Heartsong

by V. C. Andrews

  room, passing elderly patients, until the head nurse

  greeted me.

  "Melody Logan?" she asked with a brief smile. Yes, ma'am."

  "Right this way," she said and nodded toward

  the last bed on the right where Uncle Jacob, hooked to

  his life-saving machinery and his monitors lay

  waiting, inches from death's grasp. Cary was right

  about him, he did resemble a corpse, pallid, small,

  withered.

  I looked at the nurse.

  "You can stay here a few minutes and see if he

  wakes. Otherwise, come back later, on the hour," she

  suggested. She checked the drip in his I.V. bag and

  then walked back to the nurse's station. Timidly, I drew closer to Uncle Jacob's bed and gazed down at him. The beep, beep, beep of the monitors seemed to

  mirror my own drumming heart.

  Half of me wanted him to remain asleep, while

  the other half couldn't contain my curiosity. I was

  tempted to flee and also tempted to touch his hand to

  see if he would waken. His eyelids trembled and I saw

  his lips writhe and then stiffen.

  "Uncle Jacob," I said, or at least, I thought I

  did. Maybe I had just thought it. He didn't

  acknowledge me. "Uncle Jacob?" I said a little louder. His eyelids fluttered and then opened. He

  turned slowly and looked at me. There were oxygen

  tubes in his nostrils and tiny beads of sweat had

  broken out on his brow. I took a cloth from the table

  beside the bed and wiped his forehead. As I did so, he

  mouthed my name.

  I leaned in because he was barely whispering. "Melody . . come closer," he said. I looked back

  at the nurses' station and then brought my face as

  close to his as I could.

  "What is it, Uncle Jacob? You should just rest,

  get better."

  He shook his head.

  "Won't get better," he said. He swallowed, the effort causing him to close his eyes. His Adam's apple strained against his skin and bobbed. Then he opened

  his eyes again. "My fault," he said. "It was my fault." "What was your fault, Uncle Jacob?"

  "Haille."

  "My mother? I don't understand, Uncle Jacob.

  What are you saying?"

  "Haille . . . When I was a young boy . . . she

  was barely thirteen but I . . did a terrible thing . . .

  made her do it. She never told, but it was my fault . . .

  my fault she became what she became and we had all

  the family trouble."

  I stared at him. His eyes were watery, dark, the

  pupils smaller.

  Suddenly, he found my hand and squeezed my

  fingers as hard as he could, which wasn't very hard. "I didn't mean to be so hard on you, but I feel

  more responsible," he said after a big breath. He

  closed his eyes and then opened them quickly. "A sin

  can last forever, be passed on from mother to

  daughter, from father to son . . . forever. Be a good

  woman and end the devil's hold on us all." He

  swallowed hard and closed his eyes. Then he

  whispered, "My poor Laura. Poor, poor Laura . . ." His head fell to the right and the monitor began a long, shrill humming sound. I released his hand and

  stepped back.

  "Stat!" I heard behind me. Two nurses rushed

  past me and the doctor on duty came across the CCU.

  I backed away slowly as they all gathered around

  Uncle Jacob's bed. Electric pads were being placed on

  his chest.

  Someone shouted, "Clear!"

  I saw Uncle Jacob's body jump and heard the

  doctor say, "Again, clear!"

  I fled the CCU. Cary was waiting in the

  hallway and I ran into his arms.

  "What?" he cried.

  "Something's happening to him. I---" "Dad!" he groaned and charged through the

  doorway into CCU. I waited a moment and then

  turned to see Aunt Sara and May standing in the

  lounge, Aunt Sara's hand on May's shoulder, both of

  them gazing at me with the same horrified look in

  their eyes.

  I started to cry. My stomach felt hollow, just

  the way it had felt when I learned Daddy had been

  killed in the mining accident. Aunt Sara started to

  shudder with her own sobs. May's face wrinkled with

  pain, her moans distorted by her great fear and sadness. I went to both of them and the three of us embraced, held each other, and waited, all of one heart, small and trembling, alone and helpless against the dark cloud encroaching, moving with the wind

  raging around us.

  "He's back!" Cary cried from the doorway. He

  was laughing through his tears. "It's a resurrection." We turned and gazed at him. He wiped his

  cheeks with the back of his hand and took a deep

  breath.

  "Back?" Aunt Sara said.

  "What does that mean, Cary?" I asked. "His heart stopped but they got it started again,"

  he said, "and he's doing okay for now."

  "Oh, praise God," Aunt Sara cried. "Praise

  God." She held on to May and rocked with her on the

  settee.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and said

  my own prayer of thanks. When I fled the CCU, I

  believed I had caused him to have the heart failure for

  sure. It was the great effort he had made to speak to

  me.

  Cary regained his calm demeanor and strength.

  "How about a cup of hot tea, Ma? I can get it from the

  machine downstairs," he said.

  "Yes, thank you, Cary."

  "I'll get May a soda. Melody, you want some

  thing?"

