Melody (19 page)

As we had at dinner the night before, we began with a prayer and a Bible reading. Uncle Jacob gazed at Cary, glanced at May, and then turned to me. “You might as well start right off,” he said. “It's your turn.”

“My turn?” I looked at Aunt Sara.

“He wants you to read an excerpt from the Good Book, dear. Laura always followed Cary.”

“I could read again if she doesn't want to,” Cary volunteered with a smirk.

“It's all right,” I said quickly. “I'd like to read. What do I read?”

Uncle Jacob handed me the Bible with his thumb on the section he wanted read.

I began. “Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies.

“The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil.

“She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.”

I gazed quickly at Cary because I felt the heat of his eyes on me as I read.

“She seeketh wool, and flax, and worketh willingly with her hands.”

“Yes,” Uncle Jacob said nodding, obviously pleased with how I read.

Cary glanced down as I continued until the chapter was completed.

“Good,” Uncle Jacob said. “Words to remember. Amen.” His eyes fixed on me. I knew what he thought of my mother. Did he choose this chapter because he thought I would be just like her? I was afraid to ask.

As soon as we began to eat, Uncle Jacob and Cary got into a conversation about the lobster catch and the construction of more traps. While they talked, I tried to converse with May. I saw Cary watching us out of the corner of his eye, and something I did brought a smile to his face. But Uncle Jacob suddenly looked furious.

“Will you tell your daughter to eat and not talk at dinner,” he commanded Aunt Sara. “It's distracting.”

“Yes, Jacob.” Aunt Sara signed his orders to May, who immediately dropped her gaze to her food and stopped trying to communicate with me.

It occurred to me that I had yet to see Uncle Jacob use sign language with May. Up until now, it had been only Cary, Aunt Sara, and I.

“I'm sorry,” I said. “It was my fault. I am trying to learn sign language.”

“Well do it after dinner,” Uncle Jacob snapped and turned back to Cary to talk about the new traps.

After dinner I helped Aunt Sara clear away the dishes and put away the food. She went on and on about the wonderful things Laura had learned to do with fish.

“Got so her filleted bass was good enough to be in a contest. You should have tasted her fish pie, too. The crust always came out so light. That girl had magic in her fingers.”

“I cooked for my daddy often,” I said.

“Oh, did you, dear? Yes, I bet you did. I don't remember Haille being much of a cook. She had other things on her mind.”

“Like what?” I pursued.

“Not fit to discuss.” Aunt Sara sewed her lips shut.

“What's that mean?” I demanded.

She shook her head and then gazed at the doorway before lowering her voice to a whisper. “Truth is, Jacob don't even like me mentioning her and those days.”

“Well, I'd like to hear more about her,” I said.

“No you wouldn't dear. I must show you some of Laura's needlework,” she said to change the subject. “Did I tell you she used to do that? I have it all in my bedroom on the walls, but there is one she never got to finish. It's in my closet. Have you ever done needlework?”

“No,” I said, sulking.

“Oh you should try needlework, dear. I bet you would be good at it, too.”

“I don't think so,” I said. “Is there anything else I can help you with, Aunt Sara?”

“What? Oh. No dear, thank you,” she said. “That's right. You have to do homework now, don't you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then go on, dear. I'll see you before I go to sleep,” she said.

I hurried upstairs. When I ascended the stairway, I noticed a ladder had been lowered from the roof above the second floor landing. It led up to a door in the ceiling. I approached slowly and gazed up at the lighted attic. Curious, I started up the rungs and stopped at the top to peer into the room. Two oil lamps illuminated a table and a chair, chests, boxes, all sorts of antiques and old paintings. But the most interesting thing to me were the model boats constructed of balsa wood. One was partially completed on the table. The others were lined up on shelves, all painted, too, and some with tiny sailors manning the sails.

There was a very worn-looking couch on the right and a telescope pointing at the sole window.

“What are you doing?” I turned to see Cary staring up at me from the bottom of the ladder.

“I was just wondering what was up here. Do you do the boats?”

