Heartsong

by V. C. Andrews

I'm sorry."

  I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the tears

  drip off my chin. Kenneth rose and handed me a

  handkerchief. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes, and

  took a deep breath. He smiled and nodded at me. "You know this makes me your uncle, don't

  you?" "Yes."

  "Do you mind?"

  "No," I said but I meant yes. I minded because

  for a while I had dreamed of him as a lover, too. Now,

  that looked even more ridiculous. I felt so ashamed, so

  lost. Will-o-wisp dreams never came true for me and

  never would. There were too many clouds in the skies

  over my family's past.

  "Well, we'll have to give all this some serious

  thought now," he added and turned back to the

  sculpture.

  "Serious thought? What can we do about any of

  it?" I wondered aloud.

  "Depends," he said, picking up his chisel. "On what?" I said, following him.

  "On whether Dad is really ready to reveal the

  sins of the past, and on how Olivia and Samuel react.

  You're related to Olivia through Belinda, of course,

  but you're not a Logan." He smiled. "So," he said,

  bringing the hammer and the chisel to the block, "you

  might move in here with me, if you want." He turned.

  "Being as I'm a close relative now."

  My jaw dropped and I gaped at him.

  "Move in with you?"

  "And not have to put up with that horse's ass,"

  he added.

  "You would want me to live with you?" "Look at it from my point of view. I get a great

  cook and housekeeper for free," he joked. He started

  to tap the chisel and then stopped. "Of course, that

  means I would have to do something legal like file to

  be your guardian or something. I suppose that means I would have to attend a parent-teacher's conference, too, doesn't it? And sign your excuses for absence,

  parental permission slips, all that stuff?"

  He looked at me but I just stared. Live with

  Kenneth?

  "Do I have to go shopping with you and see to

  your dental appointments?"

  "Are you serious?"

  His eyes darkened a little as his face lost its

  touch of lightness and humor.

  "One way or another I knew Haille would come

  back into my life," he said.

  He turned and tapped the hammer harder. Chips

  began to fall. The echo resounded.

  One way or another?

  I hadn't found my father, but perhaps I had

  found the next best thing.

  15

  The Damage Is Done

  .

  Kenneth and I spent the rest of the day so

  involved in our work, we lost track of time. Now I appreciated why Kenneth devoted his life to his art. It was truly an escape from the heavy burdens and the turmoil that often rained down around us. Working together, he and I developed a rhythm that overtook and absorbed us. We were aware of each other, but never spoke and rarely even looked at each other. It was almost a religious experience as Kenneth's hands began to mold shapes and bring his vision out of the block of marble.

  So lost in the artistic effort, we were both surprised to hear Holly's knock on the door, followed by her plaintive cries beseeching us to come up for air.

  "I ate lunch myself. I meditated, did two personal charts, walked Ulysses until he begged for mercy. Don't you people get tired?" she exclaimed.

  Kenneth and I looked at each other. "What time is it?" he asked.

  "Five-twenty," she replied.

  "Oh no," I said. "I promised I'd be home early to. help take care of Uncle Jacob."

  "Five-twenty?" Kenneth repeated. He looked at me, astounded. "Did we eat lunch?"

  I shook my head, amazed my stomach hadn't reminded me or complained.

  "Fanatics," Holly accused.

  I looked at myself, full of dust, my hair almost gray, my face streaked. Kenneth, too, resembled a ghost, the chips and dust turning his beard practically white.

  "Someone has to take me home right away," I wailed.

  "I will, if only to have some human company for a while," Holly said, glaring at Kenneth, who shrugged off her look of reprimand with that boyish smile that could charm the heart of the most wicked witch.

  I brushed myself off as quickly and as best I could and then hurried out to Holly's car.

  "The man's dangerous, a bad influence," she said when we started away. "Hang around him long enough, and you'll start to look like him. You might even grow a beard!" she growled. "Do you realize how long you two were shut up in there?"

  "Funny," I said. "I don't feel tired. I should, doing that so long, but it's . . ."

  "Invigorating?" she suggested.

