Unfinished Symphony (21 page)

He was dressed in a sports jacket and wore a tie, but he had done a poor job shaving his face. There were patches of gray stubble on his chin and along his jaw.
"He was raving last night," Grandma Olivia continued, "talking stupidity again, telling me Haille was back."
"Good morning, Grandpa Samuel," I said, concerned that he'd give away my early morning wandering. His eyes looked glassy, distant, however. I gazed questioningly at Grandma Olivia.
"He's slipping away," she muttered, "into his dotage."
"What's that, Olivia?" he asked. "What about the cottage?"
"I didn't say anything about any cottage, you fool," she snapped. "I want you to see the doctor about that hearing aid today. I told Raymond to take you over there."
"Oh. Fine, fine. I've got time today," he said and she laughed.
"You hear that? He can find the time in his busy schedule today."
I gazed at him. He was so different and it had happened so quickly, I thought. I turned again to Grandma Olivia, who saw the confusion in my face.
"He's been like this ever since Jacob's death," she explained. "It hit him like a sledgehammer and aged him years in minutes."
Grandpa Samuel blew on his spoonful of oatmeal and gazed absently ahead, looking through me.
"Oh, how sad," I said.
"As is much of life," Grandma Olivia instructed. "That's why it's important to learn how to deal with unpleasantness, how to accept what you can't change and move on to what you can. Don't ever waste your time again on lost causes. Time is too precious. You're young now, so you think you'll be young forever, but one day you'll wake up and find yourself unable to count the wrinkles and the gray hairs and you'll have aches and pains where you never had them before."
She turned back to Grandpa Samuel.
"If you keep blowing on that same spoonful, Samuel, it will turn to ice. Eat it already."
"What's that? Oh, yes. I have time today. I have time," he muttered.
"I don't know why I bother," Grandma Olivia said. "He'll soon be in the room next to my sister. You'll see."
"Maybe with time--" I said.
"With time he'll grow worse. There's no sense wasting tears over it. What are your plans for today? Do you have everything you need for the start of school? I believe that's next week if I'm not
mistaken."
"Yes, it is. I've got everything I need. I was hoping to go visit Cary and Aunt Sara and May," I said.
"That pathetic woman. All she does, day and night, is cry. Her eyes are so bloodshot, it's a wonder she can still see out of them."
"I'm sure it's been very hard for all of them," I said, remembering how awful I felt after my stepdaddy Chester died.
"Jacob had a good insurance policy. There's adequate money for the way they live, and I made sure they had a little more. They won't starve or go without necessities," she said tersely.
"I'm talking about more than money," I said, amazed that she showed no emotion when she talked about the death of her son.
She laughed as if I had said something hilarious. "Yes, when you find out what that is, let me know." "I already know. It's love, concern, friendship . . ."
"No one loves anyone more than he or she loves him or herself. You'll discover that."
"I hope not," I said.
"You already have," she replied. "What could be more intense than a mother's love for her own child? And yet, your mother loves herself more. Don't think romantic love is any different. Men and women crave each other, pledge all sorts of things to each other when they're young and in love, and then, time goes by and they begin to grow apart. Their own interests become most important again. Before you know it," she said gazing at Grandpa Samuel, who was blowing on another spoonful of oatmeal, "thirtyfive years have gone by and you hardly know the man who shares your bed. And if he doesn't end up calling you by some other name, you're fortunate.
"Don't place too much faith in romantic love, Melody."
"What do you believe in, Grandma Olivia?"
"I told you, family, name, reputation, selfrespect." She dabbed her lips with her napkin and rose. "For today and only today, I'll permit Raymond to cart you over to Sara's before he takes Samuel to the ear doctor, but I don't intend to have him do that every time you get it into your head to go there.
"Samuel," she snapped. "Do you intend to play with your food all morning?"
"What? Oh? Is it time to go?"
"It was time to go a long time ago," she said wistfully. The sadness in her voice caught my ear and I stared at her for a moment. She quickly realized I was looking at her and rose from the table. "Finish your breakfast, Melody. I'll have Raymond wait for you in the drive."
