"'What?"
"Last night." I said, slowly raising my head. "I saw Rosemary. She was here."
"What? The daughter? Are you saying she is alive?"
"No. It was like her spirit. She was angry, angry at me far encouraging Bess to fantasize and refuse to believe Rosemary is dead. She said she wanted to be mourned. She wanted to be loved in death, too, and she wanted to be free. She wanted to let go."
He smiled.
"I'm serious. Heyden."
"It was just all in your imagination. A place like this with kooky people like this can do that to you. That's why we want to get out of here as soon as possible.'
"I don't think that was it."
"Oh. c'mon. Hannah. A ghost? A spirit? You feel guilty about what you did so you dream up something like that. That's all.
I'm not even a student of psychology, and I can figure that out. Forget about it. Get dressed."
"I can't forget about it," I protested. "I want to do something to help."
"What could you do?" he practically screamed, raising his arms. "We have enough problems helping ourselves. Your uncle could do something strange any moment. Hannah. He's talking about setting up his easel out there and painting. You've got to come downstairs and occupy him until we're ready to leave. Now, that's what you can do." he said sharply.
"That's very selfish. Heyden. You just don't use people like this, take their hospitality, and rush off," I said.
"What are we supposed to do, leave a tip? Get real. Hannah Eaton," he snapped.
I felt the tears come into my eyes.
"I have all these problems to worry about, and now you're talking about a ghost complaining to you." he mumbled. "I'm going out to help Chubs. I hope you will do what I asked." he said and stormed out of the room, closing the door behind him.
It wasn't exactly the way I had hoped Heyden would react to all that I had told him. I was
disappointed, but told myself he was probably very nervous and afraid that what he had done. What we had done, was a terrible mistake. He was anxious to make it all right and make it all happen.
I rose to dress and go down. He was right about Uncle Linden. I had to look after him. too.
Just before I left the room. I gazed out the window that faced the east field and saw him. He had done what Heyden said he wanted to do: He had set up his easel, but what startled me mare was Bess. From where I was looking, it appeared he was organizing to do a picture of her, and she appeared to be a willing subject!
What would he paint? Whom would he paint?
Maybe the ghosts were in us all. I thought. I caught my breath and hurried out, knowing fa well that the revelations and surprises were far from over.
They waited for us, oh, too eagerly,
13
Rosemary's Portrait
.
"He said it would be his way of repaying us for
our hospitality," Mrs. Stanton said when I asked her about Uncle Linden and Bess. "It was his idea entirely. He looked out and saw her walking and turned to me and said. 'I think I'll do a picture of your granddaughter. She's a very beautiful young woman.
"Then he jumped up and went out to get his things. before I could say anything. I'm more surprised than you are, not that I don't think Bess is beautiful. She is, but what surprises me the mast is that Bess is willing to do such a thing. She's always been a rather shy girl, and after the tragedy, you couldn't open her heart to anything that would bring her pleasure. I must say your father does have a very charming way about him. He's a very gentle, kind man."
"Yes, he is." I said, smiling. Why was it that strangers could see Uncle Linden for what he really was quicker than people who knew him for years. especially Daddy?