Heart Song (13 page)

"Don't give your heart away too quickly,
Melody. It's the most precious gift you can give any
man," he advised.
"I won't be like my mother, if that's what you
mean," I said sharply.
He smiled.
"Good," he said. "That's good."
We returned to work. Kenneth put more detail
into his drawing. He explained that he intended to do
at least a half dozen of these pictures, each taking the
metamorphosis to another stage so that it would be
like doing an animation. When he flipped the pictures
quickly, he
^-
Would get the illusion of movement and
that illusion would be embedded in his mind as he
hoped it would be in the marble block.
After lunch he showed me how to use some of
the carving tools to do the preliminary work on the
block. Even though it was hard work, I enjoyed it,
enjoyed knowing I really was contributing to this artistic masterpiece. The day flew by and I didn't have much time to tend to my usual chores, but when Kenneth announced it was time to stop, I was actually
disappointed.
"It's all right," he told me when I complained
about not being able to clean and organize his house,
especially after a weekend. Mondays were always the
hardest because he seemed to get even sloppier on
Saturdays and Sundays. "This is what an artist's life is
like. Now you can understand and appreciate why I'm
not the neatest, most organized individual you've met. "Anyway," he added, "you can do what you can
here for twenty minutes or so. We're finished for the
day. I'm just going down to the beach for a while to
think. Then I'll come back and take you home," he
said.
He left with Ulysses at his heels and I went to
work cleaning and organizing the studio. I swept up
the dust and chips from the marble block, cleaned and
arranged the tools, and fixed the sofa again. As I was
moving about, I paused at the drawing desk. I hadn't
looked at the pictures yet. Kenneth hadn't offered and
I was afraid to ask. Now, they were covered with a
white sheet, and I wondered if Kenneth was the type
who hated anyone looking at a work in progress. I
hesitated.
I couldn't help feeling we had grown closer
because of this project and I hated to do anything that
might threaten our relationship. Little betrayals,
indiscretions, and lies eventually tore down a
foundation of love and friendship, I thought. I had
enough evidence of that, and now, because of how
things were going between us, I regretted permitting
Cary to take off the lock on Kenneth's storage room so
that we could invade his private and secret cache of
paintings, even if they were paintings of my mother
and stirred more mystery.
I continued to clean and organize the studio, but
my attention kept returning to the drawing table. What
harm would one peek do? I thought. Surely, if
Kenneth really wanted me not to look, he would have
said something. I listened for him, heard nothing, and
returned to the drawing table. Slowly, I lifted the sheet
and gazed at the first drawing.
There was far more detail in my face than I had
anticipated. This was more than a sketch, but the face
I saw on the paper looked more like my mother's face
than it did mine. At least, I thought it did, and that
caused me to drop the sheet quickly when I heard
Kenneth's footsteps. He entered just as I moved away. His eyes shifted from the table to me and then back to
the table.
"Well," he said, crossing the studio, "you've got
this place looking proper again. Makes me feel guilty
every time I mess it up," he said with a smile. He
paused at the table and lifted the sheet. "What do you
think?" he asked gazing at the picture.
"What?"
"I'm sure you snuck a peek, Melody. I would
have."
"Oh. I I. . . yes. I did. I was surprised at how
much detail you got into it already," I said, trying to
keep the disappointment out of my voice.
"Uh-huh. That sounds diplomatic."
"I'm not an art critic. Not yet, at least," I said.
"But it looks like the beginning of something special."
If only it was my face that would grace his
masterpiece, I thought.
"Yes. It's only a figment of my imagination
right now, but soon, it will grow. You know, this is
going to take us all summer," he said.
"I'm not going anywhere," I replied. "I was
going to run away yesterday, but then I thought,
where would I run to?"
He stared at me and I held my breath, hoping he would offer his home as a sanctuary should I need it. But he remained silent. If the words were on his
tongue, he swallowed them.
"I guess the bottom line is none of us can really
run away. We can escape but we can't run away," he
said. "How can we escape if we don't run away?" I
asked. "You find another place to go inside yourself,"
he said, staring at the block of marble.
"As you found with your art?"
He nodded.
"What were you escaping from?" I asked and
waited as he hesitated, his eyes still on the block of
marble.
"Myself," he said.
"Yourself?"
"Who I found out I was," he said. He shook his
head. "Give me time, Melody. Give me time to find a
way to tell you what you want to know."
My heart skipped a beat.
The rebirth Kenneth was creating out of this
block of marble might truly be my own.

7
Sing for Your Supper
.
