Twisted Roots by V. C. Andrews Read Free Book Online

instead of Hannah.
"It's me. Uncle Linden," I replied.
He stood there strangely gazing past me as if he was really a blind man tying to hear or somehow sense what he was supposed to see.
"It's Hannah." I said, hurrying to the steps.
"Oh. Hannah. Hannah," he said. nodding. He smiled and I rushed up to embrace him.
"How are you today?"
"Good," he said, nodding and looking thoughtful about it. "Good." he concluded. "Where's your mother?"
"She's still in the hospital. She might be coming home tomorrow morning. It all depends on Claude."
"Hospital?" He sat in the rocker, his face turning ashen with concern. " - What's wrong with her?"
It simply hadn't occurred to me that neither Mother nor Miguel had called the residency to tell Uncle Linden about little Claude's birth. I knew from previous visits and one visit, nearly seven months ago with Mommy, that Uncle Linden knew she was pregnant. She didn't spend very much time talking about it, and I remember he seemed unimpressed, even though she had gone so long without becoming pregnant.
Maybe they were planning on telling him today. They didn't know I was coming to see him. but Mommy hadn't told me to wait for her to tell him or anything like that. However, she always made it seem like I should tiptoe around Uncle Linden and never volunteer any more information about our family life than he actually asked about.
"I know it's hard, maybe even impossible for you to realize how ill he was and still is," she instructed. "so please especially try to avoid talking about the past. If he brings anything up from our past, just say you don't know anything and you're not comfortable talking about it. He'll understand and stop.
"I'm not saying you can make him sicker or anything like that. Hannah," she added when she saw the expression on my face. "I just don't want you to feel any sort of pressure."
"I never do," I said.
"No. I'm sure you don't. and I am happy about that. I do know he enjoys seeing you very much, so spend your time talking about yourself, your school, your music lessons, things like that.
He has no other way of learning about that sort of thing, you know, Okay? You understand?" she asked. and I nodded even though I didn't understand. Why was our family past filled with so many minefields? I knew so little detail about everything anyway. What was she afraid I would say? It did make me nervous.
And so whenever Uncle Linden did begin to drift off, to talk about life before me. I interrupted and mentioned something that had just happened. Sometimes he would bite and ask me about it, and sometimes he would simply clam up and take on that far-off look, and I knew he was hearing another voice, seeing another face. That was my clue to end my visit.
In the beginning when I started to visit Uncle Linden by myself. Mommy questioned me in detail about each occasion, wanting to know what was said, what sort of things Uncle Linden wanted to talk about, and how he reacted to the things I told him. I assumed she had a purely professional interest in it, but the time before last, when Uncle Linden mentioned his desire to do a painting of me, she became very agitated and concerned, so much so. that I was frightened,
"No!" she cried almost before I was able to get the news through my lips. "Absolutely out of the question. Don't you even think of it."
But why not? What harm could that do to him?" I asked. disappointed. I was actually looking forward to posing and having the picture. I couldn't help but be curious as to what he would see in me and how he would portray me. He had done one other portrait while he was at the residency, as far as I knew, and that was of another resident, a woman who was at least twenty years older than he was, and yet she looked twenty years younger. and I thought there were resemblances to Mommy.
"He's always talking about how much you and I look alike," I told Mommy. "I guess he just wants to paint that."
"I forbid you to do it. Hannah. If you don't listen to me. I'll