“First, they're not boats, they're ships. And second, the attic is a private place, if you don't mind.”

“I'm sorry.” I started down the rungs, but slipped on the next to last one and fell into his arms. For a moment our faces were inches apart. The moment he realized he was holding me in his arms, he released me and I landed hard on my feet on the floor.

“That's why I don't like anyone going up there,” he said moving past me quickly. “It's dangerous.” His cheeks were crimson.

“I'm sorry. Is that your hobby?” I asked before he reached the top.

He dropped a “Yes” back at me before pulling the ladder up after him.

“I don't have the measles or anything you know!” I cried.

He hesitated a moment before closing the door.

“Good riddance!” I marched to my room, and lost myself in my homework. Once in a while, I heard the sounds of Cary moving above me. I gazed up at the ceiling and listened until he grew quiet again.

The telephone rang below in the living room. I waited, holding my breath and then, I heard Aunt Sara call my name.

“Telephone, dear.”

“Mommy!” I cried. “Finally!” I hurried down the stairs.

“It's Haille,” Aunt Sara said. “Hurry, it's long distance.”

I rushed to the living room. Uncle Jacob sat in his chair, smoking his pipe and thumbing through a mailorder catalogue. He glanced at me and then back at his pages, but he didn't get up. Aunt Sara stood in the doorway, watching. I would have no privacy for this phone call. Nevertheless, I seized the receiver. “Mommy?”

“Hi Honey. See, I told you I would call you first
chance I got. Aunt Sara says you've already started school there and you said you were right up with the work.”

“Yes, Mommy. Where are you?”

“We're on our way to New York City,” she said excitedly. Her voice dropped. “The people in Boston weren't available when they told Richard they would be so we never met them, but he has people for me to meet in New York and then in Chicago. After that we'll head for Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles? But Mommy, when will I. . . when will we be together again?” I asked my question as quietly as I could.

“Soon, honey. Real soon, I promise.”

“I could still meet you someplace, Mommy. I could take a bus and—”

“Now don't make things harder than they are for me, honey. I've already suffered a serious disappointment. Please, cooperate.”

“But I need my things,” I said. “You didn't leave me any money, Mommy. I can't call my friends. I can't call Alice or Mama Arlene. It's long distance.”

“I'm calling Mama Arlene as soon as I get to New York,” she promised. I heard a horn blaring and someone shouting.

“Coming!”
Mommy shouted back. “I've got to go, honey. I've already held us up longer than I should have. I'll call you as soon as I can. Be good, honey. Bye.”

“But Mommy—”

The phone went dead. I held it tightly. Silent screams stuck in my throat and tears froze behind my eyes.

“Hang it up properly,” Uncle Jacob instructed. “I'm waitin' on an important call.”

I cradled the receiver with my back to him and walked out of the living room quickly, not glancing at Aunt Sara either.

“Just a minute, there,” Uncle Jacob growled. “Get yourself right back in here, young lady.”

I sucked in my breath, turned, and marched back. My
heart thudded madly, drumming out a tune of fright in my ribcage.

“Yes sir?”

“It's proper to thank people when you use their things. Sara ain't your secretary.”

“I'm sorry. Thank you, Aunt Sara.”

“You're welcome, dear. Is everything all right with Haille?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Good.”

“Humph,” Uncle Jacob grunted.

“I'll bring you a glass of hot milk tonight,” she offered.

“You don't have to do that, Aunt Sara.”

“I always brought Laura a glass of warm milk. I bring one to May as well.” Her huge scared eyes stared woefully at me. I glanced at Uncle Jacob. He looked ready to pounce.

“Oh, then thank you, Aunt Sara.”

Her face brightened, the darkness evaporating from her eyes. I forced a smile and hurried up the stairway. When I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and threw myself on the bed, burying my face in the pillow to smother my sobs.

