Heartsong (Logan 2)

"Mrs. Logan is upstairs in her bedroom. She wasn't feeling well today. I just brought her a little lunch, but she didn't eat much."

"I have to speak to her," I insisted.

"She's in her bedroom," Loretta said, intending that I take that as a reason why I couldn't. She was a tall, thin woman with a face that looked as if it were made from porcelain and would crack and shatter if she smiled or laughed.

"People talk in their bedrooms," I said and marched past her.

"Oh, but Mrs. Logan doesn't want to be disturbed," she cried.

"No one wants to be disturbed, Loretta," I replied and started up the stairway.

I had been upstairs only once before, when Cary had given me my first quick tour of the house, but I had seen Grandma Logan's bedroom. I remembered she had a bed next to a wide, dark cherry wood, three-drawer nightstand on which sat a large Tiffany lamp. Behind the bed were two big windows over which hung sheer wine-colored drapes. The bed was on a matching oval area rug. On the right was a cherry wood desk and on the left, adjacent to the door, were the closets, dressers, a very uncomfortable looking spindle chair, and a side table. The walls were covered with a light brown wallpaper that had what looked like tiny flowers stenciled around the borders. I saw no paintings on the walls and thought the room was rather cold for a bedroom.

At the moment the door was closed. I knocked and waited and then knocked again.

"What is it?" I heard Grandma Olivia cry with sharp annoyance. Rather than answer and announce myself, I just opened the door.

My appearance was almost as shocking to her as hers was to me. She was sitting up, her

face covered with some sort of milk-white facial cream. Her watery red eyes peered out of the mask of lotion and her bland lips looked like a line drawn with a broken crayon. Her blanket was folded back at her waist. Surrounded by her oversized pillows, her thin hair down, her egg-shell white silk nightgown loosely clinging to her bony shoulders, she appeared smaller than she did when dressed and moving about the large rooms. The portion of her chest that usually remained covered now revealed age spots and tiny moles. Minus her jewelry and her hair combs, and wearing this skin lotion, she looked naked, vulnerable, caught unprotected by her wealth and power, a queen without her crown. My seeing her like this filled her face with immediate rage. She stuttered and gasped before she could get out her angry reprimands.

"How--how dare you come up here without being announced? Who do you think you are barging into my bedroom? Where do you get the audacity-- Haven't you learned anything about manners?"

She reached over the bed to fetch a towel and wipe the cream from her face, whipping her eyes back at me as she did so. There was so much fire coming from them that if I had been made of ice, I'd have been a pool of water in seconds.

"I just came from visiting with Grandma Belinda," I said in response.

She threw the towel to the floor and pulled her blanket up until it covered her to the neck.

"Where's Loretta? Did she permit you to enter the house?"

"Don't blame Loretta. She told me you were up here and I insisted on coming up to see you."

"Well, you just turn yourself around and march back down those stairs and out of the house. I am not entertaining guests today. I have a splitting headache, a sinus problem and--

"I'm not here to be entertained, Grandma Olivia. I'm here to confirm the truth, once and for all," I fired back. Her eyes widened as her anger peaked.

"How dare you speak to me like that? And with all the family trouble now, too. Poor Jacob and Sara having to contend with Jacob's heart attack and now your insolence. I warned you about your behavior. I told you--"

"I said I have just come from seeing Grandma Belinda," I interrupted, raising my voice just enough to grab her attention. She stared a moment, her lips pursed.

"What of it?" she demanded.

"First, I was told you left orders for no one to see her," I began in a smaller, quieter voice.

"That's correct."

"Why?" I asked, my eyes narrowed as I took a step toward her.

"I don't think I have to explain myself to you and I will not be cross-examined in my own home. Get out," she said, pointing to the door.

"I'm not leaving until I hear the truth from your lips. It may burn your tongue, but I want to hear it," I said.

My calmness fanned the flames of her rage even more. Her mouth opened and closed without a sound emerging as she choked on her own fury.

"Grandma Belinda was not in good health," I said. "She was under some medication that's turning her into a zombie."

"Oh, so you've become a doctor, too, is that it? You want to go up there and tell them how to treat their patients. Is that why you've come bursting into my home?" she added with a cold smile spreading from her twisted lips to her steely eyes. "This is exactly why I left orders for no visitors. She's not well. She's not up to visitors anymore, and I'm disappointed that you were permitted to see her. I will have a stern talk with Mrs. Greene."