"Loretta," she called. Loretta appeared. "I'd like a new saucer, please."
"Right away, Mrs. Logan," Loretta said and hurried back to the kitchen. The Judge's smile widened. Grandma reached forward again for the lemon cake. She cut herself a piece and passed the cake plate to the Judge.
"I was told that the plate is to be passed counterclockwise, Grandma. Wasn't that correct?" I asked, trying to sound as innocent as I could manage, considering my knees were knocking. Her face turned so purple, so fast, that I was worried she might do some actual harm to herself. She took the cake plate back so quickly, her hand trembling so much the cake slipped to the edge. In an effort to balance it again, she overcompensated and the cake fell, splattering in front of the Judge, who pulled back to avoid being hit by the icing.
"Whoops," he said with a laugh. Loretta came charging toward the table.
Grandma Olivia, as red as a sunburnt tourist, jerked her chair away from the table to permit Loretta full access to the mess.
"No harm done," the Judge said. "I'll eat that anyway it looks, Loretta."
She smiled at him but shifted her eyes toward Grandma Olivia as if she felt she would somehow be held responsible.
"Nonsense," Grandma Olivia said. "Loretta, take that back into the kitchen and make it look presentable again."
"Yes, ma'am," she said, hurrying away with the smashed cake.
"I would have eaten it off the table," the Judge said to lighten the moment, but Grandma Olivia glared daggers at him until he sat back like an obedient little boy. Then she turned slowly to me.
"If you hadn't interrupted like that--"
"I was trying to practice what I've been taught, Grandma. I'm sorry, but Miss Burton says we shouldn't save our best manners for the outside world. She says the people with whom we live deserve our best manners even more."
"Miss Burton?" the Judge asked.
"Someone I hired to teach her the finer ways," Grandma replied quickly.
Loretta returned with the cake somewhat repaired, only this time she went around the table and served us each our piece.
"Looks scrumptious, doesn't it?" the Judge said.
"Yes, it does," I said and cut my piece with my fork. Grandma Olivia only nibbled at hers and left more than half on the plate.
Just as Loretta returned to take away the dishes, we heard the doorbell. She paused for orders.
"See to that first, Loretta," Grandma said. "Expecting someone?" the Judge asked.
"Not at all," she said, obviously annoyed to be disturbed. A moment later, Loretta returned with Cary behind her. He was carrying a covered pie dish.
"Oh, sorry I got here too late, Grandma," he said, "but Ma sent over a homemade cranberry pie. I picked some early berries and she made it just this afternoon."
"Hmm . . I've never cared much for cranberry pie," Grandma Olivia said, sniffing haughtily.
"I love it," the Judge said, winking at me.
"Then you take it," she said with a wave of her hand.
"Thank you. And Cary, you thank your mother for me," he said as Cary stepped forward with the pie.
"Put that in a box for Judge Childs, Loretta," Grandma Olivia commanded. "You should have brought it earlier if you expected us to eat it tonight," she told Cary.
"I had some things to do at the dock and . . ."
"Oh, don't worry about it," the Judge said. "It won't go to waste, that's for sure."
Cary stood there awkwardly, waiting for an invitation to sit at the table, but Grandma Olivia wasn't offering any. He glanced at me and then smiled at the Judge.
"May I be excused?" I asked. "I'd like to go for a walk on the beach."
She glared icily at me.
"It's getting late," she said sternly.
"Late?" the Judge asked and looked at his watch as if he were the one who somehow mistook the time.
"For walks on the beach," she explained. "I thought you had problems at the dock, Cary."
"It's all been fixed, Grandma. I can stay for a short visit," he said, practically pleading. Reluctantly, she nodded.
I rose.
"Thank you, Grandma. Judge Childs, I enjoyed dining with you tonight. I hope I'll see you soon."
"Anytime you want, my dear. Just come right over," he said, smiling happily. Thankfully Grandma Olivia was too wrapped up in her own steam to think the Judge's invitation odd.