Cary was in the driveway washing Uncle

Jacob's truck when Kenneth brought me home. He was in cutoff shorts, shirtless and barefoot. May was helping, soaping up the, fenders, getting almost as much suds dripping down her arms and legs as she was putting on the truck. Unhindered by clouds, the late afternoon sun was still strong enough to make things gleam, especially Cary's bare shoulders and back, emphasizing his muscularity. He turned toward us as we slowed to a stop.

"Good-looking boy," Kenneth muttered. "He has the best of the Logan features, softened by his mother's side fortunately. I see why you're drawing hearts in the sand," he added with a wink. I blushed so crimson, I was sure I looked sunburnt.

Cary's face lit up with a smile as soon as he saw us, and May came rushing over to play with Ulysses.
"Hi, Mr. Childs," Cary said, approaching. "I'd shake your hand, but . . . ' He held up his soapy fingers.
"It's all right. I'm not allergic to soap and water, even though Melody might have told you otherwise," he said.
My jaw dropped.
"I wouldn't--"
"How's the catch these days?" Kenneth asked Cary after laughing at me.
"We had a very good day. Dad's quite pleased," he said, glancing at me. "It's put him in a good mood. For once."
"That's good. And the cranberries?"
"Looks as if it's going to be a heavy harvest," Cary replied. "Heavier than last year."
"Melody tells me you're into boat building." Cary shot me a look of surprise.
"Well, yes, I am but--"
"I have a boat plan I'd like to show you one day. Maybe I'll have Melody bring it home and you can take a quick look at it and make some
suggestions," Kenneth said. Cary's face changed from surprise to genuine awe.
"Really?"
"I've always had it on the back burner, but perhaps it's time to get the construction under way," Kenneth said. "See you bright and early, Melody."
"I'll be early, but I don't know how bright I'll be," I said.
He laughed, checked to be sure May was not standing too close to the jeep, then shifted the gears and pulled away. Cary, May, and I watched him and Ulysses disappear around the turn, Ulysses facing us all the way, looking like a small child who wished he could stay with his friends.
"Was he kidding about the boat?" Cary asked.
"It's the first time I've heard him mention it, Cary. But he's full of surprises and secrets, no different from anyone else around here."
Cary nodded, the soap suds dripping off his forearm.
"Need some help?" I asked.
"No, we're just about finished. May and I will just dry her off" He signed instructions and May returned to the pail and sponge.
"I have to shower," I said. "I'm full of marble dust." I started toward the house.
"How about a quick dip instead?" Cary suggested. "Just throw on your suit and we'll go down to the beach."
"Then I'll have to wash the salt out of my hair before I sit down at the dinner table," I complained.
"Women," he said, groaning.
"Why don't we go after dinner--a night swim," I suggested. His eyes brightened.
"Really? Great." He looked at May. "Ma doesn't like her swimming at night so--"
"We'll bring her tomorrow." I said, hoping that May wouldn't mind.
"Okay. I'll find something for her to do while we're gone, so she won't feel left out," he said and returned to the truck.
Cary was right about Uncle Jacob. He was in a rare happy mood, actually buoyant. He didn't apologize for the way he had yelled at me the night before, but his tone of voice was softer when he asked me to pass him things at the dinner table and when he thanked me. Also, whenever he spoke, he actually spoke to me, rather than around me. Apparently, today's catch was as good as they used to be. It was like striking gold.
The happiness in Aunt Sara's face made her eyes younger as well as brighter. It was nice to hear her laugh, and even to hear Uncle Jacob laugh. As I gazed at them, all full of smiles, everyone treating everyone politely, considerately, the food as wonderful as ever, the cranberry wine sparkling in the glasses, I was able to envision this family before Laura's tragedy and I was able to see what Cary had described. Even if it were destined to be short lived, the joviality warmed my heart and made me feel I was part of a real family again. There was no better music to drive away the shadows than the sound of laughter.
Suddenly, as the meal was coming to an end, Uncle Jacob leaned on his elbows toward me, his eyes dark and fixed, his smile gone.
"What say you earn your supper tonight, Missy?" he said. I glanced at Cary, who shrugged, and then at Aunt Sara, whose mouth hung open.
"How?" I asked.
"You know, like people did in olden times. Found a way to pay for their dinner."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked, my throat tightening, my voice hardening.
He slapped his hands together.
"We'll all adjourn to the living room and have a private concert. What do you say, Sara? Can you let these dishes wait?"
"You mean, you want me to play my fiddle?" I asked, astounded.
