Heartsong

  "You look like someone I know," she said. Then she smiled. "I remember. You look like me when I was your age." She leaned closer to whisper. "Don't give your heart away too quickly. They like to break hearts. That's what they like to do the most. Just ask Olivia," she said and laughed. "Ask her and tell her I told you to ask. What?" She looked at the attendant as if she had heard him say something. There was some mild chastisement in his expression and she straightened up. "Oh."

  I stood watching them as the attendant led her down the hall.

  "I'll show you the way out," Mrs. Greene said.

  "I remember the way," I told her. "Thank you." I hurried down the corridor, through the lobby, and out the door, my heart thumping. Raymond sat up quickly the moment I appeared and then got out to open the door for me.

  "Everything go all right?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. "Just fine."

  I sat back, locked within my own thoughts, feeling rather sad and vulnerable. I wasn't looking out the window, so I didn't realize he wasn't taking me directly home until I noticed the driveway of Grandma Olivia's house.

  "Why are you taking me here?" I demanded.

  "It's what Mrs. Logan told me to do," he said and drove up the driveway.

  "What am I supposed to do now?" I asked. He shrugged.

  "1 guess Mrs. Logan expects you."

  "Be nice if she told me her plans for me," I snapped and got out.

  She came to the door herself when I rang. "Raymond said you told him to bring me directly here after my visit," I said.

  "Yes. Come into the living room." She led the way and took her high-backed seat, which, as usual, made her look like some sort of dowager queen. "Sit," she ordered as if I were Ulysses the dog.

  "Why did you tell him to bring me here?"

  "I'm not accustomed to people standing over me when we talk," she replied and sat back, waiting for me to obey her and sit on the settee. I did so quickly.

  "Well?" I demanded.

  "I thought it best you speak to me about your visit before you spoke to anyone else. Tell me how it went and don't leave out any details."

  "I'm surprised you don't know everything already," I said.

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "The way they were hovering around us, listening." "Ridiculous."

  Maybe it was, I thought, but it was easy to become paranoid where this family was concerned. I took a deep breath and wondered what I should tell her. I didn't want Grandma Belinda to appear foolish just because she loved children's books and confused time and places now, and I remembered Grandpa Samuel telling me to come to him with any stories first.

  "She's very sweet and I thought she looked very healthy. She's only a year or so younger than you?" I asked deliberately. Grandma Olivia stiffened.

  "Never mind that. What nonsense did she tell you? I'm sure she rambled on and on about something silly."

  I shrugged.

  "She told me about her youth, how many boyfriends she had, one of them being the judge." Grandma Olivia's eyes narrowed into hateful slits. "He wasn't her boyfriend when she was younger.

  That is just one of her fantasies. This is exactly the sort of nonsense I'm talking about," she said, her words biting and sharp. I suddenly saw how vulnerable and helpless Grandma Belinda must have been, growing up with Olivia.

  "She said you were often jealous of her and you poisoned her song bird and stole a locket the judge gave her," I said in an accusatory tone.

  "Oh." She shook her head and smiled as though I had uttered the most ridiculous things. "She tells that story to everyone. That bird died of natural causes and I don't know why she carries on and on about it. When it was alive, I was the one who had to take care of it. She never fed it or cleaned its cage, and as for a locket, it was a present I received from someone and she fantasized it was for her. Men never bought her things. They didn't have to," she added dryly. "Ali they had to do was turn a flirtatious face in her direction and she was theirs. What else did she say?"

  "She said your marriage was forced on you," I blurted, unable to hide my anger at the way she diminished and criticized my real grandmother at every turn. Is this why she brought me here? Did she get some sadistic pleasure from it?

  "It wasn't forced on me, but parents had a great deal more to say about whom their children married then. It was better that wiser minds prevail. Far fewer of those marriages ended in divorce, and if she had listened to my father, she wouldn't be in this predicament today."

  "She said you forbade her to mention my mother. Is that true?"

