Melody (35 page)

She sighed deeply.

“Every family has its hardships. I wanted you to know a little about it so you don't say anything out of place, if the judge asks you a question.”

“Why are we always on pins and needles when we go to my grandparents', Aunt Sara?” I asked. It seemed to me that time spent with family should be the most relaxing time of all.

“Oh, we're not on pins and needles. We're just trying to do the right thing, say the right thing, look the right way. It's what—”

“What Grandma Olivia wants,” I provided. “I'm surprised she has any friends at all.”

“But she does! She has many friends and they all come from the best society.”

“That doesn't always mean they're the best friends to have, Aunt Sara.”

She smiled as if I had said something only the most inexperienced young person might utter.

“Go on, dear, try on your dress. I want to be sure it fits and there's no need for alterations,” she urged.

Betty, Lorraine, and Janet's words haunted me as I took the dress down and began to take off my clothes. “We heard you're taking Laura's place in more ways than one.” But what else could I do? I had nothing nicer than this to wear. Of course, none of my other things had arrived.

The dress fit a little snugly in the bosom, but other than that, it was perfect.

“I think we can get by with it as it is,” Aunt Sara said, scrutinizing me. “How does it feel?”

“It's fine, Aunt Sara.”

“Good, and the shoes?”

“They're fine,” I said.

“Then you're all set. I'll see to May. We'll be going about five,” she told me.

After she left, I stood there gazing at myself in the mirror. It was a nice dress—beautiful in fact—and at any other time, under any other circumstances, I would be happy to wear it, but right now it seemed as if I were wearing a shroud. I couldn't shake an eerie feeling.

The more I learned about Laura, the more I touched her things, read her letters, wore her clothes, the more I felt I was disturbing her peace and stirring up things better left uncovered, buried at the bottom of the sea along with her and her lover.

I was dressed, my hair brushed, and ready. Cary and Uncle Jacob had yet to return from the dock. May looked very pretty in her pink taffeta dress with matching shoes. She and I sat in the living room waiting while Aunt Sara paced nervously in the hallway. “Where are they? They have to get ready and we're going to be late.”

I couldn't help wondering if something terrible had happened after Cary told his father about his being suspended. Finally, the door opened and the two entered. Cary gazed into the living room and then ran up the stairs without a word.

Uncle Jacob paused and peered in at us. He fixed his eyes on me and nodded. “I knew it wouldn't take you long to get him in trouble,” he said.

“It wasn't her fault, Jacob,” Aunt Sara responded. “It was that nasty Adam Jackson's fault.”

“I warned you,” he told her. “I warned you what it would be like having Haille's daughter.”

I shot up as if I were sitting on an ant hill.

“Why do you keep saying that? What's that supposed to mean?” I demanded.

“Ask your mother next time she calls,” he said. He
looked at Aunt Sara. “I got to clean up and get dressed. No time for this nonsense now.” He started up the stairs.

“Why does he keep saying that, Aunt Sara? I have to know what he means.”

She shook her head, pressing her lips together as if she were afraid the words would escape.

“I'm not going anywhere until I get some answers,” I insisted.

“Oh dear, oh dear. Why does all this have to happen before we go to Olivia and Samuel's?” She sat on the sofa and started to cry. May ran to her to hug her. I felt just terrible as she sobbed and May stroked her hair lovingly, concerned. “You look so beautiful in that dress, too,” she wailed. “What have we done to deserve this? What have we done?”

May looked up, confused, hurt, tears building in her soft eyes. All I seemed capable of doing was hurting everyone.

“All right, Aunt Sara. I'm sorry. I'll go.”

She sucked back her tears and dabbed her cheeks with her handkerchief. Then she smiled.

“It's going to be all right,” she said. “Once everyone gets to know you better, it will be fine. Look how nice Laura's dress looks on you. That's no coincidence. It's an omen, a good omen. Jacob will realize it, too. Fishermen are very aware of good and bad omens. You'll see.”

I just stared. She sighed and patted May's hair.

“My pretty little seashell,” she said, kissing her daughter. She held her to herself and rocked for a moment. “We all deserve some happiness now, dear. Don't we?”

“Yes, Aunt Sara,” I answered.

“Then it's settled. We'll all be happy,” she said. It was as if she believed words themselves could change the world around us.

She left to wash her face and straighten her hair. May sat beside me and we looked at one of her books together. Cary came down the stairs and stood in the doorway. He was dressed in a blue suit and tie and looked very handsome.

“You look nice,” I said.

“I feel as if I'm in a strait jacket.” He tugged on his shirt collar. “I hate wearing a tie. I feel like . . .”

“A fish out of water,” I suggested.

“Aye. I'm going outside to wait,” he said. “It's my favorite time of day.”

“Okay, we'll come along.” I signed to May and she closed her book and followed, taking my hand. We strolled in front of the house.

Just over the western horizon, the sun was a rich saffron color, almost orange. The wispy clouds resembled veils of light cotton being pulled across the azure sky. Terns called over the ocean. The breeze was constant, but warmer than usual.

I had to admit Cape Cod was a beautiful place. How it must have broken my father's heart to leave.

Cary glanced at me, and his glimmering eyes met mine.

“Your father's right, you know,” I said. “It was my fault.”

“Don't start that again,” he warned.

“After school ends, I'm not staying here,” I told him. “No matter what, I'm leaving. If my mother doesn't want me, I'll go live with Mama Arlene back in Sewell. I'll get a part-time job and help out, but I can't stay where I'm not wanted, where I can only make trouble for people I like,” I said.

A tiny smile took form on his lips. “Summer's the best time of the year up here. You can't leave. Besides, I'm depending on your help come cranberry season.”

