Melody (Logan 1) - Page 191

Signing the thoughts, checking the book to be sure I was making the right gestures, made me think more about the incidents and the descriptions. For the moment it occupied my mind and my sorrow lifted a bit. I was exhausted and fell asleep early, curled up on the bed, still in my clothes. Aunt Sara stopped by to put a blanket over me. Late in the night, I heard my door open softly and looked through my cloudy eyes to see Cary tiptoe in. He stood by the bed, gazing down at me for a few moments. Then he knelt down to kiss my cheek. I pretended to be in a dead sleep.

Morning light brought a moment of disbelief, a moment of hope. Perhaps it had all been a horrible nightmare after all. But here I was waking in my clothes. Reality would not be held back. I got undressed, showered, and changed. By the time I went downstairs, Cary and May had gone to school. The house was quiet. Even Aunt Sara was gone. I made myself some coffee and toast and then I sat on the porch. About a half hour later, I saw Aunt Sara coming down the street. She was nicely dressed.

"Good morning, dear. Have you had anything to eat?" "Yes, Aunt Sara."

"I was just at church, praying for Haille."

"Thank you," I said. I felt guilty not getting up and going with her.

"You can go with me tomorrow, if you like. It's a horrible tragedy," she continued, "but I want you to know you have a home here forever, dear. We love you."

"Thank you, Aunt Sara."

"I stopped at Laura's grave on the way home," she said with a sigh, "and told her the sad news. She was such a crutch for me whenever there was bad news. Laura had a way of filling me with hope, her smile, her loving, gentle smile. You should go to her grave and pray. You'll be comforted."

"Maybe I will," I said. That pleased her.

"Come in whenever you want, talk whenever you want," she said. I nodded and she went into the house.

I was on the porch when Cary and May returned from

I school. May started running the moment she spotted me. We hugged and she signed stories about her day, showing me a paper with stars all over it.

When she went in to change, Cary sat on the steps and told me about school, how everyone had heard the news. "All your teachers send regards and told me to tell you not to worry about your exams. They'll provide make-ups."

"I'll take my exams on time," I said. "I don't need to make extra work for them."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

He thought a moment and then smiled. "I was really surprised by how many kids came over to me to ask about you this afternoon, once the news had spread. You're more popular than you think. I bet you could have run for senior class president and gotten elected, instead of that blowfish, Betty Hargate."

"Somehow, that doesn't seem too important right now."

"Yeah, I know." After a moment he said, "My father says the funeral will be Saturday. Your mother's--your mother will be back here by then."

I turned away and then I got up.

"Where are you going?" he asked, concerned.

"Just for a walk on the beach."

"Want company?"

"Not right now," I said. I threw him a smile and walked away.

It seemed as if the terns were following me, circling overhead. Against the horizon, I saw a cargo ship heading south. The ocean was calming, the tide more gentle than I had ever seen it. I walked close enough so my bare feet would be washed by the tip of the waves. The cool water felt wonderful, like some magic balm.

One of my science teachers told me that scientists believe all life came from the ocean and that was why we were all fascinated by it, drawn to it. Somehow, the sound of the surf, the feel of the spray on my face, the sharp smell of the salt air in my nostrils, and the freshness of it filling my lungs was comforting. A thousand sympathy cards, a thousand mourners in church, dozens of sermons, and hours of organ music couldn't bring any more consolation than the cry of the terns and the sight of the seemingly endless blue water. It revived me and gave me the strength to do battle with my own sadness.

The funeral was two days later. The church service for Mommy's funeral was long and very impersonal. Of course the casket was closed. The minister barely mentioned her name. Because she was a member of the Logan family, the church was filled to capacity. Grandma Olivia, regal as ever, ran the service with a nod of her head, a turn of her eyes, the lifting of her hand. Cars were drawn up instantly and the procession moved on to the cemetery. There, beside Grandma Olivia's father and mother, my mother's remains were laid. The minister said his words and pressed my hands. I was in a fog most of the time, but when I turned away from the grave, I saw Kenneth Childs off to the side watching. He wore a dark blue sports jacket and a pair of slacks. He actually looked rather handsome. His father, the judge, had been at Grandma Olivia's side throughout the funeral.

Cary was as surprised as I was to see Kenneth attending, even if he stood apart from the party of mourners. He left before I could say anything to him.

I went back to school the following Monday to take my finals. All of my teachers were sympathetic, but I asked for no special treatment. Studying helped take my mind off the tragedy. Cary worked hard to prepare for his exams as well. The day after they ended, Cary, Aunt Sara, May, and even Uncle Jacob surprised me at breakfast.

It was my birthday. I had vaguely thought about it but between studying and taking exams and all the tragedy, the event didn't have any meaning or joy for me. Somehow, they remembered and there were presents waiting for me at the breakfast table. I opened May's first. It was a tape recorder. She explained how she picked it out by herself and paid for it with her own money. She said she wanted me to tape myself practicing on the fiddle and singing. I thought it was amazing that someone so young would think so selflessly of those around her. She was truly like a little angel. I kissed and hugged her.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Logan Horror
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