"It's somethin' you do real good," he replied. Cary was beaming like the cat that had gotten to the fish on the counter in the kitchen.
"I--" I gazed at Aunt Sara. She'd never looked happier. For a moment I felt as if I had sat at the dinner table in the wrong house.
"Well?" Uncle Jacob pursued.
"Okay," I said, still amazed at his request.
"Then it's settled," he said slapping his hands together and standing. "Mrs. Logan?" He held out his arm and Aunt Sara giggled and joined him. "We'll adjourn to the sitting room for a private concert," he said and held his other arm out for May. Cary had signed a quick summary of what was happening. She leaped to her feet and took her father's arm.
"What's going on?" I asked Cary as we watched them leave the room.
"I don't know. But as Dad often says, don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Shall we?" Cary held out his arm and I took it, still quite shocked and confused. When we got to the stairway, I went upstairs to get my fiddle.
They were all sitting in the living room waiting for me with great expectation on their faces when I appeared in the doorway. Uncle Jacob was settling back in his chair, puffing his pipe. Aunt Sara sat on the couch with Cary on one side and May on the other.
"May has a way of hearing this," I explained and gestured for her to come to me. She understood. When I put the fiddle up, she placed her hand on the case so she could feel the vibrations while I played. I did seven tunes, singing along with three of them. Aunt Sara looked very pleased and Uncle Jacob nodded and tapped his fingers along with the rhythms. Cary never took his eyes from me.
"Well, that's real nice," Uncle Jacob said. "You earned yourself a few dinners."
"I'll see to the dishes," Aunt Sara said, rising. "That was wonderful, Melody. Thank you."
"I'll put away my fiddle and come help you clean up, Aunt Sara."
"Oh no, you don't," she said. "You heard Jacob. You earned your keep. Just go enjoy yourself," she insisted.
I went back upstairs to put away my fiddle. While I was busy returning it to its case, Cary poked his head in the door.
"How about that dip in the ocean?" he asked. "What about May?"
"I gave her something to do on one of my models. She's painting."
"You mean you bribed her?" I said, laughing.
"Whatever works," he said.
"Okay. I'll put on my bathing suit."
"Put it under your clothes," he said. "I'd rather it be our secret."
I nodded and did as he said. We met down by the front door and left quickly, letting Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara think we were just taking a walk.
"I don't like doing things behind their backs like this, Cary," I complained.
"Why make Ma nervous, which is what would happen," he said. "It's not really a lie when you're doing it to help someone else, Melody. It's only a lie when you hurt someone or you can't live with it," he added.
Maybe he was right, I thought. Maybe I was holding up too high a standard because I had been lied to so much and for so long. He took my hand and we first went to the lobster boat where he said there were towels. After we got them, we crossed the sand toward one of his favorite places on the beach. It was a small cove, hidden by two small dunes.
I didn't really notice the stars until Cary spread out the biggest towel and we sat for a few moments, gazing out at the ocean and then up at the sky. Cary pointed out the Big Dipper, the North Star, and what he said was Venus.
"A sailor has to be able to read the stars," he explained. "They're his map."
"I've never been on a boat at night, but I can imagine how lost and alone you could feel if you didn't know how to steer your boat," I said.
"Without the stars, the darkness is so thick, you feel as if the ocean has risen all around you and you're sailing into it," Cary said. "Of course, we have our compasses. I think I was on the water before I could walk on land. Dad wanted me to have my sea legs first."
I laughed and he pulled off his shirt and stood up.
"It will be cold at first," he warned, "but after you're in it a few seconds, it will feel great."
It was a warm night, wonderful for a dip in the ocean. I stood up and unbuttoned my blouse. He stepped out of his pants and then kicked off his shoes. I took off my dungarees, placed my shoes and socks on the towel and then reached out to take his hand when he offered it. We walked down to the water slowly. When the white foam ran over my toes, I jumped.
"Easy," Cary said putting his arm around my waist. "It's colder than I thought," I said and tried to retreat, but he tightened his grip on my waist. "You'll love it."
"Cary, I don't think so," I said shaking my head. He laughed and tugged until I stepped farther down the beach. The water reached my ankles.
"You've just got to go for it," he advised. He let go of me and turned to dive right into the waves. When he popped up, he was laughing. "It's great," he claimed. "Makes you feel alive all over."
"Sure," I said, hesitating.
"Come on. Be brave."
My heart was pounding. Suddenly, the stars looked more like drops of ice above me. Cary splashed about to demonstrate how comfortable he was. He called again, urged and pleaded. I took a deep breath and ran forward, falling into the water. The shock made me scream. Cary was at my side, laughing. He embraced me and we stood with the sand washing out from under our feet as the tide rushed in around us. I grew a little afraid, even with his arms around me, and started for shore.
