Logan 02 Heartsong

by V. C. Andrews

  "Yes," he said in a tired, defeated, voice, "only where is her home now? Where she is, I'm afraid," he replied to his own question.

  "Maybe someday I'll be able to make a home for her."

  "Maybe you will," he agreed.

  "First, I have to find my own home," I said. "I want to know who my real father is."

  "If I knew, I would tell you, but Haille never confided anything intimate to me. I just know it's not Kenneth, thank God. What a mess that would have been. Sins of the father," he muttered and shook his head.

  "For what it's worth to you," he added, as I started to turn away, "my home is always open to you."

  I thought about this and then just nodded without reply.

  I wish there was some way I could earn your forgiveness, Melody," he said.

  "It's not my forgiveness you need."

  Unable to look at me, he finished the whiskey in his glass.

  "I've got to go home," I said.

  "Of course.I'll fetch Morton."

  We walked out into the hallway.

  "Do you think," he began, "there will ever be a time when you can look at me as your grandfather?"

  "For as long as I've known you, you've pretended it wasn't true."

  "I know, and I regret it," he said.

  "So do I," I replied. "I suppose it comes down to who regrets it more."

  He smiled.

  "When it comes to regrets, I have the edge."

  I softened my eyes. He did look like a broken, remorseful old man and for the moment, I felt pity more than I felt anger. Anger was a sword, sharp and hot, but it also burned and cut the person who held it in their vengeful grasp.

  "What's Grandma Olivia going to do when she learns you've told me the truth?" I asked.

  He thought on this and then smiled.

  "Pretend I didn't," he said, which brought a smile to my face, too.

  Then he leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

  "I'm glad you came here today, Melody," he said. "Morton will be right with you."

  I stepped out and took a deep breath. My lungs felt full of hot air, enough to make me explode. From practically every point around this house, there was a good view of the ocean. The front steps were no different.

  I saw a sailboat bucking the waves, the ocean spray shooting up around it, its sails full of wind. It was too beautiful here to plant a garden of lies. Eventually, the ocean, like time itself, would wash them away and leave us with the naked truth on the beach.

  I wasn't as afraid of tomorrow as I had been yesterday. In fact, I looked forward to it.

  14

  Jealousy

  .

  From the way Morton spoke about Judge

  Childs when Morton drove me home, it was apparent to me that he loved him as he would love his own father. Apparently, my grandfather had helped Morton when he had gotten himself into trouble with the law. He was about twenty at the time. My grandfather offered him a job driving for him, helping around the house, being his all-around assistant, and Morton had remained with Judge Childs ever since. I wondered just how much Morton really knew about the family secrets. However, I could see he wasn't one to tell tales out of school, especially if it involved my grandfather. He'd rather cut out his own tongue than speak a word against him.

  I wondered about my grandfather, a man who could earn so much respect and such devoted loyalty from a complete stranger. I wanted to believe that meant he had some very fine qualities, but what the judge had done to Grandma Belinda was wrong, very wrong. He compounded the sin by cooperating with Grandma Olivia, who wanted her sister kept out of sight. He succumbed to Olivia's jealous rage and paid a high price to protect his own name and reputation. It cost him his peace of mind at a time in his life when he most needed it, and most important, it cost him his son's love. Despite his wealth, his big house full of valuable antiques, his beautiful property, his position in the community, he really was someone to be pitied. That much Morton did reveal.

  "You made the judge happy," he said with admiration. "I could see it in his face. He hasn't worn a smile like that for years. At least, not since his wife died."

  "Did you like her as much as you like Judge Childs?" I asked.

  "Oh surely yes. Mrs. Childs was a real lady.

  She never let down her hair in public, and she always

  treated everyone with the utmost respect, no matter

  what color he or she was, or what their family did for

  a living. She was a pretty woman, too, and she wrote

  poems. She published some in those small magazines,

  and once in a big magazine from New York City. I

  don't recall exactly which one, but I know it was an

  important magazine. Mr. Kenneth was right proud of

  her at the time."

  "I work for Kenneth, you know," I told him as

  we drove into town.

  "Oh, that's right. You're Mrs. Logan's

  granddaughter. The judge told me you were helping

  Kenneth around his house and such." He shook his

  head. "The next time you see him, you tell him he

  should come visit more. '

  "Do you know why he doesn't?" I asked softly. "That isn't my business. I just know a son

  should visit his father when his father is along in age.

  That's where you're living, right there?" he said,

  nodding at Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara's house. "Yes."

  I saw the car in the driveway beside the truck

  and knew Cary was home. Why wasn't he visiting

  Uncle Jacob at the hospital? I wondered.

  "Here we are," Morton said, pulling into the

  driveway. "You come visit again. I know the judge

  would like that," he said.

  "Thank you."

  I got out and hurried to the front door. As I

  entered, Aunt Sara was climbing the stairs with a tray

  in her hands. There was a bowl of clam chowder,

  crackers, and a piece of filleted bass with some

  vegetables on a plate. She swung her head around to

  see me come in and flashed a smile at me, her eyes

  full of sparkling light.

