Unfinished Symphony (Logan 3)

"Okay, let's go," I said. "We probably couldn't sleep anyway. Shouldn't you tell your mother something?"

"No, I don't want to utter one more lie, even a white one," he said.

I smiled.

"Okay, but we've got to be prepared for anything, Cary."

"I'm prepared," he said. He started away. "As prepared as I could ever be."

It was a long, hard ride. Cary talked more about Laura than he had ever talked, recalling things they had done together, things she used to say. I sensed these were thoughts he had forbidden himself to have these past few years. He was afraid of what reviving such memories might do to him.

A few times during the journey, he sat there silently, crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he relived the tragedy and everyone's sorrow.

How could Grandma Olivia attend those services knowing what she knew? I wondered. How could she be so confident she was doing the right thing for the family, so positive that she could bury her feelings, watch her son suffer and not say a word? Instead of a heart in that chest, she surely had a cube of ice, I thought. How horrible her own parents must have been to her to shape her into the woman she had become.

I shouldn't have been surprised. She put her sister away without a single regret and did the same to her husband. Individuals meant nothing in the face of her fanatical faith in the family name. Love was merely a minor inconvenience. Correct behavior, prestige, respect, wealth and power were the five points of her star, and that star was embedded on the face of her soul.

I lay back and closed my eyes and dozed for a while. When I woke, we were near a town. I saw the lights of an all-night restaurant.

"You want some hot coffee or something?" Cary asked.

"Yes, please," I said and we pulled in and ordered coffee and doughnuts.

Cary drank and ate in a deadly silence, his eyes fixed on his anger, brightening with the stream of furious thoughts behind them. I didn't speak. I reached for his hand and smiled at him. He snapped out of his daze and nodded.

"I'm all right," he said. "We'll be all right."

"Yes, we will, Cary. We will," I agreed.

We had another hour's ride before we found the entrance to the institution. It was a tall, gray stone building with a parking lot on its left. It was too dark to see clearly, but we could make out some nice grounds around it. We saw the high fences and then woods.

The outside lights in front of the building were bright. We parked and after Cary shut off the engine, we just sat there, both trying to gather strength.

"Ready?" he asked me finally. I nodded and we got out and walked to the entrance. The door was locked, but there was a buzzer beside it with a little sign that read USE ONLY AFTER TEN P.M. Cary pushed the buzzer and we waited. Because of the reflection of the outside lights on the glass of the doorway, we couldn't see very much of the inside. It looked like a small entryway before a set of double doors. No one came so Cary pushed the buzzer again, holding it longer.

"It's pretty late, Cary."

"Someone's got to be here," he said undaunted.

Finally, the double doors were opened and a redheaded man in a pair of white pants and a light blue shirt stepped out. He looked no more than thirty, thin and slim-waisted, at least six feet tall with freckles over his forehead and cheeks. He peered through the glass before opening the door, scowled and then opened it quickly.

"What'dya want?" he demanded.

"We're here to get someone," Cary said firmly. "Huh?"

"My sister," Cary said.

"What the hell are you talking about? It's almost three o'clock in the morning," the redheaded man said.

"I don't care what time it is. She's not supposed to be here," Cary said and stepped between the man and the door. The redheaded man recoiled as if he thought Cary would strike him.

"You can't come in here now. Visiting hours begin at ten A.M.," he said.

"We're here and we're coming in. Get whoever is in charge," Cary ordered.

The redheaded man looked from him to me and then stepped toward the double doors. Cary put his hand out to keep the double doors from closing.

"You're going to get into big trouble for this," the redheaded man threatened.