Heartsong

  "Okay," he said. "I will." He turned the pages, paused, and gazed at me as he read. "From the Song of Solomon. 'How fair is Thy love, my sister, my spouse! How much better is thy love than wine, and the smell of thine ointments than all spices! Thy lips, 0 my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue.' " He paused and gazed at May and then at me with his face bronzed in pride and defiance.

  "Not one your father would have chosen," I said, impressed with the intensity of his reading. He had never sounded more grown-up to me. For a second, he had actually taken my breath away.

  "You wanted me to make my own choice and I did," he said with firm defiance.

  He and I gazed at each other.

  "I'm glad you did," I said.

  He smiled.

  "Actually, you look pretty in that dress," he said. "Sort of special."

  I smiled.

  "Thank you."

  May began to sign, wondering why it was taking us so long to begin eating. Daddy never made us wait this long, she emphasized.

  We laughed, grateful for the light moment, and started to pass the dishes to each other.

  Afterward, Cary helped May and me clean up and put everything away. We left the kitchen as spotless as Aunt Sara did.

  "What's this meditating all about?" Cary asked, and I told him some of the things Holly had told me. Of course, he was skeptical, raising his right eyebrow higher than his left as I spoke. I described what I had felt when I did what she instructed and concentrated on my breathing.

  "You got like that just by listening to yourself breathe?" he asked with doubting eyes.

  "By tuning into myself," I corrected. "Would you like to try?" I asked. "Or are you afraid of what you'll find?"

  His eyes sharpened and then narrowed at my challenge.

  "Okay. Show me."

  "Wait in the living room," I said and ran upstairs to get the incense. I brought it down quickly and set it in a sugar bowl. Then I lit it and placed it in front of us on the floor. May sat by, watching with fascination as I got Cary to assume the lotus

  position--or as close as he could get to folding his legs over one another without toppling over.

  "I wish I had her music, but we'll try without it for now," I said.

  "I can hum something. How about 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic." "

  "Cary Logan, if you're not going to be serious . . ." "All right. I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands and laughing. "That stuff sure smells."

  "It's supposed to. Okay, concentrate, drive away all thoughts and just listen to yourself take breaths, but don't hurry or slow your breathing, understand?"

  "Gotcha," he said and we began.

  "Melody?" he said after only a few seconds.

  "Shh. Concentrate," I said.

  We were both quiet. I felt him gaze at me and then he stared ahead. I think he was really beginning to get into it, too, when suddenly, the front door opened and Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara appeared.

  "What burned?" Aunt Sara cried, worrying about the dinner she had prepared.

  "What in the name of God is going on in here?" Uncle Jacob demanded from the living room doorway before we could get up. He looked from me to Cary and then back at me. Then he rushed past us and pulled the incense sticks from the bowl. He thrust them at Aunt Sara. "Get rid of this. Run water on it first."

  "What are they doing?" she asked.

  "Something pagan," Uncle Jacob said. He turned his fiery eyes on Cary. "I warned you, boy. I told you to watch for the devil and now you've gone and let him into our home."

  "Dad, listen--"

  "I don't understand," Aunt Sara said meekly. "Where did you get that dress, Melody?"

  "From the devil himself, I'll wager," Uncle Jacob said. "Satisfied now, Sara? Satisfied she ain't your dead and gone Laura? She's about as different from Laura as night is from day," he said.

  "Stop it, Dad!" Cary cried.

  Jacob moved forward quickly and slapped Cary across the cheek so hard it turned his head. Aunt Sara cried out, and Cary looked at me, his eyes burning with hot tears.

  "Cary," I began, but before I could say another word, he shot from the room and out the door. "Cary!" Aunt Sara cried after him.

  Uncle Jacob turned to me.

  "Now you've done what you came to do, what Haille brought you here to do. It's her revenge," he said.

  "You're ignorant! You're ignorant and narrowminded and cruel!" I fired back. I charged out of the house and after Cary, while poor May struggled with her hands to express the pain and confusion that had burst upon her like a hurricane.

