Wicked Forest (36 page)

"You wouldn't dare attempt such a thing. I'll tear you to bits out there."

"Maybe and maybe not. Maybe we'd both be bloodied beyond repair, but don't worry. I'm becoming a therapist. Years from now, I'll treat you pro bona."

She stared at up at me, the doubt, the indecision and insecurity finally getting a beachhead on the shores of her evil mind.

I glanced at my watch,

"It's a little after three. By six o'clock today I will expect those pictures to be delivered to me. If I ever hear mention of them again or any more slimy rumors about my poor brother and me, I'll become a one-woman tabloid newspaper. You won't be able to go to a single charity ball, a single dinner party, a single restaurant in this town and not wonder about the eyes on you and the whispering behind your back.

"I could live anywhere," I said cheerfully,

"even Boca, but you, you'd die if you left your precious Palm Beach home."

The expression on her face made me smile.

"That's right. Whitney. Think of it Both Thatcher and I could practice our professions anywhere. were can you practice your profession, Whitney, except here... and hell?"

I turned and walked away, paused and looked back at her. "Six o'clock. and I mean not a minute after," I said.

My heels clicked on the tiles, sounding like bullets of rain behind me.

15

A Second Honeymoon

.

"I find myself continually underestimating how complicated and complex family relationships can be," Professor Fuentes said after listening to me describe my conflict with Whitney. We were in a café near the campus. "In fact." he said, looking up from his cup of coffee and smiling at me with that gentle ripple that traveled from his lips up into his eyes. "I daresay Whitney doesn't understand her motivations herself.

"Without even having met her," he continued.

"I think she really believes she is doing something good for her family, her brother in particular. If I was practicing therapy and had her as a client_. I would probably suggest she is using that as a rationalization for darker purposes, and it would be best for her to admit that, to stop lying to herself."

"Yes, eventually you might help her, if it's possible to help her, but by then it would be too late for poor Linden and myself." I said.

He nodded.

"Probably. I think you were right to face up to her. to confront her and demonstrate that you are not some helpless pawn. At least you will get her to retreat to whispers. but I'm not optimistic that she will stop altogether." he said.

"I know that."

"For now. it would be wise to continue to work on Linden's development of outside interests. Nothing would work faster and more successfully than his finding someone else in whom he could invest his interest and attention."

"I know that, too."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling. "I'm not being all that brilliant and helpful to you."

"Oh. no." I protested. "You don't know how much I appreciate your listening and giving me your opinions."

He nodded and looked down at his coffee.

"Does Thatcher know how much you confide in me?" he asked. still looking at his cup.

"Now. Professor Fuentes." I said. "doesn't every psychotherapist advise the spouse of his client to permit that client to have his or her space? If the sessions aren't inviolate, they can't be effective."

He laughed.

"Always the doctor's daughter." he declared. "I have no choice. It's who I am."

"I know. I just don't want to be misinterpreted."

"You won't be. Thatcher has his confidants and I have mine. I consider you more than my teacher now. I consider you a good friend," I said.

He nodded.

"Thank you. It is an honor I accept. Is your mother aware of any of these goings-on?" he asked.

"No, not unless she has overheard some servant gossiping about us. Despite our moving into a much more comfortable home and her having some help, she seems more tired. Her brows are furrowed more often, her shoulders slumped. She falls asleep in her chair, and she is not eating as \Yell as I would like to see.

"But I haven't given her all the time and attention I would like. I haven't spent half as much time as I know I should with Linden. either. Thatcher has kept me pretty busy with his social schedule. The lines between what is social and what is a business affair are so blurred in his world. I don't know what's important and what isn't anymore. I'm afraid to say no to anything. I don't want to disappoint him or do anything that would hurt his business efforts."

Professor Fuentes held his smile.

"Aren't you also afraid of lending even a tiny suggestion of credence to the nasty rumors Whitney has engendered?"

I looked down and then up again, nodding.

