I felt like the kite in the wind and continued on.
.
It was like pulling a curtain of fury away from my eyes, a sheer curtain of red. The more I gazed through the window at little Claude, the more the curtain moved to the sideline. Today he looked more like a little person, his mouth and chin showing resemblances to Miguel. His tiny body twitched. Do infants dream yet? I wondered. How could they? Maybe he was hearing the cries of the other infants and he hated it. Now I wanted him to come home and came home immediately. He needed protection. He should have his own place. I could see myself hurrying home to be with him, to give him his bottle when he was finally on formula, to change his diaper, and to hold him and keep him from crying and being afraid. He made me recall my best childhood dolls. Here he was, a living, breathing toy. Wouldn't it be fun to see him recognize me, to see him looking forward to me?
"Amazing how much he has grown in twentyfour hours, isn't it?" Miguel said, coming up beside me after I had been there a while.
"Yes."
"I think he's going to look more like your mother, despite my inky hair."
"I don't."
"Check these out." he said, drawing some pictures from the inside packet of his jacket.
They were pictures taken in Mommy's room, pictures of her holding little Claude. of Miguel holding him, and then the two of them standing side by side with little Claude in Mommy's arms.
"Do we look like doting parents already?"
"Yes," I said, and he laughed.
"I'll get a picture of you holding him before we take him home, too," he promised. "Ready to go home?"
"Yes."
"I told your mother I'd follow you. You know her-- Nervous Nellie. Despite her brilliance, she still harbors this silly superstition about family curses and such. It's probably why she comes off sounding a little too protective." he added.
"Why is that. Miguel? What family curse?"
In our home it was always a forbidden topic, but somehow, I felt the lid had been opened on our personal Pandora's box, and like it or not, the past with all its dark days and troubled moments was let loose.
"Well, you know how difficult it was for her to be brought up in a home with a stepmother who despised her and a father who felt he had to restrain his love.
"And then, after they were gone and she learned the truth about her birth, she confronted your grandmother Grace and met your uncle Linden for the first time. He was already quite an emotionally wounded young man. To add insult to injury, he tried to commit suicide, and your mother blamed herself."
"I knew all that. but I never understood why Mommy blamed herself."
"She kept their relationship secret when she first arrived. She was afraid of the truth. To her it was like a big, blinding light in everyone's eyes. It had to be done slowly, carefully, and Linden wasn't stoma enough emotionally for all that.
"Then there was the trouble with your father and the Eatons and everything just piled up an her fragile shoulders. When your uncle Linden got hurt, your grandmother Grace was convinced there was some sort of perennial dark cloud over their heads and nothing could sweep it completely away."
"Do you think it could be true?"
"Of course not." he replied quickly. "And your mother doesn't really believe it in her heart, either, but it's like anything else that haunts a family's past. It takes time to see just how untrue and foolish it is.
"You are your own person. You will make the choices that determine your fate, and not some skeleton in some closet," Miguel assured me.
I glanced at little Claude.
I hoped Miguel was right, of course, now for little Claude as well as me.
After we returned home. I went to my room and found a message on my answering machine. It was from Heyden.
"Just want you to know I haven't murdered my sister. I have her shut up in a trunk and I'm burying it in the backyard, but other than that, things are fine. Thanks for being here with me. I know I wouldn't be as calm and collected if you hadn't been. I'm looking forward to our official date." he concluded. I could almost hear the laughter behind his voice as he pronounced the word official.
There was a second message. It was from Daddy. I had completely forgotten what he had said when I called him with my cell phone after I had visited Uncle Linden. Our conversation had been so short and he had been so flippant. I hadn't paid much attention to it.
"Hannah. I will be home for Friday night dinner. I'll pick you up at six-thirty."