Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"I don't mention anything about you in front of her and she never asks me anything. It's part of the truce that's fallen between us these days," I said.

He smiled, grateful for that.

"Well, since I'll be here most of the time now, maybe you and I can see more of each other and--"

"I'll stop by as often as I can and bring May, too."

"Kenneth's going to Boston this weekend," Cary said quickly. "He told me it would be all right for me to use his place, if I want."

We stared at each other a moment.

"I can't get away overnight, Cary. She would have the dogs at my heels," I said.

"It doesn't have to be overnight, but we could have dinner here and just for one day maybe, feel like we were . . . you know . . together."

I thought about it. Somehow, lying to Grandma Olivia didn't seem to be such a bad thing.

"I have an idea. I'll talk to Theresa tomorrow. She'll cover for me," I promised. Cary brightened with hope and we kissed. The wind swept through our hair and the ocean spray sprinkled our faces. It made me feel fresh and alive.

Cary insisted I put my bike in the back of his truck so he could drive me most of the way home. I rode the last mile and a half on my bike. When I arrived, I saw that Judge Childs was visiting with Grandma Olivia. He had been coming over more often since Grandpa Samuel had been taken to the home. The two of them usually spent their time sipping sherry in the gazebo. Often, the Judge stayed for dinner.

I hadn't yet paid him the visit he expected. I didn't want to talk about Mommy. It was too painful to think about her. Since I had returned from California, she hadn't phoned or written. It was still difficult to accept the fact that she wanted to be out of my life forever. Sometimes I would walk past the cemetery and see the stone with her name on it. Once, I even stopped to pay my respects to the poor anonymous soul who had been made to take Mommy's coffin and grave. In my secret put-away heart, I mourned for her the way I mourned for myself, imagining her wishing to be with her own people, whoever and wherever they might be.

Maybe she was, I thought. Maybe being next to the bones of your loved ones wasn't what mattered. Perhaps there was something stronger that bound us after death, some linking of the soul that would someday find me greeting Papa George, my stepdaddy and whoever else I loved and who loved me.

The week after I met Cary at Kenneth's I talked to Theresa in the cafeteria during lunch, planning a way for me to spend most of the following Saturday and Saturday night with Cary at Kenneth's house. With midterms coming up, it was easy to claim we would be studying together. What I wasn't prepared for was Grandma Olivia's reaction to my choice of friends. The way she glared at me when I told my story made me feel she had seen right through the subterfuge, but her irritation was drawn from a more polluted well.

"Patterson? Is that the same Patterson who works for Cary? The Brava?"

"Yes, her father is Roy Patterson."

"That's the best you can do? The best friendship you can form at school? What about the Rudolph's daughter or Mar

k and Carol Parker's daughter? Isn't Betty Hargate, the accountant's daughter, in your class also?"

"I don't get along as well with those girls and they are nowhere near the student Theresa is, despite her being what you call a Brava. I not ashamed of my friendship with her; I'm proud of it."

"I see I'm not getting you out of this town fast enough," she replied.

"I'm not moving in with the Pattersons, Grandma Olivia. I'm merely preparing study sheets. You want me to be the valedictorian, don't you?" She raised her eyebrows, considering. "There's no mother in that house."

"Her father will be home and you know he's a nice man, a hardworking man."

"You intend to eat dinner with them?" she asked, as if I were going to eat with Aborigines.

"I ate there often last year," I said, "before I realized I was so important."

"Don't be impudent. Very well," she said after another thoughtful pause, "Raymond will take you and pick you up promptly at nine P.M."

"It's Saturday night!" I protested.

"Ten then," she said relenting a bit.

"No one else in my class lives under such strict rules," I complained.

"No one else has your destiny and

responsibility," she replied dryly. "Let's not have these silly discussions."