Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"Do that, but don't come begging me to bring him home if that's what he asks you," she warned. "I will not allow it."

She looked like an alabaster statue set in the dining room chair. Her decision was unquestionable. I nodded, ate my supper in silence and eagerly retreated to my room to do my homework and leave the long, lonesome shadows she cast through the house.

The days and weeks went by. I devoted most of my time to my schoolwork, not only because that was what Grandma Olivia wanted, but because I truly enjoyed it. The dramatics teacher tried to talk me into trying out for the fall production, but I resisted. I wanted to give Cary and May all my free time. I was there when Cary began the cranberry harvest, and although I didn't play hooky, I was beside him right after school, sometimes bringing May home so he could be free to supervise the work.

Aunt Sara snapped out of her sorrow as best she could. She had spent so much of her adult life caring for Uncle Jacob, anticipating his needs and wants, it was hard for her to stop the routine, stop wondering what favorite food of his she would prepare each night. For a while she continued to wash and iron his clothes, under the guise that Cary might use them. Cary did try to wear some of his father's things, but he had trouble doing it. To take for himself Jacob's possessions, however few, was to admit, each time, that his father was truly, finally, gone.

When I came home from Aunt Sara's I occupied my time by writing letters to Alice Morgan in Sewell, telling her all about my mother. I thought Alice deserved to know since she was the one who had discovered Mommy's picture. Alice called after she had read my first letter. She consoled me and promised to come to Provincetown the first

opportunity she had. I never heard from Mommy, of course, but I did call and speak to Holly and Billy a few times. Holly was very concerned about Kenneth and I promised to visit him as often as I could and give her a report.

Kenneth was much better th

an he had been when I had first returned from California, but he still hadn't started working on anything new. He spent more time than usual at his favorite local pub, and some days he fished or visited a friend in Boston. I felt like a spy, but a good spy since I was making my reports to Holly.

Another sore point around my new home was that Grandma Olivia refused to permit me to get my driver's license or take driver's education. She said the car was the downfall of young people today, and I, a budding debutante, should have men driving me around or use our chauffeur. She did allow me to have a bicycle and I was soon a regular sight along the sides of the Province-town streets. Although it was quite a ride, I peddled my way out to Kenneth's occasionally on weekends.

One Saturday, I found him walking alone on the beach. He was dressed in his ragged jeans and a Tshirt and was barefoot. I caught up with him, but he didn't acknowledge my presence for quite a while. Instead, he just stared at the water, and when he finally did turn, I saw his eyes were bloodshot, as if had been crying. Or on another drinking binge.

"What's wrong, Kenneth?" I asked, holding my breath.

"Haven't you noticed anything different?" he asked, spreading his arms wide and gesturing across the beach, back toward his house.

"Different?" I gazed around and then it hit me. "Ulysses," I said.

"I buried him this morning."

"Oh Kenneth, no,"

"I woke up this morning, but he didn't. It was like him to die quietly. That dog was never a problem, even as a puppy. He was patient, undemanding, sensitive to my moods." He smiled. "Better than any woman I've known. No wonder they call them man's best friend. We were a team," he said, his voice catching. "I'll miss him."

"I'm sorry, Kenneth. I'll miss him, too."

"I know you will. He took right to you, as I recall," he said trying valiantly to smile. He took a deep breath and we walked along the beach together, the deep silence of sadness linking us during our somber thoughts. Finally, he paused and turned to me with a genuine smile.

"So, you're burning up the academic playing fields, I hear, and look like a shoe-in for class valedictorian."

"Who told you that?"

"Cary," he replied slyly.

"He's been here?"

"Often, lately. I've decided to hire him to build me that sailboat," he said.

"Really, Kenneth?"

"Really."

"That's wonderful. He must be so excited!"

"He's got some good ideas. In his own way, he's a very creative young man, and, he's crazy about you."

"I know," I said blushing.

"What's Her Highness think of it?"

"Forbids the thought," I said.