I got up and opened the desk drawer where I kept Robert's wonderful letters. I stared at them and started to think about him when something caught my attention. I lifted the pack and studied it for a moment. The letters were out of place and they had been bound again, but sloppily. My heart sank.
Cary, I thought, must have found them and read them and told Grandma Olivia what was inside them.
8
A Heart Betrayed
.
I had been the lead in several of our school
plays, but I didn't think I was a good enough actor to keep Mommy and Daddy from seeing how sad I was that night. I was pale and tired-looking; ho matter how I tried to smile or how I tried to make my voice sound happy.
Cary didn't ask me any questions about my visit to Grandma Olivia's house, and he hadn't even told Mommy that Raymond was waiting for me at the end of the school day. Mommy just assumed I had something to do after school and had walked home myself. Neither she nor Daddy heard or saw Raymond drive me up to the house in the Rolls-Royce.
May was the one who signed the questions, wondering where I had gone after school, what I had done, and why I looked so sad. I signed back quickly, just telling her I was busy with schoolwork. Daddy didn't notice and Mommy was too preoccupied with serving dinner, proud of the new recipe for meat loaf she had found in an old Provincetown newspaper. Cary kept his head bowed, his eyes on his plate throughout most of the meal. It was Daddy's turn to read the Bible and while he did, I kept my gaze locked on Cary.
He couldn't look at me and whenever he accidentally did, he shifted his eyes guiltily away. He was the first to leave the table, claiming he had better get upstairs and do some studying. Daddy was happy to hear that and didn't question his quick retreat. While I helped Mommy with the dishes, she talked enough for both of us, planning things for the summer, including a trip to Boston. Finally, she noticed me standing quietly beside her and reminded me that I should go up and study, too.
I was grateful for the escape, but once again it was hard, if not impossible, for me to focus on my schoolwork. My eyes drifted constantly from the pages of my books and papers and my attention settled on the drawer where I'd hidden Robert's letters as my thoughts wrapped themselves around images of his face and the sound of his voice.
Just before her bedtime, May came in to spend some time with me. I took a break and did some needlepoint with her while she talked about her friends at school and asked me questions about high school life. Finally, she got tired and went to sleep. I did, too.
Moments after I had turned off my lights and crawled under my blanket, I heard a gentle knock on my door. It was so light, I first thought it was just some pipes rattling in the walls. I listened again, heard it, and rose. When I opened the door, I found Cary standing there in his robe and slippers.
"I tried, but I couldn't fall asleep without talking to you," he said.
"I'm not surprised," I replied curtly. I stepped away from the door and returned to my bed. I sat on it, my legs folded under me.
Cary entered and quietly closed the door. He stood there gazing down at the floor for a long moment. I turned on the lamp on my nightstand. The brightness made him squint.
"What is it, Cary?" I finally asked.
"I was just wondering what happened up at Grandma Olivia's," he said.
"Somehow, Cary, I think you already know," I said and looked quickly from him to my toes. I always thought I had ugly toes. They were too big, but Robert said they were perfect. He claimed everything about me was perfect.
How blind love can make someone, I
vaguely thought.
I'm far from perfect.
"What do you mean, I already know?" Cary replied. He gazed at me and I stared back, undaunted.
"Someone told her I had been at the Sea Marina at night, alone with Robert."
"So? Anybody could have told her that, Laura. Anyone could have seen you go there. Maybe you told one of your friends at school. Maybe you bragged about it to Theresa Patterson," he added quickly. "Maybe--"
"Maybe you told her, Cary," I said firmly.
"I would never--"
"Cary, for as long as we have been alive, you couldn't lie to me easily. You're not doing a good job of it now either," I said. "I don't know whether to just cry or scream my loudest at you."
He stared.
"I might have said something to her," he admitted. "She's . . . well, you don't know what it's like to be interrogated by her. She called me to her house a few days ago and--"
"Why didn't you tell me, Cary?" He was silent. "Were you ashamed? Was that it? Ashamed that you betrayed me?"
"Yes," he admitted.
