"We feel asleep," I whispered.
"No calls, at least."
Moments later, we saw the limousine pull up. I thanked her and rushed out, promising to call her in the morning.
Grandma Olivia's dinner party was still going when I arrived. Her guests were in the parlor talking. I was afraid of what I looked like since I hadn't had time to check my hair or straighten my clothes, but I knew if I didn't stop to say hello, she would be furious. I paused in the doorway.
"Good evening, Grandma," I said.
"Well, did you study hard?"
"Yes, Grandma."
"Good. My granddaughter is the prime valedictorian candidate this year."
Everyone nodded with appreciation.
"Melody, you have already met Congressman Dunlap and his wife."
"Yes, how do you do, Congressman, Mrs. Dunlap," I said, stepping forward. They nodded, smiled and Grandma Olivia looked pleased.
"This is Mr. and Mrs. Steiner and Mr. and Mrs. Becker," she added. I smiled and greeted the other couples. Then I quickly excused myself and hurried up the stairs.
I washed and got into bed, my fatigue now settling into my body firmly. Despite that, I felt wonderful. When I closed my eyes, I saw Cary's loving face before me and imagined his lips on mine again and again. Across the dunes he was most likely in his attic hideaway, thinking about me, gazing out at the same ocean I saw through my window, the water dazzling under the starlight, each whitecap looking like a string of pearls cast back at the shore.
Below me, the voices grew softer until they drifted out of my hearing and I was left with nothing but my own thoughts, whispering promises, counting dreams that took me softly into sleep.
Over the next month, Cary and I were able to meet secretly twice more, each time as wonderful as the time before. His progress with Kenneth's boat continued and it soon began to take shape. Kenneth brought some friends out to see Cary's work and one of them seriously considered hiring him to do a custom sailboat for him as well.
One early spring afternoon after I picked up May and we both peddled out to Kenneth's, I heard a small bark and saw the most beautiful golden retriever puppy poke its head out of the front door of the beach house. May and I ran to pick him up.
"I'm calling him Prometheus," Kenneth announced. "I figure I'll stay with mythological names."
"He's beautiful, Kenneth."
"I thought you'd like him."
May held him and he licked her face, making her laugh.
"She's growing up, too," Kenneth said. "Starting to look like a young lady."
"I know."
"She'll need you around more," Kenneth warned. "Big sister stuff."
"She already has," I said. His eyes widened.
"Oh? Well, urn, that's great that she has you to confide in. I have a second surprise for you," he declared, obviously eager to change the subject. "I'm putting Neptune on display . . . finally. We're going to have a showing at the gallery and a pretty big party afterward."
"Where?"
"I suppose this is the third surprise," he said. My heart began to thump. "Your grandfather's house."
"Judge Child's house? Really? Kenneth that's wonderful!"
"He volunteered our home when he heard about the opening at the gallery and I decided, why not? He couldn't even begin to pay me what he owes me. If I don't take what I can, my brother and sister will anyway," he said.
I didn't like his cynicism and he saw it in my face. "I don't have to love him to let him do things for me, do I?"
"Yes, you do, Kenneth. You have to love him. He's your father, no matter what," I lectured.
"My father . . . died a long time ago in the aftermath of a confession. This stranger with the same name and resemblance is just some old, rich man," he insisted. "Anyway, I'm not doing it for myself. I'm doing it for Neptune's Daughter. I think that has a certain sense of irony, don't you? Sure you do," he said before I could reply. "You're one of the brightest young women I've known, Melody. You understand much more than you pretend to understand."
"But Kenneth--"
"Let it be, Melody," he said. "Just let it be."
He smiled at May cuddling Prometheus. Then he looked toward the boat and Cary.
"We'll all take a maiden voyage in a month and celebrate the birth of something very beautiful. Right?" he asked me.
"Sure, Kenneth," I said. "Maybe you should invite Holly to the opening," I suggested. I wanted him to have someone at his side.
"I already did," he said.