  "That," Grandma Olivia said, "is the first true thing she told you. Yes, of course I forbade her to mention Haille. What sort of a situation would we have had with her babbling about this embarrassing event? You think I wanted the gossip mongers clicking their tongues? It was bad enough that some servants knew and the doctor knew, but somehow, I managed to keep everyone from suffering. You sit here now with your eyes full of condemnation and accusation, but do you pause to think what I provided for your mother? No, you don't," she said, answering herself quickly. "Well, I'll tell you.

  "Your mother was a child born out of wedlock, normally a disgrace, but I gave her a home and my name and the best of everything. She could have had a fine education, met the most distinguished men, had a real future, but she was contaminated by Belinda's bad blood."

  "And now you think I am too, is that it?" "That remains to be seen," she snapped.

  "Not by you. I'm not auditioning for your approval," I fired back at her, the tears burning under my eyelids, tears I would die before releasing in her presence.

  "Nevertheless," she said, her smile sharp and her eyes bright and fiery, "you'll do nothing to risk my disapproval or,--"

  "Or you'll see to it I never get my inheritance. I know," I said.

  "That's right," she replied and sat back.

  There was a moment of silence, a truce between us.

  "I wouldn't recommend that you return to the home to see Belinda," she said slowly. "She'll only fill you with more ridiculous fantasies and it might cause problems for everyone."

  "She needs visitors, family. You can't leave her there like that, alone, lost."

  Grandma Olivia laughed.

  "She's far from alone and far from lost. She has the best care money can buy. If anything, she's spoiled, but she was spoiled all her life. That's why she ended up as she did," she concluded. "Don't go back there," she said standing.

  "I will. She's my real grandmother," I said.

  Grandma Olivia's eyes looked as if they could burn through my skull and sear my brain.

  "She's a mental invalid, totally dependent upon my charity. I could have her put in a county poorhouse in minutes," she threatened. "What do you expect she can give you?"

  "Love," I said not backing down or looking away.

  Grandma Olivia sucked in her breath as if I had punched her in the stomach. She started to speak, but stopped, her eyes strangely softening, her look turning from anger and condemnation to an unexplainable look of pleasure, respect.

  "Don't push me too far, Melody. I would like to see you have a good life, despite what you think of me, but you have to rise above yourself, your own contaminated blood."

  "Am I dismissed?" I asked. I was trembling inside, but I wouldn't show it.

  "Dismissed? Yes, but keep my advice hanging up front in your closet," she said. "Raymond will see to it you get home."

  "Thank you," I said. I turned and marched out of the house, never welcoming the fresh sea air as much.

  5

  Someone's Watching

  Over Me

  .

  Cary and May were already gone by the time

  Raymond brought me home. Aunt Sara said they had just left. "Cary waited as long as he could, dear, but he felt sorry for May. He told me to tell you he was taking her to the Sea and Shell on Commerce Street and, if you came home early enough, to join them. How was your visit with Belinda?" she asked, but looked away quickly
as if she didn't want to hear my answer.

  "It was nice. She's very sweet," I said, "even if she is confused about events and time."

  "Jacob asked me to make my meat loaf for dinner tonight," Aunt Sara continued, as if I hadn't said a word. "It's one of his favorites." She laughed, her laugh sounding as fragile as thin china. "He says I proved the old adage that the shortest distance to a man's heart is through his stomach. He says he fell in love with my cooking first and then looked up and saw there was an angel in the kitchen."

  "Uncle Jacob said that?" I asked skeptically. Aunt Sara heard the note of doubt in my voice.

  "Oh yes," she declared. "When he wants to, Jacob can say very sweet things."

  "I guess he hasn't w ted to for a while," I muttered. "Aunt Sara, did you know my grandmother before she was sent to the rest home?"

  Aunt Sara's smile faded quickly and she turned away.

  "Not really, no," she said. "I mean, Belinda was always different. Jacob thought it best we didn't have much to do with herd'

  "Why? Because Grandma Olivia wanted it that way?" I asked pointedly.

  "It's better not to say anything if you can't say anything nice about someone," Aunt Sara lectured. "Oh, I forgot. Could you pick up some garlic for me on the way home? Here, let me give you some money," she said, hurrying to her cookie jar. It looked more as if she were fleeing from my questions.

