"It doesn't matter what she wants. I'm tired of worrying about what other people want or expect of me. You were right when you said we should start thinking about the present and ourselves and not drag up the past anymore," I told him.
He smiled, so warmly and lovingly I wanted to rush into his arms. Once again, he sensed my deepest feelings and rose to come to me. We kissed, a long, sweet but demanding kiss, drawing all the pain and darkness out of each other. He lifted me gently to the sofa and we kissed again and again, our lips moving over each other's faces and necks. His hands were inside my blouse and over my breasts. I turned and moaned and he moved beside me. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, a tiny voice was trying to warn me, begging me to think with my brain and not with my heart, but Cary's lips were gliding ever so gently over my breasts, drawing every tingle out of my body and then sending them back tenfold to travel over my stomach, to my legs. I felt myself drifting, sinking, uncaring. I was tired of being reasonable and logical. I pounced at him, hungry for recklessness.
With not a concern in the world, I put up no resistance and in fact helped him take off my skirt. We made love to each other on that sparkling new sofa, the material soothing beneath my naked back. We were both professing our love for each other so passionately and so blindly that neither of us projected the slightest hesitation. He was in me, holding me, rocking me, driving me as far from the places of sadness in my heart as I could go. I thought of nothing but the taste of his lips and the touch of his fingers. We exploded against each other, melding our souls and bodies for an instant during which I was as much a part of him as he was of me.
We were both surprised by our exhaustion and both had to laugh at our desperation to catch our breaths. For a long moment we just clung to each other, still naked, our hearts pounding. Then he rose slowly and sat up, gazing down at me.
I lifted my hand to his lips to stop him.
"No, don't apologize. Don't say anything, Cary. I'm not upset."
He smiled.
"It would have been a lie if I said I was sorry anyway," he admitted and we laughed.
Then we heard the sound of a dog barking excitedly. "What's that?"
"Sounds like Prometheus. We better get dressed, and fast," he said. We scurried about, pulling on our clothes and heard Holly and Kenneth calling. I brushed back my hair quickly and glanced in the wall mirror, but there wasn't time to do much more. They were shouting now.
"What's going on?" Cary wondered as we climbed up the small stairway to the deck of the boat.
Holly and Kenneth were standing on the dock and in Holly's arms was another chestnut-coated retriever puppy. Prometheus was circling and barking.
"He's going to be company for Prometheus," she declared. "We're calling him Neptune in honor of Kenneth's work."
"Oh, he's so sweet," I said hurrying off the boat. She handed him to me and he covered my face with his licking kisses.
"Everything coming along all right down there?" Kenneth asked Cary, his eyes moving from him to me and then back again. Cary blushed.
"Just fine," he said.
"We're still looking at next Saturday then?"
"No problem I can see," Cary replied firmly.
"Okay, then we should do it on Friday, right Holly?"
"You're not getting away that cheaply Kenneth Childs."
"Getting away with what that cheaply?" I asked.
"If he thinks for one moment we're going to consider that a honeymoon--"
"Honeymoon!" Cary and I exclaimed simultaneously.
They both beamed at us.
"Oh, Holly, congratulations," I cried and we hugged, Neptune squeezed between us. He barked his complaint, which caused Prometheus to join in chorus.
"It's just going to be a small wedding at my father's house," Kenneth said.
"Really?"
"It was Holly's idea to let him marry us. I figured I'd save money so . ."
"That's wonderful, Kenneth," I said, my face flushed with happiness for them both.
"I had a feeling you'd see it that way," he said. "Well, I guess I'd better get back to work. It looks like this piece is going to be interrupted by something called a honeymoon," he declared.
Cary and I watched the two of them walk back to the house.
"I hope that will be us someday," he said. I took his hand.
"It will," I promised.
He put his arm around me.
Maybe it was changing; maybe the storms had really passed over us at last, I thought.