"And she's coming? That's wonderful. I can't wait to see her again."
"I'm not saying she's coming. She still has to check her chart first and be sure it's safe," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
We watched May rush out to show Prometheus to Cary and then Kenneth looked at me in the strangest way. I tilted my head because of the way he was staring and the way a fleeting shaft of sorrow crossed his face.
"What's wrong, Kenneth?"
"Just for a second, with that soft smile on your face, your eyes caught in the sunlight, you reminded me of Haille when she was not much older than you. It was as if . . . as if time had gone backwards, as if nothing terrible had happened yet.
"Hold on to these moments, Melody. Hold on to them desperately for as long as you can.
"Too soon," he said, his eyes darkening, "too soon the winds of jealousy come barreling down and sweep it all out to sea.
"I hope," he concluded gazing at Cary and May, "fate isn't teasing you as she did me."
He turned and went back inside, leaving me shivering with anxiety. Kenneth had made it an awesomely fearsome thing to even think beyond tomorrow. I was filled with so many emotions, I thought I would simply explode and fly off in that wind he warned me might come.
Like a reader terrified of turning the page, I stepped away from the house and walked toward Cary to tell him the news.
I5
The Unveiling
.
As the date of Kenneth's opening for Neptune's
Daughter drew closer, the excitement in Provincetown built. National art magazines sent writers and photographers. Reporters from newspapers in New York City, Boston and even as far away as
Washington, D.C., and Chicago arrived to do interviews and get pictures. An invitation to the gala affair following the display at the Mariner's Gallery was highly prized. Kenneth told me that since I was now an expert in etiquette and formalities, I would have to help him with the design and wording for the invitations. The gallery owner provided us with a select list of people to invite, claiming these were the people who had invested in art or who carried influence in the community.
Two days before the opening and party, Kenneth called and asked me to accompany him to the judge's house, where we would meet with the caterers.
"I'm not good at these things," he claimed. "I need the feminine viewpoint."
I knew he was just nervous about going to his father's home. From what I understood, he hadn't been there for years. The Judge was nervous about it, too. That was something Grandma Olivia revealed.
"This has the makings of a wonderful event," she told me, "but we have to be sure there will be no unpleasantness and certainly nothing that would feed the insatiable appetites of the gossipmongers. I know you've spent an inordinate amount of time at Kenneth's house and although I haven't seen it yet, I know and everyone else will know that you were the model for the work.
"I'm depending on you to play a role in mitigating any difficult feelings. In other words," she said with a sharp smirk, "make sure Kenneth behaves himself. See if you can get him to dress properly and do something with that moss on his face he calls a beard and that mop he calls his hair."
"Artists aren't exactly businesspeople, Grandma Olivia. The public understands Kenneth."
"Not this public," she assured me. "Actually," she revealed in a rather rare soft moment, "I'm more worried about the Judge. He hasn't slept a night since he volunteered to host the gala celeb
ration. I told him it was a foolish gesture, but he insisted."
"Everything will work out just fine," I said.
She nodded, studying me.
"You have grown and matured quite a bit since you've been living here. I will tell you that I have heard only good things about you from the school officials, and people admire the way you look after my handicapped granddaughter. I feel validated for my faith in you and your potential. Don't do anything to diminish that faith," she added in her usual threatening tone.
"Thank you, I think," I replied and she almost smiled.
"You have been to visit my sister and have seen Samuel this week?" she asked.
"Yes." I wondered if she also knew Cary had driven me there. If she did, she didn't mention it. "They're both about the same. No improvement. Grandpa Samuel simply sits and stares most of the time, barely acknowledging I'm there."
"There won't be any improvement," she predicted. "That's not a place to go for improvement. It's where you go to wait. God's waiting room," she muttered. "I imagine you'll have me put there someday, too. If I need to be, don't hesitate," she advised. "Hopefully, that won't be for a while, but when my time comes, it comes," she concluded.
