Unfinished Symphony

  "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 c
ranberry 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.

  "I better go in, Cary, before it really starts pouring."

  "Right. When should I come by tomorrow?"

  "Wait for me to call you. I'd like to visit Grandma Belinda, if I could."

  "Sure, I'll take you," he said.

  "You should be spending all your time with your mother, Cary. She must be so sad. And lonely."

  "I can't sit there all day and watch her cry, Melody. It makes me crazy to see how sad she is. The best I can do is work hard and show her that everything will be all right. I'll take care of things."

  "I know you will," I said, nodding. "I'll call you tomorrow."

  I gave him a quick kiss and hopped out of the truck. He watched me cross in front of it and smiled at me as I walked to the front door. He didn't start the engine until I opened the door to go in. I waved and he started away.

  With the sky so overcast and the lights either off or turned low, it was dismal and dark in the house. I felt a chill run through my body and folded my arms across my chest as I hurried up the stairs. When I reached the second floor and turned toward my room, I found Grandma Olivia waiting at my door. Without a greeting, she opened the door for me and stood back.

  "Let's talk," she said, grimly.

  Keeping my head down and my arms still folded, I walked by her and into the room. She closed the door softly behind her.

  "Where were you all day?"

  "I went to Aunt Sara's and spent time with her and May, and then Cary took me to see Kenneth," I replied. "It would probably be better if you stopped going out to that beach house so much now," she declared. "

  "Why?

  "There's enough suspicious gossip going on. It will only add to it."

  "I can't hide from every whisper in

  Provincetown," I said.

  She stiffened.

  "You will lead an exemplary life here. No one will have any reason to utter the smallest suspicion or tale of indiscretion," she demanded as if she could order the future at will.

  "I'm not going to stop seeing Kenneth. He's my uncle, my real uncle."

  "Don't ever say that to anyone, do you understand?" she snapped, moving to stand over me. Her eyes looked more haunted by her own fears than rage at me. Nothing appeared to terrify her more than the community learning Judge Childs was my grandfather and had been her sister's lover.

  "I have no intention of rattling any of the skeletons in our family closet, Grandma Olivia. It wouldn't serve any purpose except to hurt people who have already suffered too much because of them."

  She smiled, relieved, and nodded.

  "That's right. That's good thinking."

  "How is my grandmother?" I asked firmly.

  "Belinda is . . . Belinda. She was taken off the medication that turned her into a vegetable, if that's what you mean."

  "Good. I'm going to see her tomorrow. Don't worry, you won't have to waste any gas. Cary's taking me," I said quickly.

  "That's the main reason I wanted to talk to you," she said. "You've grown too close to Cary. I understand why," she continued, crossing to the window. The rain had become harder and the wind was flinging the heavy drops at the house, drumming a wild beat upon the roof. "You were alone; you were in strange surroundings but you had a contemporary to talk to and befriend you. However, now that you are here, you've got to create some distance between the two of you."

  "Whatever for?" I asked and she pivoted quickly.

  "Cary is a good, responsible young man, but too limited for you now. You can't make the mistakes I made," she warned. "There would be no purpose for taking you in if I didn't teach you that," she added.

  "Being with someone you love can never be a mistake," I replied.

  She shook her head.

  "When you've grown out of these foolish romantic notions, you will be strong enough to take on the responsibilities I have in mind for you. Besides, you're not thinking of your immediate future. You will finish this school year, go to a prestigious prep school which will prepare you for the best colleges, where i am sure you will meet someone from a distinguished family and form a meaningful relationship."

  "You talk like you have my whole life planned out for me."

  "I will do the best I can, but you must be cooperative and obedient," she continued, obviously not at all concerned with my feelings. "I've been thinking about you all day and I've concluded that you can begin your training immediately. For that purpose, I have contracted with an excellent tutor, a Miss Louise May Burton, who happens to be a retired charm school teacher. You will begin your lessons the day after tomorrow, so don't make any silly plans to wander the beaches, or go sailing or visit anyone."

  "Lessons?-in what?"

  "Etiquette, manners, behavior. You are going to attend schools populated by the daughters of only the best families, people of stature, good breeding, pure blood,"

  "There's nothing wrong with my manners," I complained.

  She laughed.

  "How would you know, my dear? Have you ever been with people who recognized the

  difference?"

  I stared at her a moment, my anger simmering my blood into a rolling boil. Yes, my mother was a great disappointment, but there were many people in my life who were warm and decent. Why, Papa George and Mama Arlene would make any of Grandma Olivia's blue bloods look like savages when it came to true and good feelings and decency, I thought.

  But Papa George was dead and Mama Arlene had moved away, a small voice reminded me.

  "That's settled then," Grandma Olivia continued. "You will limit your contact with Kenneth Childs and with Cary and you will be a good student of manners."

  "I won't limit my contact with Cary," I challenged.

  "If you won'
t on your own accord, I'll have to speak with Sara. And," she said smiling, "you know what sort of influence I have with Sara. They are, despite what dribbles in from that dying lobster boat business and their silly cranberries, dependent upon my charity to an extent you don't fathom. Why even that pathetic house really belongs to me," she revealed. "My son needed to borrow the money for the mortgage."

  "You wouldn't dare do anything to hurt them," I countered.

  She fixed her eyes on me with a firmness that put ice into my veins.

  "Not unless you force me too," she said. Then she smiled. "I suppose you could always run away and live like your dead mother. Think it all over and I'm sure you'll conclude that your best chances for a decent life are here with me and with what I will do for you."

  "Why are you really doing all this for me?" I asked her, suddenly more curious than angry.

  "I told you, for the family's sake," she said.

  I shook my head.

  "There's another reason."

  "There is no other reason . . . for anything," she declared and then turned to leave my room.

  The rain grew heavier, its drum beat pounding on my heart as well as on the house. I saw Cary's loving smile, his deep green eyes revealing his great need for me and great trust. How could I disappoint him? Grandma Olivia's threats scared me. I thought about the fury in her face.

  Some time ago, she had trusted her heart to someone who had betrayed her and from that betrayal my mother was born, a woman she couldn't control or mold. I was her last chance for revenge.

  But revenge against whom? Against what?

  Was it someone or was it merely a world she had come to despise? Maybe it was both, I thought.

  I was sure that in the days to follow I would find all the answers, only I was just as terrified of making the discoveries as I was of not.

  I was floundering in a world of adult quicksand. Who would throw me a line to pull me out? Kenneth? Judge Childs? My Grandmother Belinda? Cary? Everyone seemed to be floundering just as much.

  Only Grandma Olivia, only she seemed to walk on firm ground. I had to admire her for that, and suddenly, I was filled with a new fear.

  What if she got her way and I became the woman she wanted me to become?