Heartsong

by V. C. Andrews

  Maybe he was right, I thought. Maybe I was holding up too high a standard because I had been lied to so much and for so long. He took my hand and we first went to the lobster boat where he said there were towels. After we got them, we crossed the sand toward one of his favorite places on the beach. It was a small cove, hidden by two small dunes.

  I didn't really notice the stars until Cary spread out the biggest towel and we sat for a few moments, gazing out at the ocean and then up at the sky. Cary pointed out the Big Dipper, the North Star, and what he said was Venus.

  "A sailor has to be able to read the stars," he explained. "They're his map."

  "I've never been on a boat at night, but I can imagine how lost and alone you could feel if you didn't know how to steer your boat," I said.

  "Without the stars, the darkness is so thick, you feel as if the ocean has risen all around you and you're sailing into it," Cary said. "Of course, we have our compasses. I think I was on the water before I could walk on land. Dad wanted me to have my sea legs first."

  I laughed and he pulled off his shirt and stood up.

  "It will be cold at first," he warned, "but after you're in it a few seconds, it will feel great."

  It was a warm night, wonderful for a dip in the ocean. I stood up and unbuttoned my blouse. He stepped out of his pants and then kicked off his shoes. I took off my dungarees, placed my shoes and socks on the towel and then reached out to take his hand when he offered it. We walked down to the water slowly. When the white foam ran over my toes, I jumped.

  "Easy," Cary said putting his arm around my waist. "It's colder than I thought," I said and tried to retreat, but he tightened his grip on my waist. "You'll love it."

  "Cary, I don't think so," I said shaking my head. He laughed and tugged until I stepped farther down the beach. The water reached my ankles.

  "You've just got to go for it," he advised. He let go of me and turned to dive right into the waves. When he popped up, he was laughing. "It's great," he claimed. "Makes you feel alive all over."

  "Sure," I said, hesitating.

  "Come on. Be brave."

  My heart was pounding. Suddenly, the stars looked more like drops of ice above me. Cary splashed about to demonstrate how comfortable he was. He called again, urged and pleaded. I took a deep breath and ran forward, falling into the water. The shock made me scream. Cary was at my side, laughing. He embraced me and we stood with the sand washing out from under our feet as the tide rushed in around us. I grew a little afraid, even with his arms around me, and started for shore.

  "I'm freezing!" I screamed, "and I'm going to be washed out to sea."

  He laughed but followed. We splashed through the water, and ran up the sand to the beach towel. Cary unfolded another towel quickly and put it around my shoulders, hugging me and rubbing me at the same time.

  "Aren't you cold?" I asked, my teeth chattering. "Not when I'm with you," he said and kept rubbing me dry. "How's that?"

  "A little better," I said, still shivering. The chill on my skin tingled. I sat on the beach towel and Cary wrapped a towel around his own shoulders and then began to massage my feet, my ankles, and my calves.

  "Weren't you really cold in the water, Cary Logan?"

  "I guess I'm just used to it," he said.

  "It looked so warm all day, I thought it would still be." My body shook with a spasm and he laughed.

  "Nature can be deceiving," he warned and sprawled beside me.

  "I don't know if I can stay out here much longer, Cary," I said. It was as if the chill had gone deep into me and turned my stomach to ice. "It's the wet bathing suit."

  "Why don't you take it off then?" he said. "What?"

  "Slip out of it, dry yourself, and put on your pants and shirt," he suggested. "There's no one around," he added. I gazed back. The dunes were empty, not a soul in sight. All we heard was the sound of the surf. He moved closer to me and then he kissed me.

  "Your lips are warm," I said, "even though your face feels cold."

  He laughed, rubbed my shoulders, and then kissed my neck. The mixture of the chill and the warm tingle that shot down my spine made me shudder and then moan. Cary's fingers slid beneath the straps of my suit, lifting them off my shoulders. As he shifted me into a sitting position, holding me closer to him, the straps slid further down my arms. Then he ran my towel under the suit, drying me as the suit fell away. He reached around the side of my breasts.

