Unfinished Symphony (33 page)

"I don't. I never will."
He closed his eyes and held his head back as if to swallow down some pain.
"My father . . . my father suffered great guilt about Laura."
"I know."
"And Grandma Olivia knew it, too. She must have known it," he said quickly.
"Maybe. Maybe she saw only her own guilt, her own pain, her own fears, Cary."
"She doesn't have an ounce of love in her," he muttered through his teeth. "I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone. I'm glad she had a stroke. I hope she dies tonight," he said.
"Don't become like her, Cary. You only end up so full of hate you can't love."
He stared a moment.
"What do we do? Do I tell Ma now?"
"No. Let's go there first," I said. "Perhaps . . . we can bring her home."
He nodded, smiling.
"Maybe so." He reached for the key in the ignition. "We'll go in the morning, Cary. It's too late now," I said.
"No. I don't want to think of her being there five minutes more," he said. "We have to go now," he insisted. He looked at the papers. "I know where this is. It's a four, four-and-a-half hour drive."
"But it will be the middle of the night," I reminded him.
"Who cares about that?" he said and started the engine. "I can drop you off, if you want."
"Cary Logan, do you think I would let you do this yourself?"
He shook his head.
"Okay, let's go," I said. "We probably couldn't sleep anyway. Shouldn't you tell your mother something?"
"No, I don't want to utter one more lie, even a white one," he said.
I smiled.
"Okay, but we've got to be prepared for anything, Cary."
"I'm prepared," he said. He started away. "As prepared as I could ever be."
It was a long, hard ride. Cary talked more about Laura than he had ever talked, recalling things they had done together, things she used to say. I sensed these were thoughts he had forbidden himself to have these past few years. He was afraid of what reviving such memories might do to him.
A few times during the journey, he sat there silently, crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he relived the tragedy and everyone's sorrow.
How could Grandma Olivia attend those services knowing what she knew? I wondered. How could she be so confident she was doing the right thing for the family, so positive that she could bury her feelings, watch her son suffer and not say a word? Instead of a heart in that chest, she surely had a cube of ice, I thought. How horrible her own parents must have been to her to shape her into the woman she had become.
I shouldn't have been surprised. She put her sister away without a single regret and did the same to her husband. Individuals meant nothing in the face of her fanatical faith in the family name. Love was merely a minor inconvenience. Correct behavior, prestige, respect, wealth and power were the five points of her star, and that star was embedded on the face of her soul.
I lay back and closed my eyes and dozed for a while. When I woke, we were near a town. I saw the lights of an all-night restaurant.
"You want some hot coffee or something?" Cary asked.
"Yes, please," I said and we pulled in and ordered coffee and doughnuts.
Cary drank and ate in a deadly silence, his eyes fixed on his anger, brightening with the stream of furious thoughts behind them. I didn't speak. I reached for his hand and smiled at him. He snapped out of his daze and nodded.
"I'm all right," he said. "We'll be all right."
"Yes, we will, Cary. We will," I agreed.
We had another hour's ride before we found the entrance to the institution. It was a tall, gray stone building with a parking lot on its left. It was too dark to see clearly, but we could make out some nice grounds around it. We saw the high fences and then woods.
The outside lights in front of the building were bright. We parked and after Cary shut off the engine, we just sat there, both trying to gather strength.
"Ready?" he asked me finally. I nodded and we got out and walked to the entrance. The door was locked, but there was a buzzer beside it with a little sign that read USE ONLY AFTER TEN P.M. Cary pushed the buzzer and we waited. Because of the reflection of the outside lights on the glass of the doorway, we couldn't see very much of the inside. It looked like a small entryway before a set of double doors. No one came so Cary pushed the buzzer again, holding it longer.
"It's pretty late, Cary."
"Someone's got to be here," he said undaunted.
Finally, the double doors were opened and a redheaded man in a pair of white pants and a light blue shirt stepped out. He looked no more than thirty, thin and slim-waisted, at least six feet tall with freckles over his forehead and cheeks. He peered through the glass before opening the door, scowled and then opened it quickly.
"What'dya want?" he demanded.
"We're here to get someone," Cary said firmly. "Huh?"
"My sister," Cary said.
"What the hell are you talking about? It's almost three o'clock in the morning," the redheaded man said.
"I don't care what time it is. She's not supposed to be here," Cary said and stepped between the man and the door. The redheaded man recoiled as if he thought Cary would strike him.
"You can't come in here now. Visiting hours begin at ten A.M.," he said.
"We're here and we're coming in. Get whoever is in charge," Cary ordered.