Two days later Cary drove me up to Grandma Belinda's rest home so I could make my weekly visit with her. Cary liked to visit with Grandpa Samuel. He said he at least got him to talk about fishing. I was anxious to tell Grandma Belinda all the good news. It seemed the only baggage I ever brought with me when I visited her were suitcases full of sadness and tragedy. She was still spending lots of time with Mr. Mandel, but this time I found him first in the lobby, playing checkers with another man. He recognized me and smiled.
"Good, you're here," he said. "She needs company. I've been trying to beat Mr. Braxton here at checkers all week, but I never get the time. She doesn't let me out of her sight," he explained with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Just his excuse for being afraid of losing to me," Mr. Braxton said. "Blaming that poor old lady. You should be ashamed of yourself, Mandel."
"We'll soon see who's going to be ashamed," Mr. Mandel replied and jumped one of Mr. Braxton's checkers.
Cary laughed.
"She's on the bench in the garden," Mr. Mandel told me.
Cary and I split up in the hallway, he going down to Grandpa Samuel's room first. It was a very bright and warm afternoon. The flowers were in full bloom. Lilacs with their dark purple spikes climbed over the walls and gates. Bees hovered over the honey locusts. The yellow tea roses were especially brilliant and there were petunias everywhere. I knew how much Grandma Belinda liked being outside, how much she enjoyed soaking in the sunshine and drinking in the wonderful rainbow colors all around her.
I saw her on her usual bench, a small smile on her lips, her head back with her eyes closed, basking in the sunlight. Her hands were in her lap and she wore one of her prettier print dresses, with a pearl comb in her hair. I couldn't help but wonder if that was the way I would look when I was her age.
"Hello, Grandma," I said as I approached. Lately, she had begun to remember more and more about me, although she still said very little about my mother and asked no questions.
She didn't reply so I sat beside her and took her hand into mine. The moment I did, a shudder of abject terror passed like an electric current up through my arm and into my heart, which stopped and then started to pound again frantically. Her hand was ice cold.
"Grandma?" I shook her. Her body trembled and stopped, but her eyes remained shut. Her lips parted just a little more. "Grandma Belinda!"
I shook her harder and then I turned and shouted to the nearest attendant for help.
"Hurry!" I screamed. He ran over.
"What's wrong?"
"She won't wake up," I said and he knelt at her side, felt for a pulse, opened her eyes, and then shook his head.
"She's gone," he declared as if she had just gotten up and walked away.
"Gone? She can't be gone. She's smiling. She's pleased and happy."
"I'm sorry," he said shaking his head.
"No. Please. Call the doctor. Call someone!"
"Take it easy. I'll get Mrs. Greene right away," he said. Then he leaned toward me. "She doesn't like us to make too much of a deal of it when this happens," he said in a loud whisper. "It disturbs the others and makes it all that much more difficult around here."
"I don't care what she thinks. Get a doctor!" He stood up.
"I'll be right back," he promised and hurried away.
"Oh, Grandma Belinda, please don't go. Not yet. We're really just getting to know each other and you're all I have. Please, wait," I begged her, babbling stupidly at her side.
I t
ook her cold hand in mine again and sat there beside her, the tears streaming down my cheeks, rocking my body gently back and forth as I muttered my silent prayers and continued to beg her to stay just a little while longer.
Moments later, Mrs. Greene came hurrying down the garden pathway accompanied by two other attendants and a nurse. The nurse charged ahead and examined Grandma Belinda, making the same pronouncements quickly.
"Get the stretcher from the infirmary," Mrs. Greene ordered the attendants. "Bring it out that side door and take her back in that way. I'll call the mortuary."
"No!" I cried and buried my face in my hands.
"You can come to my office, if you wish," she told me curtly. "I'll have to call Mrs. Logan right away. Don't worry. Arrangements have been made. We do that immediately after we accept a patient."
"How convenient for everyone," I replied as I brushed the tears off my cheeks.
She pursed her lips with annoyance and nodded at the attendants who rushed away.