I shook my head.

Everyone refused to face reality here, I thought.

May suddenly began to tug my hand hard and gesture toward the beach.

“What is it, May?” I put my hand over my eyes and gazed. “Cary? Why are those people gathering down there?”

“Where?” He looked. “Oh no, not again,” he said, and started over the sand.

“What is it?” We hurried to keep up with him. A thousand yards or so away, a number of people circled something big and dark on the beach. “Cary?”

“It's a beached sperm whale,” he called back. He broke into a trot. May and I tried to keep up.

Nearly two dozen people had already reached the pathetic creature. It was at least fifty feet long. It lay on its side, its one visible eye open, bulging. It was gigantic and powerful looking, but right now it was helpless, dying. Most of the people, tourists, who had come to see it were timid and remained a dozen feet or so away, but some young teenagers demonstrated their bravado by rushing to it and slapping their hands on its body. Cary drew closer, keeping far enough back to prevent his shiny good shoes from getting wet. I drew closer with May.

“What happened?”

“It beached itself,” he said.

“Why?”

“Lots of theories about that. Some think they become ill and seem to know that coming to shore or beaching will help them die.”

“Does it look sick?”

“I don't know.”

“What other reason might the whale have for doing this?” I asked.

“Whales have a built-in sonar system with which they navigate deep water. Sometimes, when they're in water only one hundred or two hundred feet deep, it disturbs the sonar and the whales get echoes and become confused, so they end up beached.”

“What's going to happen? Can't it swim away with the tide?” I asked.

“The problem is when they reach land like this, the weight of their bodies is so great it crushes their lungs or hampers their breathing so much they become overheated and die. It looks as if that's what's happened here.”

“Oh Cary, isn't there anything we can do?”

“You think you can push that back out to sea?” he
said. “And even if you get him back into the water, he'd probably wash up again down shore. Anybody send for the Coast Guard?” he asked the crowd.

“Somebody said something about that,” a tall man replied.

“If they come, they might try to do something. If they don't show up soon . . .”

“What?”

He gazed around. The kids were still tormenting the whale, slapping it, going up and gazing into its eye, one threatening to poke the eye out with a stick he had found on the sand.

“Stop it!” I screamed.

They paused for a moment, saw it was only me, and continued their pranks.

“That's not so bad,” Cary said. “People sometimes come down at night and start to cut off pieces while the whales are still alive,” he explained angrily.

“Oh no, Cary.”

We heard a car horn and looked back. Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara had pulled down the road and were gesturing.

“We've got to go,” he said.

“This is horrible, Cary.”

He sighed. “I know.” he said, turning away.

“Cary?”

“We'll come back later, after we return from Grandma's,” he promised. He stared at the whale for a moment more and shook his head. “Not that we can do anything. Come on,” he urged.

I followed, but after a few steps, I looked back at the helpless giant creature that had somehow found itself trapped on this beach. It was probably too confused and stunned to realize what had happened and what was soon to come.

Just like me, I thought walking slowly behind Cary and gazing back every few moments: beached.

15
 
Cary's Attic Room

Perhaps it was because of the family secrets that had begun to unravel around my heart: something frail within me cracked and ached as we turned up the driveway to my grandparents' house. I was on the verge of hysterical crying. Tears blinded my eyes. I turned away and stared out the car window so May wouldn't see how close I was to sobbing.

From what I now knew, I envisioned my parents, not much older than Cary and I, secretly holding hands and secretly pledging their love for each other in the shadowy corners of Grandma Olivia's house. Had Uncle Jacob always known? Was that one of the reasons he was so angry at my father?

Uncle Jacob shut off the engine.

“Now remember, best behavior,” Aunt Sara instructed, signing the same to May.

“If we behaved any better, Ma, we'd be in heaven,” Cary quipped.

Uncle Jacob glared at him and Cary quickly looked away.

The car beside Uncle Jacob's in the driveway
was much older, but so clean and shiny, it looked newer.

“The judge is already here,” Uncle Jacob muttered. “He keeps this car better than most people keep themselves. There's a man knows the value of quality craftsmanship.” He looked at Cary to drive home his lesson.

Grandma Olivia hired special servants for her formal dinners. A butler came to the door. He was a tall, slim man with a narrow, pointed nose and round, dark brown eyes. His hair was curly but so thin, I could see his scalp and the brown spots beneath the piano-wire strands when he bowed.

“Good evening, sir. Madam,” he said with a smile that looked smeared across his face with a butter knife. He held the door open, gazing at all of us to see if any of us had a coat or a hat for him to take. We didn't. “Everyone is in the sitting room, sir,” he said. He led us to it as if Uncle Jacob didn't know where it was. Aunt Sara thanked him and smiled back, but Uncle Jacob acted as if the servant weren't even there.

Grandma Olivia was in her high-back chair looking like a queen granting an audience. She wore an elegant black velvet dress and a rope of pearls with pearl earrings. Her hair was held back in a severe bun by a pearl comb decorated with small diamonds. Grandpa Samuel was more casual. He sat with his legs crossed, a tall glass of whiskey and soda in his hand. He wore a diamond pinky ring in a gold setting that glittered in the early twilight that poured through the open curtains on the window. His dark suit looked rather dapper, I thought. As before, he had a wide, warm smile when he looked at me.

On Grandma Olivia's right side sat a distinguished looking elderly man. His gray hair still showed traces of light brown. It was neatly trimmed and parted on the right. He wore a tuxedo and a bow tie. When Judge Childs turned to us, I saw he was still a handsome man. His face was full and his complexion robust with wrinkles
only in his forehead. He had light brown eyes that dazzled with a glow more like those of a man half his age.