As soon as I had finished breakfast, I joined Grandpa Samuel in the car. When Raymond brought me to Aunt Sara's, I expected Cary would have already left to go on the lobster boat, but when I got out of the car and knocked on the door, it was he who opened it and gazed out at me, his eyes first full of surprise and then, full of joy.
"Melody! You're back!"
"Hello, Cary," I said smiling.
He started toward me to embrace me and then saw Grandma Olivia's car pulling away.
"What was Raymond doing here? Where are you suitcases? How long have you been back in Provincetown?" he asked, rapidly firing his questions at me.
"I got in yesterday, but I was so tired from the trip that I fell asleep as soon as I put my head on the pillow and slept into the night," I said.
"Slept? Slept where? You went to Grandma Olivia's house first? Why?"
"Where are Aunt Sara and May?" I asked instead of replying.
"Inside. What's going on? Why did you go to Grandma Olivia's first? You're going to stay with her after all, aren't you?" he demanded.
"Yes, Cary. I am."
"Why?"
"You remember we had this discussion before I left, when I had learned Judge Childs was my real grandfather and Kenneth was my uncle."
"Yes, but--"
"None of that's changed, Cary, and with my mother really not dead and buried--"
"But no one knows it and with Dad gone--"
"That's just it. I . . . just think it's best for now. Your mother has enough to do and, well, now, especially with everyone believing my mother's dead and buried, Grandma Olivia thinks this is better for all concerned. But just as I promised before I left, I'll see you every day," I added quickly.
His green eyes seemed to pierce right through me as his lips curved up in a disdainful smile.
"I didn't think you'd go through with it after your trip to California, but I guess now that you've tasted wealth and glamour, you'd rather live in the mansion, right?"
"No, that's not it," I protested, shaking my head.
"There's no question she can do far more for you than we can," he continued, folding his arms across his chest and pulling his shoulders back. "I don't blame you."
"Stop talking to me like that, Cary. You don't understand."
"Oh, I understand. That's my trouble. I understand too much," he said.
This time I permitted the burning tears to course down my face.
"Visiting my mother was a disaster. First, her boyfriend Archie, or Richard Marlin, or whoever he really is, tried to get me into a pornographic movie and Mommy approved," I said. Cary's cold smirk evaporated a bit. "Then he tried to . . tried to rape me and she believed him when he said it was my fault. She was happy to see me go. She has everyone believing she's not much older than I am. She told them I was her sister and I had to pretend to be her sister.
"I have no parents anymore. No one who truly cares about me!" I cried.
"You have me, Melody, and May and my mother. . . . You know she needs someone to fill Laura's place in her heart."
"That's just it . . . Laura's place. I appreciate that, but I've got to become myself and I'm afraid, Cary. I'm afraid that now, more than ever," I confessed, hiding my eyes as I did so, "your mother will want me to be Laura. I'm sorry," I said. I wiped away more tears. He was silent.
"I know what you mean but . . . I just . . ."
"You think I want to live with Grandma Olivia? She's cruel in ways I don't even understand, but she's strong, Cary, and if ever there was a time I needed someone strong, it's now."
"I'm strong," he proclaimed.
"You are, but you have to be strong for your mother and your sister first, especially right now," I said. "Later, when the time is right, I want you to be strong for me, too."
That brought a warm smile to his face. He thought a moment and then he nodded and stepped closer to embrace me. I loved the feel of his strong arms around my body. I wished I could sink into him and be safe and secure behind the walls of his love forever and ever.
He kissed away a lingering tear and brushed back my hair.
"I thought I had lost you forever," he said. "I thought you would fall in love with Hollywood."
"I hated it, Cary, at least the part I saw. It's not the place for me or for my mother, but she just hasn't realized it yet. I'm afraid that when she finally understands, it will destroy her."
"Grandma Olivia is right, Melody. You need to forget about Haille. You've come home to us. You need to start thinking about the future." He looked up at me sheepishly. "I never thought I'd ever agree with her about anything."
"I know. I hate to say this, but I think we both have a lot to learn from her."
He laughed and then grew serious.
"You saw how bad Grandpa Samuel is, I suppose." "Yes. It's as if something snapped in his head when your father died."
Cary nodded and tears glistened in his eyes, too. He swallowed quickly and then smiled again.
