Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

"Oh, not yet. Hannah. Not until we're sure everything is all right."

"Why? What would Uncle Linden do?"

"I just can't deal with him and this situation at the same time," she whined. I couldn't remember hearing that sort of note in her voice. I stared at her just like someone wondering if it was really her mother. Giving birth seemed to have changed her whole personality. Gone was the assurance, the strength that practically radiated from her and gave other people some self-confidence.

"But you promised," I moaned.

"Hannah, can you suspend this obsession you have with your uncle for a while?" she snapped at me. It felt as if she had slapped me.

"I don't have an obsession. Mommy. What kind of thing is that to say?"

Miguel stepped in between us.

"Your mother just means for you to cool it for a little while. Hannah," he said in a soft, reasonable tone. "She wants Linden to see the baby just as much as you do, but we're going to try to keep things very quiet around Claude for a few days. The doctors think that's best, too." he said, closing and opening his eyes. "Best far Claude and best for your mother." he added, lifting his eyes toward the ceiling as a way of urging me to let it go.

I still didn't understand how having Uncle Linden over would jeopardize anything, but I pressed my lips together and looked down.

"Miguel." Mommy said with a voice full of panic and concern. She leaned over the bed and hovered above little Claude. "Hurry!" she cried.

Miguel moved quickly to the bassinet and touched the baby's hand.

"He's just dozing, Willow," Miguel said in a soft, calm voice. "It's all right. He's doing fine. Look at the color in his cheeks."

She nodded, released a deep breath, and sank back against her big, fluff pillow. Her eyes drifted by me to the wall. Once I felt she and I were invisible to people in Palm Beach, Now I felt I was invisible to her.

"Maybe we should all go down to dinner tonight, Willow." Miguel suggested, "It's been a while since we all sat and had dinner together. We'll bring the baby, of course," he added quickly.

"No. no," she said. "That's not important. There's no need to go through all that just for a dinner. You and Hannah can have dinner together. Send Lila up with my food. I'm fine." she said. "I am, "she emphasized sharply when he didn't immediately aute.

Miguel smiled. "Well then, maybe we'll all eat dinner up here. How's that?"

"I'm not that hungry," I said. "I'm just having a sandwich and getting to my homework since I won't have time to do stuff tomorrow night."

"Why not?" Mommy asked.

"I just told you. Mommy. Daddy's coming to get me for the birthday dinner."

Hadn't she heard a ward I had said?

"Oh, yes, right," she said. but I could see the information pass right through her head as she sat up again and leaned over to look at little Claude, "He should be hungry soon." she said. "I can almost feel his body churning with the need for nourishment. It's truly amazing. It's as if he's still inside me, still connected." she said, her voice full of awe and wonder. "I'm sure it's because of the breast-feeding."

Rubber bands stretched and snapped inside my chest.

"Then you shouldn't worry about him not breathing. Mommy," I told her. I could feel my eyes narrowing. She looked up. surprised. I shrugged. "If he stops, you'll feel it. too," I said.

I glanced at Miguel. He looked very displeased with me.

"There is nothing funny or frivolous about this. Hannah," Mommy said. "He could be susceptible to SIDS. It's a serious condition that--"

"I know what SIDS is." I interrupted. "Sudden infant death syndrome."

She glared at me. "Then," she said in measured tones. "you should know better."

The tears felt like drops of boiling water beneath my eyelids. I kept them back.

"Sorry," I muttered, turned and headed out. "Sorry I was ever barn." I added under my breath and hurried down the hallway to my room, but instead of going in. I paused at my door and then continued slowly until I was standing at the door of the infamous bedroom, the forbidden room, shut up and ignored like some unwanted child.

I knew bits and pieces of the story that haunted our family, a story that climaxed in this room. Mommy had doled out the details to me in measured doses, adding mare information as I grew older, just recently explaining why Uncle Linden was bitter about Joya Del Mar. I knew in my heart that there was much yet to be learned and even more to be understood,