Wicked Forest (DeBeers 2)

I held my breath in anticipation of his response, any response, but he remained silent.

"The sea air always makes me hungry. Doesn't it do the same to you?" I asked.

Finally, he turned slowly toward me, his eyes small. suspicious.

"Why did you come back?" he asked, but with such an angry undertone, it took me by surprise. For a moment it was I who couldn't speak.

"This is where I belong now. Linden. You and Mother are my family. I have nothing back in South Carolina, My father is gone and I've sold the property. Don't you want me here?"

He stared, his face not softening, but his eyes blinking rapidly.

"You think you'll get him to marry you? You think you'll win his devotion? He's not capable of it." he said, and smiled coldly. "I've grown up here in the shadows, watching him seduce and break the heart of one girl after another, all like you, each convinced she was the one who would make him a decent fellow. Like I said, he's not capable of it," he finished, his words filled with venom.

"Everyone is capable of it. Linden, because after a while, everyone gets lonely." I said.

My words were like well-aimed arrows hitting the center of the target. I could see it in the way he flinched and turned away.

"Besides, that isn't the only reason why I returned. Linden. I've come back to be with you and Mother and pursue my career goals. I want to help you both. too. We're moving back into the main house. It will make Mother very happy, don't you think?"

"No," he said sharply.

"No? Why not? You sounded so happy about it before, planning your studio."

"I was fooling myself. There are too many ghosts there." He muttered.

"We'll drive them out then, Linden. You and I," I said. "We'll drive them out."

He turned back to me, a new expression on his face, one that permitted a little ray of hope to pierce the mask of his unhappiness.

"You and 1?

"Yes. Linden. We'll set up a nice home. You'll have a wonderful studio and do great things. Oh. Linden, let's be happy. Let's try to be happy together. please." I pleaded.

He actually flicked a small smile, but then, as if realizing he was tolerating some optimism, darkened his face quickly and pressed his lips together hard enough to form a little white line under them.

"Come back to the house for lunch. Linden," I urged softly. "Mother is preparing the table for us on the loggia. It will be nice sitting out and having lunch together, don't you think?"

"I thought..." He shook his head. "What?"

"I don't know. My thoughts get so confused, as well as my memories sometimes."

"What did you think? I'll tell you whether or not you're confused. I will." I said when he looked at me skeptically. "I'll always be honest with you. Linden."

For the moment, at least. I won his trust.

"I thought you were going to lunch on Worth Avenue and then to a beauty salon with Grace."

She would rather not. We've got to go slowly with her." I said.

He raised his eyebrows at my including him in the plan. Easy as a mask to take off. he threw away his remnants of anger and antagonism and put on a dreamy-eyed look as he turned to gaze at his canvas.

"I don't like what I've done so far. It's not very good," he said. rising.

I looked at the blank canvas again to see if there was something I had missed, some lightly drawn lines, perhaps, but there was nothing there. When I turned back to him. I saw he was watching me expectantly.

"Well?" he asked. "What's your opinion? As I recall, you know something about art."

"I... I don't think you've done enough yet for me to form any opinion. Linden." I said.