"Why? What happened?" I asked. "Cary, you might
as
well tell me everything and stop playing these silly games with me. You
might
have said something? You would know if you said something, Cary."
"Okay, I'll tell you what happened. She started with her questions about my taking you up to see Aunt Belinda. She was very angry about that and she bawled me out for not knowing better. She wanted to know what was so important about us seeing Belinda. I told her I didn't see her; it was just you and she got. . I don't know . . . very mean-looking. She was really scary, Laura. I've never seen her like that. She told me to sit down and she stood up. She's only up to here," he said, holding his hand to about his chest, "but suddenly, she looked gigantic to me. She hovered over me and demanded to know why you went to see Belinda. What did you discuss? What did Belinda tell you? As fast as I told her I didn't know, she asked another question, firing them at me so fast, my head began to spin. I thought I was in one of those police stations you see in the movies. You know,
interrogation rooms with the bright light in the person's face?"
"So then you told her about my letters, didn't you, Cary?" I asked directly.
His eyes shifted to my desk drawer and then back to me. "I don't know what you--"
"Cary, you can't lie to me," I reminded coldly. "I know those letters were read. I had them folded and tied together a certain way. May wouldn't read them and Mommy and Daddy wouldn't read them. Who does that leave?"
"Well, I was worried about you. I knew you kept his letters in that drawer. I came in here to talk to you one day just as you were putting them away. When you started acting weird, I knew it had something to do with Robert Royce. So I came in here and just read a few."
"You read my personal letters," I said, shaking my head. It was one thing to suspect it and another to hear the confession from his lips.
"I care about you. I don't care about any personal letters," he claimed. Then he paused and softened his face. "Were they true, Laura? I mean, what he says happened between you and him in his place?"
I shook my head and looked away.
"I should have known you would read them," I muttered. "The stuff in those letters, that was the girl stuff you went to talk to Belinda about, wasn't it?" he asked.
"No," I said. "It was far more than that."
"We never talked about those kinds of things, Laura. We never really talked about sex, but I always thought that you would be different from the other girls in our school, that you would never--"
"I'm not like the other girls. I am different, Cary," I insisted, my voice cracking with emotion.
"That's what I think, too," he said, quickly nodding. "I think it's all his fault," he said firmly, twisting my words.
"It's not all his fault!" I cried, pounding my thighs with my small fists. The sight made Cary wince. I lowered my voice. "It's nobody's fault. I never did anything I didn't want to do. I happen to . . I happen to love Robert, Cary, and he loves me, too. Now you've gone and made things very hard for us. You had no right to do that."
"I just did what I thought was right for you, Laura. I only wanted to protect you. I--"
"You had no right," I insisted, furiously shaking my head at him. "What did you tell her exactly? I want to know all of it, every ugly detail."
"I didn't tell her anything exactly. I told her how funny you had been acting and how suddenly you wanted to go see Aunt Belinda, that you said she knew about girl stuff.
"As soon as I said that, Grandma Olivia pounced. 'Girl stuff?' she demanded. 'Laura is still seeing that boy, then? How serious has it gotten?' she demanded. I tried to make it seem like nothing. Honest, I did, but she kept at me, asking if I knew if you had ever been alone with him. She's the one who sul tested the inn, now that I think about it. Yes. That's what she said. 'Has she gone to that inn?' From the way she was asking me, I thought she knew and was just checking to see if I would be truthful. I told her you had been with Robert at his place for dinner. She asked if I knew if his parents were there. I said I didn't know, but I guess you're right: I'm not a good liar, because she asked me again in a sharper voice. I said I thought maybe his parents were gone and then she was the one who told me what you had done. It was as if she had read the letters herself, Laura. I swear," he added with his hand up as if he were about to take the witness stand in a courtroom.
"And you didn't deny any of it? You let her believe it," I concluded.
"She took one look at my face and said I didn't have to say another word. My eyes said it all. She's spooky. You know how she is. She's--"
"She's a very unhappy old woman, Cary. That's what she is, and now she's succeeded in making me unhappy, too," I said. "And you helped her. Are you satisfied?"