"Well, May will be very happy to see you, and so will Ma. Come on in," he added, stepping aside. He kissed my cheek again and we entered the house.
May was at Aunt Sara's feet reading and Aunt Sara was doing some needlework, her hands working mechanically, her min
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of obviously elsewhere. Aunt Sara lifted her eyes slowly and when she saw me, her face softened into the most loving and wonderful smile, the smile I had wished to find on my own mother's face but didn't.
"Melody!" She put her needlework down and the action caught May's attention. The moment May saw me, her face exploded with happiness and she jumped up to run into my arms. I held her tightly and then she pulled back and began signing with such speed, I couldn't keep up.
"Slow down," Cary signed. "She's so full of questions she will exhaust you much quicker than any cross-country trip."
I laughed and stepped forward to embrace Aunt Sara. "I'm so sorry, Aunt Sara."
"I know, dear. He fought hard. The doctors said he fought until the end. He did not go 'gentle into that good night." "
"Not Dad," Cary said proudly. "He was a real Logan."
For a moment I thought about Grandma Olivia's words concerning family dignity and I smiled at Cary's pride.
"Come, sit with me and tell us all about your journey. Where are you suitcases? Has Cary brought them upstairs already?" she asked looking from me to him. Cary didn't say anything.
"I'm going to stay with Grandma Olivia for now, Aunt Sara. With Grandpa Samuel the way he is and all, I think she wants my company," I explained. It wasn't such a terrible white lie, I thought. Actually, I hoped it was true.
"Oh. I see," she said fighting hard to hide her disappointment. She forced a smile. "Well, she can do so much for you. Of course you should stay with her. That's very good. So then, that woman wasn't Haille after all?"
I looked at Cary, whose eyes told me he hadn't said a word to her.
"No, Aunt Sara, the woman I found was not the mother I was hoping to find."
"Oh, how sad." She nodded with a small smile. "But at least you're back here, home with us, with your family again. You must tell us all about California. I've never been there."
I sat beside her on the sofa and told them about my trip. May sat at my feet, watching my hands, and Cary sat in what had always been his father's chair, listening, his eyes fixed on me.
We had lunch and then Cary and I took May for a walk along the beach, just as we used to do.
"While you were away, May and I came out here often. I'd pretend you were with us. It was easy because she can't hear, so I could talk aloud to you. I don't know how many times I told you I loved you."
"I heard you each time," I said. He tightened his hold on my hand.
"Can you stay for dinner?"
"I think I'd better go back for dinner, but I want to see Kenneth this afternoon and I was hoping you'd drive me out there," I said.
He turned away quickly.
"What's wrong?"
"I was out there yesterday," he said. "Kenneth's . . different. I think all of it, finishing his big work, your friend's discovery of Haille, your leaving . . . all brought back painful memories, memories he was able to bury in his work."
"What's wrong with him?"
"He was drinking a lot. Actually, I found him sleeping on the beach, Ulysses whining beside him. I helped him into the house. He had obviously been out there all night."
"Oh no, Cary."
"I don't know if you should go there."
"More than ever, Cary. I should go there more than ever," I said.
I said it with such determination and strength, I even surprised myself.
"With all your unhappiness and all your own problems, you think you can go and help someone else?" he challenged.
"Because of all that," I replied, thinking about some of the things Grandma Olivia had said. "It's important to learn how to deal with unpleasantness, how to accept what you can't change and move on to what you can."
"And you think you can change Kenneth's unhappiness?" he asked with skepticism and amazement.
"Yes," I said gazing out over the blue waves that rolled toward us. "Yes, I do."

12
The Downward Spiral
.
The wind picked up considerably as we drove

down the bumpy beach road to Kenneth's house. I could see the ocean spray bouncing off the rocks, and the seagulls looked like they were struggling to stay on course. The sky was still quite blue, but over the horizon long somber clouds with ominously gray faces were snaking toward us.

"Bit of a nor'easter coming," Cary said. "We'll get some heavy rain tonight."
We stopped beside Kenneth's jeep, and noticed that he had left the driver's side door wide open. Getting out of the truck slowly, I stepped up to the jeep and peered in at the empty beer bottles and the empty fast food bags on the floor, some old french fries and packets of ketchup beside them.
