Mommy explained that it wasn't the season yet, so the tourists really weren't here. "These small streets get so crowded in the summer, it's wall-to-wall people."
"Yeah, just like the Vegas strip," Archie commented.
"Turn here," Mommy directed. We went east on an even narrower street that had small Cape Cod houses on both sides, none with much more than a couple of a hundred feet of rough-looking grass in front. But some had flowers. I saw one with a lilac bush towering as high as its roof. As we rolled along, I heard Mommy mumble, "It seems like a hundred years ago, but not much has changed."
Suddenly, there were no more houses, just a stretch of dunes. I thought we would stop, but Mommy told Archie to continue following the road. It turned north, and then, on the right, just a few hundred yards or so farther, a house appeared. I could see the beach and the ocean not too far away. A flock of terns circled over something on the sand.
"There it is," Mommy said, nodding at the house. There was a light brown pickup truck parked in the gravel driveway, and in front of that a dark blue, four- door automobile with its right rear end jacked up. A tall, lean man with hair Daddy's color was bending over a tire. He didn't turn to look at us, even when we stopped near the driveway.
"That is your uncle Jacob," Mommy said softly.
He finally glanced up. I saw the resemblances in his face, especially in his chin and cheekbones, but he was much leaner in build and he looked older than Daddy, not younger. Even from this distance I could see the deep lines at the corners of his eyes. He had a much darker complexion than Daddy's had been. He stared a moment and then went back to his tire as if he had no interest in who we were or why we were here.
"Should I pull in?" Archie asked.
"Yes," Mommy replied with a deep sigh. "Well, Melody, it's time to meet your family."
5
The Only Mother I Had
.
Archie slowly pulled into the driveway. Uncle
Jacob didn't turn around again until we came to a full stop. Then he stood up and gestured emphatically for Archie to back up.
"I need the room to work here," he explained. "Sorry," Archie said. He backed up a good ten feet and we all got out of the car. Uncle Jacob, his back to us, continued to work on removing the flat tire.
"Hello Jacob," Mommy said. He nodded without turning around.
"I'll be a while with this," he finally replied, still not looking our way. "Go on inside. Sara's been waiting on you all morning. Thought you were supposed to be here last night." He groaned as he turned the nut on the flat tire. The muscles in his long arms tightened and the muscles in his neck bulged with the effort. The nut loosened and he relaxed again.
"It took longer than we expected," Mommy said. Uncle Jacob grunted.
Mommy looked at me and then at Archie, who had his lips twisted in disgust. She put her hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the front door. The house was a Cape Codder with a widow's walk that faced the ocean. The trim on the railings and shutters was a Wedgwood blue, but like the cedar siding, it was faded by the salt air. There was a short, narrow cobblestone walkway to the front door.
On the windows were dainty eggshell white curtains, and on the sills were flower boxes full of tulips and daffodils. A bird feeder dangled from the roof of the small porch and a tiny sparrow fluttered its wings nearby, cautiously waiting for us to pass.
Mommy tapped gently on the door. Then, after a moment, she tapped again, a bit harder.
"Just go on in," Uncle Jacob called from the driveway. "She won't hear you. She's in the kitchen, I'm sure."
Mommy turned the knob and we entered. A small entryway led us to the living room on our right. A massive brick fire place consumed most of the far wall. There was a bluish-gray throw rug on the tong
ue-and-groove floor. A deep-cushioned sofa and the overstuffed chair beside it were the only things that matched. The rest of the furnishings were antiques, which included a well worn rocker, two small pine tables at the ends of the sofa, an old sewing table in the corner, and lamps made of cranberry glass and milk glass. On the mantle were framed photos. Mounted on a dark blue board and hanging over the fireplace, was a swordfish that looked at least seven feet long. Its glass eye seemed to turn toward us as we entered.
"Sara?" Mommy called. "We're here."
We heard a pan being dropped into a metal sink and a moment later, my Aunt Sara appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.
A tall woman, maybe an inch or so taller than Mommy, she wore a long, flowing light blue skirt that made her look all legs. Over her skirt she had a plain white apron, on which she wiped her hands. Her blouse had frilled sleeves and pearl buttons closed almost to the top. The collar parted just enough to reveal her very pronounced collarbone and a thin gold chain that held a gold locket. Her chestnut brown hair hung down over her shoulders. Through it were delicate streaks of gray. Aunt Sara wore no makeup to brighten her pale complexion, and she wore no jewelry but the locket.
She might once have been pretty, but the silvery webs at her temples were deep and her eyes looked a dull, dark brown. The darkness spread to the puffiness beneath her eyes, too. She had a small nose and high cheekbones with gracefully full lips, but her face was thin, almost gaunt.
"Hello, Sara," Mommy said.
"Hello, Haille," Aunt Sara replied without changing her expression. The way Mommy and Aunt Sara gazed at each other made my stomach turn. It was as if they were not only looking at each other across this room, but across time and great distance. Neither made an attempt to hug or even shake hands. A deep silence lingered for a confusing moment, making me feel as if I were floundering in the world of adult quicksand.