  "Yes."

  "Well, I suppose for Kenneth, and maybe now for you, it's so deep an involvement it's like meditating, moving to a higher plane of

  consciousness, leaving this burdensome world of woe," she said and smiled. "You do look a lot happier than you did this morning."

  She gazed at me again, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  "You're wearing a very coy smile, Melody Logan. Something is afoot."

  "Maybe," I said and laughed. "Maybe."

  "Whatever it is, I'm happy for you." We rode a little longer in silence and then she turned back to me with a face of concern. "When am I going to know, or is it something so secret I may never know?"

  "You'll know soon," I said.

  She nodded.

  "I saw it in your chart, but I didn't say anything." "What?"

  "A big change, something very dramatic involving family."

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "Am I warm?" she wondered.

  "Overheated," I said and we both laughed. I hadn't felt this cheerful for a long time. A ray of sunshine had sliced its way through the dark, brooding clouds. But my light and happy mood vanished as soon as we arrived at the house. There was something about the way it looked that put a hard and heavy feeling in my chest. Maybe it was all in me, in my trepidation and anticipation, or maybe some of Holly's powers had rubbed off and I could sense negative energy even before it reared its ugly head.

  "You all right?" she asked when we pulled into the driveway. I hadn't realized I had sighed so deeply and loudly.

  "Yes, be fine. Thanks for the ride."

  "It's okay." She thought a moment and then said, "If Kenny goes back into the studio again tonight after dinner and stays there all night, I think I'll start planning my return to New York.

  "Oh, really?" I was genuinely disappointed.

  "This is just not the right time for me to visit, but I'll be back," she promised with a smile.

  "When will you go?"

  "I'll see. Not tomorrow anyway," she added. "There is still some battery recharging I want to do for myself here. Bye."

  "Bye and thanks," I said and got out.

  I found the house ominously quiet when I entered. I closed the door softly and practically tiptoed. There were no lights on in the living room and no sounds coming from the kitchen. No one appeared to greet me. As I walked from room to room I wondered if there was anyone home.

  Oh no, I thought. I hope Cary didn't break down in his boat again. Maybe Uncle Jacob had had a relapse.

  Just as I turned to go upstairs, I heard someone sobbing. I went down the hallway to the dining room and peered through the door. There sat Aunt Sara, her head down on her folded arms, her shoulders shaking.

  "Aunt Sara," I cried and rushed to her side. "What's wrong? Did something happen to Cary? Uncle Jacob?"

  She lifted her head slowly and then smiled through her tears.

  "Oh Melody, dear. You're home. Good."

  "Why are you crying?"

  "Oh, it's nothing," she said quickly and
dabbed the tears away with the hem of her apron. "I'm just a little tired, I guess."

  "I'm sorry I didn't get home earlier, but I just didn't realize the time."

  "That's all right, dear." She smiled weakly and took a deep breath. It was as if she carried a lead weight on a chain around her neck.

  "Where is everyone? Where are Cary, and May?"

  "May's upstairs in her room. Cary just left for the supermarket. I made a meat loaf, but I forgot to tell you kids to pick up the beer he likes. He likes it with my meat loaf."

  "He had to have it tonight?"

  She stared at me.

  "That's why you're crying, isn't it? He was upset so you got upset? And Cary had to run out as soon as he got back from work, right?" I asked, the whole scenario flashing before my eyes.

  "It's nothing. I should have remembered." She sighed. "I usually do."

  "I bet he's not even supposed to be drinking it," I exclaimed. "And after all you've been doing for him, for him to make a scene and--"

  "It's all right, dear. Cary will be back soon. I have the meat loaf on low and--"

  "That's not the point, Aunt Sara. If he drives you until you get sick, too, where will everyone be?"

  "I'll be fine," she insisted. "I wanted to have an earlier dinner tonight, though. Olivia and Samuel were here today. We had a nice lunch and their visit cheered Jacob, but before they left, Olivia told me to tell you she would be sending Raymond for you about seven."

  "What?"

