Melody (Logan 1)

"Fair to middling," he replied. "We had a good day yesterday, eh Cary?"

"Yes sir," Cary said. He shot a glance at me. Grandpa Samuel nodded. Then he turned toward me. "So you're Melody. How old are you?"

"Fifteen, almost sixteen."

"Aye, that would be right." He thought a moment and then smiled. "I hear you can play the fiddle. My grandfather played the accordion. I ever tell you that, Sara?"

"No," she said, her eyes wide.

"I've told you the same before," Uncle Jacob snapped at her.

"Did you? I don't remember your speaking about your grandfather playing the accordion, Jacob."

"Aye, he was good at it," Grandpa Samuel said, directing himself to me. "I can still remember hearing his jolly tunes."

"There are better things to remember than a lazy fisherman," I heard a sharp, small voice say. We turned to the doorway to see Grandma Olivia. She stood a little over five feet tall, and wore a pale yellow dress. Her snow-white hair was pulled back in a bun as severely as Aunt Sara's, which only made her eyes look bigger and her forehead look wider. There were tiny age spots clustered at the foot of her hairline and on her cheeks. Without lipstick, her lips were a dull pink. Below her jaw, her skin hung loosely like a hen's.

There was no bend in her back, and because she had such a regal posture, she looked taller, sturdier than I was sure she was.

"You're early," she accused, gazing at us, her eyes fixing tightly on me.

"We were ready, so we came," Uncle Jacob remarked.

"Early's better than late," Grandpa Samuel said. She shot a look at him and his smile faded quickly.

"Well, then," she said, nodding at Sara, "make the proper introductions."

"Yes, Olivia." Aunt Sara turned to me. "This is Melody, Hailles Melody."

HaiIle's, I thought. Why not Haille and Chester's? Was even my father's name forbidden in this house?

Aunt Sara nodded at me to tell me to stand. I rose and Grandma Olivia came closer. She drank me in, gazing at me from head to foot quickly, and nodded to herself to confirm some previous notion.

"Looks healthy. Tall, too, with good posture."

Tall? I wasn't so tall, I thought, but then I realized almost anyone would be tall to her.

"Well then, what do you say?" she asked.

I glanced at Aunt Sara who nodded and smiled. "Hello, Grandma Olivia," I replied. The words appeared to sting her. She tightened her body and lifted her shoulders.

"We'll eat even though we're a bit early," she said, "and you'll tell me all about yourself. Samuel," she ordered and he rose. Cary and May stood and Aunt Sara got up quickly with Uncle Jacob.

For a moment I felt as if we were all in some army and Grandma Olivia was the general. She started out and we followed. We crossed the hallway to the dining room.

It was a beautiful room, with dark, oak-paneled walls and a glossy, long cherry-wood table. All the chairs were upholstered with high backs. The china looked very expensive and the candle holders looked as if they were made of real gold. The silverware was heavy. Everyone had a linen placemat and linen napkins.

Cary, May, and I were put on one side, Aunt Sara and Uncle Jacob on the other. Grandma Olivia sat at the far end of the table and Grandpa Samuel on the other end. A maid brought out the brunch.

It began with a tossed salad, glittering with plum tomatoes and the greenest peppers and lettuce I had ever seen. Long loaves of bread were sliced and placed on silver serving plates. Everyone was given tall glasses of ice water. Following that, a large dish of perfectly arranged jumbo shrimp on a bed of lettuce was presented. There were small, cold potatoes, asparagus spears, and then two beautifully roasted ducks, all sliced.

Grandma Olivia took tiny portions of everything, but Grandpa Samuel ate as much as Uncle Jacob and Cary. I felt Grandma Olivia's eyes on my every move and recited Aunt Sara's instructions for etiquette at the dinner table to myself as I chewed, sipped, and reached for things.

"So then," Grandma Olivia said suddenly, as if we were all still in the midst of a conversation that had previously begun. "Haille called?"

"Yes," Aunt Sara said. "The other night she spoke with Melody."

Grandma Olivia turned her cold, steely eyes on me. "Where is your mother?"