Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"They'll always see you when they look at me," I said. "Olivia does, no matter what she tells me, and Uncle Jacob certainly does. Even Kenneth," I added and she perked up.

"Oh?"

"He had me model for him just the way he had you model," I said.

She widened her eyes.

"Really? And you did it?"

"Yes. He's created a wonderful new piece of sculpture. He says it's his greatest work, Neptune's Daughter. But the face on the sculpture is more your face than it is mine," I told her. I saw she liked that.

"Stand up," she asked suddenly. I did so. "You really did fill out. You're a very attractive young girl. Kenneth doesn't miss much." She thought again for a moment. "Didn't you like it at all back there, meet anyone nice?"

"Cary's nice, very nice. I miss him and I love May, but I've missed you, Mommy. I really have. I don't like being . . . alone. It's not fair."

She nodded and crushed her cigarette.

"It did bother me to leave you, to lie to you," she said. "Maybe not as much as you would have liked it to have bothered me, but it did. I didn't like leaving you behind, but there was just no other way to do all this. You understand?"

I nodded, even thought I really didn't.

"I had to listen to Archie. He's had much more experience with all this," she said in defense. "What are we going to do?" she asked herself.

"Please, let me stay with you, Mommy."

She gazed at me and smiled.

"You were always a sobering influence on me, weren't you, Melody? When I stayed at Frankie's bar and grill too long in Sewell and came home, I would take one look at your face and feel so damn guilty I lost my buzz in an instant. I hated you for that, too," she admitted, "but later, I would love you for it, as much as I could love any child, I suppose."

She straightened up.

"I don't have very much here, yet," she said. "It's not even a drop in the bucket compared to what Olivia has and what she can offer you."

"I don't care about that, Mommy. I should be with you."

"You can't be-with me," she whined. "I just can't have a daug

hter your age."

I thought quickly, remembering what her friend Sandy had thought.

"I could be your younger sister. You told people you had one," I suggested quickly.

"How do you know that?"

"I met some woman here the first time I came. Her name was Sandy and she thought I was your younger sister surprising you," I said.

"She would." She smiled and looked at me. "We do look like sisters. I mean, I look young enough to be your sister, don't' I?"

"Yes, Mommy, you do."

"See," she pounced jabbing her forefinger at me. "That's just the problem. You can't call me Mommy. A younger sister doesn't call her older sister Mommy, does she?"

"I won't.

"You'll forget."

"I won't," I insisted.