"Maybe you are; maybe you're just discovering love itself," she said. "Compassion for each other is so important," she continued. "That's why I made the point about Scorpio. When one lover is more selfcentered than the other, when all he or she wants is to satisfy himself or herself, it becomes something different and soon leads to unhappiness. Find a man who cares for you more than he cares for himself and you've found love.

"But, alas," she said, gazing at the ocean again, "that can be as hard to find as a drop of water after it's been spilled in the ocean."

"You never did?" I asked.

"Once, but unfortunately he died young. That was how Kenneth and I met. He and Brad, my lover, were roommates in college."

"Oh. Kenneth never told me. Actually, he hasn't told me all that much about his past."

She smiled.

"Don't be put off by that. Kenneth lives in the moment, in his art. I've done his horoscope. He'll never change, Melody. Events in his past mirrored the movement of the sun and the moon and produced the dramatic disappointments. They're sewn forever into his being and into his future.

"That's why he

and I get along so well. He knows I won't make any demands, won't stay long. I come and go like . . . a cloud," she said, looking at the sky.

"Can't he live like a normal person ever?" I asked, still unable to let go of the dream that Kenneth just might have feelings for me. Though in my heart of hearts, I knew whatever feelings he had would never be able to compare to Cary's love for me.

"Kenneth? Kenneth Childs is one man who is terrified of becoming withal in the sense you mean. Responsibilities, obligations, and the guilt that follows on their heels is very frightening to a true, pure artist. God forbid he had to do something for the house or family just when he was about to begin his work. In the end he would only hate his own wife and children. He doesn't want to be involved in anything or with anyone that will lead to something permanent, something demanding his time and energy. His only commitment is to his art, because it's safe. If he fails, he only fails himself," she concluded.

Then maybe Kenneth is my father after all, I thought, and what Holly was telling me about him was the reason why he would lie or avoid the truth. Would I ever really know the truth?

"What did you mean by Kenneth's dramatic disappointments?" I asked.

"I really don't have a right to talk about it, Melody," Holly said. "Kenneth's memories of happiness and sadness are his possessions. He has to be the one to share them with others."

"It has to do with my mother," I said. "I know it does."

She just held her soft smile.

"Sometimes, I gaze into the stars and I see things I know I must not touch, must not disturb, must not reveal. Sometimes, Melody, it takes more strength to leave a discovery where you found it."

"Is that what Kenneth did?" I shot back at her. Her smile faded a bit.

"It's something we all do, Melody, sometime, at some place in our lives. Hungry?" she asked, changing the topic.

"Yes," I said. After all, I had skipped breakfast.

As we ate, Holly told me more about her own past, about Kenneth's college roommate, Brad, and how much they had been in love. She read me some of her favorite poetry and she talked more about the power of her crystals. We took a walk on the beach, searching for sea shells, and then sunbathed in the afternoon sun. For one day, at least, I felt as if I had an older sister who would listen to my deeper thoughts and fears and who wasn't afraid to tell me about some of her own.

The sun began to show its descent toward the horizon and I thought I should probably head home soon. The family had surely returned from Grandma Olivia's by now. I changed back into my own clothes and Holly drove me home. I didn't see the car and the truck was still in front. The house looked dark, too.

"It doesn't look as if they've come back yet," Holly said.

"They would have had to by now."

"Maybe they went some place else. Your uncle might have taken his family for a Sunday drive," Holly suggested.

"Not likely," I said. "Not in the mood he was in." I got out. "Thanks for a wonderful day. I guess I'll see you tomorrow when Kenneth brings me to work."

"Okay. Watch that sunset. You'll feel a lot of good energy," she said and drove off. When I entered the house, I found it empty, dark. In the kitchen, my empty mug was right where I had left it.

Upstairs I found everything quiet and just as deserted. Why weren't they back yet? I went into my room, showered, put lotion on my browned face and shoulders, and then dressed again. Still, I heard no one in the house. I descended the stairs, thought for a moment, and then stepped outside and decided I would sit and wait facing the road. Nearly another hour passed.

Finally, I saw the Logans' car come around the turn and head toward the house. I stood up in anticipation, but was surprised to see Cary driving, Aunt Sara in the front seat, and May in the rear. Where was Uncle Jacob?

They drove in and parked. I walked toward the car as Cary got out, his face drenched in worry and sadness. Aunt Sara had apparently been crying.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Logan Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net