I felt hot tears come up under my eyelids, "I don't see what's so terrible," I muttered.
"It's complicated psychological business." she explained. "His doing a portrait of you or me or anyone so close to him is a catalyst bringing on deeper emotional issues. You won't understand if I go into great detail. You will have to trust my judgment. Hannah. I don't mean to say or do anything that is painful or unpleasant. You have to believe me that what I am telling you is best for Uncle Linden. okay? Will you promise? Will you?"
"Okay," I replied in a small voice of
disappointment. "I promise."
I didn't bring it up again, but it left me feeling so tentative and uncertain whenever I visited him now. I hated lying to him and when he asked me again to pose for him. I had to tell him I couldn't spend that much time there. I had this or that to do for school or something at home. I could see he was so
disappointed it made him sulk. and I hated myself for doing that to him, but what else could I do?
"You remember that Mommy was pregnant, Uncle Linden." I told him. "She gave birth to a boy and she named him after her father. Claude. He was born under-weight, actually premature, and so they are keeping him under observation for a week, but the doctors believe he will be fine. I'm sorry no one has called to tell you everything, but I'm sure Mommy and Miguel just didn't want you to worry. They have been very occupied. too."
He looked at me and nodded,
"I told her what to do," he said. "I told her what to take and what to eat and I told her not to depend so much on doctors. You can become just another number, a statistic. I explained all that to her. I gave her things to read. too."
Read? What things did he give her to read? I never saw anything. And where would he get such material?
"But she didn't listen, did she?" he continued, more vehemently.
"Now, as I feared, there is a problem. Thatcher." he said, practically spitting out my father's name. "Thatcher Eaton."
"What does he have to do with it. Uncle Linden?"
He looked at me and twisted the corner of his mouth up into his cheek for a moment and then shook his head,
"Nothing," he said. "He has absolutely nothing to do with it."
He sat back in the rocker and gazed up at the clouds that spiraled in the wind toward the horizon. The breeze had picked up, and the American flag the Robinsons had on their front lawn snapped briskly, sounding like the striking of a wooden match. The sound seemed mesmerizing for Uncle Linden.
"I'm working on a new song for the next school variety show, Uncle Linden." I said, deciding to quickly change the topic. I could see I was already losing him. and I had just arrived. I had never seen him this bad. It frightened me and turned my heart into a tin drum. It put some panic in my voice. "You told me once that it was your mother's favorite, and I'm singing it in French. La Vie en Rose. You'll come to the show, won't you? You said you would."
He rocked slowly, nodding at his own thoughts now, his lips firmly pressing against each other, his eyelids blinking rapidly. He was no longer hearing me
"Uncle Linden?"
The front screen door opened. and Elizabeth Robinson stepped out, smiling as soon as she saw me.
"Hannah, how nice to see you. I was just coming out to see how Linden was doing. How are you? How's your mother?"
She gave birth two days ago, nearly a month too early."
"Oh, is she all right?"
"Yes."
"And the baby?"
"Yes, although he's small."
"Well. I'm sure everything will be fine. As I recall, you all already knew it was to be a boy, right?"
"Yes. They named him Claude, after her father."
I spoke quickly, so quickly
someone would think the words and the facts were fermenting poison in my brain.