  I went upstairs to change into a pair of jeans and a faded gray sweatshirt with our high school letters on the front. I put on a pair of sneakers, too, and then went running down the stairs, hurrying to catch up with Cary and May. Aunt Sara was waiting at the front door to hand me the money for the garlic.

  "Thank you," she said, but she didn't move out of the way. After a moment she lifted her eyes and said, "Laura liked Belinda." It was as if guilt had been buzzing around in her head like a bee in a jar, threatening to sting her if she didn't open the lid.

  "She did?"

  "She even went to visit her at the home once." She lowered her voice to a whisper even though there was no one else around. "Olivia never knew, but Jacob found out and he was very upset with her for doing it. It was one of the few times he got angry at Laura. She promised never to go again and that was that."

  "Why was everyone so mean to my

  grandmother?"

  "It wasn't that we were mean to her, dear. She was . . ."

  "What?"

  "Telling horrible lies, and lies are . . lies are what Jacob says they are, like termites. They get into your moral foundation and tear you down. Only sinners have reason to lie."

  "Then Grandma Olivia might be the biggest sinner of all," I blurted and Aunt Sara's face nearly collapsed with shock. She turned white.

  "If Jacob ever heard you say such a terrible thing--"

  "Don't worry, Aunt Sara. I won't say it again. If you can't say something nice about someone, don't say anything," I reminded her.

  "Yes." She nodded. "Oh dear, oh dear," she chanted as she returned to the kitchen.

  I felt bad about shocking her with my outburst, but I was so frustrated and angry about the way this family treated. Grandma Belinda that I felt like lashing out at all of them, all of them with their holierthan-thou attitudes, gazing down their noses at the rest of us as if they stood on Mount Olympus. Even if something was wrong with Grandma Belinda and she babbled silly things, confusing time and place, that wasn't a reason to ostracize her and forbid everyone from seeing her. Maybe there was another reason why destiny brought me here, I thought. Maybe it was for Grandma Belinda, who otherwise had no one to come to her defense but the shadowy figures of her flustered memory.

  When I got to town, I found the streets jammed with people and traffic. There were many families, mothers and fathers walking with their children, everyone holding hands, their faces full of smiles, their eyes bright with excitement as they gazed at the pretty things in store windows or at other people rushing by on the way to restaurants, the dock, and the shops. I couldn't help standing wistfully and watch them walk by. Why couldn't that teenage girl be me and that man and woman be my real father and mother? Why couldn't I lead a normal life and be on vacation with my parents? What had turned fate in my direction and chosen me to be the one who had to flounder about searching for her identity?

  A chorus of horns and then loud laughter shook me out of my self-pity. When I looked around, a smile returned to my face. Provincetown on weekends was filled with excitement. Yes, these people were tourists and some of them littered and some of them drove badly or complained vehemently about prices, but most enjoyed themselves and were appreciative of the ocean, and respected and admired the fishermen and boatmen. Shop owners, restaurant owners, hotel and bed-and-breakfast owners needed the business. To me, those who were securely planted in their wealth and property here and who looked down on all this were selfish and arrogant. They lived in their own world and Grandma Olivia was queen of it, I thought.

  Well, as long as I lived here, I would never be like that. I wouldn't become one of them no matter how much money I inherited, I vowed.

  I hurried on toward the Sea and Shell, a small, inexpensive eatery near the dock. When I turned a corner, looking back when I should have been looking forward, I rammed into someone who shouted, "Whoa, there!" I gazed up and into the eyes of the very handsome and distinguished looking man I knew to be Adam Jackson's father, T. J. Jackson, one of the most prominent attorneys in Provincetown. Before this, I had seen him only from a distance at school functions or on the street. Whenever he saw me, he looked at me with a very pensive look on his face. I thought that was because of something Adam might have told him about me, something nasty of course.

  Adam, his sister Michelle, and his mother, Ann, a very attractive brunette who was just as tall as her husband, stood directly behind Mr. Jackson. Adam gave me his usual smirk of self-confidence, but Michelle grimaced with disgust. Her shiny braces glittered on her teeth, making her mouth as mechanical and cold looking as her dull brown eyes. She was thirteen, going into the eighth grade, and from what I had heard, just as snobby as a skunk.