I left the table and accompanied Cary to the back door. When we stepped outside, I felt as if I had thrown off shackles. The night air never felt so refreshing.
"What's going on in there?" Cary asked. "You could cut the tension with a knife."
"Grandma and I are practicing good table manners," I said and laughed. "It appears she is not as perfect as she thinks she is. I think I'm going to have some fun with all this proper this and proper that."
Cary took my hand and we walked down to the beach. The ocean was calm, the tide lapping softly at the shore. In the distance I saw the tiny lights of a tanker. Stars glittered just above the water, some looking like strings of sparkling diamonds. There was no moonlight, but the evening was clear enough so that the heavens glowed down over us.
"You sure you want to live with her?" Cary asked. "She looked meaner than ever tonight. Where was my Grandpa? After the whole pie thing, I was afraid to ask," he explained.
"She has him shut up in his room. I overheard her talking to the Judge. I think she's getting Grandpa Samuel placed in the same home my grandmother is now in," I said.
"Is he that bad?" Cary asked, unable to keep the tremor from his voice.
"He's babbling, confusing things I don't understand and he's not looking after himself, Cary. Unfortunately, I think she might be right. He needs help."
"It's like everything's falling apart around us," Cary said sadly. "Ma won't break out of her depression. And May is so unhappy."
"I'll come by tomorrow," I promised, "and spend time with them."
"Thanks. I know they both miss you terribly."
We paused, both gazing out at the water. He slipped his arm around my waist and I leaned my head on his shoulder. I felt his lips on my hair, my forehead and then on my temples. I lifted my head toward him and we kissed, a long, soft kiss. Then he embraced me and turned me around toward him so he could kiss me again. I heard his breathing quicken.
"I love you, Melody. I don't think an hour goes by that I don't think of you, even when I'm asleep," he said.
"Cary, We have a problem," I said pulling away and taking a few steps down the beach.
"What?" he asked, following me slowly.
"Grandma Olivia doesn't want us to spend so much time together. She's practically forbidden it."
"What? Why?"
"She's planning out my life, designing it, and in her design, there is no place set aside for you," I told him, uncertain how to soften the blow.
"What? But--"
"So, I think it would be best if we don't let her know how much time we spend together. The less she knows about it, the better. She'll only make trouble for us, for you," I said.
"How can she do that?" he asked worriedly.
"Any way she wants. And every way you don't want." I said. "Why cause problems anyway, if we don't have to? The more I see of the adult world, the more I realize it's built around millions of white lies that get strung into chains of illusion and deception anyway. I'm tired of fighting it, Cary. If we have to steal our happiness, we'll steal it," I said firmly.
He smiled.
"As long as I'm with you, I don't care how we do it," he said.
"For the time being, I'm going to let her believe I'm doing everything she wants. It will make things easier for all of us. Your mother doesn't need any more turmoil in her life at the moment. None of us do," I said. He nodded.
"You're getting to be a pretty strong person, Melody."
"Whether I want to or not," I replied. He laughed and then embraced me again for another long kiss. This time his hands moved over my arms and my waist, climbing t
o my breasts. I moaned and sank against him, my legs weakening.
"Cary."
"I missed you so much," he said. "When can we be together like we were?"
"Soon," I promised. "Soon. We better get back now though."
He nodded reluctantly. As we approached the rear of the house, I gazed toward the basement stairs, recalling when Cary had first shown me pictures of my mother and revealed she had been living with Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia, growing up with my stepfather and Uncle Jacob as if she were their sister.
"Grandpa Samuel mumbled about some other secrets hidden in the basement, Cary. Do you think it's true? Or just his delusions talking?"
"I'm sure that's all it was," Cary said, but as we passed the stairway, I felt the shadows drawing me, beckoning, promising revelations that would chill me to the bones.
Someday I would have the courage to see.
But for now, I needed my courage just to make it through the day.