"No, of course not. But Laura, he shouldn't have . . ." Cary looked away. "If he loved you like you said, he would respect you more and that never would have happened."
"I don't want to talk about it anymore, Cary. I'm afraid that anything I say to you might get back to Grandma Olivia anyway," I added.
It was as if I had slapped him hard across the face. His head actually jerked to the side and his eyes filled with such pain, I couldn't look at him.
"I'm sorry, Laura, but I just did what I did because . . because I love you," he blurted and turned quickly to rush out of the room.
I remained sitting there for a long, long moment, staring at the closed door and hearing Cary's words echo in my ears. How could I ever explain all this to Robert? Who could ever understand the madness of my family?
I tried to sleep, but fretted in and out of nightmares, waking with small cries, burying my face in the pillow and then falling asleep again, only to wake before the morning and then finally fall into a fitful sleep once again. I was in such a deep sleep when morning did come, I didn't hear anyone moving about the house. It was May who finally woke me, shaking my arm.
My eyelids fluttered and I looked at her without understanding why she was there. Then I gazed at the clock and flew out of bed. She followed me around my room, signing her questions. Was I sick? Was Cary sick? He wouldn't say a word to anyone, she claimed. I was fine, I told her. I just overslept.
Mommy was at me the moment I appeared.
"Aren't you feeling well, Laura? You didn't look so well last night, now that I think about it."
"I'm fine, Mommy. Just a little tired," I said. "I'm sorry I overslept."
"Your brother's acting strangely, too," she complained. "Just like when the two of you were May's age and younger. If one of you had a stomachache, the other did, too. Remember when you both got the chicken pox, not more than a day apart?"
"Yes, Mommy."
"Maybe it was something in that new recipe," she mused. "No, Mommy. If there was something wrong with the food, you and Daddy and May would be sick."
"Yes, that's true."
"We're just a little tired," I said. It wasn't a lie. I was sure Cary hadn't slept much better than I had.
I drank some juice, had some toast and jam, and scooped up my things to join May and Cary, who were waiting at the door. Daddy-had already left for work. Cary's eyes were full of remorse and sorrow, but I chose not to look at him. I didn't say a word as we started out for school. May was full of curiosity and signed questions all the way. After we dropped her off, Cary turned to me.
"I'm sorry, Laura," he said. "I didn't mean to get you in any trouble."
"Let's not talk about it, Cary. I'm still trying to come up with a way to explain things to Robert."
He nodded and walked a little ahead of me all the way to school. When we arrived, he quickly went to his locker and left me to talk to Robert alone. Robert took one look at me and the sweet, happy grin disappeared from his face.
"What's wrong? You look like you lost your best friend," he half-kidded.
"I think I did," I said.
The first warning bell rang before I could say anything, and I knew I didn't have enough time to explain it all.
"I'll tell you at lunch," I promised. "There isn't time now."
Robert nodded, his face darkly serious and full of worry. Between every class he tried to catch up with me so he could find out what was wrong.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "You look really tired, Laura."
"I am
really tired," I admitted.
"Your brother's doing a good job of avoiding me today. I caught him looking at me and when I looked back, he turned away. He's back to muttering or grunting whenever I try to speak to him. What's going on?"
"We'll talk at lunch," I said, and I, too, hurried away.
However, when lunch hour finally arrived and I approached the cafeteria and heard the happy chatter of the students, all full of excitement about the approaching end of the school year and summer vacation, I stopped a few feet from the door. My feet felt frozen to the floor.
"What's the matter with you?" Theresa Patterson asked as she came up beside me. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
I turned to her. A tear escaped from my eye and I shook my head instead of speaking.
"Laura?"
I ran back down the corridor and out a side door, bursting into the afternoon sunshine and letting the tears come more freely now that I was alone. I walked to an old oak tree and plopped down in the shade, hugging my knees, gently rocking back and forth. My shoulders shook as I sobbed.
"Laura," I heard minutes later. Robert was rushing over the lawn toward me. "What happened? Why didn't you come into the cafeteria? I waited and waited until Theresa told me she saw you run outside."
