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"Yeah, well, from what I hear from my mother... our mother, I should say, you haven't been aware of it very long. You haven't lived under the curse long enough to know it's there along with fate itself, playing with us, amusing itself, tinkering with our hearts and minds, fooling with our emotions, sometimes even permitting us to taste a little happiness so that when it pulls it away from us, we can fully understand just how much we have lost and how terrible is our particular destiny.
"Welcome to the family," he said, then spun around and walked toward his clothes.
"I don't believe any of that, Linden," I called to him across our patch of darkness, "And I know you don't. either."
He laughed, madly.
"Together," I continued as I struggled to get on my clothes, "we can make sense out of this. We can restore understanding and love and hope to our mother and to ourselves."
"Please," he said. "You don't know what you're talking about. Don't make me feel any sicker than I do, if that's possible. If there is one thing that can do it, though," he said, approaching me. "it's false hopes and stupid cotton-candy dreams. Just listen to the ocean," he said. "Come out here at night and listen to it whenever you get so you believe you can change anything, and you'll hear the same song men and women have heard since time began, the same roar of laughter. That's the voice of fate. Shouting back at it is like shouting directly into a wall."
"No," I said.
He seized my shoulders and spun me around to face him. I pressed the blouse I was holding against my naked breasts. He stared at me a moment and then turned me again so I would face in the direction of the house. I could see the lights in the upstairs hallway,
"A long time ago, our mother was raped in that very house: not seduced, raped. And I was born of that. I'm tainted with it, spoiled, understand? I have his blood in me. Years later, our mother, as you know, was raped again, when she was just as vulnerable, and you were born of that."
"No," I said, shaking my head. "That's not true. That's not how it was."
"And you were born," he repeated. "So you see, we're really very much alike, aren't we? Maybe we should forget we're half-brother and half-sister. huh? Maybe we should give into the stream of lust that has produced us."
"No," I said as he pulled my arms apart so that my blouse came away from my naked bosom. He stared down at me.
"Maybe we should confirm it all right on this beach." he spat.
My heart was pounding so hard that I didn't have the strength to pull my arms from his hands. But suddenly, he released me. and I hurried to put on my blouse,
"What difference would it make?" he muttered. "What difference does any of it make. anyway?"
He started off. I slipped on my sandals and hurried after him.
"Linden, wait. That's not what happened at my father's clinic. That's not the truth."
He walked faster, practically running from me. As he charged down the beach. I slowed up. He went back toward the beach h
ouse. and I emerged from the shadows into the lights of the estate. My clothes were wet from my soaked body, my blouse clinging around my breasts like tissue paper and just as translucent. I looked after him a moment and then turned toward the house-- and stopped sharply.
Standing there, his eyes wide with shock. was Thatcher.
.
"What did you both do, fall out of a boat?" he asked facetiously.
"No."
"I didn't think so. I hope you had a good time, at least," he said, and turned away to start back to the house.
"Thatcher, wait!" I cried.
He stopped and spun around. "Funny." he said. "I thought you would be the one in for a surprise or two here, and what do you know, I'm the one who gets all the surprises. Doesn't seem quite fair, does it?"
"You don't understand." I said. "I didn't come here for the reasons I gave you. I'm not doing any study of the Palm Beach society."
He shook his head. smiling, "I really didn't think you were, Willow. Is that your real name, or is that another surprise?" He looked toward the beach house. "What, do you know something I don't know about Linden Montgomery's net worth? Or do you just favor the sad, wacky type? Is the sex better with someone like that? A bit kinky? What?" he practically screamed, his eves wide, his lips stretched with his anger and fury. "Or are you the kind who doesn't tell? I've met one or two of those. I thought I'd met every sort, actually, but that was before I met you."
Tears were streaming down my face so fast I thought I was in a downpour. My throat closed up.
"What bothers me the most." he continued. "was how sincere and honest I was with you. I feel like a fool, but that's the way you women like us, at a disadvantage, isn't it?"