14
Sacred Moments
.
Except for Theresa Patterson, whose father had
worked for Cary's father and now Cary, I had made few friends at the high school. After I had played my fiddle and sang in the variety show at the end of the school year, people took more notice of me, but since I was in California I hadn't spent time with any of the other girls during the summer. A few were curious about where I had been, and when I told them I had been to Hollywood visiting friends, they were more than interested. Since I couldn't really reveal the details of my trip they soon grew bored and stopped finding excuses to drop by my locker and chat.
On Tuesdays every week after school, I spent an hour or so with Miss Burton. Since our initial first meeting, I felt less defensive and even began to like her. Her husband had died five years ago, and both her children lived in Florida. In many ways she was just as lonely as I was.
"Etiquette," she explained during our second session, "is really nothing more than the Golden Rule put to work. You are simply developing ways, manners, behavior to treat people as considerately as you would like them to treat you. You show them respect and expect them to show you respect. You treat older people with veneration and hope that when you are older, that's how you will be treated. You practice etiquette at meals so you don't do anything unappetizing. You wouldn't want it done to you. And there are always the problems that come from wondering how to behave at special occasions, how to behave with royalty, with high government officials, et cetera. Etiquette gives us the guidelines that make us comfortable in these settings.
"Isn't it nice to know how to introduce someone to somebody whose name you've forgotten? Why embarrass that person or make him or her feel bad? Isn't it comforting to know how to properly thank people, invite people, console people, what to do at weddings, funerals and birthdays? All of this will certainly come in handy when you're in the business world or looking for a career," she explained.
I stopped resisting, and listened and learned. Whenever I could, I pointed out Grandma Olivia's failures and mistakes, although now I usually chose them one at a time. I especially liked to do it in front of one of her distinguished guests.
Finally, one day she paused at the dining room table when we were eating alone and said, "I know why you're criticizing my table manners or my dinner invitations, but I want you to know it no longer bothers me as much as you hope it will. Furthermore, I am happy you are learning these things and despite yourself, are becoming refined. In the end when you are finished being a brat, you will come to me and thank me," she predicted. Deep down I couldn't help but wonder if she was right and from that day forward I stopped correcting her.
I really did have to try and keep some peace since it was just the two of us in the house now. At the end of the first week of school, I had returned home to learn that Grandpa Samuel had been taken to the rest home. I didn't realize it until Grandma Olivia and I sat at the dining room table that night. After Loretta served us our appetizer, Grandma Olivia announced Grandpa Samuel's fate without a crack in her voice or a tear in her eye.
"I had to have Samuel taken to the home," she said. "He's become impossible."
"He'll be there forever then?" I asked.
"As long as forever is, yes," she replied.
I nodded.
"I'll visit him whenever I visit Grandma Belinda," I declared.
"Don't be surprised if he forgets who you are entirely. According to the doctor, he's only going to get worse," she said.
"I'm so sorry. I wish there was something we could do to help him."
"That's old age. The weight of grief,
disappointment, a lifetime of struggling take their toll sooner on some than it does on others. It will be your fate as well as mine. It's best to prepare for it rather than try to deny it. Only the weak live in illusion. I don't expect you to like me, but I'm hoping you will come to respect what I'm trying to do with and for you," she continued.
"Both my sons are gone. My daughter-in-law remains a frail, pitiful creature. I have a deaf mute for a granddaughter and a grandson who keeps hoping his pipe dreams will come true. Yes," she said with a smile, "I do know about Cary's foolish dreams of building boats."
"They're not foolish."
"It's foolish from a business standpoint. He'll always be a plodder, not much of a student, not much of a businessman and certainly not capable of supervising the family fortune. You, on the other hand, will be. It's a great responsibility . . . family. Each great family is like a kingdom unto itself. Whether this one survives or not will rest solely on your shoulders some day. That means you, too, will have to make decisions that won't be popular, but will be best for everyone. Either you will have the strength and will to do it or you won't.
