Willow by V. C. Andrews
He paused and took a breath. "But what's the point of drawing up horror scenarios? Let's just wait and see and deal with it later,"
"My poor mother," I said.
Thatcher put his arm around me and gave me a squeeze.
We returned to our seats to wait for her. About half an hour later, she came back to tell us basically what we already knew: they were preparing Linden for surgery. We moved to another waiting area. and Thatcher went to get us some coffee. The doctors warned us it could be hours.
I sat beside my mother and tried to comfort her.
"I handled this very badly," she moaned. "I should have realized that someday it would all come home. Let this be a lesson to you. Willow. Secrets don't stay buried. They might hibernate like bears, but when their time comes, they'll appear again, and all you have done is delay the inevitable. A pain held off just builds and builds until it comes charging back at you, more furiously than before."
"It's wrong to blame yourself." I told her.
"Whom should I blame, you? For wanting to meet and know your real mother? Or your father, for loving me so? Maybe Linden is right to think fate toys with us sometimes." she said dejectedly. "Poor Linden, lost in a maze now, twirling about. Inside himself, he must be so terrified, so alone."
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"He'll be fine. You'll see, He'll be fine. We'll work it all out," I assured her.
She smiled at me. "You don't know how much vou looked like your father just then. It threw me back years."
"I'm glad," I said "I often think of him being with me, especially when I need him the most."
She stroked my hair and smiled through her tears.
Thatcher appeared with our coffee, and we settled down for the wait.
Hours later, as predicted. Dr. Thornbera appeared.
"The operation went well," he said.
"Will there be any aftereffects?" my mother asked quickly. The doctor and Thatcher exchanged glances.
"We'll see," Dr. Thoraberg said
noncommittally.
My mother nodded slowly. "Yes," she whispered. "We'll see,"
They let her see Linden, even though he was still under sedation. I stood in the doorway and watched her kiss him and whisper in his ear, and then I put my arm around her shoulders, and we left the hospital.
It was already morning. The sun was pressing back the blanket of darkness, and the stars were beginning their daily retreat. The estate was strangely still, the party decorations, the lights, the tables and chairs and dance floor not yet removed, streamers and deflated balloons drifting in the morning breeze.
"We all need some sleep." Thatcher said. He smiled at me. "I feel like my parents must feel coming home from one of their very late affairs. We'll all get up together. I'm sure."
"I'll just run up and get my things," I told him. "I won't leave her alone now."
He nodded. "I'll be by later. Call me if you need anything, Grace." he told her.
She thanked him, and he and I went up to the main house,
"I'm sorry about my mother, the things she said before," he told
"That's the least of my worries now, Thatcher."
"Right," he said.
I went for my things, and we parted.
When I returned to the beach house, my mother showed me what she considered the most comfortable guest room, and then we kissed and hugged, and she went to her own bedroom. I thought I would drop into a dead sleep the moment my head hit the pillow, but I lay there with my eyes open, wondering how all this had happened so quickly and what I was to do next. A voice within urged me to rest and let the events to come show their faces in due time.
You can't deal with any of it now, anyway, Willow, I heard a voice that sounded so much like my father's tell me. Put your thoughts on pause control.
Don't worry.
Everything fortunate and unfortunate will be there to greet youwhen you awaken.
You can count on that,
.
I felt the presence of someone and opened my eyes. My mother was standing in the doorway. her hands clasped against her breasts. She was already dressed.
"What is it?" I asked, sitting up quickly.
"I woke up. I thought I heard Linden calling for me. so I phoned the hospital, and they told me he was awake. but he was still very disoriented and confused. He must be very frightened. I have to go to him." she said.
"I'll be up and ready in ten minutes."
"I could just call for a taxi. You've hardly had any sleep," she said.
Indeed, only four hours had gone by.
"I'm fine. I couldn't sleep, anyway."
"I'll make some coffee so we can have that, at least," she said, and went off while I threw cold water on my face, ran a brush through my hair, and put on my clothes.
She had the coffee waiting for me.
"I just made us some toast." she said. "I thought we should have something in our stomachs."
I nibbled on a piece with some jelly and swallowed some coffee. A few minutes later, she and I got into my car and drove out of the estate.
Linden was still critical. of course. and they wanted only one of us to go in. I sat and waited. getting myself some more coffee from the coffee machine. She was in the intensive care unit only a little more than twenty minutes before she emerged looking very distraught.
"How is he?" I asked immediately.
She shook her head. "He didn't seem to recognize me. There was nothing in his eyes to indicate he had. One of the nurses said he mumbled something very strange."
"What?"
"He wanted to know why there were so many skeletons walking about, including her. It's as if he thinks he's in one of his own paintings or something."
"Don't think anything terrible about this. Mother. He's just out of surgery. Wait until you get a chance to speak with the doctor."
