Heart Song (30 page)

"I'm not hungry."
"Look, this might even be better for now, considering the way your father is," I said.
"How could it be better?"
"He doesn't want me here. It's only irritating him and he has to recuperate."
"Do what you want," Cary snapped and pushed his plate away. "Everybody should just go and do what they want!" he cried and rose from the table.
"Cary!"
He marched out of the dining room and out of the house. I heard the front door slam.
May's hands were going like birds chasing each other.
"He's just upset about your father," I signed, "and your mother. He'll be all right. Could you clear the table when you're finished? I'll go after him."
She nodded and I hurried down the hall and out of the house. He hadn't gone far. He was leaning against the truck, his arms folded across his chest, his head down. The sky had changed to a dark plum color streaked with crimson that looked like freshly spilled blood and the ocean had an inky-gray sheen. I saw no boats, and with no traffic on our street and no other people about, I felt smaller, alone, like the two of us were the last people on earth.
I put my hand on his shoulder. He didn't look up. "First Laura and then you," he said.
"If I move in with my uncle, I won't be leaving you for good, Cary. I'll still be in Provincetown. We'll still see each other whenever we want to see each other."
"Will we?"
He raised his head. His green eyes were darker and strangely haunted.
"Yes," I said emphatically. He smiled as if I had said the silliest thing. "I promise," I added.
"Promises," he muttered and gazed toward the ocean. "You of all people know they're like balloons. When you first get them, they're fresh and bright and full and then time passes and they lose air or simply explode. Laura and I used to make all sorts of promises to each other."
"I'm not Laura, Cary. I never intended to be. I'm not your sister. I'm--"
He looked at me, his eyes full of expectation. "Yes?" he said.
"I'm your girlfriend, or at least, I hope I am."
"Do you?"
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, Cary. You know how I feel about lies."
He smiled.
"Yes, that I know," he said, nodding. He took a deep breath and looked up at the windows on the second floor of the house. "I'm never going to please him, you know."
"That's his fault, Cary, not yours," I said.
"It doesn't matter whose fault it is. I've been at his side all my life. Ever since I was old enough to walk out to the dock with him. He's a good sailor-- the best. I never felt anything but safe being out there with him."
"That's good," I said. "That's the way a son should feel about his father."
He shook his head. And then he shut his eyes as if a vision so terrible it cut through his brain like a knife had appeared.
"What is it, Cary?"
"I didn't tell Ma everything," he said after a short pause and another deep sigh.
"What do you mean?"
"The doctor doesn't think he will ever be what he was. He wants him to go on disability and stop working altogether," he said. "Too much damage to his heart."
"Oh." I slumped back against the truck beside him, suddenly feeling guilty about yelling at Uncle Jacob. "He doesn't know?"
"He knows; he just won't accept it," Cary said. "When I brought him home, he said, 'I don't want to die on land. I'll die on my boat."
I thought about Aunt Sara and how she would fall apart like a figure of ice surprised by the spring sunshine.
"You've just got to make him understand, Cary."
"Understand? I might as well shout at the wind or stand on the beach and try to scare away the tide. The sea is in his blood. Almost every day of his life, he got up and went to sea." He smiled. "He always says he wobbles when he walks on dry land. He says he gets land sick the way most people get seasick.
"And, he'll worry about the family, making a living. He was planning on expanding the cranberry business, you know."
"You can do all that, Cary."
"It won't be the same for him. Dad's not a man who can spend the rest of his life sitting in a rocker, waiting for me to come home with a report."
"Well what's his solution?" I cried.
"There is no solution," he said. "We'll just do what we have to do when we have to do it, I guess." He took a deep breath and looked at the house. "Let's go back before Ma comes down and finds we ran away from her dinner."
I took his arm and he turned his troubled, dark green eyes to me.
"I'll be at your side to help you whenever I can, Cary."
His eyes brightened and he looked young again, young and strong and hopeful. Then he leaned closer and we kissed. It was just a soft kiss, a moment, but it was like a promise, and not a promise that would burst like a balloon.
At least, that's what I believed in my heart.