"Every decision you make now, every choice has an impact on the fate of this family. Remember that and you will do well," she advised. "It wasn't easy putting my husband into a home, but it had to be done and it was. Moaning about it won't help him or me," she said, sounding like she needed to convince herself more than me.
"I'll stop in to see him," I repeated.
"Do that, but don't come begging me to bring him home if that's what he asks you," she warned. "I will not allow it."
She looked like an alabaster statue set in the dining room chair. Her decision was unquestionable. I nodded, ate my supper in silence and eagerly retreated to my room to do my homework and leave the long, lonesome shadows she cast through the house.
The days and weeks went by. I devoted most of my time to my schoolwork, not only because that was what Grandma Olivia wanted, but because I truly enjoyed it. The dramatics teacher tried to talk me into trying out for the fall production, but I resisted. I wanted to give Cary and May all my free time. I was there when Cary began the cranberry harvest, and although I didn't play hooky, I was beside him right after school, sometimes bringing May home so he could be free to supervise the work.
Aunt Sara snapped out of her sorrow as best she could. She had spent so much of her adult life caring for Uncle Jacob, anticipating his needs and wants, it was hard for her to stop the routine, stop wondering what favorite food of his she would prepare each night. For a while she continued to wash and iron his clothes, under the guise that Cary might use them. Cary did try to wear some of his father's things, but he had trouble doing it. To take for himself Jacob's possessions, however few, was to admit, each time, that his father was truly, finally, gone.
When I came home from Aunt Sara's I occupied my time by writing letters to Alice Morgan in Sewell, telling her all about my mother. I thought Alice deserved to know since she was the one who had discovered Mommy's picture. Alice called after she had read my first letter. She consoled me and promised to come to Provincetown the first
opportunity she had. I never heard from Mommy, of course, but I did call and speak to Holly and Billy a few times. Holly was very concerned about Kenneth and I promised to visit him as often as I could and give her a report.
Kenneth was much better th
an he had been when I had first returned from California, but he still hadn't started working on anything new. He spent more time than usual at his favorite local pub, and some days he fished or visited a friend in Boston. I felt like a spy, but a good spy since I was making my reports to Holly.
Another sore point around my new home was that Grandma Olivia refused to permit me to get my driver's license or take driver's education. She said the car was the downfall of young people today, and I, a budding debutante, should have men driving me around or use our chauffeur. She did allow me to have a bicycle and I was soon a regular sight along the sides of the Province-town streets. Although it was quite a ride, I peddled my way out to Kenneth's occasionally on weekends.
One Saturday, I found him walking alone on the beach. He was dressed in his ragged jeans and a Tshirt and was barefoot. I caught up with him, but he didn't acknowledge my presence for quite a while. Instead, he just stared at the water, and when he finally did turn, I saw his eyes were bloodshot, as if had been crying. Or on another drinking binge.
"What's wrong, Kenneth?" I asked, holding my breath.
"Haven't you noticed anything different?" he asked, spreading his arms wide and gesturing across the beach, back toward his house.
"Different?" I gazed around and then it hit me. "Ulysses," I said.
"I buried him this morning."
"Oh Kenneth, no,"
"I woke up this morning, but he didn't. It was like him to die quietly. That dog was never a problem, even as a puppy. He was patient, undemanding, sensitive to my moods." He smiled. "Better than any woman I've known. No wonder they call them man's best friend. We were a team," he said, his voice catching. "I'll miss him."
"I'm sorry, Kenneth. I'll miss him, too."
"I know you will. He took right to you, as I recall," he said trying valiantly to smile. He took a deep breath and we walked along the beach together, the deep silence of sadness linking us during our somber thoughts. Finally, he paused and turned to me with a genuine smile.
"So, you're burning up the academic playing fields, I hear, and look like a shoe-in for class valedictorian."
"Who told you that?"