She nodded, suddenly looking terribly exhausted and weak. "We should go home, and you should try to get some real rest." "I'll rest here," she said. "You go back."
"No, I won't leave you like this."
She smiled, "We're still practically strangers to each other. Willow, and yet you've already been kinder to me than people I've known my whole life."
"Get used to it," I said, and she widened her smile to a small laugh.
I did talk her into going to the hospital cafeteria for some hot food, which restored both of us somewhat. When we returned to the ICU, the doctor was there. He stepped out to speak with us.
"If S too early to tell the extent of it." he began, "but your son will be experiencing some posttraumatic stress in reaction to his accident. I'm not going to stand here and give you a laundry list of everything that might occur. Suffice it to say," he added with a tone of supreme authority. that there will be some effects, and he will probably need some therapy. In the final analysis, it might be nothing much. really"
"Or it might." my mother said.
"Or it might be more extensive. yes. Let's get him functioning again and take it all a step at a time. Mrs. Montgomery."
He glanced at me. "I'm his sister," I said.
"Well, that's nice. He has support. He's going to be fine eventually. That's the important thing."
He smiled quickly and started away.
"Thank you. Doctor," I called after him. He just lifted his hand and continued.
"I don't know if I could ever be someone who treats people's troubles as day-to-day work," my mother muttered. "I told that to your father once. too."
"What did he say?"
"The secret is not treating it like day-to-day work. The secret is treating every cure as if it was a miracle in which you were lucky enough to have played a role. There aren't many like him, though." she added with a deep sigh.
She went back in to spend time with Linden. and I collapsed on the settee in the waiting room, closing my eyes and getting myself some rest. I woke up when I felt someone nudging me and looked up to see Thatcher standing there.
&
I told him what the doctor had said.
"At least he's being honest. The rest, as Shakespeare says, is in the womb of time."
"Aren't we all?" I muttered. I was tired and cranky and disgusted with everything. I had a sudden urge to go home. I longed to be in my own home, walking my own grounds, feeling closer to my father.
I suddenly remembered that I had called and Miles had not answered,
"I've got to make a phone call." I told Thatcher, and he handed me his cell phone.
I'll get myself some coffee," he said.
I called and waited as it rang and rang and rang. Now I was convinced something was not right, so I sifted hurriedly through my purse until I found Mr. Bassinger's phone number. Thatcher returned while I was calling Bassinger's office. His secretary put me right through.
"Willow, I've been waiting to hear from you," he said immediately.
"Did you call me?"
"Yesterday, midafternoon, Didn't you get the message?"
"No," I said, looking up at Thatcher, "What's happening. Mr. Bassinger?"
"I'm afraid its not good news. Miles is gone." "Gone? You mean he left the property?"
"No. He's passed away, Willow. Apparently, your aunt Agnes had someone look in on the house regularly. Fortunately, I should say. He wasn't dead long, not quite a day. I got there just after the police and the ambulance had arrived. He was found in your father's office, clutching a pile of blank paper, his eyes open wide like someone who's died of shock. It was confirmed as heart failure. Ironic how they both went the same way, but in Miles's case, it isn't so hard to understand, considering his life and all he's gone through, that is.
"I have people in the house, cleaning it up. There were prospective buyers set to visit it yesterday, but we had to put that off, and now we have to disclose Miles's death. Where are you? What are your plans?"
"I'm staying someplace else for now," I told him, and gave him my mother's phone number, "I'm not sure how long, but I'll call you very soon. What about Miles's funeral?"
"Your father had all those things prearranged. We'll do it day after tomorrow. I expect they'll release the body today. Sorry about all this happening, all this bad news on top of bad news."
You have no idea, I thought.
"My father's death broke his heart. My father was his only friend. I should have realized," I said.
"You can't save the world. Willow. You have an obligation now to take good care of yourself and fulfill your and your father's dreams. Stay in touch, and call me if you need anything, anything at all," he said.
I thanked him and ended the call.
Thatcher took one look at my face and knew it wasn't good. "What?" he asked. and I told him about Miles,
"Why did he die clutching blank paper?" he wondered.
"I think he saw something on it that no one else could see. That doesn't mean it wasn't there." I added.
"Huh? I don't understand."
"Me, neither," I said, and rose to greet my mother.
"He's resting comfortably, but he is still disoriented. Nothing he says at the moment makes much sense, I'm afraid. It's going to be a long journey back," she added with a deep sigh.
"Then you had better take good care of yourself. Grace Thatcher said. "You'd better get some real rest and be strong:"
"Yes. Yes, that's sensible advice." She looked at me. "For you, too."
"I have to leave for a while. Mother," I said. "I have to go home." I had already told her about Miles and described how close he and my father had been.
"Miles?"
I nodded. "He's passed away."
