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far what purpose? Was my mother still going out to the dock at night with a lantern, dreaming of my father, who had promised to come to her someday? Such hope died hard, even in the face of the cold reality of his death, I thought, and my heart cried for
her.
Despite my fatigue. I slipped my feet into my
slippers and scooped up my pink and white velour
bathrobe to hurry out to see what was happening. The house was dark, but the rain clouds had
been driven off by a stern easterly wind and there was
enough of a first-quarter moon to illuminate the hall
and entryway. On the other side of the house and
above were housed the maids and the Eatons' butler.
Jennings. but I knew it was our front door I had heard
open and close.
I brushed back my hair and stepped out to the
loggia, facing the sea. The water looked choppy, the
starlit whitecaps higher than usual. At first I thought
there was no one out here and perhaps I had imagined
it all. but then, looking to my right. I saw Linden
walking in bare feet slowly, very slowly, and wearing
only his pajamas!
My first inclination was to turn back and fetch
my mother. but Linden was moving closer and closer
to the water. The frightening thought occurred to me that my return might have had a terribly negative effect on him, something my mother had not realized, so terrible in fact that it had revived his suicidal urge. Would I be responsible for another near-tragedy? Panic seemed to add a hundred pounds to my weight. Even so. I shot forward and hurried after him. The wind whipped my robe about my legs and threw sand up into my face as if nature herself wanted to keep me
from reaching him.
"Linden!" I screamed, "What are you doing?
Where are you going? Linden!"
He didn't turn, nor did he change his pace,
which was a very slow, dreamy gait, his arms stiffly at
his sides. I broke into a rim, losing my slipper once,
getting it back on, and running until I reached him
moments later.
"Linden!"
