Heartsong (Logan 2)

"What burned?" Aunt Sara cried, worrying about the dinner she had prepared.

"What in the name of God is going on in here?" Uncle Jacob demanded from the living room doorway before we could get up. He looked from me to Cary and then back at me. Then he rushed past us and pulled the incense sticks from the bowl. He thrust them at Aunt Sara. "Get rid of this. Run water on it first."

"What are they doing?" she asked.

"Something pagan," Uncle Jacob said. He turned his fiery eyes on Cary. "I warned you, boy. I told you to watch for the devil and now you've gone and let him into our home."

"Dad, listen--"

"I don't understand," Aunt Sara said meekly. "Where did you get that dress, Melody?"

"From the devil himself, I'll wager," Uncle Jacob said. "Satisfied now, Sara? Satisfied she ain't your dead and gone Laura? She's about as different from Laura as night is from day," he said.

"Stop it, Dad!" Cary cried.

Jacob moved forward quickly and slapped Cary across the cheek so hard it turned his head. Aunt Sara cried out, and Cary looked at me, his eyes burning with hot tears.

"Cary," I began, but before I could say another word, he shot from the room and out the door. "Cary!" Aunt Sara cried after him.

Uncle Jacob turned to me.

"Now you've done what you came to do, what Haille brought you here to do. It's her revenge," he said.

"You're ignorant! You're ignorant and narrowminded and cruel!" I fired back. I charged out of the house and after Cary, while poor May struggled with her hands to express the pain and confusion that had burst upon her like a hurricane.

10

Shelter from the Storm

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I ran from the house out into the darkness. Heavy, ominous clouds had come sweeping down from the northwest, rolling and rumbling over the night sky, burying the stars and the quarter moon, shutting out any brightness and light. I had hoped to find Cary either right in front of the house or on the road, but he was nowhere in sight. When I walked around the house and toward the beach and the dunes, I couldn't see very far. He could have gone in any direction, I realized and groaned my disappointment. I walked over the sand and put my hands to my mouth to cup them in the shape of a megaphone.

"Cary!" I cried, but the wind tossed my desperate call back in my face. Perhaps he had walked toward the ocean, I thought, and continued on. My eyes grew used to the darkness, but the wind was so strong, I actually had to struggle to walk forward, my feet slipping and sliding in the soft sand that easily gave way beneath them. I took off my shoes because it felt easier to walk in bare feet. Every once in a while, I screamed Cary's name, but with the ocean roaring louder, the surf riled up by the approaching storm, waves slamming onto the beach, and the wind now howling around me, I realized he would have to be only a few feet away to hear.

My sari flapped against my legs. Sand flew into my face so often I had to keep my eyes closed, my hands up for protection. My hair whipped around my forehead and temples, and then I felt the first drops of rain, cold, sharp, heavy. Nevertheless, I charged forward over the dune and looked toward the dock. Then, just as I was going to turn back, I saw a small light on the lobster boat. Lowering my head to keep my face protected, I ran as hard and as fast as I could toward the dock. The rain grew heavier, stronger, each drops feeling like a glassful. My hair was soaked to the scalp in seconds and my dress was drenched, the material now clinging to my wet skin.

I reached the dock and hurried onto the boat. It rocked hard in the water, but I managed to get to the cabin door and open it. A gust of wind blew behind me so fiercely, I was practically driven into the room. I struggled to close the door and then I turned and saw Cary sitting on the bench, his head down. There was a small lantern lit. I leaned against the closed door and caught my breath.

"Cary, are you all right?" I asked. How could he be so lost in his thoughts and not hear the commotion I made arriving? He lifted his head slowly, his eyes catching the glow of the lantern.

"Why did you follow me?" he replied.

"It was all my fault," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

"It's not your fault," he said bitterly. "I don't do anything I don't want to do. You're right about him. He's narrow-minded and stupid and cruel."

"You're just very angry right now, Cary. You don't mean those things. He's still your father," I said, although I was pretty sure I meant those things.

"How can you ask me to forgive him? He practically called you the devil's own daughter!"

"It doesn't matter what he calls me or what he thinks about me," I said. "He's not my father. He's yours."

Cary shook his head in confusion. He looked like a little boy, overwhelmed by the events that raged around him.

"I'm not going to live in his home forever, Cary. I don't need his blessing or approval. Don't worry about me," I said.

"Well, he's got no right. He can't call someone else evil. He's not special just because he reads the Bible at dinner and talks about sin and r