"Maybe Philip is right, dear. Maybe you should get on with your own life. Not that I want to chase you away, but . . ."
"My mother is part of my life," I said.
Dorothy smiled and shook her head at me as if I had said something ridiculous.
"Family can be such a burden. Look at what I have with Holly."
"Holly is a very happy person and she has a lot of friends and knows a lot of wonderful people," I shot back. "I can't think of anyone who's been nicer to me."
"Oh she has a heart of gold, especially when it comes to helping other people, but will she ever help herself? Not Holly. She was always like that, always off on a cloud. I tried to get her to be more substantial and do more with her life, but there's just so much you can do and then, then you've got to do what Philip said, go on with your own life. Philip does give the best advice. He always has. Sometimes, I feel he's more like a father to me than a husband." She smiled. "Are you all right, dear? Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
"I'm tired," I said. Dorothy was so wrapped up in herself, she would never hear anything she didn't want to hear anyway, "thought. "I'll just go up and rest for a while."
"Of course. Take a whirlpool bubble bath and suddenly the world will look much better to you. Believe me, it will. If I'm depressed, I just go to the spa and get a facial and take a mud bath and a massage. What good is money if you don't use it to make yourself happy and drive away the gloomies?" she added with a thin little laugh. What she said reminded me of our shopping spree and all she had spent on me. I was sure now that Philip would be very upset once he found out, despite what she had told me.
"I'd like you to bring that evening dress back to the store, Dorothy. I won't be needing it now and--"
"You certainly will. Won't you go to some nice affair back East? And just think how envious all the other young women will be when they see you in a designer dress."
I stared at her, too tired to argue.
She rang a bell and a few seconds later, Christina appeared in the doorway.
"Christina, will you please draw a bubble bath for Melody?"
"I can do that myself," I said.
"Please, just do it, Christina," Dorothy emphasized firmly.
"Yes, Mrs. Livingston," Christina said and left to do it immediately.
"Really, dear. You have to let the servants do their work otherwise . . ." She laughed. "Otherwise we won't need servants and they would be without jobs, and Christina is someone who can't afford to be without a job. She has a flock of children to feed. Enjoy your bath. Alec will call you to dinner."
She rose and stood there for a moment gazing at me.
"I wish you were able to stay for a while longer. I have so much to teach you," she said and then shook her head with a twist of pity on her lips and left.
You have so much to teach me? I thought and gazed around at this palace in which two people shared wealth beyond my imagination, but seemed to be like strangers to each other. I don't want to learn about getting the best table in a restaurant or how to keep a wrinkle off my face. No, I wanted to learn something much deeper. I wanted to learn where I truly belonged. If I stayed here ten years more, I didn't think I could get Dorothy Livingston to understand that.
My legs felt like they had turned to stone beneath me when I rose and started for the stairs. It was another bright day outside, but inside my heart the sky was overcast with long, thick clouds of despair. As I approached my room, I heard Christina singing by the whirlpool tub.
"I've put in some scented bubble bath for you," she said when she heard me enter.
"Thank you."
She looked at me closely.
"Did you have a bad day?" she asked.
I started to shake my head, but my lips trembled and my chin quivered. I had to bite down to keep from releasing a sob.
"You poor girl," she said, coming to me. I couldn't help myself. I started to cry. She wrapped her arms around me quickly and held me to her, stroking my hair. "There, there, now, nothing is as bad as all that."
"Yes it is," I wailed. "My own mother refused to recognize me today. She ran off and left me with relatives back East and then I think she pretended to die so she would be rid of me forever," I blurted.
Christina looked shocked for a moment and then she nodded slowly, her lips firm.
"Any woman who denies her own child must be in trouble," she declared. "It's not natural and it has to be painful for her."
"Do you think so?" I asked, wiping my eyes.
"Oh yes. When you become a mother, you'll understand," she said with a smile. "Your child is part of you, always your baby. It hurts to see them grow up because you know they're growing away from you, but that's a different and healthy kind of letting go.
"I'm sure your mother will contact you," she said and squeezed my hand softly.
"She doesn't know where I'm staying."
"Then she expects you'll be back," Christina assured me.
"I don't know," I said, thinking about it. I wanted to share her optimism, to make everything terrible look small and insignificant, to believe that after a storm there was always a rainbow, but I had been disappointed so many times already.
"Have more faith, dear," she said. "Relax, eat a good dinner, get a good night's rest and tomorrow, tomorrow will look a lot more promising."
Her smile was like the sunshine after the rain. I couldn't help but smile back.
"Thank you," I said. "Your children are lucky to have such a good mother?'
"Oh, I tell them that all the time," she joked. She had me laughing again and for an instant I felt like my old self, full of sunshine and laughter.
I enjoyed my whirlpool bath, soaked and relaxed and practiced meditating. I thought about Billy Maxwell overcoming his personal disaster and I grew stronger. I was even hungry and looking forward to dinner.
Right after I got dressed, there was a knock on my door and Christina poked her head in.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, thank you, Christina."
