Twisted Roots (DeBeers 3)

"Ten thousand?"

"A little more." He opened the book and read.

"Ten thousand, five hund

red, and seventeen at the

moment. Is that enough?"

"Sure is." Heyden said, brightening. "We're not

taking his money," I insisted.

"No, you're not taking it." Uncle Linden said.

"I'm giving it to you as payment."

"Payment? Payment for what?" I asked quickly. "For taking me, too." he said. smiling. "You're

free to use it for whatever expenses are involved for

the three of us."

Neither Heyden nor I spoke. We looked at each

other and then at Uncle Linden.

"You want to leave Florida?" I asked.

"Oh. I know everyone thinks I'm comfortable

and about as happy as I can be living here. I know

exactly where I am and what it means. I stay because I

don't want to be in anyone's way or make any more

trouble than I have already made for my family. What

little family I have, that is.

"But," he continued, crossing the room to look

out his window again. "I'm really dying here.

Sometimes. I feel like I'm in freeze frame, stuck and

unable to move backward or forward.

Don't misunderstand me-- everyone here has

always been good to me and pleasant. But I'm like a

flower, wilting.

"My sunlight comes from what I can paint, and

what I can paint here is limited to my memories,