"I'm freezing!" I screamed, "and I'm going to be washed out to sea."
He laughed but followed. We splashed through the water, and ran up the sand to the beach towel. Cary unfolded another towel quickly and put it around my shoulders, hugging me and rubbing me at the same time.
"Aren't you cold?" I asked, my teeth chattering. "Not when I'm with you," he said and kept rubbing me dry. "How's that?"
"A little better," I said, still shivering. The chill on my skin tingled. I sat on the beach towel and Cary wrapped a towel around his own shoulders and then began to massage my feet, my ankles, and my calves.
"Weren't you really cold in the water, Cary Logan?"
"I guess I'm just used to it," he said.
"It looked so warm all day, I thought it would still be." My body shook with a spasm and he laughed.
"Nature can be deceiving," he warned and sprawled beside me.
"I don't know if I can stay out here much longer, Cary," I said. It was as if the chill had gone deep into me and turned my stomach to ice. "It's the wet bathing suit."
"Why don't you take it off then?" he said. "What?"
"Slip out of it, dry yourself, and put on your pants and shirt," he suggested. "There's no one around," he added. I gazed back. The dunes were empty, not a soul in sight. All we heard was the sound of the surf. He moved closer to me and then he kissed me.
"Your lips are warm," I said, "even though your face feels cold."
He laughed, rubbed my shoulders, and then kissed my neck. The mixture of the chill and the warm tingle that shot down my spine made me shudder and then moan. Cary's fingers slid beneath the straps of my suit, lifting them off my shoulders. As he shifted me into a sitting position, holding me closer to him, the straps slid further down my arms. Then he ran my towel under the suit, drying me as the suit fell away. He reached around the side of my breasts.
"Cary," I whispered, "don't."
"Shh. I'll warm you up again," he promised. My heart was pounding, the blood rushing through my body, making me feel lightheaded and dizzy. I felt as if I would spin into unconsciousness ill lifted my eyes toward the sky of blazing stars. Cary gently lifted my arms, one by one, until they were both free from the straps. Then he peeled the front of the suit away and my breasts were uncovered, my nipples tingling in the cool night air. They were so erect, they arched. Cary lowered me slowly to the blanket and continued to peel away my suit. I started to resist until he lowered his head and kissed my breasts, moving his tongue quickly over one nipple and then the other. I closed my eyes and lay back, lifting myself gently to help him take the wet suit from my body. When it fell beneath my hips and I realized I would soon be totally naked, I gasped.
"Cary."
"It's all right," he said. "It's only me. We're alone."
I lifted my hand to touch his face and then he pulled the bathing suit down and over my knees. Immediately, he wrapped me in my towel and held me close, so close I could feel his heart thumping. Then he rubbed the towel all over me, wiping me dry, warming my body until I felt absolutely comfortable and content.
Cary then lay down beside me, kissing my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, nibbling softly on my chin and then kissing my neck and shoulders as his hands continued to rub my body in circles, finding my breasts, moving his palms in circles over them and then coming down the sides of my body until he held my hips. He leaned over me, gazing down at me. His face was in darkness, but just enough light came from the stars to allow me to see his gentle lips in a small smile.
"Melody, you were meant to be here. May's right. You were brought here to make us all well again, especially me," he said.
He kissed me long and hard on the lips and then he slipped beside me, moving about until I realized he was taking off his own bathing suit.
"Cary, wait--"
"Just touch," he said. "We'll just touch."
Then he was naked too, and I felt him throbbing, moving in between my legs as he threw his towel over us like a blanket.
"Cary, don't," I said. "We could make a baby like this."
"I know. I'll be careful," he said, but he didn't stop. The sensation that flew through my body when he touched me where no boy had ever touched me before made me tremble so, I thought I would be unable to stop him if things started to go too far. He nudged me again and again. I began to cry softly, but his lips drank my tears before they could go far down my cheeks. He kept reciting my name, chanting it like a prayer.
"I love you, Melody," he said. "I couldn't love anyone as much as I love you."
I didn't know if I could speak. My heart was racing. Cary was out of control. In a few more moments, I was sure I would be too.
This is what happened to your mother, I heard a voice inside me say. Remember what Kenneth said? Remember him telling you how she would jump on the back of a motorcycle and end up on a beach blanket? Well you're on a beach blanket now, Melody Logan, and you're naked and about to do what she did.