Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

He shook his head and looked back as if he was afraid of being overheard.

"She's gone and done it. I told her it wasn't right, but she forbade me to utter a word. She said it was a family disgrace and if I should so much as drop a hint in public or to Jacob and Sara, she would have me thrown out. She would tell everyone I was responsible for your pregnancy after all. Can you imagine? I think she meant it."

"Grandpa."

"I'm not saying she's not right. Maybe she is better off where she is, but Haille, you--"

"Grandpa, it's me, Melody," I said. I reached out and took his hand. He turned and looked into my face. "What?"

"Look at me closely. I'm not my mother."

"You mustn't tell her I told you," he said. He looked very frightened.

"Tell her what? Who are you talking about? Belinda?" He shook his head.

"I'm not responsible," he said, pulling his hand from mine and backing away. "You can't blame me."

"Grandpa."

"I'm going to bed. Things will look different in the morning. They always look different in the morning. But if you don't believe me, you go into the basement and you look. You'll find the papers. Shh," he said bringing his finger to his lips. "Don't say a word. Don't let her know I told you," he warned me. "Just pretend you found the papers yourself," he added and hurried away, looking back only once before going into his bedroom and closing the door.

What papers?

Was it all part of his madness? Like Ophelia in Hamlet, had he been driven insane by the death of someone he loved? If he didn't come out of his constant state of confusion he would end up in a rest home, I sadly thought.

Or were there more skeletons dangling in a closet I had yet to discover? Was it not just madness but painful memories that did this to him?

I heard footsteps below. Grandma Olivia was coming up the stairs, and for now, I thought, I would keep Grandpa Samuel's words to myself.

In my room I lay on the bed, my thoughts tumbling through my mind, making it impossible to sleep. Grandpa Samuel's words echoed in my ears and when I did finally drift off to sleep, it was of secrets and lies and whispers from beyond the grave that I dreamt. I tossed and turned for most of the night before I finally gave up on sleep.

I lay there with my eyes wide open for the longest time. The rain had stopped but the wind continued to whistle and blow over the big house, scratching at the window and whispering a name. My nightmares had stirred a voice. I could not make it out, but I knew it was a secret deeper than I had ever fathomed.

13

How Sweet It Is

.

After breakfast the next day, Cary came by to

take me to see Grandma Belinda. I waited at the parlor window so I could rush out to meet him as soon as he pulled into the driveway. I didn't want him to have to see the look of disapproval on Grandma Olivia's face. He would surely ask me about it and I would have to tell him her feelings concerning us. If there was anything I wanted to avoid at the moment, it was family turmoil, especially when it could be traced back to me.

Yesterday's storm had passed and the small vanilla scoops of clouds looked like they were melting over the powder blue sky. The instant I saw Cary's truck, I ran out to greet him. As we drove away from Grandma Olivia's dreary home, Cary and I remarked on how bright the sun seemed, how clean and clear the air, how beautiful the grass and flowers. It filled me with a renewed sense of hope and reminded me of when I was younger and I believed life would be like one long and perfect summer day, a day just like this one.

I was about to see my closest relative again. I hoped that taking her off her medication had cleared her head. I couldn't wait to hug her and talk to her about everything, especially all my dreams and plans for the future. At least Belinda had time to listen, I thought. At least I had someone neither Mommy nor Grandma Olivia could take from me.

As we drove up to the rest home, Cary talked about the times his twin sister Laura had gone to see my grandmother before Uncle Jacob had forbidden any further visits. Cary hadn't talked about Laura for quite a while. When I had first come to Provincetown, just pronouncing her name seemed to bring pain to his lips.

&nbs

p; "Why did Laura visit her so often, Cary?" I asked. He thought for a moment, his memories brightening his sea-green eyes.

"Belinda took to Laura the first time she met her. It was as if they recognized something soft and loving in each other, some secret the two of them shared. No matter who else was present, Belinda directed herself only to Laura. No one knew about the first time Laura visited her up here. In fact, if I recall, my father didn't discover it was going on until the third or fourth time, and only then because some spy of Grandma Olivia's told her about the visits. She called Dad and he chastised Laura for going; after all, Belinda was the black sheep of the family. We weren't supposed to mention her name, much less visit her.

"But Dad always had trouble forbidding Laura to do things," Cary continued. "Whenever Laura and I did something he didn't approve of, Dad would direct himself mainly to me, barely looking at Laura, as if she hadn't been involved at all He never thought he let his soft spot show, but it was obvious he always thought things were my fault anyway, as if I was the one who should have known better or should have been more responsible. Laura would fly to my defense, of course, taking as much blame as she could, but Dad wouldn't hear of it. He would accuse her of trying to protect me."

Cary laughed, as he continued remembering. 'But Dad,' she would exclaim, 'Cary wasn't even there!'