  "She said she wanted to see you and--"

  "Well, maybe I don't want to see her," I snapped. Aunt Sara's face filled with shock. She shook her head as if to deny the words.

  "Not want to see her?"

  "Who is she, the queen? Demanding this and that? I'm tired and I was looking forward to relaxing tonight. I have a lot to think about," I added, but Aunt Sara heard nothing. Her huge scared eyes stared woefully back at me. "Oh, just forget it, Aunt Sara. Forget I said anything. I'm going up to wash off this marble dust and then I'll come down and help you with supper or anything else you need."

  I turned and left her, a sailboat drifting in a windless sea. She was kind and loving, willing always to sacrifice her own happiness and comfort for someone else, especially for Uncle Jacob. Yet she was the saddest and most tragic person I knew right now. I wished I'd had Holly there. I'd ask her what went wrong with Aunt Sara's stars? Where were the sun and the moon when Aunt Sara was born?

  May was waiting for me in my room. She was sitting on the floor, her knees up, drawing on her pad, her back against the frame of the bed. She saw my feet and looked up quickly.

  I asked her why she was waiting in my room and she quickly signed back that she was upset for Cary. He had come home exhausted, his head drooping, his shirt off and over his shoulder, looking forward to a shower and a good meal, but Aunt Sara greeted him at the door and told him what Uncle Jacob demanded. May said Cary didn't even set foot in the house. He turned and hopped into his truck. May claimed she had gone out after him, trying to get him to wait. She wanted to go along, but he shot off angrily and drove so fast, he nearly turned over making the turn! she exclaimed through her hands and eyes. May told me she had come into my room afterward because she was actually frightened by all this. She had been hoping I would soon come home and comfort her.

  It filled me with rage, but rage that wasn't aimed at Uncle Jacob as much as it was at the whole situation. How could I go down there later and tell Aunt Sara that I was going to move in with Kenneth Childs? How could I desert her and May and Cary at this point?, Aunt Sara still thought I had been sent to fill the gap made in her heart by Laura's death. Cary and May needed me more than ever. I felt frustrated, turned and twisted. Aunt Sara wasn't the sailboat in a windless sea, I was. I was the one who had little or no control of her destiny. Capricious fate blew at my sails or left me in a state of dreary calm whenever it had a whim to do so.

  I assured May that everything would be all right. I promised her I would help Aunt Sara and we would make Uncle Jacob comfortable and happy again. Then I went into the bathroom and took a quick shower, feeling as if I had swallowed a lump of bread dough and it was stuck in my chest. As I was toweling my hair dry, I heard shouting in the hallway and hurried to my door.

  What was going on now?

  Cary was standing outside his father's bedroom, his head lowered until his chin rested on his chest, listening to Uncle Jacob rant and rave.

  "We never had a catch that bad! What the hell was Roy doing? I bet he's been slacking off without me looking over his shoulder, is that it? The man works for you. You can't treat him like a friend. You treat him like an employee or else he'll take

  advantage."

  "It wasn't his fault, Dad, or mine. We did everything we always do."

  "Two lobsters! Two lobsters! And each barely a pound and a quarter?"

  "I told you we have to get out of the lobster business, Dad," Cary said softly.

  "Never mind that nonsense. I see I've got to get myself up and out of this bed faster. Tell your mother I'm ready to eat," he snapped.

  Cary nodded and turned. He saw me wrapped in a bath towel standing in the doorway. His eyes brightened for a moment and then became dull again when he realized I had been there while Uncle Jacob verbally whipped him.

  "Hi," I said.

  "Hi. I thought you'd be home before me," he added as he walked with me down the hallway.

  "We got so lost in the work, we didn't realize the time until Holly came knocking on the studio door." Cary smirked at my excuse.

  "I have to go down and tell Ma to bring up his food."

  "He's becoming a real monster," I declared, glaring furiously at Uncle Jacob's doorway.

  "He's just frustrated," Cary muttered and started for the stairs.

  "Your mother was crying when I got home, Cary." He paused and looked at me.

  "She's near the breaking point herself," I warned strongly.