The redheaded man looked from him to me and then stepped toward the double doors. Cary put his hand out to keep the double doors from closing.
"You're going to get into big trouble for this," the redheaded man threatened.
"Good," Cary said. "Now go get a supervisor or someone. Do it!" Cary ordered, so fiercely, the man rushed off. Cary and I followed and entered the lobby. There was a counter with a glass window ahead of us. To the right were sofas and chairs, small tables, magazine racks and a television set. The door directly in front of us most probably led into the institution, I thought.
We waited and finally heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It was opened and a very heavy woman in a nurse's uniform came charging out, her dark brown hair chopped rather crudely at the nape of her neck and ear lobes, her hips rubbing against the stiff material of the uniform, producing a loud swish.
"What's this all about?" she demanded, directing her beady black eyes at Cary. She folded her arms over her heavy bosom like a battering ram and walked within inches of him.
"My sister was illegally brought here," Cary said. "We've come to take her home."
She stared at him a moment, grimaced with confusion and then glanced at the redheaded man.
"Should I call the police?" he asked.
"Not quite yet," she said. Her curiosity was piqued. "Who are you and who is this sister you are looking for?" she asked.
"I'm Cary Logan. This is Melody Logan. My sister's name is Laura. Show her," Cary said and I produced some of the documents taken from the metal box. She eyed me suspiciously and then took them and began to read. When she was finished, I saw that her face softened a bit.
"You just found out about all this?" she asked.
"Yes, today," Cary said. "Those papers are incorrect. My sister did have parents and not a legal guardian," he said.
"Where are your parents? Why didn't they come here, too, if this is so?"
"My father recently died and my mother . . . my mother is not able to make this journey. In fact, she doesn't know the truth yet," Cary explained.
The nurse handed the documents back to me.
"This is a legal matter," she said. "It has to be handled in a proper way."
"Look--"
"But as for your coming for your sister," she continued, "I'm afraid you're too late."
"What?"
My heart stopped. I stepped forward and took Cary's hand quickly.
"This young lady unfortunately died a short time after she was admitted," she said.
"Died? How?" I asked.
"She drowned. We informed the grandmother about it. She was listed as next of kin."
"How could she drown?"
"It was deliberate, self-induced," the nurse confessed after a moment. "I'm not permitted to discuss the details. There are always legal issues when something like this occurs. It wasn't our fault, however," she added quickly. "I really don't understand who you are and why you're here," she continued.
Cary just stared at her, refusing to believe her. "I want to see my sister now," he said.
The nurse looked at me to see if she had heard right. "Don't you understand what I'm saying?" she said. "Cary, come on," I said.
"No. I want to see her right now. I'm not leaving until I do," he insisted.
"Call the police," the nurse told the redheaded man. He spun around and disappeared inside.
"Cary, it's no use," I urged. He shook his head. "You're lying," he told the nurse. "She got to you. You were told to say this in case I ever arrived, weren't you?"
"Absolutely not. I don't know anything about you," the nurse said. "And I don't lie about my patients."
Another attendant arrived, an older, bigger man. "You having some sort of trouble, Mrs. Kleckner?" he asked.
"Yes," she said.
^-
The police have been called, Morris. No one is permitted into the hospital," she said, her eyes fixed on Cary.
"Cary, let's go," I pleaded, but he was as stiff and unmovable as one of Kenneth's statues. It was like trying to uproot a tree.
The larger attendant took his position in the doorway. Mrs. Kleckner turned to me.
"I'm not lying about this. You have to go through proper channels and you will learn I've told you the truth. You're just making things harder for yourselves."
"I'm sorry," I said, "but you have to understand we just learned about all this and it really was done illegally. I'm sure you can imagine the shock. That's why he's so upset. He doesn't mean to make trouble for you. Please understand," I begged.
She considered and then nodded.
"Wait here. I have something that might help you accept what I'm saying," she declared and left us. The attendant was joined by the redheaded man and they both blocked the doorway.
"Cops are on their way," he said gleefully.
"Cary, we're only getting ourselves into deeper trouble," I whispered. He didn't hear me. He glared at the two attendants. Moments later, the nurse reappeared, carrying a small cloth bag.
"These were her personal things. Among them," she said, "is this," she said, lifting a thick notebook out of the bag. "It was her diary. Her doctors encouraged her to keep it, hoping recollections, thoughts would help her revive her identity. Apparently, no one ever came for it. If she wasn't gone," the nurse added in a harder tone, "I wouldn't be giving it to you, now would I?"
