Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"I'm glad we're having the party here, Ken. Your mother would be very proud," the Judge said. "Oh, that reminds me," he added quickly. "I found something the other day and thought you'd want to have it." He turned and went into the office. We followed. He handed Kenneth a leather picture frame in which there was a photo of his mother and him when he was no more than five or six years old.

"He had that serious, artistic look even back then, didn't he?" the Judge asked me.

"He sure looks deep in thought," I replied.

"I remember when Louise bought that frame. She considered it a prime find. That design's all handengraved or something," he continued as Kenneth continued to stare at the picture of himself and his mother. The Judge found it necessary to keep talking. "I think it was somewhere down in Buzzard's Bay. She would walk into those tiny stores and dig around like some miner looking for gold and come out with the craziest stuff sometimes. When she found that frame, she said she had just the picture to put in it."

"Thanks," Kenneth said.

"Oh, sure, sure. So, how have things been otherwise?" the Judge asked.

"Otherwise?" Kenneth's mouth turned in at the corners.

"I mean . . ." The Judge looked at me.

"Whatever you have to say, she can hear it, too. She is your granddaughter," Kenneth said.

"Yes, she is," the Judge said nodding, "and I must say I'm proud of her."

"Even though it's a deep, dark secret?" Kenneth taunted. The Judge's eyes grew smaller. He blew some air between his lips and lowered himself slowly to the leather settee, gazing down at the floor like a man who had just received some very bad news.

"There's no sense in my apologizing to you, Kenneth. I've done that a hundred times and you won't hear it. Anyway, I don't expect you to forgive me for something I can't forgive myself. But," he said raising his eyes to Kenneth, "none of it has stopped me from loving you, son. I'm proud of you and what you've done. All I hope is that you can come to hate me a little less. That's all," he concluded with a deep sigh.

Kenneth turned away for a moment.

"You betrayed us, you know, all of us."

"Yes, I did," the Judge confessed. "I was a weak man; she was a beautiful and very desirable woman. It's no excuse; it's just an explanation," he followed quickly.

"You've spent most of your life sitting in judgment on people. Who sat in judgment of you?"

"You did, son, and the price I paid was too much. If I could change things, I would."

Kenneth didn't look convinced.

"Really, I would. I would sooner die than take away your happiness. I wanted only the best for you. None of this has had any meaning to me since your mother's death and . . since all of you children left." He looked at me. "It's sort of a miracle that Melody has come back to us."

Kenneth glanced at me and then he nodded. "Yes, it is."

"And it just pleases me to all get out that she and you have taken to each other."

"She's a pest," Kenneth teased.

I smiled through my teary eyes.

"Talented, playing that fiddle, too. You're going to play something for us at the party, aren't you, Melody?"

"What? No, I--"

"Of course she is," Kenneth said eying me. "It's part of our deal."

"It is?" I asked worriedly.

"Well good," the Judge said standing again. He seemed to have trouble getting to his feet, swallowing a groan and forcing a smile. "I guess I'll get back out there and see what that dandified fellow's got planned for me. Wants to string pink roses up the driveway next," he said and Kenneth laughed. Then, as if remembering himself, Kenneth stopped and turned toward the doorway. He paused in it, looked down at the picture of himself and his mother, and gazed back at the Judge.

"Thanks for this."

"Sure."