"I think he burned out his battery," Cary said, gazing over my shoulder. He nodded at the dashboard. "Looks like he left the headlights on all night after he returned from whatever bar he was at."
I shook my head, my heart thumping in anticipation as we turned toward the house. The door was unlocked as usual, but it, too, was partially open. The house was even a worse mess than it had been before I had begun working for Kenneth. It looked like he hadn't washed a dish in the kitchen since I had left. Food was caked on plates. Glasses, some still with wine, whiskey, beer and flat Coke in them, were scattered everywhere, even on the windowsills.
I knocked on the bedroom doorjamb before gazing in, but Kenneth wasn't there. I didn't know how he could sleep in the bedroom anyway. The blankets were half off the bed, as were the sheets. There was a pillow on the floor, along with clothing and shoes he had discarded. I waded through the mess and then stopped and stooped down to pick up the picture of Mommy and me I had once found under the bed.
"Boy, it smells in here, doesn't it?" Cary said. I saw some rotted food and what looked like a pile of vomit in the corner. "Disgusting. What's that?"
"A picture of myself and Mommy. Did you check the bathroom?"
"Yes. He's probably in the studio," Cary said. He shook his head as he gazed around the room. "I told you things were bad, but I didn't know how bad they were."
"Okay. Let's go find him," I said and we walked through the house, both grateful for the fresh air. I gazed down at the small pool where Kenneth kept Shell the turtle and some fish. Two dead fish floated on top of the water and Shell was nowhere in sight.
The door to the studio was wide open. I stood in the doorway, sweeping my eyes over the bottles, the plates, the paper and cans. A chair was overturned and the small sofa looked as if it were missing some of its stuffing.
Kenneth was sprawled at the foot of Neptune's Daughter. He was folded in the fetal position, one hand holding a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. His cheeks were unshaven, his beard very straggly, his hair long and untrimmed. He wore a stained pair of dungarees, no shoes and a faded brown T-shirt ripped down the right side. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth was twisted in a grimace. It looked like he was having a terrible nightmare.
Ulysses, sleeping at his side, rose with great effort, and came to greet us, his tail wagging emphatically.
"Oh, Ulysses, you poor baby," I said as he licked my hands and my face. "When was the last time you were fed?"
"He's probably been eating off plates, leftovers," Cary remarked.
We both looked at Kenneth again. He hadn't stirred.
"Maybe we shouldn't wake him," Cary said. "I told you I did that before, but I didn't tell you he wasn't so nice about it."
"We can't leave him here like this," I declared, took a deep breath and went to him. He smelled awful but I knelt down and carefully pried the bottle of whiskey out of his fingers. Cary rushed over to take it and put it on the table. Then I shook Kenneth's shoulder gently. His mouth closed and opened, but his eyes remained shut. I shook him again, harder.
"Kenneth. Kenneth, wake up. It's Melody. I'm back. Kenneth. Kenneth!" I jerked his arm and his eyes snapped opened with a start as he groaned. He shot up so quickly, I nearly fell backward to avoid being struck by his swinging left arm. Then he fixed his eyes on me and rubbed them into focus.
"What?"
"I'm back, Kenneth. It's Melody."
"You're back?" He scrubbed his face with his palms, dropped his head as if he were going to fall asleep again, and then lifted it slowly, gazing at me harder. "You're not a vision, a dream? You're really here," he said smiling.
"Yes, Kenneth. I'm really here. What's going on? What have you done to yourself?"
He smiled.
"Done to myself? Nothing. What you see here has been done to me, not by me," he replied. "So . ." He finally noticed Cary standing to the side. "Oh, the beach rescue service has arrived, huh?"
"Hi, Kenneth. I think you drained your battery in the jeep. You must have left the lights on last night."
"Most likely," he said nodding.
"I have some jumper cables in the truck. I'll give it a boost and get it running for you."
Kenneth brought his hand to his temple, to his mouth and then bowed.
"My family thanks you."
Cary laughed and then looked at me and saw I didn't think any of this was funny.
"I'll just go charge the jeep while you two talk," he said and hurried away, Ulysses at his heels.
"Talk? We're going to talk?"
"What's happened to you, Kenneth? You weren't like this when I left."
