"There are many lessons you will learn here," she said, continuing to fix her gaze on me so intently, I dared not look away.
"As I told you before you left, you have, I have noted, demonstrated some qualities of character that, although in the rawest form now, can be cultivated so that you will grow into a stronger person, a capable person. But this will happen only if you listen and obey. I don't intend to relive the painful past I endured with your mother," she warned. "You will behave while you are under this roof and you will do nothing that will bring discredit to this family."
"Maybe this isn't such a good idea," I suggested. "Maybe I should go back to live with Aunt Sara."
"And learn what? Self-pity? Ha. Besides, she has enough to do caring for her handicapped child."
"I can help her. I can--"
"Waste your life," she concluded. Her cold eyes softened a bit. "Everyone expects I will look after you, now that your mother is supposedly dead anyway. How do you think it will look if I permit Sara to endure another burden immediately after losing Jacob?"
"So you're worried about your own reputation," I said and she stiffened so quickly it was as if an electric shock had passed through her.
"I was hoping you would see that what I. am offering you is an opportunity other girls your age would die to have. Yes, I have selfish motives, but they're not motives for myself. They're for this family. Family name, honor, reputation, these are the really important things, Melody. You will learn that and understand it after a while.
"People without family pride are weak, and their weakness and lack of control affects their entire family. Look at that woman you insist on calling Mother. Does she have any pride in herself? Well, does she?" she demanded.
"No," I admitted hesitantly.
"Do you want to be like her?" she pursued. I raised my eyes and she smiled after one glance at the fire in them. Then she nodded. "There's more of my family blood in you than you care to recognize," she said. "Very well. You'll take the room that once belonged to Haille. I've had it prepared for you, anticipating this day. Even though you have come to live here, you are to look after yourself and your own things. Loretta is my maid and will not have time to wait on you hand and foot. Besides, that's how we went wrong with Haille: we gave her too much, spoiled her. Actually, Samuel was the one who indulged her, and you know the thanks he got for that.
"I expect you to continue to do well in school. I also expect, no demand, that you conduct your social and personal affairs only on the highest levels. Never do
I want to hear even a hint that you've been doing some of the terrible things young people your age do these days. No drinking, no drugs, no promiscuity and you are not to parade around in any of those silly, risque clothes young people today think are fashionable.
"I will arrange for your preparatory schooling after high school graduation so that there will be a smooth transition after you complete this last year," she said in a calmer tone. "However, as I said, there are things you will learn from me just by living here and observing, things you can't learn in any school. You can go up and rest now. You look tired. If you want some supper, come down in two hours."
"Where's Grandpa Samuel?" I asked.
"He's asleep on a lounge in the back. That's how he spends most of his time these days . . ." Her voice was so low it was as if she forgot I was in the room. Then suddenly she noticed me staring at her. "Well? Is something wrong?"
"I'm not sure which room was my mother's," I said quickly, gazing up the stairway.
"First door on the left," she said. "It's been cleaned and so has the bathroom. Make sure it all remains that way. You'll dad some clothes in the closet and the dresser drawers to wear. I had them bought for you the day after you left, anticipating this day," she added triumphantly.
"I wish I had the same crystal ball," I replied dryly.
"You will," she said with confidence. Then she looked at me as if she was deciding whether or not to say, "Welcome home." She remained silent, nodded, and then turned to go down the hallway to her parlor.
Feeling like someone who had been given the key to a motel room and told to find her way herself, I started up the stairs. When I reached the first door on the left I paused, took a deep breath, and opened it. My new home, I thought as I gazed inside the room.
If there had been any trace of femininity in this room before, Grandma Olivia had erased it. It looked almost as Spartan as a room in a nunnery. The walls were papered dark brown with no pattern and there were plain white curtains on the windows. The bed was a simple one without a headboard and was covered with a beige blanket and pillow case. There was a small desk in the corner, and it was equipped with a few pads, pens, pencils and a sharpener. The only other furniture was a plain dark pine wood dresser with six drawers and a nightstand of matching dark pine next to the bed.
There was no vanity table and no mirror other than the mirror above the sink in the bathroom. Of course, there was no phone in the room and no television set or radio. When I opened the closet, I found a half dozen simple dresses, two ankle-length skirts and some color-coordinated blouses. In the dresser drawers I discovered underthings, socks, and a few wool sweaters, for which I would be grateful when the weather turned colder.
I opened my suitcase and took out the two expensive outfits Holly's sister had bought me and I hung them in the closet. They almost looked comical next to such simple, inexpensive and practical clothing. I put the matching shoes on the closet floor and completed my unpacking, finding a place on the nightstand for the Chinese fan Billy Maxwell had bought me. I promised myself I wouldn't let too much time go by before calling him and Holly and thanking them both again for all they had done.
My unpacking completed, I sat on the bed for a moment and stared through the opening in the curtains at the ocean in the distance. The blue sea looked inviting, peaceful, soothing. At least I had that view whenever I felt trouble, which I imagined would be often in this house.
Gazing around, I wondered what this room had been like when my mother lived here. Grandma Olivia must have gone through it with the fury of a hurricane and torn away anything that suggested my mother had lived here. It was a good-size room. I could make out where some shelves had once been hung on the far wall. On them my mother probably had her dolls and stuffed animals. From the little Cary had told me, I understood that Grandpa Samuel had spoiled her and bought her whatever her little heart desired. I wondered if it had all been consigned to the basement along with those pictures Cary had once showed me, or if it all had been given away, even burned. Grandma Olivia was not incapable of doing
something like that.
I lay back on the bed. The trip had been exhausting even though I slept on the plane and on the bus. I realized what I was feeling was a deep emotional fatigue. The kind of weariness that gripped my very bones. Just dozing on a plane or bus wasn't enough to quench it. I was hungry, though. I thought I would just close my eyes and take a short rest, and then, as Grandma Olivia said, go down to dinner.
But when I opened my eyes again, it was so dark I couldn't see the door. The sky had become overcast, shutting out the stars. I blinked, sat up, and listened. The house was quiet, barely creaking. I fumbled for the light switch on the small lamp by the bed and squinted when it came on. Then I looked at the clock. It read two A.M. I had not only-slept through dinner; I had slept right into the night!
A feeling of panic like a little trickle of ice water ran down my spine. I had intended to phone Cary right before or after dinner and let him know I was back. He would be upset that he wasn't the first one I had called or seen. Now it would be hours before I would be able to tell him I was back. And I wanted to get over to see Kenneth as soon as possible, too. There was so much to do and here I was sleeping the valuable time away.