  "Cary," I whispered, "don't."

  "Shh. I'll warm you up again," he promised. My heart was pounding, the blood rushing through my body, making me feel lightheaded and dizzy. I felt as if I would spin into unconsciousness ill lifted my eyes toward the sky of blazing stars. Cary gently lifted my arms, one by one, until they were both free from the straps. Then he peeled the front of the suit away and my breasts were uncovered, my nipples tingling in the cool night air. They were so erect, they arched. Cary lowered me slowly to the blanket and continued to peel away my suit. I started to resist until he lowered his head and kissed my breasts, moving his tongue quickly over one nipple and then the other. I closed my eyes and lay back, lifting myself gently to help him take the wet suit from my body. When it fell beneath my hips and I realized I would soon be totally naked, I gasped.

  "Cary."

  "It's all right," he said. "It's only me. We're alone."

  I lifted my hand to touch his face and then he pulled the bathing suit down and over my knees. Immediately, he wrapped me in my towel and held me close, so close I could feel his heart thumping. Then he rubbed the towel all over me, wiping me dry, warming my body until I felt absolutely comfortable and content.

  Cary then lay down beside me, kissing my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, nibbling softly on my chin and then kissing my neck and shoulders as his hands continued to rub my body in circles, finding my breasts, moving his palms in circles over them and then coming down the sides of my body until he held my hips. He leaned over me, gazing down at me. His face was in darkness, but just enough light came from the stars to allow me to see his gentle lips in a small smile.

  "Melody, you were meant to be here. May's right. You were brought here to make us all well again, especially me," he said.

  He kissed me long and hard on the lips and then he slipped beside me, moving about until I realized he was taking off his own bathing suit.

  "Cary, wait--"

  "Just touch," he said. "We'll just touch."

  Then he was naked too, and I felt him throbbing, moving in between my legs as he threw his towel over us like a blanket.

  "Cary, don't," I said. "We could make a baby like this."

  "I know. I'll be careful," he said, but he didn't stop. The sensation that flew through my body when he touched me where no boy had ever touched me before made me tremble so, I thought I would be unable to stop him if things started to go too far. He nudged me again and again. I began to cry softly, but his lips drank my tears before they could go far down my cheeks. He kept reciting my name, chanting it like a prayer.

  "I love you, Melody," he said. "I couldn't love anyone as much as I love you."

  I didn't know if I could speak. My heart was racing. Cary was out of control. In a few more moments, I was sure I would be too.

  This is what happened to your mother, I heard a voice inside me say. Remember what Kenneth said? Remember him telling you how she would jump on the back of a motorcycle and end up on a beach blanket? Well you're on a beach blanket now, Melody Logan, and you're naked and about to do what she did.

  I shook my head at the words resounding inside me. "No," I cried and pushed at Cary's chest. "Melody, I love you."

  "Please, stop Cary," I said.

  "I can't," he said. "I can't."

  But he pulled back, his sex exploding on the blanket, his head against my chest, his whole body shuddering and then coming to rest.

  Neither of us moved. It was as though the world revolved around us as we stayed perfectly still. Caught in a moment of time. My heartbeat started to slow an
d my breathing came easier. Still, neither of us moved, neither said anything. We lay there, holding each other, both equally amazed at our discoveries about ourselves and each other.

  "I'm sorry," he finally said. "I'm so clumsy and inexperienced. You were right. I shouldn't have started to do this without the proper protection. You probably think I'm an idiot." He sat up quickly.

  "No, I don't, Cary. I'm not very experienced at this either, no matter what you might think." I sat up, too, holding the towel around me.

  "You're not?" he said skeptically.

  "No, I'm not. Why?" I asked, turning on him. "Do you think I'm like my mother when she was my age? Is that it?" I asked hotly.

  "No," he said.

  "Maybe I am. Maybe it is in my blood," I said bitterly. "I shouldn't have let you go as far as you did, but . . ."

  "But what? It's not a sin if you love me as much as I love you," he said. "You wouldn't do this with any other boy, would you?"

  I shook my head.

