one painting, the woman she'd painted had stars
looking down instead of eyes. Kenneth said she
usually sold all of her works in New York at her shop. Holly was always upbeat and pleasant and fun
to be with, which proved refreshing during these
troubled times. During my breaks, or if Kenneth
finished with me early, Holly and I usually walked
along the beach, practiced meditating, talked about
crystals and astrology, sunbathed, and dressed in her headbands and saris. One day she decided to repaint her car and I helped her create new images over a peagreenish yellow exterior. Kenneth thought our work was so far out, Holly might be pulled over on the highway for violating sanity. Everyone laughed. I felt very comfortable being with the two of them,
especially with Holly.
During this week Cary had taken over his
father's role and actually had some very good days at
sea, which he said buoyed Uncle Jacob and helped his
recovery. I didn't go back into the CCU with them, but
two days after they moved Uncle Jacob to what they
called Step Down care, I accompanied the family on a
visit. I noticed that Uncle Jacob avoided looking at me
the whole time and then, just before we were about to
go home, he whispered something to Cary. As we
were all leaving the room, Cary asked me to remain. "My father wants to talk to you privately
again," he said. "We'll wait for you in the lobby." I looked at Uncle Jacob, but he kept his eyes
closed and lay back on his pillow. It wasn't until the
others left that he opened his eyes. Actually, they
snapped open, and he gazed at me with that all-toofamiliar look of accusation.
"Cary said you wanted me to stay for a few
minutes?" I said, approaching his bed.
"Yes." He looked away, sipped some water, and
then turned back to me. "He tells me I asked to see
you while I was in the CCU."
"Yes," I said, surprised that he had to be told.
"It was only for a few minutes, but--"
"I have no memory of this, but my doctors tell
me I could easily have hallucinated and said
ridiculous things. You are to disregard anything I
might have said under the condition I was in," he
ordered. "I hope you haven't gone blabbering any of it
to anyone."
"No. I wouldn't do that," I said.
"Not even to Kenneth Childs?" he asked, his
eyes shifting to me.
"Good. Then forget it all. It was gibberish, the
babbling of a confused, sick man. Do you understand?" he asked. "Do you?" he insisted.
"Yes, Uncle Jacob."
"Good," he said again. "I hope you're helping
Sara during this hardship."
"Of course I am.
"And you're not taking advantage of my
incapacity," he added.
"I never took advantage, even when you were
well, Uncle Jacob."
He widened his eyes and I looked away. I didn't
want to get into any arguments with him now. If
something should happen, I would surely be to blame.
Maybe that was what he hoped.
"Just remember this discussion."
"Okay," I said. "I hope you feel better," I added
and turned to leave.
"Oh, I will," he said. It sounded like a threat. I
didn't look back. I couldn't wait to get away from him,
and I marched out quickly.
Cary looked up expectantly when I stepped out
of the elevator. Aunt Sara had been talking to a
hospital aide, but stopped and looked my way, too. "Everything all right?" Cary asked quickly. "All right?" I thought a moment. "Everything's .
. back to normal," I said dryly. Cary raised his eyebrows.
Aunt Sara heard my words and misunderstood. "Yes," she said. "Isn't it wonderful? The doctors
think Jacob will be home sooner than we thought. Of
course, it will be hard for us to make sure he doesn't
try to do anything he shouldn't. He'll have to rest and
avoid stress of any kind," she added.
"Sounds as if I should move out then," I muttered under my breath. I thought Cary might have
heard anyway because he looked very troubled. I took May's hand and we left the hospital. As
we walked to the ear, my mind went to how important
family could be at times like this. I thought about
Grandma Belinda and how long it had been since I
had visited. I decided I would return this weekend.
Even though she wandered about in a state of semiconfusion, I felt there was a possibility of love between us. Or at least I hoped there was.
I knew I would need it. The days that lay ahead
were full of bleak promises and even more obstacles
to my happiness. But I had no idea just how much
more, no idea at all. Not even Holly's horoscopes
could reveal that.
12
Showdown
.
After work on Saturday, I told Kenneth and
Holly of my plans to visit Grandma Belinda again. "How will you get there?" Kenneth asked. "I guess I'll take a taxi. Olivia practically
forbade me to visit, so I won't get Raymond to take me, and Cary has his hands full with Uncle Jacob in the hospital as well as having to do all the work. He's very worried about this year's cranberry harvest, too."
"I can take you," Holly offered. When I started to shake my head, she insisted. "Really, I don't mind."
I thought about it and started to laugh, thinking what it would be like for us to drive up in Holly's psychedelic car. It would certainly catch everyone's attention. Kenneth saw the wide grin on my face.
"Melody is imagining what sort of an entrance you two will make dressed in your saris, headbands, crystal earrings, and sandals, Holly," he said, staring at me with laughter in his eyes.
"Why?" Holly asked.
"Why? This is a rest home for New England blue-bloods. They haven't seen anything like you, even in their senile hallucinations," he replied. Holly thought a moment and then smiled.
"Well, then we'll be a special treat for them, won't we?"
