Jory wore his success with grace, with touching humility and dignity, displaying none of the arrogance that had been Julian's even when he had performed poorly.
So far Melodie had said very little, as if she contained volumes of secrets she was dying to spill out, but for some reason was holding back, awaiting her opportunity to be center stage. Customarily my daughter-in-law and I were very good friends. Countless times she twisted around in the front seat to smile back at me happily. "Stop teasing," I
admonished. "What's this good news you have to tell us?"
Again came that taut look on her face as she flicked her eyes to Jory, making her appear a locked gold purse about to burst if she didn't tell us soon. "Is Cindy there yet?" she asked.
When I said no, Melodie turned again to face the windshield. Jory winked. "We're going to keep you in suspense a while longer, so everyone can enjoy our surprise to its full extent. Besides, right now Dad's so intent on seeing we reach that house safely that he couldn't give our secret the appreciation it needs."
After an hour's ride we were turning onto our private road, which spiraled up the mountain, with deep ravines or precipices always on one side, forcing Chris to drive even more carefully.
Once we were in the house and I'd shown them around downstairs, and they had exclaimed and oh'ed and ah'ed, Melodie came flying into my arms, ducking her head shyly down on my shoulder, for she was inches taller than I. "Go on, darling," encouraged Jory softly.
Quickly she released me and threw a proud smile at Jory, who smiled back at her reassuringly. Then she was spilling out the contents of that bulging gold purse.
"Cathy, I wanted to wait for Cindy and tell you all at once, but I'm so happy I'm bursting. I'm pregnant! You just don't know how thrilled I am when I've been wanting this baby ever since the first year Jory and I married. I'm a little over two months along. Our baby is due in early January."
Stunned, I could only stare at her before I glanced at Jory, who had told me many times he didn't want to begin a family until he'd had ten years at the top. Still, he stood there smiling and looking as proud as any man would at this instant, as if he were accepting this unexpected and unplanned child very well.
That was enough to make me overjoyed. "Oh, Melodie, Jory, I'm so thrilled for you both. A baby! I'm going to be a grandmother." Then I sobered. Did I want to be a grandmother? Chris was slapping Jory on the back as if he were the first man ever to impregnate his wife; then he was embracing Melodie and asking questions about how she felt and if she was experiencing morning sickness--just like the doctor he was.
Because he was seeing something I wasn't, I looked at her more closely. She had shadows beneath hollowed eyes, and was much too thin to be pregnant. However, there was nothing that could steal from Melodie her classical type of cool blond beauty. She moved with grace, appearing regal even when she just picked up a magazine and flipped through it--as she was doing now. I was baffled. "What's wrong, Melodie?"
"Nothing," she said, gone stiff for no apparent reason, telling me instead that everything was wrong.
My eyes met briefly with Jory's. He nodded, indicating he'd tell me later what was bothering Melodie.
All the way back to Foxworth Hall I'd been dreading the meeting between Bart and his older brother, fearing there would be an ugly scene to start everything out wrong. I strode to a window
overlooking a side lawn and saw that Bart was on the racket ball court, playing by himself with the same kind of intensity to win, as though he had a partner to batter down to defeat.
"Bart!" I called, opening a French door, "your brother and his wife are here."
"Be there in a sec," he called back, and continued to play.
"Where are all the workers?" asked Jory, looking around at the spacious gardens empty now of anyone but Bart. I explained most left about four, wanting to drive home before they were caught in the late evening traffic.
Finally Bart threw down his racket and sauntered our way, a broad, welcoming smile on his face. We all stepped onto a side terrace covered with multicolored flagstones and decorated with many live plants and pretty patio furniture with colorful umbrellas to shield us from the sun. Melodie seemed to pull in her breath and straighten her spine as she moved closer to Jory. She didn't need his protection this time. Bart's steps picked up until eventually he was running, and Jory was speeding to greet him My heart could have burst .. . brothers, at last! Like they had been when both were very young. They pounded each other on the back, ruffled each other's hair, and then Bart was pumping Jory's hand up and down, slapping him on the shoulder again, the way men often do. He turned to look Melodie over.
All his enthusiasm died. "Hi, Melodie," he said briefly, then went on to congratulate Jory for their successes on stage and the adulation they received. "Proud of you both," he said with a strange smile.
"We've got news for you, brother," said Jory. "You are now looking at the happiest husband and wife in the world, for we're going to be parents come January."
Bart gazed at Melodie, who avoided meeting his eyes. She half turned toward Jory, with the sun behind her turning her honey-blond hair fiery red near her scalp, making a golden haze of the outer strands, so it almost seemed she was sporting a golden halo. Madonna pure she stood in profile as if poised for flight. The grace of her long neck, the gentle slope of her small nose, the fullness of her pouting rosy lips gave her the kind of ethereal beauty that had helped to make her one of the most beautiful and admired ballerinas in America.
"Pregnancy becomes you, Melodie," Bart said softly, ignoring what Jory was telling him about cancelling one year of bookings so he could be with Melodie throughout her pregnancy and help after the baby was born in all kinds of husbandly ways.
Bart stared toward the French door where Joel stood silently watching our family reunion. I resented his being there; then, ashamed, I gestured him forward even as Bart called out, "Come, let me introduce you to my brother and his wife."
Advancing slowly, Joel shuffled along the flagstones, making each step whisper. Gravely he greeted Jory and Melodie after Bart's introduction, not extending his hand to be shaken. "I hear that you are a dancer," he said to Jory.
"Yes . . . I've worked all my life to be called that." Joel turned and left without another word to anyone. "Just who is that weird old man?" asked Jory.
"Mom, I thought you told us that both your maternal uncles died in accidents when they were very young." I shrugged and let Bart explain.
In no time at all, we had Jory and his wife established in a very rich-looking suite with heavy red velvet draperies, red carpet and dark paneled walls that made the suite exceedingly masculine. Melodie took a look around, wrinkling her nose a bit in distaste. "Rich . . . nice . . . really," she said with heavy effort.
Jory laughed. "Honey, we can't always expect white walls with blue carpet, can we? I like this room, Bart. It looks like your kind of bedroom--classy."