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"You can ship anything to me." she said. "I have room and can keep it for you."
"Thank you," I said. In my mind. I thought if I did. I'd probably not see any of it again.
"I would strongly suggest you call me to discuss any and all decisions from this day forward. Despite finding your so-called real mother, you are still an inexperienced person when it comes to worldly matters."
"I'll muddle through," I said.
She pursed those thin lips into a line of disgust and snapped her head back.
"I should hope you won't have to muddle." she said. "Please don't feel obligated to attend Margaret Selby's wedding," she added. Her voice was hard, her smile faint and sardonic. I had been waiting for something like that. She was terrified I would bring my scandal along and disrupt the festivities.
"I don't view it as an obligation. Aunt Agnes."
"Nevertheless, we.-- I-- realize all the pressure on you now, and certainly Margaret Selby would understand."
"Oh. I imagine she would, once you explain it all to her. Aunt Agnes," I said with a smile to match the cold one she had put on for me.
"Yes. Well, as I said, call me." She paused as she started to turn away and looked back at me again. "What have you done with that diary you claim my brother wrote?"
"It's not a claim; it's a fact," I said.
"Yes, well, where is this document?"
"It's safe with me."
"Who else has read it?"
"No one."
"Well perhaps, if you dispose of it..."
"I'd rather burn the Bible," I said, and she widened her eyes.
"I'm merely frying to help you avoid any more gossip and scandal."
"It's too late." I said. "Get used to it."
She shook her head and then fired her words like bullets. "You're very smug and flippant about all this now, Willow, but in time you'll regret that." she warned. She said it with such authority and certainty I did take a breath. "You have no idea how cruel and vicious people can be when they have an opportunity to destroy someone they envy, believe me. Many people are jealous of me and our family. Don't expect kindness and understanding. It's not as glamorous or as romantic as it seems to you at the moment. It's simply good gossip to mine and to mold into mud. You're a well-to-do young woman, and you will. I hope, pursue a career. None of this will be an advantage when it comes time for you to present yourself in the professional and business world."
She came back toward me, lifting her long, bony finger like a pointer and waving it. "You can mock me now and belittle my advice all you want, but in time, you'll come to see things my way, and you'll regret your behavior."
She paused and gathered her shoulders back, then took a deep breath, narrowed her eves, and continued. "It is the unfortunate burden of mature and experienced people to try to guide the young and then to have to stand by and watch them make foolish errors out of stubbornness or a mistaken value placed on independence. You can spend your life mulling over your regrets, or you can listen and do the right thing and find some contentment.
"Maybe that's not exactly how my brother would speak to you. but I feel in my heart that is what he would mean."
"I'll make my own decisions. Aunt Agnes," I insisted.
Her eyes turned to dark river stones. "Do as you wish," she concluded, throwing up her hand. She turned and marched out of my house.
I heard the door slam behind her. and I was left with the echo of that ringing in my ears and the echo of her warnings and threats lingering in the air.
Now, finally alone. I could sit back and cry. All the people I had loved and who had loved me were gone or far away. My newly discovered mother was overburdened with her sad memories and troubles. Thatcher was now like one of those festive party balloons broken free, drifting in the wind, drifting away.
There was nothing left to do but pack up the memorabilia I cherished in this house and set it aside. The day was fast approaching when I would leave here for good, cast myself out into the same sea as Linden had. I had no idea where the wind would take me, how it would fill my sails, but maybe, like him_. I had little choice but to have faith in something bigger than myself: fate or destiny or some good angel who would smile down on me and not let me drift too far or too dangerously close to the rocks.
Suddenly, it began to r
ain. It grew quickly into a cloud burst, making the house feel damp and chilly as well as dark. The drops tapped on the windows as if nature demanded my attention, reminding me that the world could be cold and cruel and my aunt Agnes's words were not just the warnings of a bitter woman.
