Music in the Night (11 page)

I couldn't help but laugh.
"Are we forgiven?" Robert asked.
"You shouldn't be, but you are," I said with a smile. "Then, can we have our dessert now?" Cary followed. "We worked up another appetite."
"Oh, now the feast makes sense, huh? Come on in," I said, delighted that they had come to a truce.
I signed to May, explaining what was
happening now. She shook her head with confusion.
"Being grown-up is going to be harder than I thought," she replied and I laughed.
After dessert, Cary went back to the beach to dock the
Sunfish
and I walked Robert to his car to say good-bye.
"I had a great time. I'm really sorry about our ruining it for you, Laura."
"I'm just happy you and Cary are getting along, Robert. I just hope you two will stay that way."
"We will," he promised. "You're really a good cook," he said. "I enjoyed the picnic."
"Thank you."
He paused and I saw he was thinking of something that was taking a great deal of courage to say, so I helped. "What is it, Robert?"
"I was just wondering. My parents are going to Boston next Saturday to buy some things for our place. I'm not going," he explained. "How would you like to come over to the hotel and maybe we could make dinner together? We could pretend we were the owners and we had a hotel full of guests and--"
"I don't know," I said, looking back at the house and wondering what I would say to Daddy. Robert looked very disappointed.
"Oh, well, it was just an idea," he said, opening the car door.
"I guess there's nothing wrong with my going to dinner at your house," I said. "I'll tell the truth: You invited me." "That
is
the truth," he said, encouraged.
"It's not lying if I don't mention that your parents are away."
"No, it's not lying."
"I'll work it out," I promised.
"Great. What should I make?"
"I'll think about it and let you know during the week," I said.
"It'll be like we're married," he said and leaned out to kiss me. "I love you, Laura," he whispered.
"I love you, too," I said and he started the engine, backed out, waved, and drove away over a road dappled with sunlight and shadows.
Perhaps some day we would be married, I daydreamed, and then I thought about Grandma Olivia. She probably wouldn't attend the wedding. She might even excommunicate me from the family as she did her own son, Chester, but like Uncle Chester, that was a chance I was willing to take and a price I was willing to pay for the one I loved.
However, I had no idea just how powerful Grandma Olivia was and how much she could raise the costs.

6
Hopelessly Devoted
.
Despite their wrestling match on the beach,

Cary and Robert remained friends, and Cary even went over to the Sea Marina in the middle of the week and helped Robert and his father with some of the refurbishing of the dock. On Thursday, we had a bad storm. The rain fell so hard the drops were bouncing on the streets, pounding the windows and roofs, making the walls of our house beat like the outside of a drum. Daddy couldn't go out on his lobster boat, so he drove us to and from school just to have something to do. It was dark and dreary and unusually cold for this time of year. It didn't begin to clear up until late Friday afternoon.

"At least we know we did a good job on the dock," Robert told me in the cafeteria, "thanks to Cary. The storm didn't have any effect on it at all."

Cary blushed at the compliment. The three of us had been inseparable over the past week. I could see we were becoming the subject of idle chatter, some of the more jealous girls dipping into their dark wells of innuendo and nastiness to bring up new vicious rumors. Someone left a note stuck in the door of my hall locker. It read,
Does Grandpa sit and watch while you and Robert kiss?"

I ripped it into a dozen pieces, afraid of what Cary would do if he saw it. He didn't mention anything, but I sensed that he was getting ugly notes as well. If anyone bothered Robert, he didn't tell me either. However, on Friday morning, just before lunch, Cary got into a fight with Peter Thomas in the boys' locker room. Whatever Peter said put Cary into a wild rage. He bloodied Peter's nose and gave him a welt on his forehead.

I asked Cary what had happened, but he wouldn't talk about it. He wouldn't say anything in the principal's office, and once again, he was suspended for fighting. The school called Mommy and Daddy, and when they came to pick us up, Mommy cried in front of Cary, which was punishment enough. During the drive home, he sat with his head lowered and listened while Daddy spoke softly, almost like a man pronouncing a death sentence on a convict.

