength to pull my arms from his hands. But suddenly, he released me. and I hurried to put on my blouse,
"What difference would it make?" he muttered. "What difference does any of it make. anyway?"
He started off. I slipped on my sandals and hurried after him.
"Linden, wait. That's not what happened at my father's clinic. That's not the truth."
He walked faster, practically running from me. As he charged down the beach. I slowed up. He went back toward the beach h
ouse. and I emerged from the shadows into the lights of the estate. My clothes were wet from my soaked body, my blouse clinging around my breasts like tissue paper and just as translucent. I looked after him a moment and then turned toward the house-- and stopped sharply.
Standing there, his eyes wide with shock. was Thatcher.
.
"What did you both do, fall out of a boat?" he asked facetiously.
"No."
"I didn't think so. I hope you had a good time, at least," he said, and turned away to start back to the house.
"Thatcher, wait!" I cried.
He stopped and spun around. "Funny." he said. "I thought you would be the one in for a surprise or two here, and what do you know, I'm the one who gets all the surprises. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it?"
"You don't understand." I said. "I didn't come here for the reasons I gave you. I'm not doing any study of the Palm Beach society."
He shook his head. smiling, "I really didn't think you were, Willow. Is that your real name, or is that another surprise?" He looked toward the beach house. "What, do you know something I don't know about Linden Montgomery's net worth? Or do you just favor the sad, wacky type? Is the sex better with someone like that? A bit kinky? What?" he practically screamed, his eves wide, his lips stretched with his anger and fury. "Or are you the kind who doesn't tell? I've met one or two of those. I thought I'd met every sort, actually, but that was before I met you."
Tears were streaming down my face so fast I thought I was in a downpour. My throat closed up.
"What bothers me the most." he continued. "was how sincere and honest I was with you. I feel like a fool, but that's the way you women like us, at a disadvantage, isn't it?"
I shook my head. "Thatcher..."
"Don't bother." he said, holding his hand up like a king making a royal declaration that couldn't be changed or delayed. "I wouldn't believe anything you told me now. anyway."
He turned again and walked faster toward the house, Before I took another step, he was inside, the door closing behind him.
That a mess of everything I have made, I thought. Linden was more depressed and hurt than ever. My mother was shut up in the darkness of her own disappointments knowing now that my father would never come for her. And I had driven Thatcher back into the very pool of cynicism he had stepped out of when we met and made love and had begun to believe in something greater than ourselves,