"I don't know," he said quickly and struggled to get to his feet. I moved to help him, but he pushed me away. "I can do it myself," he said, but he wobbled when he stood and had to put his left hand against the statue. He opened his eyes and smiled. "I knew I created this for a reason."
"It has a lot more reason to be than that, Kenneth. It's spectacular," I said, glancing at Neptune's Daughter again. There was no question the face was my mother's face.
"Right. Art for art's sake, to bring out the beauty that is otherwise unseen, unheard, untouched around us. I am a prophet, a singer of songs, a . . ." He groaned. ". . . a man with a terrific hangover."
He staggered over to the sofa, grabbed a pillow and flopped down, nearly turning the sofa over at the same time.
"Why are you drinking like this? You're killing yourself," I said.
"No, it just looks that way. I can go on like this indefinitely. So," he said coming more to his senses, "I did hear from Holly a few times. Apparently, our Miss Cape Cod did pull a fast one, huh? She performed a death and resurrection, just as we all suspected?"
"Yes, she and her so-called agent took advantage of a situation to fake her death. The woman in the car with Richard Marlin was borrowing my mother's identification and was first mistaken for Mommy and then deliberately made out to be her."
"Olivia's not going to appreciate less than blue blood bones in her sanctified ground."
"Why is everyone so worried about what Grandma Olivia thinks?" I moaned.
"I don't really worry about it. I'm amused by it, actually." He thought a moment. "I shouldn't be at all surprised. Haille liked to pretend she was someone else all the time, especially movie actresses. When she met strangers, she would give them a fictitious name, make up a whole history for herself and do it rather convincingly."
"Then she's in the right place," I said and began cleaning up the studio.
"Don't do that. I don't care about it being clean and organized anymore. You are looking at my last work," he said staring at Neptune's Daughter.
"Stop it, Kenneth. You're not going to let this be your last work. You're too young to retire."
"Retire?" He laughed. "Yes, retire is a good word for it. Kenneth Childs, renowned New England sculptor, has declared his retirement. I like the sound of that."
"I hate it because it's full of self-pity," I said. His eyes widened.
"Whoa. Et tu, Melody? Then fall Kenneth Childs."
"I understand, Kenneth, because I've been wallowing in it as well." I put another pillow back on the sofa and sat beside him. Then I told him what had happened in California and why I had left. He listened, his eyes regaining some of their spirit and light as I spoke, especially when I described my mother and how young she looked.
"Then she's still very beautiful?"
"Yes, but there are many beautiful women in Hollywood, most with more talent, and all probably with more reputable and reliable agents. Richard Marlin is just some lowlife that has her beguiled," I said.
He nodded.
"I feel sorry for her. She was just as much a victim as I was. I feel sorry for you, too," he added quickly.
"I don't want you to. I'm not going to think about it anymore and I'm not going to try to make something happen that can never happen." He looked at me with new interest.
"I see. You're learning to grin and bear it, huh?"
"Yes, and I want you to learn as well." I paused and then added, "You were actually lucky you didn't end up with my mother. Grandma Olivia is right about people making excuses for her. She is what she is not because of what happened between you two, not because she discovered your father is her father, but because it's in her to be who she is. She was always selfish, Kenneth. You know that's true."
He laughed.
"Where did you find all this wisdom and knowledge?"
"It was a long journey," I said dryly, "through a rain forest of tears. Just because she lost you as a lover doesn't mean she had to turn me away, to deny me as her daughter, does it? When do you stop blaming your father for every mistake you make and start blaming yourself?"
His eyes widened.
"You don't understand," he said in a hoarse whisper, his head shaking.
"I understand. Don't you think I wanted to love her, too? Don't you think I wanted to have a mother? When I was growing up and I had so many questions, girl-talk questions, don't you think I longed to have her spend hours and hours with me and not talk about herself and her pimples or her new ounce of fat? Do you think if you had been able to marry her, you would have changed her?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "All I do know is I would have liked the opportunity." He sighed deeply. "Okay, Melody, okay," he said. "I'll stop wallowing in self-pity, but I don't know about my work." He looked at Neptune's Daughter. "This project just seemed to drain me. Maybe I gave it everything I had."
"I doubt it," I said. We heard the jeep's horn and looked toward the doorway. Cary gave us the thumbsup sign.