  "I'll come with you," I said and got up. We

  walked to the elevator. When the door opened, he

  took my hand and we stepped in and he pressed the

  button.

  "I really thought he was a goner," Cary

  muttered. "I watched them struggling, but that doctor

  hung in there and suddenly, the monitor began

  clicking away again. Everyone cheered. They waited

  and his pulse built up. It's a miracle," he added. "Don't

  you think?"

  "Yes, Cary."

  He nodded, so filled with joy he was beside

  himself. Then, he remembered I had been in there. As

  the door of the elevator opened, he turned to me. "What did he want?"

  "I think it was something he wanted only me to

  know right now, Cary. I don't feel right talking about

  it. I hope you understand."

  "Oh. Sure," he said, although his eyes betrayed

  his hurt. It wasn't a time for a father to keep secrets

  from his son. "I understand. It must have been pretty

  important to him, though. He was willing to chance

  dying to do it, huh?"

  I nodded and we went to the vending machine.

  We brought Aunt Sara her tea and May her soda and

  then Cary went to check on Uncle Jacob one final

  time. He returned to say Aunt Sara could go in with

  him now and Aunt Sara decided they should take May

  so she would see Uncle Jacob was still alive. I waited for them in the lounge, thinking about

  the things Uncle Jacob had said. He sensed death at

  his door and felt he had to confess to me. I realized

  how much blame he had carried in his heart all these

  years, but I doubted if he was the main cause of any

  sins Mommy had committed afterward.

  "He'
s stabilized," Cary told me after they

  emerged from CCU. "Let's go home and get some

  sleep. We're all exhausted."

  I couldn't argue with that. May actually fell

  asleep in my arms on the way home and Aunt Sara

  looked as if she would topple herself any moment.

  Cary helped her out of the car and into the house. She

  wanted to go to the kitchen to do some final cleanup,

  but he insisted she go right upstairs and get to bed. "Dad's going to need you stronger than ever,

  Ma. You can't run yourself down now," he said with

  authority. She nodded.

  "Yes, yes, you're right, Cary. Thank God we

  have you. You're my strength now," she said and

  squeezed his arm. He kissed her and watched her go

  upstairs, taking May along with her. Then he turned to

  me.

  "What a day, huh?"

  I smiled.

  "I can think of better ways to spend our time, if

  that's what you mean," I said. He laughed. It was good

  to see his face brighten. "But I confess I am tired,

  too."

  "I'll make sure everything's off and put away,"

  he said. "Then I'll stop by to say good night." He

  leaned over to kiss me on the cheek and walked off. I hurried upstairs, washed, and dressed for bed,

  putting on a light blue cotton nightgown. If there was

  ever a time to practice Holly's meditation, it was now,

  I thought, and sat in the lotus position on the bed and

  concentrated. I was so deeply involved, I didn't even

  hear Cary come up to my door. I felt his hand on my

  shoulder and opened my eyes.

  "Did it work?" he asked. "Your meditating?"

  "Yes. I felt the tension drain from my body, just as

  Holly said."

  "I guess I'll have to learn how to do it then," he

  said. I unfolded my legs and sat back against the

  pillows. "Mind if I stay here with you for a while?" he

  asked.

  "Of course not."

  He took off his shoes and sprawled out beside

  me on the bed, putting his head on my lap. I stroked

  his hair and he closed his eyes.

  "When Laura and I were very little and one of

  us got scared, we would lie together like this for a

  while. I think we did it until we were about fourteen

  or fifteen," he admitted. "It's nice having a safe haven

  in a storm, whether the storm's in your heart or out

  there."

  "You were lucky to have each other," I said. He opened his eyes and looked up at me,

  thinking. "It must have been difficult for you, growing

  up alone, away from family."

  I smiled.

  "I had Papa George and Mama Arlene, as well

  as Daddy. Sometimes, Mommy was there for me,

  too."

  He nodded, still thoughtful. Then he smiled. "Sing me one of those fiddle songs, a soft one,"

  he asked. I laughed and then I began, singing one Papa George had taught me. It was really the prayer of a miner's wife, praying her husband would always be safe in the bowels of the earth, and it ended on a happy note because he always came up, smiling

  through the coal dust.

  Singing it reminded me of Daddy and I couldn't

  help the tears That burned under my eyelids. But Cary

  didn't notice the crack in my voice. When I looked

  down at him, I saw he was fast asleep, his chest rising

  and falling gently. I didn't have the heart to wake him,

  so I crawled under the blanket and fixed the pillow

  under his head, too. Then I reached over and turned

  off the light.

  Darkness fell like a heavy blanket. The moon

  peeked out from between two passing clouds and sent

  a ray of white light through the window, washing over

  us both. Then the clouds closed and shut out the

  illumination. I closed my eyes and in minutes, I was

  as deeply asleep as Cary.

  Hours later, I awoke with a start. For a moment

  I forgot what had happened. It all came rushing back

  and I sat up, realizing Cary was no longer beside me.

  He was at the window, gazing out.

  "Cary?"