"You're not a boy anymore, Cary. You do a man's work. You've been doing it for some time now. When you're a boy, your parents are judge and jury. They're your government, your court judges, and they pass sentence on your bad deeds. But now, you have to live with yourself and what you do. You have to be responsible for your actions and answer to a higher voice than mine. You hurt all of us and you have to live with that. If they decide to throw you out of school, that will be that."

"It wasn't my fault, Dad," Cary protested. "Why wasn't it? You beat that boy good," "He had it coming to him."
"Why?" Daddy pursued, Cary just shook his

head. "He had it coming to him."
"Well, when they make you judge and jury, you
can decide that, but for now, you'll sit home instead of
being in class where you need to be the most." Daddy looked to me to see if I could add
anything to clear up the mystery. I just shook my
head.
"I'm tired," Daddy said as soon as we got home.
"I'm going up to bed early tonight."
"I'll send up some supper for you, Jacob,"
Mommy called after him.
The air was so thick with gloom, I thought we'd
have to slice our way through the sadness. May,
locked up in her world of silence, nevertheless sensed
the tension, and sat at Cary's feet, gazing up at him
with big, sad eyes from time to time, which only made him feel more miserable. He skipped supper, too, and
went up to his attic hideaway.
I heard him moving furniture and when I
looked up at my ceiling, I saw he had put something
over the hole. Then he was quiet.
I often went up to Cary's workshop to watch
him work on his models. It was a small room because
of the way the roof slanted, but he had a nice-sized
table where he worked on his model ships. The ships
he had completed were lined up on half a dozen
shelves. He was most proud of his sailing ships, and
they held center stage on each of the shelves. When he'd been silent for over half an hour, I
went up to see him. He sat with his back to me and
continued to work.
"What's that?" I asked.
"A replica of the HMS
Victory,
the flagship of
the British admiral Horatio Nelson," he said. "I feel
like working on war ships these days."
"Cary, what happened between you and Peter?
Please, tell me."
"What's the difference? It's over and done," he
said. "Is it over, Cary?"
He turned and I saw his eyes were bloodshot. "It won't be over until we're both out of there,
Laura," he fired back at me.
"Why?" I pursued. He returned to his model
and worked. "Cary, I want to know. Why won't it be
over?"
"Because they won't stop," he mumbled. "They
enjoy doing it too much."
"Doing what?"
"Belittling me, belittling you, saying disgusting
things about us."
"What things?" I asked, anticipating the answer.
Little butterflies of panic fluttered in my stomach
when he turned toward me again.
"Things like, 'Do you and Robert take turns?
Do you pick a card to see who goes first? Or do you
go at it all at once?' You happy now, now that you
know?" He looked so strange, and I couldn't tell if it
was rage or sadness shining brightly in his eyes. "No," I said, "but you've got to ignore them,
Cary. They're just spiteful and mean."
"I won't ignore them.Ill stuff their garbage
words down their garbage mouths," he vowed. "But you don't win in the end, Cary," I said
softly. "You're the one suspended from school." "It doesn't matter. I get some satisfaction and at
least they know they'll have to pay and pay dearly for every remark," he said. Then he fixed his glare on me. "No one's said anything to you? Bothered you?" He got his answer with my silence. "You wouldn't tell me
anyway," he said.
"No, because look at what happens," I said.
"You want some supper? I'll bring something up." "I'm not hungry."
I started down the ladder.
"Laura," he called.
"What?"
"Don't let anyone make fun of you when I'm
not in school."
"They won't," I said. He went back to his model
ship.
Robert called to find out what had happened
and express his sympathy. I was afraid that if he knew
the whole truth, he, too, would get into fights and then
I would be responsible for the two of them doing
badly in school.
"You're still coming over tomorrow night,
aren't you, Laura?" Robert asked.
"Yes," I said, even though I knew I would
regret leaving Cary locked up in his own dark,
unhappy world.
"I'll be there by five, okay?"
"Okay."
That night I lay awake for the longest time with
my eyes wide open, thinking. What terrible things had
we done to cause all the nasty gossip about us? We
were twins, born minutes apart. We had been
connected in our mother's womb and birth was a great
separation from each other as well as from her. When
we were younger, we did cling to each other more
than most brothers and sisters, even those close in age.
I couldn't recall a day or a night when we were apart. I
was sure most of our friends believed that when one