He knelt beside me. I wiped my tears away and tried to smile.
"I'm all right," I said. "I just wasn't in the mood for all those eyes and all those inquisitive faces today."
"Why? Tell me everything," he demanded as he sat on the grass beside me.
"Oh Robert . . ." I started and then sucked in my breath. "Cary read the letters you wrote to me. He went into my room when I wasn't there and he read them," I wailed.
"Uh-oh," Robert moaned. "No wonder he's been treating me like someone with a contagious disease today. I'm sorry, Laura. I shouldn't have put any of that in writing. Has he been nasty to you or--"
"No, it's not just Cary," I said. I paused and looked around at the slow-moving traffic, the soft cotton clouds lazily crossing the horizon, and the songbirds flitting from tree to tree. The world looked so calm and beautiful that it made the knots in my stomach and the chill in my heart seem worse.
I told Robert about my great aunt Belinda and how my grandmother Olivia had questioned Cary at length about my visiting Belinda at the rest home.
Then I described how Grandma Olivia's interrogation had turned to-my personal life and specifically my relationship with him. Before I could go on, Robert sputtered out, "You mean, Cary told her what I wrote in my letters?"
"Not exactly," I said, "but it had the same result."
Robert shook his head, amazed.
"What happened after that?"
"That was why she had the driver here for me yesterday, Robert," I said.
"Oh. You mean, she called you to her home to question you about you and me?"
"Yes."
He blew a low whistle through his closed lips.
"I'm sorry, Laura. I guess I really messed things up but I couldn't help myself. I had to tell you how I felt and you wouldn't talk to me. . . ."
"Don't blame yourself, Robert. Cary knows he was wrong," I said, grinding the tears out of my eyes and catching my breath. "It's just that Grandma Olivia is the head of our family and she could make things hard for everyone."
"What does she want? Should I go to see her? Maybe--"
"Oh no, Robert. Never. Don't even talk about it," I said and he saw the terror in my eyes. He nodded.
"Well, what should I do?"
"There's nothing to do at the moment," I said. "Except . . ."
"Except what, Laura?"
"Except stay away from each other for a while. At least until things calm down," I added quickly. He stared at me a moment and then shook his head. "What's a while?"
"A while," I said, shrugging. "We've got our finals to think about anyway."
"You think I care about my finals now?"
"You have to, Robert. You want to go to college. If you did poorly because of me, I would feel ten times worse." He plucked a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. "I'm keeping you from eating lunch," I said, trying to joke. "You must be hungry. You're eating grass."
He stopped chewing and smiled. Then he shook his head slowly.
"I don't think you understand how much I love you, Laura. It's easy to say we should keep away from each other for a while, but it's nearly impossible for me to do. I'm going to camp out near your house and hope for a glimpse of you every night."
"Robert--"
"Seeing you in school will be like torture. What am I supposed to do, stay away from you here, too?"
My lips started to tremble, my chin quivering.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm doing it again. I'm thinking only of myself and putting you in a difficult position." He stood. "All right, I'll try to cool it, as they say. For a while," he added. "But Laura Logan, you mark my words. You will be my wife someday. You will be the woman I live with forever and ever, and no powerful grandmother, no overprotective brother, no one can stop it from happening."
I nodded, pressing my lips together and swallowing the lump in my throat. Robert smiled one last time before he turned and walked back into the school, his shoulders slumped, his heart as dark and as broken as my own.
Each succeeding day without Robert, without his smiles, without hearing his voice, receiving his phone calls, was a day of gloom. The sun might as well have kept its face behind a wall of storm clouds, as far as I was concerned. I did my chores, I studied and helped May with her work, but I know when I moved about, I resembled a zombie, a robot without a heart or soul. When I had time to be alone, I walked off and sat on the beach and watched the waves comb the sand, gently rolling over each other, beckoning. Sometimes I went down to the edge of the tide and walked barefoot through the foam. The terns followed me, circling, calling, gazing with curiosity at my sad, forlorn figure alone on a vast sea of sand.