  "So? Don't you see? That means we love each other." He leaned toward me again to kiss me, but I pulled back.

  "No more, Cary. I just want to get dressed and go back to the house."

  "You're not mad at me, are you?"

  "No. I'm just a little confused about everything. Please try to be understanding," I insisted.

  "Okay," he said. He stood up and we both dressed silently in the darkness.

  "I probably look as if I've been rolling around on the beach," I moaned.

  "We'll stop at the boat and you can straighten up," he said, but his voice was different, strained. I knew he was displeased with my reaction, but I really was confused. I had wanted this and yet, when it started to happen, I was too afraid to continue. Was I just like my mother or was I really as in love with Cary as I imagined? Was it the fact that so many people would frown on our relationship that worried me?

  He gathered the towels and we started away, carrying our wet suits. Cary walked a little faster, remaining a foot or so in front of me.

  "Don't be angry at me, Cary," I said. "I have too many confusing things going on inside me right now to think clearly about anything. Do you really, truly believe that it is right for there to be love between us, when there is also blood? I want to believe that it is right Cary, but aren't you afraid of what everyone will think?"

  He plodded along, not answering me.

  "Cary?"

  "It will be all right," he said. "I'm not angry at you. The truth is I'm just as confused. Nothing is as simple as we think, I suppose, even love."

  I went into the bathroom on the boat, where there was a small wall mirror, and repaired myself the best I could. When I came out, Cary was sitting and gazing out at the ocean. I came up beside him and put my hand gently on his shoulder. He put his hand over mine and continued to look out at the water.

  "The water keeps moving," he said. "It looks the same, but it never is. Everything's in a constant state of change. Trees grow new leaves. They look the same as last year's leaves, but they're different. Even the sand on the beach moves. The wind shifts it. Maybe we're changing all the time, too," he said. "Maybe I was different yesterday, even though I look the same today."

  "That's what they say in science class. We're always breaking down and rebuilding cells."

  "So," he said, turning quickly, "what about our feelings? Do they break down and change, too? If I love you today, will that love be different tomorrow?"

  "I don't know."

  "I don't think love changes. I think that it stays the same even though everything around it becomes different. I'll love you the same way when you're old and gray and I'm old and gray. No matter what anyone thinks Melody, I know it is right between us. Our love is special."

  I smiled.

  "You believe me, don't you?" he asked with worried eyes.

  "Yes, Cary."

  "Then, don't be afraid to love me too," he said. "No matter what your mother was or did. You're not your mother."

  "I know," I said. "I just need a little more time to figure everything out. I want to be ready, Cary. I need to be sure.

  He nodded and then turned back to the ocean. I stood by him and we both watched the waves dance with the stars until we grew tired and walked home, holding hands, silent, full of wonder.

  I noticed something different about Kenneth immediately the next morning. Even Ulysses appeared changed, more subdued, as if he had been chastised just before they arrived to pick me up. Kenneth mumbled a quick good morning and pulled away with an awkward jerk that sent me back against the seat. He drove fast, the wheels squealing as he made the turn and accelerated, pulling around a slower car and going even faster. He never took his eyes off the road. I was afraid to say anything. Artists were so moody. One minute they were ecstatic, the next, they were melancholy. We bounced hard on the dune road because he took that faster than usual also. I was relieved when we finally came to a stop in his driveway.

  He got out, slammed the door behind him, and then, to my surprise, instead of heading for the studio, turned and walked toward the beach. Even Ulysses looked confused, turning from Kenneth to me and then back to Kenneth.

  "Aren't we going right to the studio?" I asked, running to catch up with him.

  "No. I have to calm down first," he said over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

  "Calm down? Why? What happened?"

  Instead of replying, he sped up and walked on. I followed, slowly this time, until we reached the top of the rise on the beach and he stood there gazing out at the ocean, his hands on his hips.

  "What's this all about, Kenneth?" I asked, my heart thumping now. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "Did you?" he snapped, spinning on me. His eyes were just as full of pain as they were of anger.

  "No," I said softly, feeling shame flush my cheeks.