of them said something to one of us, the other would
soon know it. They all sensed that there were no
secrets I would keep from Cary or he from me. He
just naturally hovered about me, protected me as we
grew older. Being twins, it took only a glance or a
look for us to communicate a fear or a happy idea. Perhaps our friends resented this magical
connection; perhaps they were jealous and that was
why they wanted to hurt us. It was easy for them to
turn Cary's devotion to me into something dirty and
sick.
And then, a more fearful voice, tiny, hiding in
the back of my mind, stepped up to say, "Maybe Cary
was so angry because he realized some of what they said was true.. . . He was too devoted to you. Maybe he realized his own problem and maybe his violence
was his way of trying to deny it."
I turned over in bed and buried my face in the
pillow to shut off that tiny voice and the memories it
evoked. Memories of strange looks, lingering touches,
intimate words that were meant for lovers, not
siblings. I was afraid for Cary, afraid that if I gave this
tiny voice even an iota of credence, I would avoid
Cary's eyes, find his touch burning, flee from being
alone with him. The separation that had begun the day
we were born would reach its final stage, and soon
Cary, my poor beloved brother, would be alone. I cried for him, feeling anger and confusion, as
well as shame. He was still above me, shut up in his
attic workshop. It was very quiet, but I thought I heard
him crying. I listened hard, but it was silent again. The
wind had died down, yet there was still enough of it to
make the walls creak. Outside, the moon played
peekaboo with the parting clouds. The surf rose and
fell against the dark sand, resembling a giant wet hand
reaching out of the ocean, crawling out onto the sand.
Night was our respite, the time to put aside the trials
and torments of the day, to rest our weary bones and
stuff our troubled thoughts into dark corners and then
welcome sleep like a long-cherished friend.
I closed my eyes and prayed and waited for the
surprise of morning.
The next day, Daddy and Cary went to work
right after breakfast and were gone almost all day.
They were just coming home when Robert pulled in to
pick me up for our date. Both Daddy and Cary knew I
was going to Robert's for dinner, but not even Cary
knew that Robert's parents had left for Boston and
wouldn't be home until late the next day.
With all the trouble circling our lives recently, I
was eager to leave our gloomy house. I felt guilty
about not telling Daddy and Mommy that Robert's
parents wouldn't be there, but I knew if I did, Daddy
would scowl and say he didn't think it would be
proper.
Instead I waved good-bye to the both of them
and got into Robert's car.
"You all right?" he asked.
I forced a small smile, took a deep breath, and
nodded. "Yes, fine," I said.
Robert squeezed my hand gently and then
backed out of the driveway. A moment later, we were
headed toward the inn and our romantic evening. The
Royces had done a lot of work since I'd visited last, and I could tell as we pulled into the driveway that their work was almost complete. Robert gave me the grand tour, taking me from the sitting room to the office and then showing me some of the guest suites. All of them were beautifully decorated, bright and airy, especially the rooms that looked out at the beach and ocean. With its new paint, flooring, wall covering, fixtures, and furniture, the Sea Marina now ranked up
there with some of our finest inns.
"We're advertising in the big newspapers and
magazines," Robert explained. "Mom and Dad are
very hopeful."
"As they should be," I said. "You and your
parents did a wonderful job, Robert."
"Thank you."
Being alone in the refurbished, sparkling new
inn made us both somewhat nervous. Without
realizing it, we were being formal and very polite.
Robert opened doors for me and kept his hand on my
back as we climbed the stairs. We avoided each
other's eyes and talked only about the inn, the
grounds, and the upcoming tourist season. It was
almost as if we were strangers who had just met. "I guess we should think about dinner. I bought
everything you told me we'd need," he said, and we headed for the kitchen, where we both worked on the preparations. I had him peel potatoes and heat up pots of water for vegetables while I breaded and sauteed
flounder fillets.
Robert had already set the dining room table.
He had their finest china and silverware laid out, with
linen napkins and crystal goblets beside them. There
were tall, white candles in the two candelabra in the
center of the table. Over the new sound system that
had been piped into most rooms downstairs, he played
soft romantic music.
"Do your parents know all about this, Robert?"
I asked.
"Oh sure," he said. "Mom suggested I use our
nicest stuff. Although, I didn't tell them about this," he