  "He's home!" she announced. "Jacob's home.

  He insisted they release him today instead of waiting

  until tomorrow. I'm just bringing him some home

  cooking. He said he didn't miss anything as much as

  my cooking. You can come up to see him in a little

  while," she added and continued up the stairs. "Where are Cary and May?" I called.

  "In the kitchen having a late lunch," she

  shouted back. "Go on in there if you're hungry." I walked down the hallway and paused in the

  kitchen doorway. Cary was signing to May as she ate

  her sandwich, explaining more to her about their

  father's illness. Her eyes widened and he turned to see

  me standing there.

  "Hi. How was your visit?"

  "There's a lot to tell," I said. "You brought your

  father home already, I see."

  "He threatened to get up and walk out anyway.

  The doctors had no choice. They weren't happy about

  it. We've got to keep him quiet, resting, taking his

  medicine. I hope he doesn't wear out my mother. She's

  been up and down those stairs a half dozen times for

  one thing or another already and she insists on doing

  everything herself."

  "I'll help her anyway," I said.

  "You'll be away working with Kenneth," he re

  minded me.

  "Well, I'll help her every chance I get, and so

  will May." I smiled and signed the same to her. She

  nodded eagerly and told me Aunt Sara had already

  agreed to let her stay home tomorrow to do just that.

  "See? It will be all right," I said.


  "Sure," Cary said without enthusiasm. "You

  hungry?"

  "Actually, now that I see you eating, I realize I

  am. I've been going ever since I left this morning." "Going where?" he asked.

  "From Grandma Belinda to Grandma Olivia

  and then to Judge Childs's home," I replied. His face

  brightened with curiosity.

  "Oh, so that's what you mean by having a lot to

  tell?"

  "I'll make myself a sandwich and tell you

  everything from start to finish," I promised and I did

  just that.

  Cary shook his head, amazed at the revelations

  when I completed a summary of my travels and

  experiences.

  "If Dad knew, he never let on to me," he said. "I

  guess this family does have its closets full of skeletons. Didn't the judge have an idea who your

  father might be?" Cary asked.

  "No," I said. "He just told me that it wasn't long

  after Kenneth and Haille found out about him that she

  got herself into trouble and she and my step-daddy left

  Provincetown."

  I gazed at May, who had been watching us with

  curiosity as I told Cary everything. Somehow she

  sensed she shouldn't interrupt, but my intensity and

  Cary's firm attention piqued her curiosity. I quickly

  told her I was describing my visit with Grandma

  Belinda and then, to get away from going into it any

  further, I suggested that we take a walk on the beach

  after I said hello to Uncle Jacob.

  "We'll all go for a walk," Cary decided. The three of us went upstairs. The bedroom

  door was open. Uncle Jacob was sitting up, his back

  against two large, fluffy pillows. He wore a nightshirt,

  and although he didn't look as small as he had in the

  hospital bed, he still looked pale and quite a bit

  thinner to me. Aunt Sara was sitting at his bedside

  trimming his fingernails. It looked as if she had just

  brushed his hair, too. If Uncle Jacob was happy about

  being home, you couldn't tell by looking at him. He

  didn't smile when we appeared.

  "You're sure that engine's working fine now, eh

  Cary?" he asked.

  "Yes, Dad. She's purring better than she was." "Doubt that," he muttered. "I always took good

  care of my boat."

  Cary glanced at me to see if I read a reprimand

  in Uncle Jacobs remark.

  "Hello, Uncle Jacob," I said, refusing to be

  ignored. "I'm happy you're home."

  He grunted what sounded like a thank you, but

  avoided looking at me.

  "You send Roy around after work tomorrow,"

  he told Cary. "I want a word with him."

  "Sure. You need anything? We're just going to

  take a walk on the beach."

  "I have a list of groceries, Cary," Aunt Sara

  said. "Oh."

  "Let's do that first, Cary," I suggested. "Sure. Where's the list, Ma?"

  "Right beside the tea kettle. Add a five-pound

  bag of sugar, please," she said. Cary nodded and we

  started out.

  "You have money?" Uncle Jacob called. "Yes," Cary said.

  "Stay close to home afterward. Your mother

  can't do everything herself," Uncle Jacob warned. "I'll help as much as I can," I said. He finally

  focused his gaze on me, his eyes searching my face to

  see if I were looking at him any differently since our

  conversations in the hospital. I forced a smile and he

  turned back to Aunt Sara to tell her to open the

  window a little more.

  At the supermarket, we split up the list, giving

  May a half dozen items to fetch herself. As Cary and I

  walked down the aisle pushing our cart, he grinned at

  me, his eyes glittering impishly.

  "What's with that look you have on your face,

  Cary Logan?" I asked him.

  "I was just pretending you and I were married

  and shopping together, pretending May was our little

  girl."

  "We're kind of young to have a daughter as old

  as May, aren't we?"