Raymond was there promptly at seven. Aunt Sara came down from Uncle Jacob's room to be sure I was ready and that I would go. Why pleasing Grandma Olivia reigned so importantly in her mind, I would never understand. But it did. It was as if Grandma Olivia left her shadow on the walls here and Aunt Sara always felt that shadow hovering above or behind her, waiting to pounce and approve or disapprove of anything she said or did.
I hurried out and into the car. The moon was out now, big and bright, full and smiling, with long dark clouds streaking its face and making it seem sinister one minute and gay the next. It was as if a voice whispered in my ear, telling me to beware everything, for nothing was what it appeared to be.
"Probably get some showers tonight," Raymond said as we drove off.
The weather again, I thought. And then I thought, maybe it was a secret language; maybe it was another way of revealing what was in your heart.
"As long as it's not a storm," I replied.
"No, nothing like that. Just a refreshing downpour to drop us out of this unusually humid and warm air," he said.
"And tomorrow the sun will shine?"
"Expect so," he said.
I smiled to myself and we drove on.
The great house was surprisingly dark when we arrived. Raymond got out quickly and opened my door. I hurried up to the front and rang the bell. Loretta opened the door and glared out at me. She still hadn't forgiven me for bursting in the day before, I realized.
"Grandma Olivia wants to see me," I said sharply. She grimaced as if she had a bellyache.
"In the living room," she said, stepping back.
There was only a small light on in the hallway, and there wasn't much light coming from the living room either. When I entered, I saw a single lamp lit on the table beside the chair in which Grandma Olivia sat, perched like a buzzard, her eyes in half shadow, her face wearing the darkness like a veil. She was dressed in a very plain, dark blue dress, and less jewelry than usual. Her hands grasped the knobby ends of the arms of the chair as if she were afraid she might be shaken out of it.
"You sent for me?" I asked. Her deathly silence actually frightened me and I lost much of the confidence and anger that had helped me feel firm and secure. There was a long, ungodly pause that started my heart thumping.
"Sit down!" she said sharply.
I backed myself to the sofa, not taking my eyes from her. Anyone
^-
watching me would have thought I was afraid to turn my back on her. I folded my hands in my lap and waited. She moved forward just enough to bring her face fully out of the shadows and into the light. Even so, she looked ghostly, her face so pale that her dark eyes seemed to leap out at me. I actually gasped.
"So you went from here to Nelson's house and you heard his pathetic tale," she recited, as if telling the last line of a ghost story.
"I knew my grandmother was telling the truth," I said. "I didn't believe you."
"Men," she said so disdainfully it sounded as if she thought they were the lowest form of life. "They are so weak, so at the mercy of their lust. Every man I've known, my own father, his father, my child of a husband, even my sons, even Jacob, marrying that dishrag who wallows in her own tears. I told him she wasn't strong enough to be a Logan's wife, but he didn't listen to me, not even Jacob," she moaned. The tone surprised me, and I actually thought she might start crying.
"Aunt Sara is a sweet woman who's had more than her share of terrible tragedy and--"
"Oh stop it," she snapped. "You don't have any more respect for her than I do. You're too much like me," she declared. "You're more a Gordon than a Childs, believe me," she added and with some sense of pride. It sounded like a compliment, and hearing her give me one so unexpectedly took the wind from my sails.
I respect her," I said, but without as much firmness as I thought I would have.
"You don't respect her. You pity her. Would you like to be like her?" she asked with a wry smile on small, tight lips. "Is she the sort of woman you see yourself becoming after you marry?"
"Everyone's different," I said.
She laughed.
"You don't like to say unpleasant things, even if you believe them in your heart. "
"How do you know what's in my heart?" I replied, regaining my self-assurance.
I know," she said, nodding. "In many ways you remind me of me when I was your age, even younger."
That surprised me. She, admitting she was like me?
"You will find it a disadvantage, this need to always be pleasant and do what Sara idiotically preaches: 'don't say anything about anyone if you can't say something nice,' " she recited, wagging her head in mimicry. "Isn't that what she always parrots?"
"She's a very kindhearted, considerate person who thinks the sun rises and falls on your wishes," I said. "And if she knew how you felt about her, she would feel just terrible."