I took the bag and the notebook and tugged on Cary's hand.
"Please, Cary. She's right."
He wilted, accepting what he was told. "Where is she buried?" he asked softly.
"I don't know. You'll have to contact Mr. Crowley tomorrow and ask him for whatever details he has. He's the administrator here. He will be in his office at nine a.m. I'm asking you now to leave these premises. The police are on their way and you will be placed under arrest if you don't go," she threatened.
"Cary."
"We're too late," he said more to himself than to me. "I'm sorry," Mrs. Kleckner said, "but I have told you the truth. I've done more than I have to do and more than Mr. Crowley will approve of, I'm sure."
"Thank you," I said, pulling Cary harder.
He stepped back with me.
"Laura," he said shaking his head. "I'm sorry we were too late."
We reached the truck just as the police car arrived. The officers spoke to Mrs. Kleckner and then questioned us. When I promised we would leave, they let us go.
Cary drove back on the strength of his anger and hate. We hardly said a word to each other. All that mattered to him now was to find out where Laura had been buried. It was mid-morning by the time we drove into Grandma Olivia's driveway. Both of us were physically exhausted, but our emotions gave us the strength to continue.
Loretta came rushing down the hallway when we entered the house.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
"What is it?"
"Your grandmother turned worse last night and was rushed to the hospital," she said.
"She's not gonig to die," Cary said, shaking his head at me. "She's not getting away that easily."
Loretta's eyes nearly bulged out of her head. "What?"
"Nothing. We're on our way to the hospital," I told her and we left.
We found Judge Childs in the lobby talking with the doctor when we arrived.
"Melody! Where have you two been?" he asked. "Everyone's been worried sick."
"Never mind where we've been," Cary said. "How is she? Can she talk?"
"I'm afraid not," the doctor said. "She's fallen into a coma."
Cary's shoulders sank. Then he brightened with a thought.
"Do you know about Laura?" he asked the Judge.
"What? What about Laura?"
"He doesn't know, Cary," I said. "She did tell me that."
"What's he talking about, Melody?" the Judge asked.
We went to the hospital cafeteria to get something to eat and I told my grandfather the story. He listened with horror.
"I guess I really never knew her," he said. "To keep all that from me. She was a very determined, private woman who literally needed no one. I'm sorry," he said to Cary. "I'll find out what you want to know. I promise," he said. "You two go home and get some rest. Let me take care of this."
"Thank you, Grandpa," I said and he smiled.
I went home with Cary to help him with Aunt Sara and May, after which we went up to his attic hideaway and fell asleep in each other's arms.
At the moment it seemed to be the safest place in the whole world.

Epilogue
.
Grandma Olivia died two days later, having

never regained consciousness. Her doctor said it was a blessing because if she would have come out of the coma, she would have been far worse and Olivia Logan was not the sort of woman who could live under institutionalized care.

Cary didn't want to attend the funeral, but a strange thing happened to me. I suddenly saw things from Grandma Olivia's prospective. Why air our dirty laundry in public? Why embarrass the family?

"After all," I explained, "you still want to live and build a life here, Cary."
He listened and then shook his head with a smile.
"You were probably the right choice for Grandma Olivia's throne, Melody. I'll give the devil her credit there, but that's about all," he added firmly. "Okay, I'll put on the proper face. I see I'm going to need you to make sure I do the right things from now on," he kidded.
Kenneth and Holly had returned from their honeymoon and we had all spent a night together going over the recent events.
"She was a cold, hard woman, and so
intimidating, most men didn't challenge her, especially the men in her family," Kenneth remarked. "I remember how afraid I was of her when I was younger and used to visit with Haille, Chester and Jacob. When she told us something, we did it and did it fast. I never thought of her as happy though."
"She didn't want anyone else to be happy either," Cary muttered.
None of us spoke. It was better to let the thunder and lightning play itself out and look forward to brighter skies.
The funeral was as large as expected. We decided not to have Grandpa Samuel brought along. He didn't understand what was happening and we all agreed it would be just more confusing and
troublesome for him.
I don't know how I got through my final exams, but I did and my grades were as good as I had hoped. I stayed at Aunt Sara's and shut myself up in what had been Laura's room, spending almost two days writing and rewriting my valedictorian speech.
Since Grandma Olivia's hospitalization and death, I had moved in with Cary, Aunt Sara and May again. I hated the thought of being in that grand empty mansion, full of darkness, shadows and family secrets.