For the gala Grandma Olivia suggested I wear the dress Dorothy Livingston had bought me in Beverly Hills. All these months she never mentioned the two expensive outfits hanging in my closet, but I knew she was aware of them.
"There's no point in letting something like that go to waste. If someone was foolish enough to spend that sort of money, well ... take advantage of it. I'd like to see you in it first, of course," she added.
I nodded and ran upstairs to put it on. She scrutinized me for a few moments and nodded.
"Suitable," she declared, "for such an occasion. You are someone with position in this community now. You should look the part. There will be a number of young men from quality families attending, too. I hope you make acquaintances with some of these people. Of course, I'll see to it that you are introduced properly. What are you going to do with your hair?"
"My hair?"
"I can have my beautician come over and do something special for you, if you'd like."
"No, I think I'll just wear it down. Maybe just trim my bangs. I can do that myself."
"If you insist," she said. "I have a ruby and sapphire necklace that would go with that dress," she added. "It was my mother's."
"Really? Thank you," I said, truly honored that she would entrust me with such a gift, even for just one night.
I told Kenneth about Grandma Olivia's new and improved persona when he picked me up to go to Judge Childs's. I thought he would laugh and make his quips about the Queen Lady or something, but he was very distracted by his own thoughts and anxiety. I talked mostly to keep from riding in dead silence.
When we turned up the road that led to the Judge's house, Kenneth almost turned the car around.
"This is a mistake," he muttered. "I shouldn't have agreed to it. All we needed was a reception at the gallery."
"Please, Kenneth. You know everyone is looking forward to a big party. We'll make sure it's fun."
"Fun," he said as if that were a dirty word.
The Judge's house came into view. I
remembered the first time I had been here, how much more impressed with it I was than with Grandma Olivia's home. The Judge's three-story Adam Colonial had been restored in a Wedgwood blue cladding and had a semicircular entry porch. What made it even more unique was its large octagonal cupola. There was an elaborately decorated frieze above all the front windows.
The driveway brought us to a circle where there was a whirl of activity. An army of groundspeople were everywhere pruning and trimming, cleaning fountains and walkways, washing windows, planting new flowers in the rock gardens. When we entered the circular drive, I could see the huge party tent, in front of which the caterers were discussing their setup with Judge Childs. Beside him was his butler, Morton. Everyone turned to look our way.
Kenneth just sat in the jeep staring at the front entrance of the house.
"It must have been very nice growing up here, Kenneth."
"Yes, it was," he said and stepped out of the jeep.
Morton approached as quickly as he could to greet us.
"Why hello there, Mr. Kenneth. It's good to see you, good to see you," he said reaching for Kenneth's hand before Kenneth lifted it. He shook it vigorously and gazed at me. His face was bright with happiness. "And you too, Miss Melody. You're looking fine. Isn't this going to be a celebration. The Judge was up an hour earlier than usual this morning. Neither of us could sleep just thinking about all the festivities. It's good you're here, Mr. Kenneth. Oh, it's a fine, beautiful day, isn't it?"
He stood there, hoping for some softening in Kenneth's face, some sign that the war between father and son had ended.
"Hello Morton. It's good to see you, too," Kenneth said finally offering him a smile. "You know, Morton here was just as responsible for my
upbringing as my mother and father," Kenneth said.
"Oh go on with you, Mr. Kenneth. I didn't do much."
"No, just carted us kids around everywhere, watched over us, played with us. You taught me how to swing a baseball bat, didn't you, Morton? Morton could have been a pro," he told me.
"Oh no, Miss Melody. That's not true. I wasn't that good."
"He was great."
"He's awful excited, the Judge," Morton said slapping his hands together. "You want me to get you two something? Maybe a lemonade or coffee or--"
"No, nothing, Morton. I want to make this quick," Kenneth said. Morton nodded.
"Well, I'll be around if you need something."
"You always were," Kenneth said. "It's good to see you, Morton," Kenneth added, warming slightly. Morton's eyes watered.