  "Well, hello," Mr. Jackson said, widening his smile when he recognized me.

  "I'm sorry," I said,

  "That's all right. No harm done. Where are you heading in such a hurry?"

  "I'm late. I have to meet my cousins for lunch," I said, avoiding Adam's gaze. Ever since the time on the beach and the subsequent fight Cary had with Adam in the cafeteria, we had had little to say to each other. He had-graduated and was going off to college in late August. He had told me he would become a lawyer like his father, although he didn't seem to have any great passion to be an attorney. He was doing just what was expected of him.

  I had never really been this close to his mother before. She was a very pretty woman with big green eyes and a nose and mouth so perfectly shaped she could have been a model. She reminded me a lot of Mommy, because she had the same high cheekbones and elegant neck. I wondered if she had ever wanted to be a model, too. She didn't smile, so much as keep a soft and friendly look in her eyes and mouth.

  "Well, if you're too late, you're welcome to join us for lunch," Adam's father offered. Michelle shifted her weight to her other foot and swung her eyes toward the sky with a grunt of annoyance.

  "Thank you, but I'm sure they're waiting for me."

  "We're going right in here," he continued, pointing to one of the more expensive Provincetown restaurants. "Come right back and join us if you've missed them," he insisted.

  "Thank you."

  "I never had the opportunity to tell you how much I enjoyed your fiddle playing at the variety show," he said. "Wasn't she something, Ann?"

  "Yes, she was," Adam's mother said with a small smile. "A very nice surprise."

  "How's your grandmother these days? I haven't seen her in quite a while," Adam's father continued as if we had all the time in the world to waste away. In truth, only Michelle seemed impatient and bothered. Adam continued his self-satisfied smirk, enjoying my d
iscomfort. His mother looked patient and very friendly.

  "She's very well, thank you," I said.

  "Well, perhaps we can treat you to lunch another time," Adam's father said. I gazed at his soft blue eyes and gentle smile. I didn't know whether lawyers could turn the charm on and off at will because of the work they did in court before juries, but he seemed so sincere and warm, I almost wished I could have lunch with him. "It's the least we can do to show our appreciation for the fine performance you gave," he added. "Don't stop playing that fiddle.

  "I won't. Thank you," I said and 'hurried away confused as to why he seemed so interested in me. It was hard to believe that someone as nasty as Adam came from such nice parents.

  Cary and May were just finishing their sandwiches when I arrived at the Sea and Shell.

  "Sorry I was late," I said sliding across from them in the booth. "I didn't know Grandma Olivia was having Raymond bring me to her after the visit for an interrogation."

  "Interrogation?"

  "An inquisition is more like it."

  "Oh? I just thought you had decided to stay and have lunch with Belinda."

  "I didn't eat lunch anywhere. Grandma Olivia didn't even offer me a glass of water."

  Cary shrugged.

  "That's Grandma. Go on and order. We'll wait and watch you eat," Cary said with a smile.

  "Don't let me forget to bring home garlic for your mother," I said as I chose a sandwich from the menu. Then I told him about my literally bumping into Adam Jackson's father and family and how Mr. Jackson practically insisted I join them for lunch. Cary's eyes grew dark with anger just at the mention of Adam's name.

  "Figures he'd want to show off. He was always like that," Cary said. "Like father like son."

  "How do you know what Mr. Jackson was like when he was younger, Cary?" I asked, wondering at the venom behind his words.

  "He went to school with my father and your stepfather. Dad's told me about him. He was always spoiled, arrogant. That's just the way the Jacksons are and always will be."

  "He didn't seem to be just now."

  "Well, he is," Cary insisted. "They ought to be known as the Snobsons and not the Jacksons," he added. Whenever he got very angry, his ears would turn red at the edges. They were that way now, so I dropped the subject and began talking about Grandma Belinda instead. I had to remember to sign as I talked so May wouldn't feel left out. I didn't sign everything, of course. Cary shook his head with disbelief when I described what Grandma Belinda had said happened between her and Grandpa Samuel.