Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

"Stop it, Thatcher. We'll just go and look at it and make him happy by telling him how wonderful it is."

"Okay, okay. Whatever you say, my love. Your wish is my command."

"You're not drunk, are you?"

"Absolutely not He raised his right hand and pretended his left was on a Bible. "I solemnly swear I am as sober as a Palm Beach magistrate."

"You idiot," I said, laughing at him.

When I turned back to Linden, he had his head down. "I'll get him and we'll sneak off for a minute. Thatcher."

"Fight," he said. "Then we sneak away. The limo is waiting to take us to the airport Jennings saw to our bags."

I went to Linden, who shot up out of his chair so dramatically, it stopped some nearby

conversations. I smiled at Mother to indicate it was all right, and he and I joined Thatcher.

"So, it's time for the unveiling, then, eh. Linden?" Thatcher asked him.

"It's not a gravesite monument," Linden muttered.

Thatcher smiled at me, and we hurried up the walk and into the house.

"It's nice of you to have devoted so much of your time and effort to a gift for us. Linden," Thatcher said.

Linden gave him such a look of "oh, please" that I couldn't contain a small laugh. Thatcher actually blanched, his lips a bit white in the corners.

We paused at the studio door to wait far Linden to unlock it. The room was dark. and Linden made no effort to turn on any lights. He walked across to an easel with a sheet over the picture. My heart began to pound. What had he taken from the pictures that had invaded my privacy? Would Thatcher lose his temper?

"Close the door," he said. "It's better if you see it this way first."

Thatcher did so, and we were in total darkness. Linden removed the sheet, then he turned on a small light above the easel, bathing the picture in its glow. I was in a sheer white dress, but it was in no way a pornographic depiction. My figure was clearly delineated, but the way he had painted me, the colors he'd used, gave me an angelic glow. He had placed me on the beach at night. As we drew closer to it_. I could see that I was supposedly coming from the water, but I didn't look frantic or afraid. I was smiling, my eyes excited, happy. and I was reaching out for someone or something. On closer inspection, there was the vague outline of a hand reaching out of the darkness for me. My hair flowed off my shoulders, giving the sense of movement. He had done my face in such detail, we could even see the thin peach fuzz behind my ear.

"This is the best thing you have ever done. Linden," Thatcher declared. "You've captured the most beautiful things about Willow, and it's so tasteful and interesting. It makes you feel good. Most of your work addresses the darker side of our consciousness." he added.

Linden wasn't paying any attention to him. His eyes were fixed on me.

"You've made me too beautiful. Linden." I said.

"That's how I see you."

"I imagine that's my hand there, barely seen," Thatcher said.

Linden didn't reply. It was as if he and I were alone in the room.

"We'll put it right over our bed. right. Willow?"

"Yes. Thank you, Linden. It's the nicest gift of all." I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'll see to getting it hung for you," he said.

"Great," Thatcher said. He shook Linden's hand vigorously, too vigorously, then turned to me and said. "We've got to get moving. You know how long it will take to say goodbye to my mother."

"Right. Take care of Mother while we are away, Linden." I said.

"I always do." he replied.

When Thatcher opened the door for me. I looked back at Linden. He was standing proudly beside his picture and smiling.