  "I just pretended she was much younger," he

  said with a shrug. If everything was as easy as

  pretending, we would all be forever happy, I thought. "Suppose she was that young? Do you think I

  would let her go off by herself like this, Cary Logan?

  What sort of a mother do you think I would be?" "A perfect one," he responded. "Don't you think

  I'll be a good father?"

  "Maybe," I teased.

  "Maybe? Why--" He stopped when the man in

  front of us turned around. It was Adam Jackson's

  father.

  "Well, we meet again," he said, fixing his soft

  blue eyes on me. He wore a pair of jeans, a heather

  grey sweater, and sneakers and looked rather young

  and athletic. There was a warmth in his smile that

  went beyond mere cordiality, I thought. Despite

  Cary's discomfort, I didn't mind Adam's father. "It's nice to run into you again," I said. "At least you're not knocking me over this

  time," he kidded. I couldn't help blushing. "Hello,

  Cary."

  "Hello," Cary answered, rather sulkily I

  thought. "How's your father doing? I was sorry to hear

  about his illness," Mr. Jackson said.

  "He's home," Cary replied and leaned over to

  get some cans of soup.

  "That's good. Give him my regards." Mr.

  Jackson looked at me again. "Cary's father and I used

  to go fishing together once in a while. He ever tell you

  about that marlin we caught, Cary?"

  "No sir, he didn't," Cary said. "We have to move along. My mother needs these things," Cary

  added gruffly.

  "Oh sure. Well, don't forget to give him my

  best, and if he needs help with anything . ."

  "Okay," Cary said.

  Mr. Jackson winked at me.

  "I bet if you play the fiddle for him, he'll feel a

  lot better a lot faster," he said.

  "Thank you."

  I smiled and we walked past him. When I

  turned back, he was still looking our way.

  "Don't look back at him. He's just flirting with

  you," Cary muttered.

  "What?"

  "Everyone knows T. J. Jackson's reputation

  here. Like father like son," he said. "And he doesn't

  care about age either. That's why he can't hold onto a

  secretary long."

  "Really? But he has such a beautiful wife," I

  said, gazing back at him again despite Cary's

  admonition. "Some men are never satisfied. It's an ego

  thing."

  "Oh. Since when did you get so wise about

  these matters?" I asked, perhaps a bit too sharply. He

  shot me a pained look.

  "I'm just looking out for you, Melody," he said.

  He walked on in a sulk until I put my hand on his and

  he turned back to me.

  "I'm glad you are, Cary," I said. It brought the

  lightness and gaiety back to his face.

  May met us at the dairy counter and we

  finished our shopping. As we left the store, I saw Mr.

  Jackson putting his groceries into his car. He saw me,

  too, and paused to wave. I started to wave back when

  I saw Cary was watching out of the corner of his eye. "Damn flirt," he said under his breath. Was he right? I wondered. I didn'
t know

  whether to be flattered or frightened by the attention

  of an older man. After all, look where daydreaming

  about Kenneth got me. Nowhere but sad. It made

  sense, however. Even Mama Arlene used to use that

  expression as if it were gospel: Like father like son.

  Except, what about Kenneth? I thought. He wasn't like

  his father, and Cary wasn't like his.

  I wondered. Was I anything like mine?

  Unfortunately, I doubted that I would ever know. When we arrived home, we found Aunt Sara

  halfway up the stairs again, this time carrying a tray

  with a mug of hot tea and some biscuits.

  "He wanted a cup," she explained. "I'll be right there to help put it all away," she added, nodding at

  the bags of groceries we carried.

  "We'll take care of it, Ma," Cary said, his jaw

  taut with anger. "He's going to wear her out

  completely," he told me as we watched Aunt Sara

  continue up the stairs.

  It wasn't a wild prediction. Uncle Jacob had a

  bell next to his bed that he would ring about every

  five minutes it seemed. He interrupted supper twice

  that night demanding things from Aunt Sara. She

  never uttered a word of complaint, she was so happy

  to have him home, but it was apparent to both Cary

  and me that she couldn't run up and down the stairs all

  day and night. She wasn't even able to relax enough to

  eat!

  "Maybe you could get them to hire a special

  duty nurse for a while, Cary," I suggested. "If your

  family needed the money, maybe Grandpa Samuel

  and Grandma Olivia would help."

  "It's not the money. You know how my father is

  when it comes to strangers in his house," he replied. "Then maybe we can get him to sleep in the

  living room until he's a lot better," I said. "At least

  your mother wouldn't have to go up and down the

  stairs so much."

  Cary thought it was a good suggestion, but

  when he brought that idea to Uncle Jacob, he roared

  with anger.

  "Turn my house into a hospital, would you? I'll

  be up and about soon. I don't need people walking in

  here and seeing me laid out on some sofa like a sick

  child," he declared. "Who came up with that idea?" I

  heard him shout.

  "It was my-idea," Cary said. "Sorry."

  "Just keep your mind on your work. That's

  enough for now," Uncle Jacob told him.

  Aunt Sara became flustered because Uncle