Melody (28 page)

Didn't I hate it here? Didn't I want to just run away?

And yet, Adam Jackson's handsome face lingered before my eyes and his compliments echoed in my ears. Was I really as pretty as he said I was? I gazed at myself in the mirror. Was there as much potential beauty as he
claimed he saw? Was he making up what he had told me the other girls thought of me? I didn't want to become conceited, and yet, I didn't want to underestimate myself and become some mousy creature with no self-confidence, terrified of life like . . . like Aunt Sara hovering in Uncle Jacob's dark shadow.

I sat at the vanity table and thought and then I gazed down at the pile of letters bound with a rubber band. They were Laura's letters from her boyfriend. I had no right to look at them, and yet, I couldn't help wondering what sort of a relationship they had had before their tragic end.

I took off the rubber band and opened the first envelope. The handwriting was pretty, an almost artistic script. The letter had been written on blue stationery.

Dearest Laura,

I had a wonderful time yesterday. I don't know how many times I've walked on that beach, but yesterday, with you, it suddenly seemed more beautiful than ever. I didn't mean to take you away from your work. I know Cary was upset with me for just appearing unexpectedly. When I get a chance, I'll apologize to him for stealing you away and leaving him with all the lobsters and fish.

But I'll never apologize for taking you anywhere. I'm glad you feel the same way about me that I feel about you. I've felt this for a long time, but I didn't have the courage to tell you. Don't ask me why I have it now. I think it's because of the way you smiled at me in the cafeteria that day. It gave me all the nerve I needed.

I'm not used to writing letters to girls or anyone. Actually, you're the first girl I've ever written a letter to, not counting my cousin Susie. I know it's hard for you to talk long on the telephone. Besides, it's kind of exciting receiving letters from you, too. I'm just nervous about mailing the letters and maybe
having someone else read them. You know who. He never seems to be happy to see me around, even when I'm not taking you away from helping your father.

Maybe, when he feels about a girl the way I feel about you, he'll be more understanding. I know what you meant when you said you were afraid of how you felt about me sometimes. It's a bit overwhelming, but I'm not ashamed of it and never will be. I hope you feel that, too. I promise, I'll try to control myself more, but you know what they say about promises lovers make. Just kidding, only, please don't hate me for loving you more than I should.

I like writing to you, Laura. I see your face in front of me as I think of the words. It makes me want to write to you all night. Until I see you, hold me in your heart.

Love,
Robert

Tears filled my eyes. Would I ever have anyone love me as much as Robert Royce loved Laura? If they had something so beautiful, why did they have to die so tragically and so young? I sighed and thought about reading another letter, but there was a sharp knock on my door. I guiltily stuffed the letter back into the envelope.

“Yes?”

Cary entered. His gaze moved from me to the pile of letters and then back to me.

“My mother says you have a phone call. A girl friend from Sewell.”

“Alice!” I jumped up. “Thanks.”

I went downstairs quickly, forgetting that I still hadn't put on my sneakers and socks. This time, Uncle Jacob wasn't sitting near the phone, ready to listen. Aunt Sara held the receiver away from her as if it were a forbidden object that might contaminate her.

“Jacob doesn't approve of young people gossiping on the telephone,” she whispered. “Don't be long.”

“Thank you,” I said and took the receiver. “Alice?”

“Hi. Was it all right for me to call now? Your aunt sounded upset.”

“It's all right. I'm happy to hear from you so soon.”

Aunt Sara gave me a look of warning and stepped gingerly out of the room.

“I miss you and I miss Sewell,” I added as soon as she was gone. “More than I ever expected.”

“Oh? Well, I don't have good news. Papa George is in the hospital and when I asked Mama Arlene about your mother and your things, she told me she hasn't heard a word from your mother since you all left.”

“Mommy never called her?”

“Not yet. I thought I had better tell you.”

“How is Papa George doing?”

“He's in intensive care. He's very sick, Melody. I'm sorry.”

“I should be there,” I moaned. “I don't know what to do.”

“What can you do?” Alice asked in her habitual blunt manner.

“Nothing until Mommy calls me.”

“You really hate it there?”

“There's a lot happinging, Alice.”

“Tell me,” she pleaded.

“I can't. Not on the phone. I'll write you a letter.”

“Don't wait. Write it tonight.”

“Melody, dear, not too long,” I heard Aunt Sara say through the wall. She was probably just on the other side of the door all the while, I thought.

“I've got to hang up, Alice. Thanks for calling.”

“Write me and I'll call you the moment I hear that your mother called Mama Arlene,” she said quickly.

“Thanks. Bye.”

I cradled the receiver just as Uncle Jacob came
through the front door. He saw Aunt Sara standing in the hallway and me by the phone.

“Was that your mother?” he asked me.

“No. A friend from Sewell.”

He glared at Aunt Sara.

“She wasn't on the phone long, Jacob.”

He grunted. Then he noticed my bare feet.

“We don't walk through the house half dressed here,” he said. For a moment I didn't understand. “Your feet,” he said nodding at them.

“Oh. I just came down quickly. It was a long-distance phone call and—”

“A decent girl always thinks about those things first,” he chastised.

“I am a decent girl,” I fired back.

“We'll see,” he said, undaunted, and started up the stairs. “Getting dressed for dinner,” he muttered toward Aunt Sara.

“Okay, Jacob. We'll have a good Sunday dinner,” she promised. “Don't worry,” she whispered to me. “He'll soon see that you're as sweet as Laura was, and then everything . . . everything will be wonderful again,” she added. Her eyes glittered with hope. “Hurry and get cleaned up and dressed so you can set the table, dear.”

