There I prepared o
ur first dinner: a salad with macaroni and cheese.
"I don't want anyone to think I'm much of a cook," I warned. "I've never had to do much in the kitchen."
'Don't worry about it," Heyden said. "I have. I'll tackle the more complicated dinners, like steak and French fries.'
Uncle Linden laughed and then declared my macaroni and cheese was ten times better than the slop Mrs. Robinson put out for her guests.
"She has no idea how to season anything. Now my mother, she was a good cook for someone who had been brought up like a princess. She liked to cook, to create different versions of different meals, 'You're an artist with paint. Linden.' she would tell me. 'I'll be one with food.'"
'Tell me more about her," I urged, It was always so difficult to get Mommy to talk about those days. Uncle Linden sat back. smiling at the pictures, events, and words he had begun to draw out of his well of memories.
"She had a peacefulness about her that would also manage to calm the storms raging inside me. I can't remember her raising her voice." He thought a moment. "She was the kind of person who makes you feel terrible for every and any passing moment of sadness or unhappiness you might have caused her." He shook his head. "Willow was like that. too.' It brought tears to my eyes to hear my mother's name mentioned. Had she found my note by now? Was she crying or raging with anger? Had they called the police? Did they know about Uncle Linden being with us or did everyone assume he had gone off on his own? Surely, Heyden's mother was contacted. too. What did she say? How sad and unhappy was she? Heyden hadn't mentioned her yet. nor had he mentioned his sister. If he had any regrets, they were so deeply buried, it would take days of intense psychotherapy to get him to reveal just the surfaces of them. "Well," he said, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen among us. "It's time to get out the map and plan our trip."
He reached into his duffel bag and produced an automobile club map, spreading it on the table. Tracing with his finger, he pointed to a route that would take us through South Carolina, I saw the way that lit up Uncle Linden's eyes. We were indeed on a great adventure. and he was just as Heyden had suggested. a little boy again.
"I thought we would follow the so-called Savannah River Scenic Highway." he said. "There'll be plenty to see, plenty for Uncle Linden to appreciate as an artist,'
"Oh. right," Uncle Linden said. "The next chance we get. I'll need to buy some supplies. I should have thought about that and gone back into the house for my easel and paints."
"We were in such a rush, we all forgot." I said. "Sorry,"
"That's okay. I'll get new things. Time I did anyway," Uncle Linden said.
Like Heyden. he seemed incapable of being discouraged. Our trip was still far too filled with promise to entertain anything that might spoil it. "After we go here, we'll bear southwest and head for New Orleans, where our opportunities to sing and make money will abound," Heyden declared. "We'll be there in a matter of a few days."
"New Orleans. I've always wanted to go there. There's an artist I like from New Orleans. He did all those swamp pictures with the Spanish moss hanging down like great cobwebs. Boy, this is great," Uncle Linden said, clapping his hands together. "Let's keep going."
Heyden laughed.
"We can't ride all day and all night, Uncle Linden. Why don't we just settle in here for the night. It's a pretty enough spat." Heyden said.
"Okay. I'll watch one of those DVDs we bought."
"Sure. Let me set it up for you." Heyden told him and went right to it while I cleaned off the table and started to wash our dishes.
"I'll be right with you to help you with that. Hannah," Heyden said, leaning over the carton that held the DVD.
"I'm fine," I said "I can dirty my little hands. too."
He laughed. "If all those snobby girls back in Palm Beach could see us now." he said.
"Yes."
I thought about them, about school, about what I had left behind. I couldn't think of anyone in my class who would trade living in Joya Del Mar with its beautiful grounds and pool and beach for living in a battered motor home. Yet somehow, being on my own like this, with the whole world seemingly out there to be seen and explored. I didn't feel I had taken a giant step backward. The lives of my friends were truly predictable. It was all laid out before them, their maps, their scenic highways designed and chosen for them even before they were born perhaps. If they veered too far to the left or right, went too slowly or resisted going forward, they would be criticized and pressured to conform, not that many of them wanted to even approach anything nearly as rebellious as what I had done.
"There," Heyden said when he was able to start the movie for Uncle Linden, who sat in the living room chair looking as if he were sitting in the most expensive furniture set in the most luxurious room. "It's all set and ready for you. Uncle Linden." "Thanks," he said, settling in the small, bigcushioned chair that looked so old and worn. I thought he would sink to the floor. He didn't seem to mind. "Do you want something else. Uncle Linden? Coffee, tea. anything?"
"No. I'm fine, Thank you, Hannah."
Heyden winked at me and went to the coach door.
"How about a walk. Hannah?" he asked. I looked at Uncle Linden.
"He'll be fine. Right, Uncle Linden?" "What? Oh, yes. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."
I smiled and then I joined Heyden, and we stepped out of the coach.