added and produced a chilled bottle of Portuguese
wine. "I thought it would be all right. This
is
a special
occasion," he added.
I nodded and went back to our dinner
preparations. When everything was ready, I told him
to light the candles and sit at the table. I would bring
in the meal.
"Let me help," he said, but I insisted and he
went into the dining room.
I brought in the food and Robert poured glasses
of wine. Shyly we made a toast to the Sea Marina. "May she have a successful maiden voyage,"
Robert declared.
We began to eat. Robert raved about
everything. We laughed, drank more wine, and
pretended first we were the owners and then the
guests.
"This is our honeymoon," he suggested. "Where
are we from?"
"New York. No, the Midwest. That way we
haven't seen the ocean," I followed.
"And now that we have, we're enchanted." "We don't want to leave. Ever."
He changed his posture, trying to take on the
demeanor of an older, stuffy businessman.
"I'm even thinking of looking for work here.
Did I tell you, my dear?"
I imitated Grandma Olivia and looked down my
nose at him.
"No, you didn't."
"I looked at a small beach house yesterday.
Nothing elaborate, but it has a wonderful view. It
would be a great place to raise children. They would
have the world's biggest sandbox," he said.
"Sandbox? My children won't be permitted to
dirty their little hands and feet in any old sandbox." We laughed and drank more wine.
Suddenly, Robert reached across the table and
put his hand over mine, fixing his warm eyes on me
and giving me that wonderful winsome smile. "Have I told you how happy I am, how utterly
complete I feel whenever I'm with you, Laura? It's as
if the world was created just for you and me. There's
no one else and all the beauty is ours alone to behold." Whether it was the wine or his words that
brought an exciting, warm tingle to my stomach, I do
not know. All I was certain of was that I felt like I was
overflowing with love for Robert, and I never wanted
to let go of his hand or this moment. He leaned over to
kiss me, a short, soft kiss, so tender and gentle, it was
more like the kiss in a dream.
"Laura," he said. "How lucky I am to have
found you."
"Me, too," I said, barely above a whisper. He held on to my hand and then slowly, ever so
slowly, he stood up and pulled me with him. Again he
kissed me. It was the sort of kiss that grew deeper
with each moment, became more demanding and
ended only because we were both out of breath. He
brought his face to mine and let his lips glide over my cheek and to my ear where he nibbled gently and then
whispered, "Shall we go to our room, darling?" Our room! The thought of it was both thrilling
and frightening at the same time. My heart began
beating frantically as Robert led me from the dining
room to the stairway and to a suite that looked over
the beach and the sea.
Entering the room, we were both so nervous we
couldn't speak. Standing in front of me, Robert
unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, dropping it on the
chair. My fingers, as if they had minds of their own,
went to my blouse and, though trembling, undid each
button. Slowly, I took off my blouse and let it drop
beside Robert's shirt on the chair. He smiled and
stepped forward to kiss me, his hands moving behind
my back to undo my bra.
My heart pounded.
Robert undid his pants and sat on the bed to
take off his shoes and socks. I watched him with eyes
wide as he removed his pants and folded them over
the back of the chair.
The wind made the curtains dance and the
ocean outside roared against the beach, but all I really
heard was the thumping of my own heart.
I unzipped my skirt, slipped it down my legs and placed it over Robert's pants. Then I took off my sandals and he rose to embrace me. We kissed again, and again it was a long, demanding kiss that took our
breath away.
"Laura," he whispered.
I didn't look down, but I felt him move his
hands to his waist. I kept my eyes closed as he
stepped out of his briefs and then gently lowered my
panties. I stepped out of them as if I were stepping
gingerly into a warm bath.
For a long moment, we didn't touch, we didn't
move. It was as if we had brought each other to the
brink, to the cliff from which we could never turn
back once we stepped forward.
"You're the most beautiful woman in the world,
Laura. I love you so much, my heart aches." Wave after wave of warnings drifted over me,
but my body was tingling and the voices of restraint
were dying under the rush of desire. I threw all
caution aside and made the eventful step forward.
Suddenly Robert's hands were on my hips and his lips
were pressed to mine, our bodies touching.
Everywhere. And yet, we still couldn't get enough of
each other. Our legs had to rub against each other, our
stomachs, chests. Our hands had to stroke all over until we were clinging to each other like two people