I didn't want to be here! I hated it! No wonder my father stopped speaking to his family. He was nothing like Uncle Jacob. I would be happier if Mommy had dumped me in an orphanage, I thought. My shoulders shook with my muted crying. Suddenly, I felt something touch my shoulder and I turned quickly to see little May staring at me, her face full of fear and sympathy. She had come in so quietly that I had not heard her. Her hands moved rapidly, wondering why I was so unhappy. What made me cry?

“I miss my mother,” I said. She tilted her head. I let out a deep breath and located the book on sign language. I found the gestures and produced them. May nodded and signed how sorry she felt for me. Then she offered me a hug.

How sweet, I thought, and how sad that the only one
in this house who made me feel at home was the only one who couldn't hear the sound of my voice.

Nor could she hear the sounds of scuffling and footsteps above, but she saw where my gaze had gone and understood.

“Car. . . ry,” she said and demonstrated the construction of a model ship.

“Yes. Do you go up there?” I signed. “Or doesn't he even let you up there?”

She thought a moment and then shook her head.

“No?”

She shook her head and gestured “only. . .” She pointed to Laura's photograph.

“Only Laura?” May nodded. “Only Laura,” I thought aloud and gazed at the ceiling. May grunted and then gestured about his great sorrow.

I gazed at the ceiling again. Cary was in pain, I thought, and for a moment at least, I stopped feeling sorry for myself.

May returned to her room to complete her school work. After I finished mine, we practiced sign language until it was time for her to go to bed. I washed and dressed for bed myself and then Aunt Sara brought my glass of warm milk. There was something rolled under her arm. She took it out and showed me Laura's unfinished canvas of needlework. It was a picture of a woman on a widow's walk gazing at the sea.

“Laura drew the picture herself,” Aunt Sara explained. “Isn't it beautiful?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Don't you want to finish it for her, dear? I can't get myself to do it,” she said with a deep sigh.

“I'd be afraid I would mess it up, Aunt Sara.”

“Oh, you won't, I'm sure. I'll just leave it here and bring up the threads tomorrow and show you the stitch.”

“I never did something like that before,” I said, but she didn't seem to hear or care.

“My goodness,” she said, her gaze falling on the two
nearly identical stuffed cats. “Where did this one come from?”

“It was mine, a present from my daddy. I brought it with me in my suitcase.”

“Isn't that remarkable. Cary won the other one for Laura at a fair one summer. And this Teddy bear you brought along, too?”

“Yes.”

“Geminis,” she said. “All of you.”

She gazed around the room sadly, looked at me, smiled and then left, after wishing me a good night's rest.

I was tired. It had been an exhausting day, my emotions on a rollercoaster. I had gone through the tunnel of fear, been angry, sad, and curious. I enjoyed being with little May and appreciated that she sincerely welcomed me. That was the only ray of sunshine in this gloomy world of sadness.

Impulsively, I picked up my fiddle and played a mournful tune. It was the mood I felt and the music came from deep within me. I closed my eyes and pictured Daddy sitting on the sofa in our trailer living room, a small smile on his face, his eyes full of pride as I played. Afterward, he would pull me to him and give me one of his bear hugs, smothering my cheek and forehead with kisses.

Suddenly, there was a loud rapping on the wall.

“Stop that noise!” Uncle Jacob ordered. “It's time for everyone to sleep!”

My memories of Daddy popped like soap bubbles. I put away the fiddle and crawled under the comforter. Then I turned down the oil lamp, closed my eyes, and listened to the roar of the ocean. The house was very quiet for a few moments, and then I heard what I recognized as the distinct sound of someone sobbing.

“Just go to sleep!” Uncle Jacob commanded gruffly, his voice seemingly coming out of the walls.

The sobbing stopped.

The ocean came roaring through my window again,
the same ocean that had taken Laura from this house and the melancholy world in which I now found myself.

Following Aunt Sara's instructions the next morning, I made lunches for both Cary and myself. It was something Laura always had done and I assumed it was to be one of my chores. We were to have a sandwich and an apple, and we were given fifty cents to buy a drink. May's lunch was provided for her at the special school.

When we left the house, May took my hand instead of Cary's. He paused for a moment, visibly annoyed, but said nothing about it.