The Judge began to go over all the estate documents for us and one day, we all went to his home to listen to what would be. Grandma Olivia had done what she had promised ... she had left
instructions for my taking eventual control of most of the family fortune. In the meantime it was held in a trust supervised by her bankers and brokers and the Judge was appointed executor.
"You will have to decide about the house," he said. "You can put it up for sale or you can move into it."
"Let's put it up for sale," I said quickly. "I don't think it holds enough happy memories for the family."
"I understand," the Judge said.
With such a fortune in our hands, Cary could be confidant that his boat building business would be a reality. He could build on his small beginnings and establish his own company. Kenneth gave him advice and the two of them went searching the area for a good site to put up a factory.
The night before graduation, Cary and I took a walk on the beach. I was too nervous to sleep anyway. So much attention was on me and our family since Grandma Olivia's passing. I was nervous and sure the audience would hang on every word of my
valedictorian address.
"Have you given thought to what you want to do, Melody?" Cary asked me. We stopped at the edge of the water and stared out at the moonwalk that led to the edge of the world.
"I'm not going to the prep school, Cary. The kind of life Grandma Olivia was designing for me is not the life I want for myself," I said. "I don't want to strive to get my name in the society columns."
"I know you're very smart and should probably go to college, but--"
"I don't want to go to college just to say I'm in college, Cary. Maybe I'll go next year. But
somewhere close. I think I have a clear view of what I want now."
"What's that?" he asked turning to me.
"I want something simpler but more substantial. I want what I never had, Cary. I want a real family, real love."
"Could you have it with me? Now?" he asked timidly. "We could build this new business together and we could build our own house and we--"
I put my fingers on his lips.
"I was wondering when you would have the nerve to ask," I said and he laughed.
We kissed and held each other. The ocean seemed to glitter even more and the stars, the stars were never ever as bright.
The next day was magnificent. Without a cloud in the sky, with the wind warm and gentle, we were able to have an outdoor graduation ceremony. I began my speech with the first lines of a mountain song Papa George had taught me years and years ago.
"I have come a long way from home with just a hope and a prayer,
But I got a suitcase full of memories to keep me warm on lonely nights."
I turned to my fellow graduates and talked about graduation as a kind of pulling up on the anchor and setting sail--of being captains of our own destiny. We were leaving our parents, our friends and our teachers back on the shore and setting out on a course of our own making. I talked about courage and opportunity and thanked our families and teachers for giving it to us. I ended by singing the first line of This Land Is Your Land and an amazing thing happened: the whole audience joined me and sang the whole song.
I was overwhelmed by the applause and the congratulations afterward. People who didn't know me well told me how proud Grandma Olivia would have been. Cary's eyes grew dark and angry, but he kept his rage contained when I gave him a look of reprimand.
Afterward, we had a party at Aunt Sara's. Kenneth, Holly and Judge Childs were there, as well as Roy Patterson and Theresa. Cary made a clam bake and I played the fiddle. Judge Childs said he would take a piece of the graduation cake up to Grandpa Samuel the next day.
Cary and I set a date for our wedding soon afterward. In the meantime, I spent my summer days with May and Aunt Sara while Cary worked on the new boat and began to build the factory on the site he and Kenneth had found.
One morning May came in with the mail and waved something at me, all excited. It was a postcard. It had been sent from Palm Springs, California. There wasn't much written.
Hi,
I just thought I'd drop you a line to tell you I'm no longer with Richard. I'm with a real agent this time. He's even taken me to Palm Springs for a holiday and he says I have a good chance of making it.
Wish me luck.
Gina Simon
"Who's Gina Simon?" May signed and then pronounced as best she could.
"Just someone I once knew," I said. "No one, really." I tossed the card into the garbage can, but later, I went back and retrieved it.
I couldn't help it. I was like someone lost on the desert who had been given a drop of water to cherish. What else could I do?
I went upstairs and put the letter with my other mementos.
And then I looked at Laura's bag of
possessions, the only things left from her strange and tragic existence. Neither Cary nor I could get ourselves to do anything about them.
I couldn't just ignore them anymore, however. I reached in and took out the thick notebook which had been her diary. Then I went downstairs and sat behind the house in the big wooden chair that faced the ocean and I began to read.
A long time ago, I lived a fairy tale life, it began. My eyes lifted from the page as I took a deep breath.
Off in the distance a sailboat looked caught in the calm and remained painted against the blue horizon while above it, puffy white clouds waited for the same wind.
All the world was standing still, holding its breath. Even the terns froze on the beach and looked my way.
When the wind began again, it carried a song it wished I would sing for Laura, for Cary, for all of us.
I would sing it, I thought.
Now, finally, I would sing it.