"Oh. I'm sorry, You have too much to carry on those young, fragile shoulders. Willow. You go home and straighten out your legal matters and everything. You should return to college, too. I'm sure your father would not approve of your throwing it all aside," she said.
"I'm not. but..."
"I'm not going anywhere, and from the looks of things, neither is Linden. It would only make me feel more miserable to know you were sacrificing so much because of me."
"I'm not doing anything I don't want to do," I said.
She smiled. "I know, but that doesn't mean it's good for you or right. Pretend your father is sitting there listening to us," she said, nodding at an empty chair. "What do you think he would tell you to do? Listen to that voice," she advised softly, "that voice inside you."
I took a deep breath and looked at Thatcher. He stared at me a moment, and then he looked away.
"Take me home," my mother said. "I do need some more sleep."
"Okay."
"I just have to check on some things at my office," Thatcher said quickly. "I'll come by as soon as I can."
His cell phone rang, "I'll see you later." he promised as he answered the call.
I threaded my arm through my mother's, and we leaned on each other as we walked to the elevator.
"You haven't known Thatcher very long," she said. "No. I haven't."
"He's a very bright man and, I always thought, a very nice man, despite the world he comes from and lives in, but we're sometimes too weak to do battle against all that, and it changes us."
"I know."
She smiled. "I think you're a very smart young lady. I see the way he looks at you and the way you look at him. Sometimes, it doesn't have to take that long to know there's magic there.
"But," she said, looking off into her own world of memories, "often magic isn't enough. Just remember that, and you'll be fine."
Would I? I wondered.
Would I really?
17
Coming Home
.
After realizing that there wasn't much more I
could do here at the moment. I called and made reservations for my flight home. I wouldn't let Miles be buried with no one there to mourn his passing. My mother arranged for transportation to and from the hospital for herself and assured me she would be fine.
"You would be surprised at how many people here do look in on me from day to day." she said.
"I don't think I would be so surprised."
She laughed and then grew serious. "Strange how people have to hide their good deeds, their sincerity. They're afraid the Eatons might fire them if they found out how they took care of my immediate grounds or shopped for me along with shopping for them. I would hate anyone suffering because of me." she added. 'but I can't talk them out of helping me."
"That's good."
Before my early evening flight, she and I had a light dinner. We ate on the patio and talked and talked. I continued to describe my early years and the house and the property back in South Carolina.
"Your father loved it," she said. It sounded beautiful to me then, like some forbidden paradise."
"I know. I have mixed feelings about selling. It's too much for me alone, and it's full of memories, but I almost feel like I'm betraying him by selling."
"No. I'm sure he would want vou to be comfortable and live your own life. Like you said, it won't be the same to you with him gone, and now Miles gone. too. Cut yourself loose. Willow. Let go." She looked out over the beach and the grounds. "That was something I regret I was never able to do. If I had, maybe it would have all turned out very differently.
"I hate regrets, don't you? Regrets haunt, Do all that you can to avoid them, even if it means making little mistakes, losing a little money or some time. Satisfy yourself that you tried this or that. Explore, and never be afraid. It's so hard to be timid in this world, especially here: but I suspect it's not much different anywhere else.
"Unfortunately, aggressive, self-centered, obnoxious people get their way too often. Don't be afraid to put them in their place." she said, looking toward the main house. "They'll turn you into another one of their possessions if you don't stand up to them right from the start."
"That will never happen to me." I vowed. She smiled. "I believe you."
I kept
"I got tied up in one of those endless meetings." he explained. "Something I thought was settled was not. I'll get there as soon as I can."
I told him my flight time,
"Oh. really? Well, you'll be back," he said lightly-- was it to ease his disappointment or something else?
"I'll be back to see my mother. yes," I said pointedly.
"Good. I've got to return to the meeting. Have a great trip." he said.
The conversation left me a little cold. but I didn't let my mother see.
Next. I called Mr. Bassinger and told him of my plans. He said he would be at the airport to pick me up and drive me home.
"Oh, you don't have to go to any trouble." I told him.
"No, no On the way. I'll review some of the legal matters I've completed." he said.
I thanked him, and then, on my way out to say goodbye to my mother. I paused and glanced into the room that Linden had been using as a studio. There was a black sheet over the easel, and I was very curious about whether or not it covered the painting he had been doing of me. I felt a bit guilty sneaking about and looking at the picture without his approval, but I was leaving now, and I couldn't help myself.
I went into the room and lifted the sheet away. For a moment. I just stared. It didn't look like me at all. It looked like my mother. It was as if he had known the truth all along, had seen it with his artistic eve, as if when he worked, he had a prophetic vision.
I covered it quickly and hurried out.
"Well. I'd better be off." I told my mother. "I've got to return the rental car and all."
"Call me."
"Every day."
"If I'm not here. I'll be at the hospital until he's released."