"I don't think I can dress that way," I said softly, not wanting to hurt Holly's feelings. "I've only just met my grandmother. She might not even recall the meeting, so I had better not do anything to confuse her. I was thinking I would wear what I wore the first time."
"Oh, dress any way you want, Melody. So will I. This might be fun," she squealed. "I like talking to elderly people. Often they have a better understanding of the cosmic center.
"That's because they're closer to becoming pure energy," Kenneth quipped and then winked at me.
Once Kenneth had determined he was ready to begin sculpting the marble block, he became more relaxed and more confident about focusing his creative energy. He declared that the work was already completed.
"Completed?" I looked at the block and then shook my head in confusion.
"In here," he said pointing to his head. "It's done. All I have to do is bring it out, follow the blueprint. I become a mere tool of my artistic consciousness. Do you understand?"
"Oh. Yes, I think I do," I told him. A month ago I might have thought him weird, even mad, but after having him lecture to me daily about the creative eye, and after hearing Holly talk about the power of focused energy, I really did appreciate what he was saying. He was pleased I understood.
At the end of our work days now, Kenneth would pour the three of us a glass of cranberry wine, my glass being only a third or so full. It was really Holly's idea.
"People who work as hard as you two do have to
step back and permit their spirits and their bodies to join hands again," she said.
We usually sat on the small patio between the house and the studio and watched Shell, the turtle, navigate around the rocks and the fish in the small pond. The sun was still high enough in the sky to provide warm rays, but it wasn't unbearably hot and there usually was a late-afternoon breeze coming off the sea. The conversation was mostly between Holly and Kenneth, the two of them talking about people they had known and things Holly did in New York City. I never felt like a mere observer, however, because one or the other would often turn to me to explain something or someone. It was from these conversations that I gleaned an idea of what Kenneth had been like when he was only a few years older than I. There appeared to have been a bright period to his life, a period when he was as bohemian as Holly, carefree and far more sociable.
And then, from what they said, I understood that he had lost contact with all their mutual friends and had done little or nothing with anyone, even here in Provincetown. Holly constantly complained about his failure to visit her and her shop in New York. Kenneth merely smiled and promised he would some day.
"When the stars are correctly aligned for it," he added, shifting his eyes impishly to me.
"The stars have been aligned for it many times, Ken. You've got to be aligned," Holly replied and we all laughed.
Holly was right about our quiet time. Although I was tired, our half hour or so of relaxation always put me in a good mood and I was able to bring some of that joviality home to help cheer up Aunt Sara during this troubled time.
When I arrived at the house after work this particular Saturday however, I found Aunt Sara was more upset than usual. Cary was still out on the lobster boat and she was worried about visiting Uncle Jacob.
"He's called three times asking for Cary," she moaned. "I can't imagine what's keeping him. He knows how his father worries up there and he knows we can't let him worry," she said, her face full of a thousand anxieties.
"Uncle Jacob surely understands that things can keep Cary busy and working late. It's happened many times before, hasn't it, Aunt Sara?" I asked.
I knew that since Uncle Jacob had been given phone privileges, he called a number of times during the day, giving Aunt Sara orders, making demands, and questioning her to death. I assumed many of those questions had to do with me.
"It's hard for him," she said. "He feels like a prisoner chained to his bed by doctors and nurses, fed medicines, and prohibited from doing the simplest things. They had to give him bathroom privileges faster than they wanted because Jacob refused to sit on a bed pan," she added. "He's been hounding the doctor to let him go home."
I wanted to say it was very hard for Cary, too, and especially hard for her and May, but I put a zipper on my lips and helped her get dinner ready instead. However, when Cary wasn't home an hour later, even I became worried. Uncle Jacob called to speak to him, complaining that Cary had neglected to report the day's catch. Aunt Sara had to tell him Cary wasn't there.
"I don't know," I heard her say. "I'm getting very worried. Should I send Melody down to the dock?" she asked him. I saw her eyes shift from me as she listened to him speak. She nodded and promised to call him as soon as she had news. Then she cradled the phone and wrung her hands.
"What did Uncle Jacob say? Should I go to the dock?" I asked her. May sat staring at us, her eyes full of worry, too.
"He said you wouldn't know what to look for or what to ask anyone," she replied, shaking her head as she did so.
"I can see if the boat's there, can't I?"
"Yes," she said. I saw that it took great courage for her to disagree with anything Jacob uttered.
"Then I'll go," I declared and started out of the kitchen. May called to me and then signed her desire to go too.
I nodded and she leaped to her feet and took my hand. The two of us marched out of the house and over the dunes, both straining to see the activity at the dock. We had only to go a few thousand yards down the beach to discover there wasn't anyone there. The lobster boat was nowhere in sight either.
"Where is he?" I asked myself aloud. May tugged on my hand and signed the same question. I shook my head and continued toward the dock. When we got there, we stood looking out at the sea, searching in every direction for a sign of the boat. I saw an oil barge going south and larger cargo ship, but no sign of the lobster boat. I just hated returning to the house with no news, but I knew the longer we remained here, the more Aunt Sara would worry, and Uncle Jacob was sure to call again.