  "Oh," he said turning. "I should have just gone

  to my room. I didn't mean to wake you."

  "You didn't. Are you all right?"

  "Yeah. I just woke up and felt a little nervous. I

  like looking out at the ocean whenever I'm nervous or

  afraid. I guess that's where I find my meditation.

  Laura's room always had a better view of the coast

  than mine. I would either come here or go up to the

  attic. leave and let you sleep," he said, turning from

  the window and starting toward the door.

  "No, don't leave," I said. He paused.

  "I can't stay here all night. Ma wouldn't understand," he said.

  "Just stay a little while longer."

  "I'll fall asleep again," he threatened.

  "I won't let you do that," I said. Something in

  my voice brought a smile to his face that was so

  bright, I could see it even in the darkness. He returned

  to my bed and sprawled out beside me. Then he

  leaned forward and kissed me gently on the lips. We

  embraced and kissed again. His hands moved over my

  shoulders and down my arms. He brought my fingers

  to his lips and then he put his head against my bosom

  and moaned. I closed my eyes and drank in the warm

  feeling that comforted me as much as it must have

  comforted him.

  "I feel guilty thinking about you, wanting you

  at a time like this," he whispered.

  "You mustn't feel that way. If we care for each

  other, we can't be ashamed of needing each other," I

  told him, though I was worried that Aunt Sara or May

  might hear us.

  "Oh Melody," he said. "I do care for you, love

  you, need you more than I will ever need and love

  anyone."

  "Then throw your guilt overboard," I said and

  he laughed. He rose, pulled of his shirt, unbuttoned

  his trousers, and crawled under the cover beside me.

  We kissed, held each other tightly, and then his hands

  went under my nightgown until they found my

  breasts. Our lovemaking was different, more like a

  dream. We weren't driven by sexual appetite as much

  as we were by the need to reassure each other. We

  moved gently, slowly, and when it was over, he

  slipped away so quietly and smoothly, I wondered if it

  had actually happened. But his place beside me in my

  bed was still warm from his body. I ran my hand over

  it and moaned softly to my pillow.

  Then I closed my eyes and didn't open them

  again until the first light of morning kissed my face. I was almost afraid to rise, yet I couldn't escape the vivid memory of Uncle Jacob's heart stopping right before my eyes. As I showered and dressed I tried to think of something else, anything else, but still the memory returned. With trembling legs, I started down the stairs. Apparently, everyone else had risen before me. Aunt Sara was already in the kitchen

  making pancakes and Cary and May were at the table. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" I asked. "Oh you wouldn't be sleeping if you didn't need

  it," Aunt Sara said. I looked at Cary. His face had the

  shine of polished stone, his eyes luminous with joy. "I called the hospital. Dad spent a good n
ight

  and the doctor was already there."

  "That's wonderful, Cary."

  "He told the nurse to tell me not to bother

  coming to the hospital and waste my time standing

  around. He'd rather I take the boat out and check our

  traps," he said laughing. "I'll do both. Grandma Olivia

  and Grandpa Samuel are coming by to take Mama

  over to the hospital. May's going to go to school." I nodded. Cary apparently had things organized.

  "You can go to work as well," he said.

  "Oh, I should stay and help Aunt Sara." "Nonsense, dear. I'm fine," she said. "Cary's

  right."

  "Cary is becoming a bit bossy, isn't he?" I

  asked, fixing my eyes on him.

  "He's the man of the house until Jacob's back

  on his feet," Aunt Sara said. Cary beamed.

  "As long as he doesn't get too big for his

  britches," I remarked and then signed the idea to May,

  who thought it was very funny.

  "Now just a minute," Cary protested. "Let's

  have a little more respect for the captain of this ship." "We'll give the captain the respect he deserves,

  but if he's an ogre, there's always the chance of a

  mutiny," I countered, and Cary laughed.

  It was good to wake up to sunshine and hope

  and happiness again. I prayed it wouldn't be short

  lived.

  Kenneth had already heard about Uncle Jacob,

  as had most of the local residents in Provincetown.

  Like any small town, news traveled fast, but bad news

  traveled even faster. When Kenneth came to pick me

  up, I brought him up to date.

  "It doesn't surprise me, this heart attack,"

  Kenneth said. "The man was always brooding,

  grinding away at his insides, even as a teenager. You

  all right?" he inquired.

  "Yes."

  "Sara must be a mess."

  "She's doing okay," I said. "Cary's been a

  source of strength."

  "Really? Good for him. Are you going to be

  able to work?" he asked cautiously.

  "Yes. It's the best thing, the best way to deal

  with worry, work it under the sand."

  Kenneth laughed.

  "That sounds like some beachcomber's

  wisdom," he remarked and drove on.

  We did work hard that week and Kenneth made

  a great deal of progress, deciding by week's end that

  he was ready to begin the actual sculpture. Holly did

  some painting of her own while we worked. By her

  own description, her work was ethereal, spiritual,

  abstract, full of bright colors and ghostly shapes. In