  "I'm doing the best I can!" he cried, tears filling his eyes.

  "I didn't mean--I'm not blaming you, Cary."

  He spun around and stomped so hard down the stairs, I thought he would crack a step. The last thing I had intended was to upset him. The look on his face turned my heart to glass which was quickly shattered by my boiling blood.

  It's Uncle Jacob's fault, I fumed. Damn him. Without hesitation, I marched across the hallway to his bedroom door. He was sitting back against his pillow, anticipating his tray of food, looking like some spoiled member of royalty who thought everyone else existed merely to please him.

  "Uncle Jacob," I said, addressing him as sternly as a schoolteacher.

  He opened his eyes slowly, but when he saw me, they widened quickly and drank me in from head to foot. For an instant I thought he looked pleased, but it was as if the realization of that heightened his anger.

  "How dare you come here dressed like that?"

  "Forget about how I am dressed. I don't care. You're being unreasonable, throwing tantrums like a baby when everyone is doing their best to make you comfortable and help you get well. But if you don't stop shouting and demanding, you'll make Aunt Sara sick, too!"

  His mouth opened and closed without a word. Then he waved his fist at me.

  "Get out! Get out of my sight you daughter of temptation."

  The veins in his neck strained and he fell back against his pillow, his face red.

  "I'm just telling you this for your own good as well as everyone else's," I concluded.

  He slammed his eyelids shut as if he had to wipe out the sight of me. It's futile, I thought. The man's too selfish. I returned to my room and got dressed. Just as I finished, I heard Cary coming up the stairs. He was carrying the tray of food and Aunt Sara was trailing behind, her every footstep a monumental effort now. Cary and I exchanged glances as he continued down the hallway, but Aunt Sara paused.

  "Everything's ready downstairs, dear. May's at the table. Just serve the dinner. I have to stay with Jacob and help him eat his meal." />
  "When will you eat, Aunt Sara?"

  "I've already had more than I need. Please, just be sure May eats."

  "Okay, Aunt Sara. Don't worry. I'll take care of her."

  "Don't forget," she said. "Raymond's coming for you at seven."

  Cary looked back, his eyebrows raised with curiosity.

  "I'm sure Grandma Olivia wouldn't permit me to forget," I muttered and went downstairs.

  "What does Grandma Olivia want?" Cary asked when he joined May and me at the dinner table.

  "I don't know. All I know is I'm being summoned to the palace. But she might be in for a surprise," I added and went to the kitchen to get the meat loaf. May had already set the table and brought out the bread and the jug of ice water.

  "What sort of surprise?" Cary asked when I sat at the table. He was in his father's seat again, the Bible opened and ready for his reading.

  Instead of answering, I stared down at my plate and kept my head lowered.

  "What surprise, Melody?" he asked.

  "The meat loaf's getting cold, Cary."

  Reluctantly, he picked up the Bible. I lifted my eyes toward May and saw her looking small and frightened. It amazed me how although she was deaf, she could still pick up on the tone of conversations. Years of silence had made her perceptive when it came to a turn of the head, a movement in the eyes, a twist of the lips. She could read people's moods better than most people who had no trouble hearing.

  "Luke, Chapter 6," Cary began. There was a bookmark stuck at the pages his father wanted read. Cary opened to them and then, in his father's voice, he read, "For a good tree bringeth not forth corrupt fruit; neither does a corrupt tree bring forth good fruit.

  "For every tree is known by his own fruit . "

  He read to the end of the chapter and then put the Bible down without another word. I began to serve the meat loaf, thinking that Uncle Jacob was always with us at this table as long as he chose the Bible selections to be read.

  "You have some new secret?" Cary asked after he took his first forkful. When I didn't reply, he added, "I kind of thought we weren't keeping secrets from each other."

  "It's not a secret, Cary." I glanced at May. She watched me with question marks in her eyes, too. I turned to Cary. "I already told you what Judge Childs told me."

  "So?"

  "So since Judge Childs is really my

  grandfather, Kenneth is my true uncle."