"Stay with her," she ordered the nurse. Then she pivoted and started to march back to the building.
I turned to Grandma Belinda and brushed back her hair. The nurse smiled at me.
"She died happy, thinking of something nice," she said. "And she loved it so much out here," she added. "I know," I moaned through my tears.
"This is better than her getting sicker and sicker and lingering in the infirmary," the nurse continued, more for my sake than for Grandma Belinda's.
"I have to tell Cary," I realized aloud and rose. "I'll stay with her," the nurse promised.
I glanced down at her again. Her lips were turning purple and her smile seemed to fade right before my eyes. I reached down to touch her one more time and then, with my chest feeling as if it had turned to stone, I started away.
Cary was Sifting in Grandpa Samuel's room and Grandpa Samuel was still in bed, sitting up. He was in his robe and was unshaven.
"He's not talking much," Cary began, but when his eyes settled on me a moment longer, he knew something terrible had happened. "What is it? You look terrible."
"It's Grandma Belinda, Cary," I wailed. "She's dead. She died in the garden just now, just before I arrived!"
He got up quickly to embrace me as I sobbed. Grandpa Samuel seemed to finally notice us and slowly came out of his daze.
"Laura?" he said. Cary turned to him.
"No, Grandpa. It's Melody. She's just come from Belinda. I'm afraid it's bad news, Grandpa. Belinda's gone."
"Gone?" He looked at me, at my tear-streaked face and bloodshot eyes. "I told her not to do it. I told her it was wrong, but she said it was the best, for everyone's best." He stared down at his hands and shook his head. "She always knew what was best, so what could I say?"
"He's just more confused than ever," Cary explained. "What happens now?"
"They are taking her to the infirmary and then calling Grandma Olivia. The arrangements are already made. They were made five minutes after she was brought here," I added bitterly. "Grandma Olivia thinks of everything, plans, plots, never misses a beat for fear of a moment's embarrassment for her precious family."
Cary nodded.
"Yet," he said, "you appreciate all that at times like this."
I hated to admit he was right, to give her any credit. "Please, take me home," I said.
"Okay. Grandpa, we've got to go now. I'll be back to see you again."
Grandpa Samuel turned back to us, his face full of seriousness, his eyes small and dark as he nodded with tight lips.
"She decided it was for the best," he said. "But I'm not so sure. Go down in the basement. You decide," he added.
"He's just doing a lot of babbling today," Cary explained. He squeezed Grandpa Samuel's hand softly, patted him on the shoulder and then guided me out.
We didn't stop at Mrs. Greene's office nor did we stop at the checker table to tell Mr. Mandel. I thought it was better for him to find out himself. I still felt like I was in a daze anyway.
"I'm sorry," Cary said as we drove off. "I know how much you wanted to get to know her and to get her to know you."
"It was starting to happen, Cary. Each time I visited, she seemed to remember more."
"I'll go right home and tell Ma," he said after we arrived at Grandma Olivia's. "Take it easy. I'll call you later."
"I'll be all right," I said and kissed him.
I found Grandma Olivia in what was Grandpa Samuel's office talking on the phone. She looked up when I appeared, but continued her conversation with the mortuary.
"Yes," she said, "I want the service short, but I'll stay with the deluxe flower arrangements. No," she added firmly, "you can close the coffin immediately. Thank you."
She cradled the phone.
"Actually, I thought she would live longer than I would. She's younger, and nothing bothered her half as much as it bothers me."
"Maybe you just never saw how much things bothered her. You hardly visited her up there," I attacked.
"Don't use that tone of voice with me. I won't be blamed for trying to protect her and take care of her. One day you'll realize all that, especially when you see how most people look after their sick relatives. The country is full of discarded people," she continued. "At least I made sure she died with some dignity and in some comfort with professionals looking after her day and night."