"You have a call," she said. "Just leave the bathroom as it is. I'll come back before I leave and take care of it all," she added, closing the door so I would have privacy. I imagined it was Holly calling again. Maybe Dorothy had called her and told her what Philip had said. Holly would want me to fly back to New York and stay with her for a while. I had to admit it looked like the best idea.
"Hello."
"Melody," Cary said. What a surprise it was to hear from him.
"Cary!"
"I called Holly and got her sister's number. Are you all right? How was the trip?"
I spoke quickly, in minutes summarizing everything that had happened, beginning with the near disaster at the airport. He listened silently until I was finished. I realized it was already late in the evening back East.
"Sounds like you've had a terrible time from the day you left New York," he said.
"But how are you?" I asked.
"Things are not too good here, Melody. I'm actually calling you from the hospital."
"The hospital! What happened to you?"
"It's not me. Dad's back in the cardiac care unit. He had another heart attack. I think he brought it on himself this time, complaining about being restricted, insisting on doing more than he should."
"Oh Cary, I'm so sorry. How's Aunt Sara?"
"You know Ma. She just keeps herself working so she won't think about it."
"And May?"
"Not so good. She misses you a lot," he said. "Which is about half as much as I do. But I
understand why you have to be away," he added quickly.
"I do miss you very much, too, Cary."
"What are you going to do now?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll call you as soon as I know," I promised. "If you can, tell Uncle Jacob I hope he feels better."
"I will."
"And take care of yourself, Cary. You can't do everything for everyone," I said, knowing him.
He laughed
.
"Look who's talking. Guess who I saw this morning at the hospital?" he said. "Grandma Olivia. She couldn't help herself. She had to ask me if I had heard from you. I told her I was calling you tonight and she made me promise to give her the latest news."
"She's just hoping her investment pays off and I stay away forever," I said dryly.
"But you're going to fool her," he said and then laughed nervously.
"Right now I think the only person I've been fooling is myself," I moaned.
"I saw Kenneth in town this afternoon. I didn't speak to him. I saw him just as he was driving away. He looked . . . more straggly, if that's possible. I guess he's not taking very good care of himself."
"That's too bad. I was afraid something like that might happen."
"We're all just falling apart without you around here," Cary said.
"Oh, Cary."
"I don't know if I said it enough to be sure you believed me, Melody, but I love you. I really do."
"I believe you, Cary, and I do miss you."
"Take care of yourself and don't fall in love with any movie stars," he kidded.
"You don't have to worry about that," I said, laughing.
His good-bye was like a ribbon in the wind, lingering for a moment and then drifting away with the end of the phone call. I held the receiver for a few minutes after the line had gone dead, as if by doing so I could hold on to Cary's voice and my warm memories of him longer.
When I went downstairs for dinner, I found the air even thicker than usual, if that was possible. Philip uttered barely a word, eating and staring ahead as if he were alone in the room. Dorothy tried to make small talk, telling me about a new makeup she had discovered and a skin cream that made her feel as soft as a baby.
The food was a treat, a Mexican dish called a fajita. Dorothy told me Mexican food was very popular in Los Angeles.
"Because there are so many of them here and most of them are good cooks," she explained.
After dinner she wanted me to watch television with her; it seemed Philip rarely did anything with her at night. He usually had work to do in his office, or if he wasn't working, he was reading. Dorothy had said he hated television unless he was watching the financial reports, which she thought were abominably boring. I wondered what had brought these two people together at an altar to pledge undying love and devotion until death did them part. It seemed the only romance in Dorothy's life was the romance she watched with religious devotion on her soap operas.
I thought about the things Christina had said and I thought about Cary and May and Kenneth, and all the people who needed me back in Provincetown. Wasting any more time seemed sinful. I would do no more of it, I pledged.
"I'm going back to The Egyptian Gardens one more time," I declared after dinner. That brought animation into Philip's face. "And I'm not going to leave until I get some truthful answers."
"Tonight?" Dorothy asked.
"Yes, right away," I said.
"Really, Melody, do you think that's wise, especially at this time of night?" Dorothy asked. She looked to Philip for support.
"I wouldn't suggest you do that," he said. "It's not very intelligent in light of what you have already experienced."
"Sometimes, we have to do what our hearts command more than what our minds demand," I replied.
"Inevitably that leads to disaster," he retorted.
I said nothing more, but they both understood I was going.
"I'd rather not have our limousine involved," Philip said as he rose from the table.
"I'll just call a cab."
"Philip," Dorothy said.
"I'm afraid I have to be firm on this," he told me.
"I understand. You've both been very kind and I'm grateful for your hospitality."
"It's not the first time my sister-in-law has put me into a difficult situation," Philip remarked.
"Why don't you wait until morning, Melody? Maybe then things--"
"Regardless of whether it's day or night, I don't want our car involved," Philip repeated, raising his voice. Dorothy sat back as if she had been slapped.
"I'll just go catch a cab," I said rising.
"You don't catch a cab in Los Angeles. You call for one to pick you up," Philip said. "I'll see that Alec does that for you."
He marched out of the dining room.