  10

  Shelter from the Storm

  .

  I ran from the house out into the darkness. Heavy, ominous clouds had come sweeping down from the northwest, rolling and rumbling over the night sky, burying the stars and the quarter moon, shutting out any brightness and light. I had hoped to find Cary either right in front of the house or on the road, but he was nowhere in sight. When I walked around the house and toward the beach and the dunes, I couldn't see very far. He could have gone in any direction, I realized and groaned my disappointment. I walked over the sand and put my hands to my mouth to cup them in the shape of a megaphone.

  "Cary!" I cried, but the wind tossed my desperate call back in my face. Perhaps he had walked toward the ocean, I thought, and continued on. My eyes grew used to the darkness, but the wind was so strong, I actually had to struggle to walk forward, my feet slipping and sliding in the soft sand that easily gave way beneath them. I took off my shoes because it felt easier to walk in bare feet. Every once in a while, I screamed Cary's name, but with the ocean roaring louder, the surf riled up by the approaching storm, waves slamming onto the beach, and the wind now howling around me, I realized he would have to be only a few feet away to hear.

  My sari flapped against my legs. Sand flew into my face so often I had to keep my eyes closed, my hands up for protection. My hair whipped around my forehead and temples, and then I felt the first drops of rain, cold, sharp, heavy. Nevertheless, I charged forward over the dune and looked toward the dock. Then, just as I was going to turn back, I saw a small light on the lobster boat. Lowering my head to keep my face protected, I ran as hard and as fast as I could toward the dock. The rain grew heavier, stronger, each drops feeling like a glassful. My hair was soaked to the scalp in seconds and my dress was drenched, the material now clinging to my wet skin.

  I reached the dock and hurried onto the boat. It rocked hard in the water, but I managed to get to the cabin door and open it. A gust of wind blew behind me so fiercely, I was practically driven into the room. I struggled to close the door and then I turned and saw Cary sitting on the bench, his head down. There was a small lantern lit. I leaned against the closed door and caught my breath.

  "Cary, are you all right?" I asked. How could he be so lost in his thoughts and not hear the commotion I made arriving? He lifted his head slowly, his eyes catching the glow of the lantern.

  "Why did you follow me?" he replied.

  "It was all my fault," I said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

  "It's not your fault," he said bitterly. "I don't do anything I don't want to do. You're right about him. He's narrow-minded and stupid and cruel."

  "You're just very angry right now, Cary. You don't mean those things. He's still your father," I said, although I was pretty sure I meant those things.

  "How can you ask me to forgive him? He practically called you the devil's own daughter!"

  "It doesn't matter what he calls me or what he thinks about me," I said. "He's not my father. He's yours."

  Cary shook his head in confusion. He looked like a little boy, overwhelmed by the events that raged around him.

  "I'm not going to live in his home forever, Cary. I don't need his blessing or approval. Don't worry about me," I said.

  "Well, he's got no right. He can't call someone else evil. He's not special just because he reads the Bible at dinner and talks about sin and r
edemption all the time. I'm not going to forgive him and I'm not going to work with him. I don't care. leave and get a job on my own working for some other fisherman, if I want. Or maybe, I'll just find a boat-building company and take a job there," he vowed.

  "You're just upset, Cary. You can't leave your family. They need you more than ever now, especially your mother and May."

  He shook his head and looked down. I went to him and sat beside him on the bench. When I put my hand on his shoulder, he raised his head slowly and turned to me, his eyes full of pain and sadness.

  "What about you? You don't need me any longer, now that you have your work with Kenneth and your new friend, is that it?"

  "Of course not," I said. "I need you very much."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. I'm just helping Kenneth with his most important art project. It's not anything more," I said. 'And as for friends, you're the best friend I have right now."

  His eyes warmed and his lips softened.

  "You mean that?"

  "Yes, I do. I mean it," I said firmly. His smile widened. He stared at me a moment and then he looked very concerned.