"She didn't belong there. She belonged at home," I wailed. "She wasn't crazy. She was just confused. Grandpa Samuel doesn't belong there either. You have enough money to keep him taken care of right here in his own home, in his own surroundings."
"To do what? Sit around and dribble down his chin, be carried out and left in a chair on the lawn for everyone to see? None of his so-called cronies would come see him. Most of them are worse off or dead. It would just be another family embarrassment, prolonged; and even if I spent a fortune and got him round the clock assistance, I couldn't change his condition. At least he has good medical care, good dietary care and some companionship where he is.
"Don't be so quick to make judgments about things you know very little about," she advised sharply. "You've come late to this family. You have no real idea about the twists and the turns, the ridges and the valleys that were crossed, the storms I've weathered. Belinda was always difficult and always a problem in one way or another, and Samuel was no prize, but I did the best for everyone," she concluded firmly. "I bear no guilt. Her daughter, that's who bears all the guilt."
She took a deep breath and for a moment looked very pale herself. Then she gathered her resolve and stood up.
"There's much more to do, even though I tried to have everything in order." She paused in the doorway and turned to me. "Were you there when it actually happened?" she asked almost in a soft, concerned tone of voice.
"No. She was already gone by the time I found her in the garden. She ... was smiling," I said.
Grandma Olivia nodded.
"She probably thought of the Grim Reaper as just another gentleman caller asking her for a date," she said wistfully. "She was a pretty little girl. Everyone always remarked about her perfect features. It won't be long before I'll be taking care of her again. You don't lose your burdens just because you leave this world," she muttered and left the office.
I stood there for a while looking around, thinking, feeling such a smorgasbord of emotions: sadness and grief, confusion and sympathy. I went behind the desk and sat.
Mommy should know, I thought. She should be told her own mother had just died. I stared at the phone. I hadn't attempted to contact her once since my return and she hadn't contacted me, yet I hadn't forgotten the phone number. I sucked in my breath, lifted the receiver and dialed. It rang once and then there was an automated voice.
"I'm sorry, but this number is no longer in service," I was told.
"What?"
I dialed again and again received the same automated message. Where was she? I wondered. She always emphasized how important the telephone was to someone trying to get auditions and parts and
assignments. I called information and asked the operator if there was a forwarding number. She told me she had nothing listed.
Frustrated, I thought about calling Mel Jensen, but wondered how I would explain not knowing what had happened to the woman who was supposedly my sister. Nevertheless, I finally called and spoke to his roommate because Mel was at an audition.
"Gina Simon?" he said. "I haven't seen her for a while, months. I don't know where she went. Matter of fact, I think Mel said something about her running out on her lease and the landlord being after her," he added.
"Oh. Well thanks, anyway."
"Do you want me to have Mel call you? Where are you?"
"No, it's all right," I said even more
embarrassed. "Just say I wish him luck."
Sure."
I hung up and sat there a while thinking about Mommy. She hadn't been much interested in her mother all these years that her mother was alive as far as I knew. As sad as it was, I didn't think she would be that upset not finding out when her mother had died.
Maybe Grandma Olivia was right: maybe Grandma Belinda was far better off at the home. At least there, no one pretended to be more than he or she was. They took care of you because they were paid to take care of you, and if they liked you and did something extra, it was honest and simple.
Grandma Belinda's funeral was well attended, but not because so many people remembered her. In fact, some people thought she had died long ago. People came because it was Grandma Olivia's sister and Grandma Olivia still commanded great respect in the community. Government officials attended, as did most of the influential businesspeople and
professionals. I saw my father and his wife there, but I avoided looking at him as much as possible and he said nothing to me.
Grandma Olivia did not greet the mourners afterward.
We all went to the cemetery and then the mourners went their separate ways, except for Judge Childs, Kenneth, Holly, Cary, May and Aunt Sara, who returned to the house with us. Grandma Olivia said wakes and feeding large numbers of people only prolong the final good-bye and delayed getting on with life.
Logan 03 Unfinished Symphony Page 29