"Please be careful, dear," Dorothy said.
"I will." My heart racing ahead of me, I hurried upstairs to get my purse. Actually, I was happy Spike wasn't going to be driving me anyway. I wasn't sure I could look him in the face after what had happened in his apartment.
The cab was just pulling in when I stepped out of the house. I hurried to it and gave the driver the address. I was off for what I had decided would be my final attempt to approach Mommy. If I failed, in the morning I would go back East.
The Egyptian Gardens looked different in the evening, even seedier, if that was possible. Some of the lights in the lanterns along the walkway didn't work and some of the lights on the buildings were dead as well. The shadows draped longer, deeper, darker. The gate squeaked when I opened it and entered. Ahead of me at the pool, two young men were talking and drinking something from tall glasses. They turned my way as I continued past them. Just as I reached the far corner and started toward Mommy's building, I saw a man step out of the doorway and pause to light a cigarette. The flame of his match danced on his face and hair for a moment and I gasped and retreated into the shadows. It was Archie Marlin. I'd recognize him anywhere.
He still had short orange-red hair and skin the shade of milkweed, with freckles on his chin and forehead. Everyone back in Sewell always said he looked ten years younger than he really was, although no one knew his exact age. No one knew very much about Archie Marlin. He never gave anyone a straight answer to questions about himself. He always joked or shrugged and said something silly. But he had filled Mommy with enough promises to sweep her off her feet and have her go off with him.
I held my breath as he walked past me, a slick, small smile on his orange lips. He strolled down the walkway and went around the corner. I let out my breath, my heart pounding. I didn't want to face him just yet, if ever; but seeing him was the last and final assurance that the woman upstairs in that building was beyond a doubt my mother.
My legs felt as thin and weak as a scarecrow's legs of straw as I entered the building and went to the elevator. When the doors opened, I stepped in quickly and pressed Mommy's floor. My heart seemed to have risen into the base of my throat. How horrible, I thought, how horrible that I should have all this trepidation about seeing my own mother. In moments I was standing in front of her doorway, hesitating, my fingers lingering over the buzzer. Finally, I stabbed at it and waited.
The door was thrust open and Mommy was standing there in a bathrobe, her hair unbrushed, no makeup on, her eyes glassy. She wobbled and spoke before she saw who it was.
"What did you forget now, Richard?" she asked and then focused on me. Her expression froze, first with a glimmer of delight and then quickly with a look of annoyance. "You again?" she said.
"Mommy . . ."
She stared,_then she leaned out farther to look up and down the hallway.
"I see I won't get rid of you so easily. Get in here," she ordered as she dragged me into the apartment.
Mommy closed the door quickly behind me, gazed at me sourly and then walked into the living room. She kept her back to me.
"Why are you pretending not to know me, Mommy?" I asked and wiped one of my tears away quickly.
"Because I don't know you," she said. "I don't know anyone from that life. I can't, I just can't," she said, slamming her fists against her thighs and spinning on me. "Why did you come here? How did you find me?"
"Alice saw your picture in a catalogue and sent it to me. I brought it to Kenneth and he studied it and said he felt sure it was you. Then he called a friend in Boston who helped track you down for me."
"Kenneth?" She relaxed her lips into a tiny
smile, and then realizing what she had done, drove the angry, hard look back into her eyes. "I don't know anyone named Kenneth, except Ken Peters at ICM. You've got to go back," she said. "Tell them . . . tell them I'm not who you thought I was and--"
"But why, Mommy?"
"It's better for everyone all around," she said. She folded her arms under her breasts and stiffened her shoulders like one of Kenneth's statues, firming up her resolve, strengthening her resistance. I just started to cry more openly. "Stop it," she said. "Don't you see? You'll mess everything up, ruin my chances just when I was starting to get someplace. I might have a good part in a movie and another, better modeling job. I'm meeting important people. Just when it's finally happening, you pop out of nowhere and nearly sink my boat."
"I don't understand, Mommy." I took a deep breath. "How did you do this? You had everyone back home believing you died. There was a body. You're buried in the family plot back in Provincetown."
She laughed, went to an imitation ivory cigarette box on the yellowish brown coffee table and took out a cigarette.
"You mean Olivia Logan permitted the poor corpse to be deposited in her precious family ground even though she believed it was me?" She laughed again, found a match and lit her cigarette. Then she fell back into the worn, cotton print easy chair and stared at me as she puffed away. "You look good," she said. "You filled out nicely. Jacob didn't throw you out on the street, I guess."
"He's very sick, Mommy. He had a heart attack and nearly died. Now he's back in the hospital."
"Doesn't surprise me. He's too much like his mother to enjoy life or let anyone else enjoy it. Probably finally soured his own heart." She took a deep breath, shook her head and gazed through the sliding glass doors of the balcony. "I can't have a daughter your age," she said. "I wouldn't get a decent job in this town."
"Why not?"
"It's just the way it is. Young people get everything here, especially women. Look, you don't belong with me, honey. I'm not a good mother. I never was and I never will be. It's just not in my nature."
"Why not?" I asked.
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