"Then, it's settled. You can start right after the last day of school. Oh," he said standing, "you can bring your fiddle along. Ulysses likes music."
He started out, Uncle Jacob following. Cary and I gazed at each other with surprise again and then I looked at Aunt Sara who seemed confused as she stared at me. It was as if she had discovered I wasn't the person she had thought I was. It gave me a chill. I tried smiling at her. She smiled back, and then I offered to help with dinner. But it was to be a special dinner because of my birthday: she wanted to do it all herself.
We had lobster and shrimp, wonderful home fries and mixed vegetables, Portuguese bread and a chocolate birthday cake. May helped blow out the candles and sang along with everyone else. I thanked them all. Even Uncle Jacob looked calmer, softer. How complex and confused all the people in my life now had become, I thought.
Cary pleaded with me to play the fiddle and finally I gave in. I brought it down and played for them. Afterwards I went outside for a walk with Cary. The stars blazed above, barely a wisp of a cloud to block their majestic beauty.
"Why do you think Kenneth's done this?" I asked him.
"It's probably the easiest way he knows to get to know you and to eventually tell you the truth," Cary said. "I'll come by as much as I can to see if everything's all right."
"You don't have to worry so much about me."
"Of course I do," he said. He smiled. "I see you wore Laura's scarf tonight. That's nice."
"Somehow, because of all that's happened, I feel closer to her than ever," I said.
He smiled softly and reached for my hand. Then he turned me toward the ocean. We stood there, listening to the surf. In the roar both of us heard voices, his different from mine, of course. And then we walked back to the house under a downpour of starlight.
Epilogue
Who I Am
.
The auditorium was filled to capacity. People
even stood in the rear. Mrs. Topper said it was the biggest variety show they had ever had. I knew that many people had come to see and hear me play. The principal, Mr. Webster, revealed that when he came around to wish us all good luck.
"I knew a fiddle would attract interest," he said, but I understood many people hadn't come to hear the music so much as to see Olivia Logan's new granddaughter.
Everyone in the family attended, even Uncle Jacob. None of the students, except for the ones who had been at our rehearsal, had ever heard me play. Some of the girls came to laugh. I know the three witches from Macbeth had. They found themselves front-row seats. Behind them sat Adam Jackson with his friends and girl friends surrounding him, all woven together with giggles of ridicule.
Most of the other students in the show sang or played guitar. One student played "Carnival of Venice" on the trumpet. It was a performance that brought the house down. Two girls performed part of a scene from The Taming of the Shrew, and a boy juggled eggs. When one splattered at his feet, the audience roared and cheered. He was embarrassed, but he continued to do his act until they stopped laughing and applauded.
After so much talent, I felt even more nervous. When it came to my performance, I waited in the wings while Mrs. Topper introduced me as the newest student. There was polite applause when I walked out onto the stage. I could feel all eyes fixed on my every movement. I was wearing the new dress Aunt Sara and Uncle Jacob had bought me. I also wore my identification bracelet, as well as what had once been Laura's charm bracelet.
I don't know what made me want to do this after so much sadness. I could easily have been excused, but I felt Papa George especially would have been proud to see me on the stage. My fingers trembled so badly when I started, however, that I hit a sour note. Those waiting for me to fail roared and clapped. I stopped, took a deep breath, and looked beyond the audience. I looked back through time and saw Papa George on his patio, his pipe in his mouth. I saw Mama Arlene sitting on the lounge and then I heard Daddy shout, "Wait for me!"
I turned on the stage as if he were running from our trailer to Papa George and Mama Arlene's, and when he sat down, I lifted the bow.
The audience grew quiet. I began to play "Beautiful Dreamer" and closed my eyes to sing. When I did, I saw my Daddy's smiling face. He had loved me so much. Perhaps he never told me the truth because he had come to believe I really was his daughter, or perhaps he didn't want me to ever love him less.
I could never love him less.
The music and my singing continued. Papa George was smiling, Mama Arlene beamed. Somewhere behind me, Mommy was
chattering, complaining that, as usual, we hadn't
waited for her.
Daddy told her to stop chewing on her lip and
hurry over. I was about to begin another one. She
joined him, and for a moment we were a family again,
untouched by lies and deceits, without jealousies and