  "You're soaked to the skin. Look at you."

  As soon as he mentioned it, I felt the cold and shuddered. Then I laughed at how I looked: the strands of my hair pasted together, the sari full of sand.

  "I guess I'm not really dressed for the weather," I said. The rain was pounding the roof of the cabin now and the boat continued to rock. "Is it supposed to be a bad storm?"

  "No, but it will be like this for a while," he said and hurried to light the kerosene heater. Then he opened the closet and pulled out some towels. "It might even be an all-nighter. There's not much here in the way of clothing," he said. "But I do have this raincoat."

  "I remember putting it on right after you rescued me from Adam Jackson's clutches," I said smiling.

  "Yes."

  "And here you are, rescuing me again," I said. "You should have turned back when it started to pour."

  "I was worried about you," I said. We stared at each other for a moment.

  "Your sari is pretty sorry right now," he said smiling. I laughed and rose to unwind it, pausing when I realized I had taken Holly's advice and worn nothing underneath. Cary gazed at me. His eyes were so full of love and desire, he made my heart pound. I kept my gaze fixed on his and continued to unwrap the garment until I was naked, the lantern flickering the shadows over me. Cary lost his breath for a minute and then he thrust a towel at me.

  "Dry yourself off before you get pneumonia," he advised.

  I took the towel and scrubbed my stomach and legs and then the rest of me while Cary turned up the heater. He gathered up the sari.

  "This isn't going to dry so fast," he said. "It's really soaked through and covered with streaks of grime."

  He draped it beside the heater and turned back to me.

  I had the towel wrapped around myself, but I still shivered. Cary hurried to get the raincoat over me and then he pulled out a rolled up thin mattress and untied it, spreading it out on the floor near the heater. The rain continued to beat a drum roll over the sides of the cabin and the roof, drops zigzagging down the windows. Just the sound made me shiver. Cary stripped off his shirt.

  "Here," he said. "Put this on too."

  "But aren't you going to get cold?" I asked.

  "Don't you remember? I don't get cold," he said smiling. I took the shirt from him and slipped it on. Then I lowered myself to the mattress and rubbed my hands together in front of the heater. Now that I was dry, I began to feel a bit cozy and my shivering stopped. Cary stood, staring down at me, the light from the lantern glittering on his chest and shoulders.

  "I was just getting into that meditating, too," he said, going to his knees beside me. His polished smile shone again.

  I laughed and he reached past me to take some empty sacks out of a cabinet near the bench. He crunched them together to form something of a pillow for both of us. He patted it and lay back, his hands behind his head, gazing up at the ceiling. The rain thumped, but the wind seemed to die down a bit so that the boat rocked less.

  "Maybe you and I can just get a boat like this and live in it," he said.

  "Oh sure. I'll break into my piggy bank tomorrow," I said and sprawled out beside him.

  "No, really," he said turning. "Why can't we do something like that? I could find a job and make enough to do payments on an old boat. It doesn't have to be seaworthy, just liveable."

  "Cary, I'm not exactly legally on my own yet," I pointed out. "Do you think Grandma Olivia would permit us to live like that within her precious world? Or your father?"

  "I don't care. We'll defy them all. We'll just run of and get married."

  "What?" I started to laugh, but saw he was serious. "I'm not going to start life the way my mother did," I said. "I'm not going to be impulsive and then regret it every day and make everyone else's life miserable."

  "Is that what she did?"

  "Yes. She made my step-father hate himself, hate what he was doing, hate his family. The more unhappy she was, the more unhappy he became. And then we all suffered."

  "I'd work myself to the bone to make you happy, Melody," he said. His green eyes were soft and luminous in the dim light of the small lantern.

  "Sometimes, you can't help what happens around you, and then you only feel guilty and hate yourself, Cary. Let's not be foolish. Let's be smarter than our parents, okay?"

  He nodded.

  "As long as you promise not to run off and marry the first rich man who proposes to you," he said.

