Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

I laughed with her. Time can make mistakes and trouble seem funny in retrospect. I thought, although I couldn't find it in myself to laugh or think lightly of what Heyden had done.

One afternoon the following week. I called his house just to see if there was any possibility he was home, He hadn't returned to school and his absence was the hottest topic of the week. Gradually it ended, and it was almost as if he had never attended. My friends stopped asking me about him, especially when they saw they couldn't get any satisfactory responses. I really had nothing to tell.

No one answered his telephone, so I tried it one night and did get his mother. I asked for him and she said she didn't know his whereabouts. She

remembered me, of course. I hesitated, but then I asked her about Elisha.

"She's in one of those places for juvenile offenders," she said. I heard her start to sob and then stop and say, "which is best for her."

I wished her goad luck and hung up.

Occasionally, over the next week, I glanced at one or another of the songs Heyden had written. I had my copies. I even sang them, but after a while I put them away. I wished I could put away the painful memories as easily, but nothing lingered as vividly in my mind as the vision of Heyden's angry face when he accused me of betraying him.

Had I betrayed him?

Had I betrayed myself as well?

Forgiveness, Mommy had said. It all begins with that.

Throughout this time I worked harder at my school assignments. I went sailing with Mommy and Miguel, and we went to his family restaurant more often. I met some new relatives on his side, and we had some wonderful family gatherings, one during which I was asked to sing a Cuban song I had learned at school, a song I knew was one of Miguel's favorites.

What I didn't know was they were planning a big party for my seventeenth birthday. It fell on the upcoming weekend, and what they had decided to do was close the restaurant and dedicate the night to me. Somehow, those friends of mine they had invited at school had managed to keep the secret. Mommy and Miguel had me believe we were just going out to dinner to celebrate my birthday, only when we arrived at the restaurant and entered, the party crowd of Miguel's family, my friends, all burst out with a "Surprise! Happy birthday!"

I was overwhelmed, but I did look for Daddy, Danielle, and the twins.

"I invited them," Mommy said when I asked her about them. "I made sure Mrs. Gouter knew to put it on your father's calendar, and as far as I knew, they were coming. Maybe, they'll still be coming,' she said. "It's like your father to be late anyway. But let's not worry about it. Let's have a good time."

We did. There was music and wonderful food and a pile of presents that rivaled the one I saw my half brothers go through on their birthdays, except the gifts weren't as expensive, of course. I got up and sang with Miguel's cousins. My friends at school who at first looked reluctant at being there and remained somewhat clannish during the early part of the celebration gradually warmed to the food and music. Before the night ended, they came to tell me how much they had enjoyed themselves, and I even could see some envy. Ironically, I. the daughter of a broken marriage, tossed about in a sea of adult turmoil, was suddenly the one with family, with people who loved and cared about me.

I remembered a line in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: The eye sees itself but by reflection.

How true it was. We never see ourselves truly and what we have unless and until we look into the faces of others and see ourselves reflected.

How full my heart was, how much I loved Mommy and Miguel. There was so much going on, I had actually forgotten Daddy and his family had not attended, but the reason for that came at the end of the evening to one of Mommy's friends, Morgan Williams, who had been carrying her cellular.

I think it is true that you can feel and sense significant events, especially when they involve people close to you. I heard Mrs. Williams call to Mommy as we were saving good night to some of Miguel's relatives, There was a drastic note in Mrs. Williams's voice, Mommy's name came out like a cry for help. It was enough to turn her with concern, her happy smile holding barely in a trembling of lips.

"Morgan?"

"Oh, my God. Willow," she said, walking toward us. Miguel turned, too, and the three of us stood side by side.

"Courtney Lucas just called me. There was a terrible boating accident early this evening involving Thatcher's boys, Their speedboat hit another."

"And?" Mommy asked, her question hanging in the air. Instinctively she had reached out for Miguel's hand, and I had moved closer to her.

"One of the twins was killed." she said. "Cade.'

Epilogue

Forgiveness

.

I suppose that there was same cruel and impish

creature of Fate who had decided Cade would be killed on my birthday. The irony of that struck Mommy, too, but we didn't dwell on it, and she was quick to emphasize that I should in no way ever feel responsible.

"Too often." she said. "guilt is like some random infection people catch. There's no reason for it, but they suffer it until and unless we can help them see it doesn't belong with them."