"I feel like Audrey Hepburn in
The Children's
Hour
, questioning every thought, every action and look, wondering if there isn't a seed of truth to the nasty tales, doubting herself.

"When I walk with Linden now. I look everywhere to see if a maid is watching us. If he touches me. I practically jump, and every time I look up at that picture above our bed. I see more licentiousness in it If anyone else is brought to see it_.

I blush as if he or she is looking at me nude.

"And then I think, poor Linden, he doesn't deserve all this. She's done that to him, to us both! My father used to say the power is in the accusation, not the conviction. If I didn't understand him then. I certainly understand him now."

"Thatcher has said nothing relating to any of this?"'

"He's said nothing directly, but sometimes he says things that could have underlying meanings, or I look up and catch him studying Linden and the way Linden is looking at me. Our eyes meet for a moment.

and I feel this suspicion. It's only for a fleeting second or two, but nevertheless, it's there. I think. Maybe I've just become paranoid. In either case. Whitney would be satisfied."

"You should discuss it with him. Willow. You should do it as soon as you can and eliminate all that before it takes hold like termites and eats away at the foundation of your marriage," Professor Fuentes said.

"Yes, that's good advice. I know I should. I must. See," I said, smiling, you are a big help. I don't know it all. I don't know even a quarter of it all."

He laughed.

The truth is. Willow, none of us do." he said.

"Some of us just do a better job of hiding that fact."

We both laughed, and so ended another of our precious
tete-a-tetes
over coffee. I went to my class.

Later that afternoon, when I started for Joya del Mar. I vowed to do what the professor had recommended—have a heart-to-heart talk with Thatcher and tell him all of it.

Up until now, Whitney had not dared call my bluff. She had returned the pictures. I had no way of knowing if she had made copies, of course. but I thought that even she would be embarrassed enough if someone else was permitted to view them. I was still, despite her disappointment, her brother's wife. I didn't hear from or see any members of the Club d'Amour, so I hoped the gossiping had stopped. too. However, as I had told Professor Fuentes. I was still left with the damage that had already been done.

Thatcher disappointed me when he called at the end of the day to say he had been summoned to a very important meeting in Tallahassee. He said it involved the conglomerate and the men he had met in Nice when we were on our honeymoon.

"They are working on some state politicians.

These are sort of off-the-record meetings, if you know what I mean. I'll have to be there the better part of two days. I'll be back tomorrow night." he told me.

"Oh," I moaned,

"Don't sound so unhappy. It's not even thirty-six hours," he said.

"I need to talk to you, to have some time with you without any dinner guests, without any relatives or distractions, no phones ringing, no interruptions."

"We could fly over to Nassau for the weekend."

he suggested. "Yes, maybe we should do that."

"Fine. What's it all about? Your brother?"

"No. Not exactly about him. That's only part of it."

"I didn't want to mention it, but maybe I should," he said. "What?"

"I think your brother spends hours at a time lurking outside our door at night.,"

"Lurking?"

"Last night and once before, I went out after you fell asleep and he practically leaped for his own door."

"Maybe it was just a coincidence," I said.

"Maybe. Maybe not He skulks about more than ever, it seems to me. I know you and Grace think he's made leaps and bounds in improvement, but I'm still very concerned, Willow. Please think about it. And be careful," he added.

"He's not going to hurt anyone. Thatcher."

"There are many different ways to hurt someone. Willow. Just be more objective and alert.

okay? I've got to get going. I'll call you." he said.

"Thatcher—"

I heard the phone click dead and stood there with the receiver in my hand for a while. Had Whitney gotten to him after all and poisoned his mind? Was Professor Fuentes's suggestion coming too late? I chastised myself for having waited this long, and especially for keeping my confrontation with Whitney a secret. That hesitation might have nurtured suspicions and doubts. If anything was truly the lifeblood and strength of a marriage, it was trust.

People loved each other in relation to the secrets they kept from each other. The fewer secrets they had, the more their love grew. I had no better illustration of that truth than my father's marriage to my adoptive mother. The secrets they kept from each other could have filled the Atlantic Ocean, and the love they ended up sharing wouldn't have filled a thimble.