"And good to see you. He talks about you all the time, Mr. Kenneth. There isn't a day that goes by."
"Okay," Kenneth said, turning to me. "Let's do this." 1 followed and we crossed the lawn toward the caterers and Judge Childs.
"Hello," the Judge said, his eyes on Kenneth. Kenneth barely acknowledged him with a small nod.
"I haven't got much time for this," he said quickly. "Oh. Well, let's get right to it, then. James will tell us the menu and how he wants to set up the serving tables. He suggests we have tables inside and outside the tent, but all the food inside. Is that right, James?"
The short, neatly groomed man smiled.
"Yes, Judge Childs. I think that would work. I will have three tables for the entrees: lobster, shrimp, prime roast and duckling, flounder and bass. We will have two long tables for the salads and vegetables and of course, three Viennese desert tables. I suggest we keep the bar outside the tent. It always makes it less complicated when the liquid refreshment is away from the food," he added. "We will, however, have staff bringing glasses of champagne to everyone."
"How's that menu sound?" the Judge asked. Kenneth was staring at the dock, a distracted expression on his face.
"Fine with me," he muttered.
"Now to the decorations," James resumed. "I thought a bouquet of our emperor tulips, jonquils and some daffodils on every table. I would like to suggest a doorway of roses as an entrance to the tent and--"
"This isn't a wedding," Kenneth snapped. He glanced at me for confirmation.
"I think just some flowers on the tables is enough," said. James nodded with disappointment.
"I didn't know what to do about music," the Judge said. "James here suggested a trio. I thought we could set up a small stage for them over there," he pointed just to the right of the tent. "I'll get one of those portable dance floors and--"
"We don't need people dancing," Kenneth said.
"No? Okay. We'll just have some music. I just thought . . . but if you think that's a bit much."
"The whole thing's a bit much," Kenneth said and walked toward the dock.
Everyone watched him in silence.
"He's just a little nervous about the showing,"
I explained.
"Of course," the Judge said. "Well then, James can show us the colors he chose for the tablecloths and napkins."
"They're right in here," he said, gesturing just inside the tent. I followed and looked over his suggestions for interior decorations with crepe paper, balloons and tinsel. I thought it was all spectacular. The Judge was pleased.
"I'll have valet parking, of course. Let's just hope for good weather. Well now, what's left to do?" he questioned, his eyes gazing after Kenneth.
The caterer rattled off a half dozen things, but the Judge had lost interest.
"It might not be a bad idea for you two to talk before all this," I suggested softly. He glanced at me and nodded.
"Yes, I suppose you are right."
He looked tired, old and unsure of himself. Kenneth stood on the dock looking out at the ocean.
"Let me speak with him first," I said. The Judge looked relieved. I hurried over the lawn and joined Kenneth.
"This is stupid," he said. "Half of these people attending think Art's short for Arthur."
I laughed.
"It'll be nice, Kenneth. Let him make a big deal over you. He wants to do it out of pride."
"Out of guilt," he corrected.
"Yes, maybe guilt, too, but at least he cares, feels remorse. My mother shakes off guilt the way you would shake off a fly."
He turned his eyes to me and smiled.
"You feel sorry for him, don't you?"
"Yes," I said.
He shook his head.
"Don't you understand Haille is the way she is because of what he did?"
"No. Look at what she did to me," I replied. "You don't see me turning into my mother."
His smile softened and widened.
"Talk to him, Kenneth. Just make a little peace between you. It will be good for you as well as him." He grimaced skeptically.
"You said Neptune's Daughter was your greatest work, the work you're most proud of. Let it be a happy time then, from beginning to end."
"Melody, Melody, what am I going to do with you? Despite everything, you keep pushing the gray skies away, searching for that rainbow."
"Help me find it, Kenneth," I replied, my eyes meeting his gaze firmly. He nodded, sighed, gazing at the water and then turned back toward the house. "Come on," he said.
Logan 03 Unfinished Symphony Page 26