  "I would never do that," I said. "I want much more than a hefty bank account."

  He laughed, and then looked serious again, his eyes burning with such love that the stretch of silence between us began to palpitate with sensuality. He kissed my right cheek and then my left before he cupped my head so he could tip it at an angle that made his next kiss a kiss on my lips, intense enough to take my breath away.

  He leaned over me and then pressed his lips to my wet hair.

  "Melody," he whispered as if my name were a prayer. His lips were at my ear. "Melody."

  He was doing exactly what I dreamed Kenneth would do. But this wasn't Kenneth. It was Cary who loved me, Cary who made my body respond quickly.

  The tingling in my body became long, overwhelming waves of deep passion that filled my thighs and made me moan through my slightly opened mouth. He caught my breath between his own lips and kissed me again, his hands finding my breasts, the thumbs rolling over my nipples.

  Above us the thunder crashed, and through the window I could see lightning crackle. The towel I had wrapped around my waist came apart. I closed my eyes and lay back as he moved his mouth down over my lips, over my chin, to my neck and then my breasts. I heard him fumbling with his pants.

  "Cary--"

  "I'm ready this time," he whispered. "You don't have to worry about getting pregnant."

  My eyes snapped open.

  "Cary, no."

  "I love you, Melody, completely, fully."

  Was this going to happen? Would I let it happen?

  The dark voice of my heavy conscience began to warn me, but all I could see was Uncle Jacob's face of displeasure smeared into one giant blob with huge, hostile eyes. It was as if he were the voice of my conscience now and that was a voice I wanted to defy, to despise.

  I am not evil. I am not the devil's own daughter. There is nothing bad in my blood and my mother's sins are not my sins, I fired back in my thoughts.

  Cary and I were doing exactly what Uncle Jacob had forbidden, but who was he to forbid anything? What Cary and I felt for each other at this moment was pure and good, I cried. I will not feel guilty for loving him.

  I felt him against me, throbbing, lifting me gently, kissing me with lips so hot they drove away even the thought of a chill. And then he was there, pressing forward. The sharp, short pain I felt frightened me for an instant and then that passed and was replaced with a sensation so th
rilling it vibrated throughout my body. Soon we were both clinging to each other with a passionate desperation that pressed me back to the border between consciousness and unconsciousness. I rose and fell with the waves that lifted the boat beneath us. The storm that raged died away and was replaced by a blazing sun inside me. We quivered against each other, both of us exploding, our sex sweetening our lips.

  "I want to be one with you forever and ever," he pledged as we reached the end and eased our bodies, folding softly into each other's arms, our breaths still heavy, our hearts still pounding. We lay there, waiting for it to all to subside. I kept my eyes closed and after another few minutes, I heard him move away and start to dress himself.

  When I opened my eyes, I felt as if I had just wakened from a dream. Cary had his back to me. I watched him a while before wrapping the towel around myself again and curling up on the mattress. He took the raincoat and put it over me for a blanket, kissing me softly on the cheek. Then he went to the door and looked out.

  "It's still coming down pretty hard out there," he said.

  "We should go back. They'll wonder where we are."

  "I don't care. Let them. Let him," he corrected. He closed the door and returned to my side, brushing my hair back and gazing down at me. "I love you, Melody. I feel I am truly free when I am with you. I am not afraid of saying anything, telling you anything, revealing anything to you."

  "I'm glad, Cary. Trust is the most important part of loving someone."

  "Then you do love me, too?" he fished.

  "I do," I said, convinced it was so. "Yes."

  He smiled.

  "Then nothing that happens matters. Nothing he can say, nothing anyone can say matters. I can say good-bye to nightmares, to dreary days and dreary, lonely nights. We'll be together forever now, won't we?" he asked.

  I started to nod, but stopped. After all I had been through, I was afraid to let too much sunshine come into the shadows of my heart.

  "Let's take it a day at a time, Cary. When promises get too big, they have a way of turning into great disappointments."