That evening. Mother did not come to dinner.

Linden told me she said she had a headache and just wanted to take something for it and sleep. I went to check on her and saw she was already asleep.

"She worries about all of us too -much," Linden said when I returned and reported that she was sleeping soundly. He sat there eating with as vigorous an appetite as I had ever seen him have. "I know I am the cause of most of that. I work too much and haunt the house, searching every shadow, but that is all coming to an end," he announced.

"Oh? Why?"

"Today, while you were at class, guess where I was.‖ I shook my head.

"Where?"

"At your school. too." He was beaming. "I did just what I once told you I would do— I enrolled in an art appreciation class. I’m going every Tuesday and Thursday morning at nine beginning next term. If I like the one class. I'll take two, maybe three the following term."

"That's wonderful. Linden. You should join one of the clubs as well. It will help you meet people."

"Yes," he said. "I might just do that." How encouraging it all sounded.

"Where's Thatcher?" he asked, realizing suddenly that we were having dinner without him.

"He had to attend a very important business meeting in Tallahassee. He'll be back late tomorrow."

"Oh."

He had a strange look on his face for a moment, the look of someone who had drifted off. I ate and watched him, and then he began to eat again, only faster. I commented on it, and he said he had to get back to work.

"I'm doing something that I really like. It's possessed me," he admitted in a heavy whisper. "but sometimes, being possessed isn't bad. Sometimes, its what makes my work special. You understand, don't you? Thatcher wouldn't. I know. But you do." he said confidently.

"Yes. I understand. Be possessed, but not consumed," I advised, and he laughed.

"Seems to me.," he said. 'that's advice you should be giving to Thatcher. He's the one who works around the clock these days."

I said nothing. He was right, of course.

But we shouldn't worry, should we?" he said, smiling again. "We have each other to keep us company when everyone else disappoints us."

He laughed again, and returned to his dinner.

Afterward, I retreated to my suite to do some studying. I ended my evening by checking on Mother, who had woken and had some tea, toast, and jelly brought to her.

"I'm just feeling a bit on the creaky side tonight," she claimed. "Now, don't go making those big eyes at me and talking about doctors and hospitals. You know how much I hate the thought of it."

"If you're not back to your usual self tomorrow—"

"I'll be back. I'll be back." she promised. She asked after Thatcher. and I told her about his meetings in Tallahassee, and then how Linden and I had enjoyed dinner together,

"He's involved in some new art project." I said.

I repeated what he had said about attending college.

"Oh, that's wonderful. If only he does it."

"We'll see to it that he does," I assured her.

I returned to my suite and watched some

television until my eyelids grew heavy. I even drifted off while the television was on. Finally I turned it off and put out the lights. In our king-size bed with its massive headboard, I felt more alone than ever tonight. In the relatively short time Thatcher and I had been together. I had grown accustomed to feeling him beside me. Hearing his steady breathing at night, or cuddling up to him when it rained, helped me feel secure.

At UNC and here. I had girlfriends who placed such a premium on their independence that they mocked me whenever I spoke about someone, especially a man, giving me that sense of security, whether it was my father, or my boyfriend, Allan, at North Carolina, or my husband.

"Men lord it over you when they realize that. It makes them feel superior and convinces them you should be beholden to them, be grateful they are there.

I'll never let a man think that of me," I heard. I heard it in so many different ways and so often that at times I wondered if it wasn't true. if I wasn't too weak, too dependent after all.

And yet, wasn't it wonderful to find someone to whom you could cling and who would soothe and comfort you? Wasn't it good that we had a soft part to ourselves, a part to be loved and cherished. too? Did we always have to be on guard, ready to stand up for our rights? It gets tiring after a while. After a while you have to wonder what has been gained and what has been lost. There had to be a place of compromise, a place you both came to willingly, seeking ways to become important to each other, to become a part of each other, to lose a little of yourself in each other and move from "you and me" to "we."