Heartsong (Logan 2)

"I'm not looking for any confrontations with Jacob Logan," he said. "Not now."

"He wouldn't dare cause any trouble. I would just--leave. That's all." When Kenneth didn't say anything, I added. "I could just move in here, sleep in your other bedroom."

"Are you kidding? Jacob would set the authorities on me, get me arrested for corrupting the morals of a minor," he said.

"I'm not a minor," I snapped. He started to smile but stopped when he saw how lobster red with indignation my face had become.

"In the eyes of the law, you most certainly are a minor. You're miles above the average girl your age, I admit," he added to soften the tension between us. "But we have to be careful, Melody. Many people would not fully understand or appreciate what we're doing here."

"I haven't told anyone anything," I said.

"Not even Cary?" he asked, his eyes narrow with suspicion.

"Not even Cary. I realize he's not mature enough yet to understand what we are doing," I replied, throwing my hair back and gazing at him with a defiant air that brought a small, but intriguing smile to his face. I was a little sad, though, that what I'd said was true; Cary wouldn't understand. He was too much like Uncle Jacob.

Kenneth shook his head and laughed lightly, the specks in his brown eyes brightening.

"You've got spirit, Melody. I am really lucky to have found you," he said.

I thought my heart would explode with joy. Every night afterward, I went to sleep with his words on my lips: "I am really lucky to have found you."

"And I you, dearest Kenneth." I hugged my pillow and dreamed of the day he would come to me and say, "Forget society. Forget what those

busybodies would say. You and I will make great art together and should be together forever. I can't sleep without saying your name over and over until it becomes a song in my heart. Melody . . Melody."

Was I the lovesick schoolgirl I had warned May she had become? Or was I really mature enough in heart and spirit to attract the romantic interest of an older man, a handsome and interesting older man?

Cary misunderstood my daydreaming and deep thoughts and grew impatient with me often during our walks after dinner. It wasn't that I'd lost all feelings for him as he accused, just that being with Kenneth made me realize the limitations of my relationship with Cary. For as much as Cary was my confidant, my only true friend here on the Cape, he just would never understand the thoughts and yearnings I discovered growing within myself as I helped Kenneth create his most prized work of art. Nor would he understand the role I played in its creation. I feared that Uncle Jacob had been too much of an influence on Cary, that no matter how he fought it, Cary would always be his father's son.

"You're just being polite spending time with me, is that it?" he accused one night as we walked along the surf.

"Pardon me?" I asked, startled by his tone and sudden outburst.

"I talk and talk and you nod but you hardly say anything to me unless I pull it out of you like pulling on a fish line that's gotten tangled on a sunken barge. And when you kiss me it's quick, with your eyes slammed closed, and then you rush off to bed just like--just like--You're just different," he finally stammered, unable to complete the thought. But I knew. I knew all right. Cary was accusing me of being just like Laura!

"I am not," I said defensively, though I knew in my heart he was partially right. I wasn't like Laura. Oh, no. I wasn't as saintly as his beloved sister. But I was different, changing before his very eyes.

"Yes you are. It's because of what happened that night on the beach, isn't it? You think I went too far too fast and you're puni

shing me."

"Cary, that's ridiculous," I insisted.

"No, it isn't. I know girls can be like that. They'll sulk or pretend you don't exist until you come pleading and begging for a kind word or some attention. I don't know why they call you the weaker sex," he said bitterly. "We're the ones who act like clowns or lose our self-respect just for a favor or a kiss. Men are the powerless ones," he concluded.

"That is so untrue, Cary Logan," I said, spinning on him, my hands on my hips. "Men break the hearts of women much more than women break the hearts of men. Men are usually the unfaithful ones. They make all sorts of promises that are supposed to last forever and ever, and they buy expensive presents to convince us of their love, and then, after a while, they go looking for love with someone else.

Cary's eyes widened.

"I wouldn't," he said. "And that's not just an empty promise. I thought you knew me," he said sadly. "I thought I knew you, too. I guess we're both fooling ourselves." He marched off, leaving me standing alone on the beach.

"Cary!"

"I'm tired," he called back without turning. "I've got to get up early tomorrow."

I watched him march back to the house, his fists balled with rage. I shook my head in pity.

He's been through a lot, I told myself, but he's still a boy compared to Kenneth. In time he'll be a much stronger person, but it's not my destiny to wait. "Is it?" I asked the stars. They blinked but had no answers, yet I felt sure that even if Cary were right and I had changed, it wasn't wrong for me to change. It simply meant I was growing up.