Fatal Flowers. V. J. Banis

do,” I said firmly.

      Of course I had to report it. I had to do something. I just couldn’t witness the abduction of a poor unconscious girl and say nothing.

      I bit down on my lower lip. On perhaps it was nothing at all. Maybe the girl was merely some rich, precocious brat who was making a rebellious stand against her parents. It might well be very innocent.

      But the man had hit her. Regardless of how precocious the girl might be, I could see no earthly reason for a grown man knocking a defenseless child unconscious. Surely the man’s employer didn’t condone such treatment of his daughter—if he knew.

      Diana sighed. She said no more; there was nothing to say. And we were both well aware of that fact. We may have been mother and daughter, but we were total strangers and lived in entirely different worlds.

      She leaned into the far corner of the seat and threw back the veil of her hat. My quick glance turned into an open stare. She was old, much older than I had thought. The skin was loose and sagging. Her eyes were bright, but the skin surrounding them was dark and wrinkled, although carefully camouflaged by eye make-up. The lines at the mouth were etched deep into the corners. The cheeks were shallow under the bright rouge. Her hat did a thorough job of hiding her hair, but I imagined that it was very evenly colored with that flat, solid look dyed hair takes on.

      My surprise at seeing the real Diana Hamilton did not go unnoticed. She smiled a slow, careful smile and chuckled softly. There was something sad in her laugh. She tried to stare me down. I couldn’t let her do that. I had to show her that I was as strong as she. I refused to let her intimidate me.

      Finally she relented. She lifted the cigarette to her lips and brought the lighter to it, exhaling noisily. She leveled her eyes on me again. “You didn’t realize how old I am,” she said bluntly. “I was thirty-three when you were born. I have more or less retired from public life. The camera can be both friend and enemy, both kind and malicious. In the past few years I came to realize how much it disliked me. I decided it was time for our relationship to come to an abrupt end. I am Mrs. Leland Braddock now. Diana Hamilton has ceased to exist. Unfortunately, your untimely appearance forced Diana Hamilton back into the public’s eyes for a brief time.” She waved her cigarette as though it were a magic wand. “But that will change very soon.”

      “I had no hand in what happened,” I said evenly. “I was unconscious during those days they tried to find out who I was. I am just as displeased with this whole affair as you are. You needn’t have sent for me, you know.”

      “Of course I had to send for you. I had no other alternative.” She stabbed out her cigarette.

      Then suddenly her face went soft and her eyes turned more gentle. She reached out and patted my hand. “But let us not quarrel, Alice. I realize none of this could have been avoided. It was time we met anyway. As it is, I’ve put off meeting you for too long a time.” She smiled and for a moment I thought the smile was genuine. “I am really quite pleased that we can be together again.”

      I almost believed her for a second.

      I saw her eyes move to the back of her husband’s head. Her expression suddenly changed again. “Of course Falcon Island is an isolated spot. I’m afraid you will tire of it quickly and want to return home.”

      I got the message clearly enough. “I have no intentions of staying very long,” I said.

      She nodded and said nothing.

      Of course I’d known that I wasn’t welcome at Falcon Island...wherever that was. I looked about at the landscape to see if I could get my bearings. I didn’t want to talk any more. I hadn’t really paid any attention to the scenery when we first started away from the train station at Gulf Point. We had since left that little town far behind us.

      Now I looked around and reveled in the beauty of the place. Summer had just given spring an impatient nudge, and everywhere I looked evidence of summer’s reasons for that impatient nudge could be seen. I could almost feel the yellows and blues, the purples, the reds, the greens, the colors of summer. Already the days seemed brighter, hotter, although this was only the second day of the new season. The trees all looked so smooth and lush, so filled with shade and beauty, so young and alive. The land was flat and spacious and teeming with life and the vitality of nature.

      Out of the corner of my eye I saw Diana studying my face. “You know,” she said, “you look very much like your father.”

      How like her, I thought. My father used to tell me precisely the opposite. He said I was the spitting image of my mother. I used to compare myself to her magazine pictures. I could never convince myself, however, that I was or could ever be as beautiful as the famous Diana Hamilton. Yet there was definitely a resemblance. I had Diana’s eyes, her delicate nose, the regal chin. I had very few of my father’s features, except that I’d inherited his straight brown hair and his inquisitive nature.

      Her gaze moved over me very slowly, very carefully. I could feel disdain radiating from her. She didn’t like me any more than I cared for her. I could see both our reasons and understood them readily enough. To her, I represented proof of her maturity. To me, she represented a woman who had never wanted me. And she still did not want me. I could tell by the way she looked at me that she wanted me to go away and stay away.

      There was something else, though. There was fear in her eyes. I couldn’t really tell why she was afraid. There was something she was hiding and it was much more important than simply her true age. She lit another cigarette and exhaled the smoke in a heavy puff. “You don’t like me much, do you Alice?”

      “Should I?” I asked, careful to keep my eyes focused on the scenery outside. I didn’t want her to see the moisture that suddenly threatened to become tears.

      I heard her sigh again. “No, I guess not.”

      We drove in silence. After a mile or two the trees that separated the road from the open fields fell back and the land opened up briefly, but no more than a mile later we were again engulfed in tall oaks and magnolias, red cypress and yellow pines, gums and hickories. Low tangles of Carolina yellow jasmine, Cherokee rose, trumpet creepers made it difficult to see the ground itself.

      “You’ve fully recovered from the plane crash, I presume,” Leland said over his shoulder.

      “Yes, thank you, except, of course, for my leg. The doctor said the cast will have to stay on for quite a while.”

      “I had a broken leg once, Leland,” Diana said, taking his attention immediately away from me. “Did you know that?”

      “No, dear, I didn’t.”

      “Yes. I broke it during the filming of that Bronte picture. Uhhh...you know....” She snapped her fingers impatiently.

      “Wuthering Heights,” Leland provided.

      “Yes, that’s the one. I fell from a rock.” Suddenly she laughed. “It cost the studio a fortune. The way they carried on, one would have thought I broke the bone on purpose.” She turned suddenly to me. “Did you enjoy me in Wuthering Heights?” she asked with her usual imperious smile.

      Of course I’d seen the picture. Diana Hamilton had received an Academy Award for it Yet, in spite of myself, I said, “I don’t recall seeing it.”

      The look she gave me would easily have frozen water.

      Again silence took over inside the car.

      We passed through a patch of tropical forest. Cattleya orchids flourished everywhere, it seemed, their velvety vibrant petals drooping in sad dejection. Giant rafflesia measuring at least three feet across stretched out to catch whatever light they could in their massive circular raspberry-colored leaves. I saw marshmallow flowers with their rounded, pale pink petals and notch-edged leaves that came into sharp points. Magnolia and red-bud, and flame vines grew in tangles; lichens struggled to reach the sky. The whole place was exotic and yet frightening and oppressive.

      As suddenly as the dark, dank forest had swallowed us up, it cast us out. The road widened, the bright