Music in the Night (Logan 4)

"Oh no, Robert. Never. Don't even talk about it," I said and he saw the terror in my eyes. He nodded.

"Well, what should I do?"

"There's nothing to do at the moment," I said. "Except . . ."

"Except what, Laura?"

"Except stay away from each other for a while. At least until things calm down," I added quickly. He stared at me a moment and then shook his head. "What's a while?"

"A while," I said, shrugging. "We've got our finals to think about anyway."

"You think I care about my finals now?"

"You have to, Robert. You want to go to college. If you did poorly because of me, I would feel ten times worse." He plucked a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. "I'm keeping you from eating lunch," I said, trying to joke. "You must be hungry. You're eating grass."

He stopped chewing and smiled. Then he shook his head slowly.

"I don't think you understand how much I love you, Laura. It's easy to say we should keep away from each other for a while, but it's nearly impossible for me to do. I'm going to camp out near your house and hope for a glimpse of you every night."

"Robert--"

"Seeing you in school will be like torture. What am I supposed to do, stay away from you here, too?"

My lips started to tremble, my chin quivering.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm doing it again. I'm thinking only of myself and putting you in a difficult position." He stood. "All right, I'll try to cool it, as they say. For a while," he added. "But Laura Logan, you mark my words. You will be my wife someday. You will be the woman I live with forever and ever, and no powerful grandmother, no overprotective brother, no one can stop it from happening."

I nodded, pressing my lips together and swallowing the lump in my throat. Robert smiled one last time before he turned and walked back into the school, his shoulders slumped, his heart as dark and as broken as my own.

Each succeeding day without Robert, without his smiles, without hearing his voice, receiving his phone calls, was a day of gloom. The sun might as well have kept its face behind a wall of storm clouds, as far as I was concerned. I did my chores, I studied and helped May with her work, but I know when I moved about, I resembled a zombie, a robot without a heart or soul. When I had time to be alone, I walked off and sat on the beach and watched the waves comb the sand, gently rolling over each other, beckoning. Sometimes I went down to the edge of the tide and walked barefoot through the foam. The terns followed me, circling, calling, gazing with curiosity at my sad, forlorn figure alone on a vast sea of sand.

Often I caught Cary watching me from afar, afraid to speak or to approach, distant, a sad figure himself, looking just as lost. He was struggling within himself to find a way to make me happy, to apologize, to win my forgiveness. I kept telling myself that I had to forgive him, that Grandma Olivia had forced him to talk, but that small voice inside me wondered if Cary hadn't told Grandma Olivia so that he could have me all to himself.

Mommy continued to ask questions about my health and even Daddy began to scrutinize me more closely. I blamed it on my studying.

The following weekend we all went to Grandpa Samuel's birthday celebration. It was an elegant party, a clam bake with two bars set up, one at each end of the grounds. There was a large blue and white tent under which tables were set up with linen tablecloths. Grandma Olivia despised the use of plastic plates and forks, so everything was served on real china and with real silverware. A small army of waiters and waitresses, servers and kitchen helpers was hired to help that evening. There were over a hundred and fifty guests, all wealthy businessmen, politicians, their families, and, of course, the best families from the Cape.

People attended from as far away as Boston and Hartford, Connecticut.

A string quartet was set up in the gazebo and played all afternoon, culminating with everyone singing "Happy Birthday" to Grandpa Samuel. It was really one of Grandma Olivia's best parties, but I was still in no mood to be happy about anything. Late in the day, she pulled me aside.

"Apparently," she said, "you are following my advice. That's good, Laura. That's good for everyone," she added.

Before I could utter a reply, she called to one of her guests and went off arm in arm, leaving me feeling a little more empty inside. When I turned, I saw Cary was staring at me. I walked away and started toward the dock.

"What did she say?" I heard Cary ask and turned to see he had followed me.

"She said she was happy to see I had followed her advice and that it was good for everyone," I told him.

He shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Laura," he said for the hundredth time. I folded my arms and looked at the sea.

"She has no right to run our lives," he continued. "I can see you're going to get sick from unhappiness," he added in an angry tone.

"I won't get sick," I said defiantly.

"You're as pale as driftwood," he remarked. "Look," he said, stepping closer, "there's nothing wrong with my being friends with Robert, is there?"