Maybe there was a reason to worry, I thought. This wasn't like Cary. Even though the weather was picture perfect, accidents do happen at sea. It would be just horrible if something bad had happened now, with Uncle Jacob still in the hospital, I thought. Since I had been practicing tuning into the cosmic energies with Holly, I paid more attention to my feelings and instincts, and I didn't like the heavy little ball of worry that was growing in my chest. There was nothing to do but go home and wait with Aunt Sara.
I started to turn away when May tugged hard on my hand and then pointed north. I looked, but saw nothing.
"What?"
She pointed more emphatically. Her eyes were more seaworthy than mine, for she had grown up here and she knew how to read the twilight glitter on the surface of the ocean. I strained to see as two almost indistinguishable dots grew into shapes that were slowly moving closer to the shore.
"What is it?"
We walked to the edge of the dock and waited as the shapes became two boats, one looking like a tugboat. Finally, I could make out the lobster boat clearly. It was being towed toward the dock.
"Oh, thank goodness," I declared. May smiled and started to sign an explanation. She recalled something like this happening before. The boat had broken down at sea and Uncle Jacob had to radio for help.
When Cary drew close enough to see us, he waved from the starboard bow. The sun had almost completely dipped behind the horizon as the lobster boat was delivered to the dock. Cary and Roy Patterson got it tied up and Cary hurried off to tell us the story.
"The catch was good, but suddenly our engine died and we weren't able to fix it. How's Ma?" he asked quickly, knowing she would be concerned.
"She's very worried, Cary. Uncle Jacob keeps calling from the hospital."
"Let's get up to the house," he said.
Roy said he would take care of everything and we hurried back. Cary looked exhausted. His hands were full of grease, and there were streaks of it across his face, which was darker, even red at the crests of his cheeks.
"I'll wash up and go right to the hospital," he said, taking such long, deep strides over the sand May and I had trouble keeping up with him.
"You have to have some supper first, Cary. Just call him."
He nodded, but he looked more concerned about his father than he was about the problems with the boat.
"He's going to blame it on me," he muttered, "but I didn't do anything different. We had oil pressure problems."
"I'm sure he'll understand. May said something like this happened before anyway, right?"
"Right," he said, but he didn't sound confident.
Aunt Sara was at sixes and sevens by the time we arrived. She had practically worn the skin off her fingers wringing her hands with worry. Cary quickly explained what had happened, and she told him to call Uncle Jacob.
"You guys just eat," he said after he had the conversation with his father and hung up. "I've got to wash up and run up to the hospital."
"But Cary--"
"It's okay," he said. "He wants to know the details. I'll eat something later. Go on. Don't wait."
"But--"
He charged up the stairs before I could protest any more. I looked at Aunt Sara. She shook her head and went about serving our dinner.
"Be back as soon as I can," Cary called from the front door less than ten minutes later.
"I don't know why you can't get something to eat first," I called back, but he was already out
the door. I looked at Aunt Sara. She was troubled, but silent. "Uncle Jacob's being pretty selfish, Aunt Sara. Cary's had a miserable day. He's tired and hungry. You should have made him eat."
"I can't worry Jacob now," she cried in defense. "He's still recuperating."
I choked back my angry words and drank them down with water. If Uncle Jacob had been an ogre before, I thought, he would be a bigger monster now, for he was sure to take advantage of his own illness at every opportunity.
It was nearly three hours later before Cary returned. Aunt Sara had been trying to do needlepoint, but her eyes lifted every time she heard a creak in the house or the sound of an automobile outside.
"I should have gone too," she muttered.
When Cary entered, she threw down her needlepoint and jumped up to greet him at the living room door.
"He's fine," Cary said quickly. He looked more exhausted than I had ever seen him, and I saw that the fatigue didn't come from his day's labor so much as from the emotional tension he had just experienced. "I think he might even be released in a day or so."
"Really? Oh, that would be wonderful," Aunt Sara cried, clapping her hands together. She quickly signed the news to May, whose face lit up with a smile.
It occurred to me that no matter how I saw Uncle Jacob or what I thought of him, he was still Aunt Sara's husband and May's father. They loved him, and in his own way, he surely loved them. I had no right to be critical of him, I thought, especially now when he was recuperating from one of the worst illness anyone could have.
"But one of his doctors stopped me in the hallway," Cary continued, "and made it perfectly clear that Dad can't go back to the way he was, not for some time. If he doesn't rest, eat right, and exercise, he could have a relapse."
"Oh dear. Did they make that clear to Jacob?" Aunt Sara asked, her hands flitting about, nervously tugging on her dress and brushing at her hair.
"Too clear," Cary said, shifting his gaze to me. I understood this was a major reason why his visit was so long and difficult. "He's furious about it. Says they don't know what they're talking about, that it's work that makes a man strong, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. He vowed he won't be anyone's cripple and the doctors threatened to keep him in the hospital. You'll have to tell him, Ma. You'll have to put your foot down too," Cary said.
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