I watched her walk away with that fragile smile on her face. Aunt Sara had wrapped herself snugly in her illusions, but illusions, I thought, were just dressed up lies. Someday the weight of the truth would come down on her glass house and shatter her dreams even more.

I didn't want to be here when all that happened. I wanted to be far away. I wanted to be in a place where people didn't have to lie to each other to live with each other.

Was there such a place? And even if there were such a place, could I, a daughter born in a world of deceit, ever hope to find it?

With Daddy dead and gone and Mommy off searching for her own private dreams, I felt like an orphan, a hobo
begging for a handout of love. No wonder my eyes saw Adam Jackson's eyes and my ears were so receptive to his words.

I'll meet him tomorrow night, I thought defiantly. Not even one of Cape Cod's treacherous nor'easters could keep me away.

12
 
An English Lesson

At dinner everyone appeared to be in a subdued mood, even May. After Uncle Jacob read his selection from the Bible, we ate in near silence. I thought the heavy atmosphere in the house might be a result of the weather. Although it wasn't raining, a thick fog had rolled in on great billowing waves. It shrouded the landscape, turning everything cold and dreary. Once again, the weather on the Cape surprised me with its fickleness and its ability to change so abruptly. I wondered if there was any way to tell right now what it would be like tomorrow night. Would it rain and thus put off my rendezvous with Adam Jackson?

“Does it often get foggy like this at night?” I asked as innocently as I could. Uncle Jacob raised his eyebrows. Aunt Sara smiled as if I had asked the silliest little question, and Cary looked amused. “This time of year it often does.”

“Weathermen might as well toss the dice, as good as they predict these days,” Uncle Jacob muttered. “Better off just listening to the creak in your bones.”

“Aye,” Aunt Sara said. “More potatoes, dear?”

“No thank you, Aunt Sara,” I answered.

“I won't be having coffee tonight,” Uncle Jacob announced as if the whole country were awaiting his decision. “Got a big day tomorrow. Getting up early to bring the boat to Stormfield's in North Truro for an engine tuneup.”

“I could skip school tomorrow,” Cary offered immediately. He glanced quickly at me because he knew I understood why he would like to cut classes. He hoped I wouldn't say anything. There was no reason to worry. It was none of my business and I certainly wouldn't want to be responsible for getting him in trouble with Uncle Jacob. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy.

“No need,” Uncle Jacob said, rising. Cary's face folded in disappointment. “Roy and I can handle it. Well,” he said stretching, “I'll just have a pipeful in the den and go up to bed. I'd like a peaceful night,” he added glaring at me as if I were a noisy teenager who played rock music late into the evening.

I rose to help Aunt Sara with the dishes. May wanted me to go to her room and help with her homework, but I explained I was helping Cary study for a test tomorrow. She looked disappointed, so Aunt Sara offered to help her. She still looked disappointed, but I could see she was too considerate to hurt her mother's feelings.

After we had put away the dishes, I went up to my room and waited for Cary. I had just a little of my own schoolwork left and finished it quickly.

He knocked on my door and peeked in timidly. “Got time now?” he asked.

“Yes.” I pulled a chair up alongside my own at the desk. “Sit here.”

“I hate this stuff,” he complained as he entered. He tried to narrow his vision just to me and the desk, but his eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other, the look on his face sad and as painful as a raw wound that refused to heal. He caught me scrutinizing him. “I don't come in here often,” he confessed. “Anymore.”

“I understand,” I said.

Skepticism clouded his face and gave birth to a small frown. Did he think that because I had no brother or sister, I couldn't appreciate what it was like to lose someone I loved?

“It was really hard for me to look at things in our trailer that reminded me of my father after his terrible accident,” I explained. Cary's skepticism faded as I went on. “I was closer to him that I am to my mother. And when he died, I thought the world had come to an end. It still doesn't seem the same. Nothing does.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “I wish I could have gotten to know him.”

“I wish you had too. I wish this family wasn't so vindictive.”

He tilted his head.

“Vin-what?”

“Cruel,” I continued. “When you love someone, you don't hate them to death for mistakes they make. You try to understand them, help them, and if that doesn't work, you feel sorry for them. But you don't disown them forever and pretend they never lived.”

He stared at me a moment and then he smiled and shook his head gently. “That's something Laura would say. She always looked for the good in everyone. The girls at school mocked her, ostracized her, were jealous of her, but she was always nice to them. We had lots of arguments about it,” he said. “It was practically the only thing we argued about. We agreed about most everything else.”

“Even Robert Royce?” I asked quickly. When he looked at me this time, there were shadows in the emerald depths of his eyes.

“That was something entirely different. She was blinded by—”

“By what?” I asked, intrigued.

“Blinded by his lies, his phony charm, his handsome face,” he replied bitterly.

“How did you know he was a phony?” I asked. His letter to Laura seemed sincere.

“I just knew,” he insisted. “She always listened to me. We were close and not just because we were twins. We really did like the same things and feel the same things. We didn't have to speak to each other lots of times either. We just looked at each other and understood. She would smile at me or I would smile at her and that was enough.

“But after Robert. . .” His gaze drifted, his eyes growing smaller—darker—when he looked at Laura's picture on the dresser.

“What happened after Robert came into her life?”

He turned to me, his watery eyes hard. “She changed. I tried to help her see, but she wouldn't listen.”

“Maybe what she saw she liked,” I offered softly.