"She's merely afraid of me," Grandma Olivia said with a wave of her hand. "She has about as much love for me as you do, but I don't mind. If you spend your time worrying about who loves you and who doesn't, you'll end up--end up like Belinda," she concluded.
"Why didn't you tell me the truth?" I demanded.
"It wasn't my truth to tell," she said with a pained sigh. "And it's not something I care to remember." The sadness dropped from her face and was quickly replaced with that habitual take-charge look. "Besides, what good does that do now? Belinda is in a rest home. Your mother is dead. Your real father remains a mystery. You have only what I can give you. Nelson may have confessed to his youthful sins, but believe me, he has nothing more to give you than agony. He's wasting away in that house, living alone, his other children content to be far away, his son Kenneth unforgiving."
"Kenneth told me everything he knows. He's my uncle. I have that now," I retorted.
She snickered.
"Relatives. If you ask me, they're just additional burdens. You inherit their weaknesses and problems on top of your own. If you have a relative who committed a crime, people treat you as if you committed the crime. You're tainted. Overcoming the burden of my sister has been a lifelong endeavor for me," she said. "I've done well and I'm not about to countenance any setbacks," she added, leaning forward to focus her steely eyes on me.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I called you here tonight after speaking with Nelson and hearing him slobber like a baby over the phone, because I wanted to be certain, absolutely certain that what he told you goes nowhere else. I'm too old to do battle with a new scandal. He was a fool to break down and tell you."
"I had a right to know. It's my life, too," I protested. "Now, I know that Kenneth Childs is my uncle," I continued. "He's asked me to move in with him and permit him to become my guardian."
She recoiled as if stung by a bee.
"What? Absolutely not. Why, that would be as good as standing on the street corner and announcing it all. Is he mad?"
"He was in love with my mother," I said. "You know when he learned about his father and my grandmother, that ended their hope of becoming man and wife. He wants to do this for me."
"I will not permit it," she insisted. She reached for a small bell on the side table and rang it. Loretta appeared as if she had been dangling above the doorway. "Call Kenneth Childs for me," she ordered. "He doesn't have a telephone," I reminded her.
"Send Raymond to his house immediately and tell him I want to see him tonight."
"Stop!" I shouted. Her eyes widened into two small balls of fire as her shoulders lifted. "He's in the middle of something very important. He can't be disturbed."
The fierce anger that sprang to Grandma Olivia's face shocked me, and Loretta just stood in the doorway, afraid to move a muscle.
"That will be all for now, Loretta."
"Should I send Mr. Raymond for Mr. Kenneth?"
"No, not at the moment," Grandma Olivia said. She sat back after Loretta left, and we contemplated each other warily. She nodded slightly, as if reaching a conclusion.
"You don't like living with my son. I imagine he's going to be especially difficult now that he'll be home so much," she added as an afterthought.
"That's not the only reason I want to move out and live with my uncle," I said.
"Nevertheless." She stiffened in her chair like a monarch. Then she leaned toward me again, stabbing me with her hard, penetrating glare.
"You will move in here," she declared, "and live with Samuel and me for your remaining year of public school. Then you will attend one of the finer colleges and pursue whatever interests you.'
"What?" My jaw hung open.
"Naturally, I will expect the most exemplary sort of behavior. I will, in return, provide you with all of your needs, a fine wardrobe, one that reflects what a granddaughter of mine should wear, and Raymond and the car will be available to take you wherever you have to go. We will tell the world that you didn't want to be an added burden to Jacob and Sarah at this time, with Jacob so sick and all. Actually, that's not far from the truth. I imagine you and Jacob don't see eye to eye and your continued presence won't help his recovery."
"You expect me to move in here with you?" I asked, still astounded at the suggestion.
"It's a much better solution. Kenneth will approve of it as well, I assure you," she said with sickening confidence.
I stared, amazed. Once, I was almost homeless, without anyone, and now, three homes were available to me.
"You and I don't have to fall in love with each other," she continued, "but we can have respect for each other."
"You, respect me?" I almost laughed.
"You have shown some resourcefulness that, as I said, reminds me of myself at your age. I'm a good judge of character, and I think you are even more like me than you want to admit. It's not a sin to be strong, Melody. And Lord knows it's up to the women in this family to be strong, since the men are all weak."