"He's a good kid. Hard news about his father. There's a lot falling on his shoulders now. Did you come back to live with them?"
"No, I'm going to be living with Grandma Olivia. Remember how the arrangements were already made just before I left for California?"
"Yes, I remember, and I remember thinking it was a good idea. You'll learn a lot from her."
"That's what she keeps telling me," I said dryly. He laughed and then he reached out to stroke my hair.
"It's nice to have you back, even though for your sake I was hoping it would have worked out otherwise."
"Thank you, Kenneth. Um, can I make a small suggestion at this time?"
"Why not?"
"Could you take a shower or a bath soon?"
He roared with laughter and pulled his hand away from my hair.
"Okay, I deserve that."
"In the meantime, I'll clean up some of this mess." He shook his head and sighed.
"You're a bad influence on someone who wants to wallow in self-pity, Melody."
"Good," I said, which brought another ,smile to his face. I had the feeling there hadn't been too many since I had left.
"You did wonders with him," Cary said as we drove away some two and a half hours later. We left Kenneth eating some warm food and promising to rest and stay off the whiskey for a while.
"I don't know how long it will last though," I said sadly. "He's come to the point where his art isn't enough. He needs someone real to love and to love him."
"I can understand that," Cary said, reaching to squeeze my hand softly.
"Yes, me too."
As we bounced over the beach road, I gazed back at Kenneth's house. Ulysses had come to the gate, but he didn't, as usual, follow the truck most of the way down the beach road barking after us. Cary gazed in his side mirror.
"Ulysses is showing his age, huh?"
"Yes," I said sadly. "And he's the only companion Kenneth has."
During the drive back to Grandma Olivia's we watched the clouds blow in from the north, creeping over most of the sky. By the time we turned into the driveway, it had begun to rain.
"What are you doing about the lobster business?" I asked Cary as we came to a stop in front of the house.
"Roy's been running it. Theresa's been helping him, too. She asks about you often."
"She turned out to be the nicest girl at school, as far as I was concerned. I don't care what the snobs think of the Bravas."
Cary laughed. The Bravas, as the half black and half Portuguese residents of Provincetown were called, weren't easily accepted by the girls Grandma Olivia considered of respectable lineage.
"I've got the cranberry crop to worry about now anyway. Because of the warmer weather this year, they're a little ahead of schedule," Cary said. "Most of the berries are already a bright red. Usually, we don't begin harvesting until October, but I think we'll be at it by the third week in September this year."
"This will be my first cranberry harvest. What do I need to know so that I can help you?"
"Well, these cranberries will all be for juices and sauces so we do what's called a 'wet harvesting.' First, we flood the bog until the cranberries are completely covered with water. Then we bring in fattired trucks called 'water reels' or 'eggbeaters.' They're driven through the bog and the spinning reels on the machines loosen the berries from the plants and they float to the surface. That's when the hard work begins."
"What do you mean?"
"We assemble a corral using boards and canvas hinges, and encircle the cranberries, drawing them to one end of the bog. A pipe is placed just beneath the surface of the water, and this pipe leads to a pump on shore which sucks the berries into a metal box called a hopper. The hopper separates everything and then the berries are loaded into trucks."
"You sound like you know exactly what to do," I said. "Maybe, but I've never done this without Dad."
"You'll do fine, Cary, and I'll be there beside you." He laughed.
"You'll be in school," he said.
"I'll take some days off," I promised.
"Play hooky? You have a chance to be class valedictorian, don't you?"
"It's not as important to me," I said, "as helping you."
He smiled and leaned over to kiss me. It was a short, sweet kiss, and when he pulled back, I looked so deeply into his green eyes that I felt I was really connecting with him, with his soul, with who he was. His eyes were like magnets. I moved my lips toward his again and we kissed, only this time longer, harder, embracing each other tightly.
"I'm glad you're back," he whispered. "I had nightmares that I would never see you again."
"Fill your head with only good dreams, Cary. I'm back and I won't ever leave you again," I promised.
He was so happy it brought tears to his eyes. We started to kiss again, when I looked out over his shoulder at the house and saw a window curtain move on the second floor. I was sure it was Grandma Olivia gazing down at us.