  He smiled with disdain.

  "Lying is just in the blood, is that it? It comes so quickly, so naturally to you people." He turned away again.

  I couldn't keep the tears from climbing over my eyelids and sizzling down my cheeks.

  "I'm not lying," I said.

  "Really?" He reached down to take a handful of sand and watched it fall through his fingers. "Then you didn't go into my private storage room?" he said without looking at me.

  I stopped breathing, the breath that was already caught in my throat choking me. After a moment, I found the strength to reply.

  "Yes, I did," I admitted. The shame that had made me hot with embarrassment turning to cold fear.

  He turned slowly, nodding.

  "I noticed the hasp had been removed. Whoever broke in did a fine job, but in haste one bottom screw was left a little too far out. I wouldn't have thought anything of it, however, if, when I opened the door myself last night and entered the room, I didn't notice that the cobwebs were all broken and the canvases had been moved and not put back as neatly as they were. Got a good look at everything, did you?"

  "No," I said.

  "Did you take the hasp off yourself?" When I didn't answer immediately, Kenneth made the right conclusion. "No, you didn't. Who went in there with you, Cary?"

  I nodded and looked down.

  "I took you into my home, trusted you with my privacy, my possessions, my work. Now you can understand why I don't have many people out here," he said. "People." He spit the word as if it burned his tongue to utter it. "They always let you down."

  "I'm sorry, Kenneth," I said. "I--"

  "Yes? Tell me. How do you justify breaking and entering my private place? Go on," he taunted and challenged. "Let me hear your excuse."

  "I was looking for the truth," I cried through my tears.

  "The truth?"

  "About you and me and my mother," I said. "Everyone thinks you're my father, and you told me that you couldn't tell me what you knew, so I thought . . . I thought you were ashamed of it or just didn't want to have a daughter," I wailed back at him.

  He shook his head, speechless for a moment. I co
uldn't stop my crying. My shoulders heaved and fell and my stomach felt so weak and twisted, I had to wrap my arms around myself.

  "Everyone thinks I'm your father? Who's everyone?"

  "Uncle Jacob, for one. He says that's why you offered me the job. It was your way of trying to amend for your sin of never acknowledging me."

  "Jacob would say something like that." He laughed. "It's nice to know how his parents treat him," he said.

  "I don't understand," I said, shaking my head in confusion.

  "Never mind. Look, Melody, if you were my daughter, I would tell you immediately. I thought by now you would have realized that I admire you and certainly wouldn't be ashamed to acknowledge you were mine, but it's not true. I wish it were true. You have no idea how much I wish it or how long I've wished it.

  "That," he continued, "is the real reason why your mother sent me the picture of you and her and wrote 'I'm sorry' on the back of it." He took a deep breath and sat on the sand. "She wasn't just

  apologizing for not living up to my hopes for her; she was apologizing for not being able to be the woman I loved. It wasn't all her fault either," he added, sighing as he closed his eyes and leaned forward, his knees up, his arms around them.

  I stopped crying, sucked in my breath, and sat beside him.

  "Then you loved my mother?" I asked softly. "Yes, very much."

  "And those pictures of her in the room?"

  "She enjoyed posing for me. She was so beautiful I wanted to capture her forever and art was a way to do it. Eventually, it became the only way to do it, and that made it both wonderful and painful for me. I got so I couldn't look at those pictures and had to keep them under lock and key, almost as if I were locking them away from myself as much as anyone else.

  "As you and your boyfriend saw when you went in there," he continued, bitterly, "there were cobwebs over the door. That's how infrequently I enter to gaze upon those pictures. After you arrived, I thought about Haille constantly and I couldn't resist going in there again. That's when I made the discovery."

  "I'm sorry, Kenneth," I said. He was silent, so I reached out and touched his hand. He nodded.

  "Well, I can understand what you're going through, I guess. Living with Jacob, hearing his moralistic trash. He never really knew or understood your mother. He was always jealous of her affection for me, too. And when Chester came to her defense-- " He shook his head. "Did anyone tell you they actually had a fist fight on the beach?"