Willow (DeBeers 1)

"Daddy taught me never to run and hide but to face my problems head on and never be intimidated by them. Good advice, don't you think?"

"No," she snapped. "I would prefer living where people didn't resent me or mock me."

"There is probably no place in the world where that doesn't happen. Aunt Agnes," I said. I meant to her, of course, but she missed the point and rattled on and on about how I should put such an idea to bed and come live with her. She made the argument that using my inheritance, she and I could fix up her property and make it very comfortable. In time, she would introduce me to fine young men of some social standing, and I, like Margaret Selby, would marry. The very idea of such a thing nearly made me sick.

I thanked her but tried to make my no as definite as I could. She refused to accept it as such and ended by predicting that I would realize she was right and turn to her one day.

"I'll be here for you, waiting." she promised. "Out of respect for my poor dead brother."

"That's very kind of you, Aunt Agnes. Have a wonderful wedding party." I added, and hung up, feeling as if I had just cut the last cord tying me to my old life.

It was time to start anew.

However. I didn't want to give up on my career and education, so next I looked into what educational institutions were available. I located Florida Atlantic University in Jupiter, which was about a forty-minute drive from Palm Beach. I called and learned they had the program I wanted to pursue. I next asked that my transcripts be sent from the University of North Carolina and made arrangements to matriculate the next semester.

Feeling I had taken a good hold of my life and the future for my mother. Linden, and myself. I completed the rest of my arrangements. I decided to keep my father's old Mercedes. He had always maintained it well. It looked practically brand new. Right after the escrow closed. I packed the car with as much as I could and had the rest of my things sent to my mother's home-- my home. now.

"I'm coming!" I cried into the phone. "I'll be leaving for Palm Beach in the morning."

"I can't deny I'm very excited about it. Willow. I did sit with Linden today and explain it to him, and his eyes did seem to widen and brighten with interest."

"Oh, good."

"Then he returned to his depressed state, the light dimming again."

"We'll get it burning brightly. I won't stop tying until we do."

"I know," she said. "I'm grateful." Then she paused and said, "Thatcher called this morning. He had heard from my accountant, and he was quite shocked, 'I can't guarantee you that my parents will remain your tenants.' he said. and I said I was not expecting them to remain and, in fact, would like not to go on renting the property."

"What did he say?"

"He thought I had taken leave of my senses, of course, and tried to convince me that I was making a very big mistake. Then..."

"What?" I could sense her hesitation, "He didn't threaten you?"

"Oh. no He was very soft-spoken and

concerned. I meant to say he asked about you."

"He did?" My heart began to pound, even though I didn't want to feel that I would go running back to him the moment he showed me the slightest interest, "What did you tell him?"

"I asked him why he didn't just call you directly, and he said he was planning to, but he wanted to give you a chance to settle down. I know he thinks you're not coming back here, at least for a while. He did sound very sad about it. In the end, he muttered that he was going to call you soon."

"Won't he be surprised," I thought aloud.

"Yes. I imagine he will be quite surprised," my mother said. "I'll see you very soon," I told her.

"Have a safe trip." she said.

I had thought a great deal about Thatcher during the time I had been home. Every time the phone rang. I had expected it to be him, making some excuse for why he hadn't called earlier, blaming his work or whatever. I was even prepared to be understanding and hide my disappointment. After all. I was sure his parents, and especially his mother, had put all sorts of pressure on him. But it was never him calling.

Up until my final night in the house. I was hoping he would call as he had told my mother, but the phone didn't ring at all after Mr. Bassinger called to tell me every-thing had been done, my accounts set up, my investment made, my inclusion on the property deed now just a matter of time.

The last, most difficult thing for me was to look into my father's empty office, the furniture all taken and put in storage, the shelves bare. It was truly as though it made his death final, a period placed at the end of a sentence, a door shutting, a light going out Everything that had been him, that had kept his memory vivid in my mind and in my senses, was gone from this room, the room in which he had done so much of his thinking, his dreaming, and surely his regretting.

"Goodbye, Daddy," I whispered. "I hope what I'm doing would have pleased you, will please you It's too painful for me to be here without you. I'm going to be with the one living person who remembers the sound of your voice, your laughter, as vividly as I do and cherishes those memories as much. We have you to share and to bring us closer together. Thank you for that."

I didn't think I would sleep. but I did. It wasn't to relieve fatigue: it was to find escape, to stop my mind from thinking and worrying and mourning. I was up almost with the sun itself. When I walked out of the house for the last time. I took a deep breath and looked over the grounds. So much of what I was. what I had become, was created here. The halls still echoed with Amou's voice. I could even hear my own little footsteps on the stairway, It was time to shut the door on all that. I thought.