Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

"It's from the Bible," I said "Luke. I used it in a term paper last year."

Miguel laughed. "We miss you so much. Hannah."

"I miss you. too," I said through my tears. "I'm so sorry. Miguel."

"Okay. Let's leave all that for later and concentrate on what we have to do to get you and Linden back home safely," he said. "You're sure Heyden has run off?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so."

'Let me have the telephone number there. I'll see what I can arrange and then get back to you."

I read it to him from the little label on the phone, and he said he would be calling back very soon, After I hung up. I had a sense of great relief. Miguel was a college professor. He didn't have the access to power and influence Daddy had, and yet he was the one who would come up with the solutions. The irony wasn't lost on me, but neither was the sadness and disappointment. I vowed I would never make a similar mistake in judgment again, and I hoped I wasn't optimistic in making it.

Mrs. Stanton returned to the kitchen, her face full of relief and joy.

"Your uncle wanted to see Bess very much. He was so insistent. I let him go up and he is sitting at her bedside and talking softly to her When I left them, he was holding her hand, and she was smiling peacefully, looking just like she did when she was a little girl listening to a fairy tale. He has a way with him. Are you sure he wasn't one of the doctors at the clinic and not one of the patients?" she asked. smiling.

"I wish that were so." I said.

She nodded. "People who are in pain can help each other best sometimes." she said. "Were you able to reach your mother or your father on the phone?"

"I reached my stepfather," I told her "He'll be calling soon with a plan to come get me. Uncle Linden, and the motor home."

"Good," she said. "In the meantime, I think I'll work on dinner for us all. I was thinking about making chicken with peaches. You can bet I have a good recipe for that. It's really my mother's."

''Oh, we cannot impose on your hospitality anymore. Mrs. Stanton."

"You're not imposin', darlin'. It's good to feel useful. Too often people my age are put out to pasture."

"You'll never be put out to pasture. Mrs. Stanton." "Not if I can help it." she vowed.

We just looked at each other a moment, and then she hugged me.

"Everything will be fine, darlin'. You're making the right decisions now. You'll set."

How someone with all her burdens could even care amazed me and made me feel even sorrier than I did for all the trouble I had caused everyone. I held my tears back and thanked her. Then I went upstairs quietly and stood outside Bess's bedroom door, eavesdropping on Uncle Linden.

"My grandmother was the one who encouraged my art," I heard him say. "When I was a little boy, I would doodle on anything. Sometimes I did it on her tablecloths, and she would chastise me, but afterward, she would hand me a pad of plain paper and tell me to go off somewhere and draw her a picture.

"My mother bought me my first artist set when I was only nine. It was pretty sophisticated for a child. I had an easel and two dozen oil paints and acrylic brushes. It wasn't a toy. And then. when I was twelve, she located an art instructor who came around to give me lessons once a week.

"The Eatons were disdainful. I remember Thatcher would make fun of me or his friends would. They nicknamed me Van Gogh and told me to cut off an ear. Clowns. All of them, even now, despite their wealth. Every stupid thing they do is just on a bigger scale. That's all," he said with vehemence.

"Willow was different right from the beginning. though. She liked my work and let me paint her, just like you did. Bess. Later. as I told you. I sold a few pieces of my work to Palm Beach people who didn't care how much I wanted. I didn't want to sell my art to those kind of people. I really didn't think they liked the work. It was just another thing to them, know what I mean?"

He paused. I didn't hear her speak. so I looked through the door.

He was seated at the bedside. holding Bess's hand, but her eyes were closed, and it was apparent to me she had fallen asleep. I smiled because it didn't matter to Uncle Linden.

He continued to talk, to tell her about his love of art and some of the pictures he had done, and as he did so, he continued to hold on to her hand as well,

I heard the phone ringing, and a moment later Mrs. Stanton called to me.

It's for you, darlin'," she said. and I hurried down to the phone. It was Miguel,

"All right. Here's the plan. I'm flying into an airport about thirty-six miles from Anderson. We'll be renting a car and coming to get you and Linden. Hannah."

"We? Is Mommy going to come on this trip?" I asked quickly, hopefully.