We strolled in front of the house.

Just over the western horizon, the sun was a rich saffron color, almost orange. The wispy clouds resembled veils of light cotton being pulled across the azure sky. Terns called over the ocean. The breeze was constant, but warmer than usual.

I had to admit Cape Cod was a beautiful place.

How it must have broken my father's heart to leave.

Cary glanced at me, and his glimmering eyes met mine.

"Your father's right, you know," I said. "It was my fault."

"Don't start that again," he warned.

"After school ends, I'm not staying here," I told him. "No matter what, I'm leaving. If my mother doesn't want me, I'll go live with Mama Arlene back in Sewell. I'll get a part-time job and help out, but I can't stay where I'm not wanted, where I can only make trouble for people I like," I said.

A tiny smile took form on his lips. "Summer's the best time of the year up here. You can't leave.

Besides, I'm depending on your help come cranberry season."

I shook my head.

Everyone refused to face reality here, I thought.

May suddenly began to tug my hand hard and gesture toward the beach.

"What is it, May?" I put my hand over my eyes and gazed. "Cary? Why are those people gathering down there?"

"Where?" He looked. "Oh no, not again," he said, and started over the sand.

"What is it?" We hurried to keep up with him.

A thousand yards or so away, a number of people circled something big and dark on the beach. "Cary?"

"It's a beached sperm whale," he called back.

He broke into a trot. May and I tried to keep up.

Nearly two dozen people had already reached the pathetic creature. It was at least fifty feet long. It lay on its side, its one visible eye open, bulging. It was gigantic and powerful looking, but right now it was helpless, dying. Most of the people, tourists, who had come to see it were timid and remained a dozen feet or so away, but some young teenagers demonstrated their bravado by rushing to it and slapping their hands on its body. Cary drew closer, keeping far enough back to prevent his shiny good shoes from getting wet. I drew closer with May.

"What happened?"

"It beached itself," he said.

"Why?"

"Lots of theories about that. Some think they become ill and seem to know that coming to shore or beaching will help them die."

"Does it look sick?"

"I don't know."

"What other reason might the whale have for doing this?" I asked.

"Whales have a built-in sonar system with which they navigate deep water. Sometimes, when they're in water only one hundred or two hundred feet deep, it disturbs the sonar and the whales get echoes and become con-fused, so they end up beached."

"What's going to happen? Can't it swim away with the tide?" I asked.

"The problem is when they reach land like this, the weight of their bodies is so great it crushes their lungs or hampers their breathing so much they become over-heated and die. It looks as if that's what's happened here."

"Oh Cary, isn't there anything we can do?"

"You think you can push that back out to sea?"

he said. "And even if you get him back into the water, he'd probably wash up again down shore. Anybody send for the Coast Guard?" he asked the crowd.

"Somebody said something about that," a tall man replied.

"If they come, they might try to do something.

If they don't show up soon. ."

"What?"

He gazed around. The kids were still tormenting the whale, slapping it, going up and gazing into its eye, one threatening to poke the eye out with a stick he had found on the sand.

"Stop it!" I screamed.

They paused for a moment, saw it was only me, and continued their pranks.

"That's not so bad," Cary said. "People sometimes come down at night and start to cut off pieces while the whales are still alive," he explained angrily.

"Oh no, Cary."

We heard a car horn and looked back. Uncle Jacob and Aunt Sara had pulled down the road and were gesturing. "We've got to go," he said.

"This is horrible, Cary."

He sighed. "I know." he said, turning away.

"Cary?"

"We'll come back later, after we return from Grandma's," he promised. He stared at the whale for a moment more and shook his head. "Not that we can do anything. Come on," he urged.

I followed, but after a few steps, I looked back at the helpless giant creature that had somehow found itself trapped on this beach. It was probably too confused and stunned to realize what had happened and what was soon to come.

Just like me, I thought walking slowly behind Cary and gazing back every few moments: beached.

15.

Cary's Attic Room .

Perhaps it was because of the family secrets that had begun to unravel around my heart: something frail within me cracked and ached as we turned up the driveway to my grandparents' house. I was on the verge of hysterical crying. Tears blinded my eyes. I turned away and stared out the car window so May wouldn't see how close I was to sobbing.

From what I now knew, I envisioned my parents, not much older than Cary and I, secretly holding hands and secretly pledging their love for each other in the shadowy corners of Grandma Olivia's house. Had Uncle Jacob always known? Was that one of the reasons he was so angry at my father?

Uncle Jacob shut off the engine.

"Now remember, best behavior," Aunt Sara instructed, signing the same to May.

"If we behaved any better, Ma, we'd be in heaven," Cary quipped.

Uncle Jacob glared at him and Cary quickly looked away.

The car beside Uncle Jacob's in the driveway was much older, but so clean and shiny, it looked newer.

"The judge is already here," Uncle Jacob muttered. "He keeps this car better than most people keep themselves. There's a man knows the value of quality craftsmanship." He looked at Cary to drive home his lesson.

Grandma Olivia hired special servants for her formal dinners. A butler came to the door. He was a tall, slim man with a narrow, pointed nose and round, dark brown eyes. His hair was curly but so thin, I could see his scalp and the brown spots beneath the piano-wire strands when he bowed.

"Good evening, sir. Madam," he said with a smile that looked smeared across his face with a butter knife. He held the door open, gazing at all of us to see if any of us had a coat or a hat for him to take. We didn't. "Everyone is in the sitting room, sir," he said.

He led us to it as if Uncle Jacob didn't know where it was. Aunt Sara thanked him and smiled back, but Uncle Jacob acted as if the servant weren't even there.

Grandma Olivia was in her high-back chair looking like a queen granting an audience. She wore an elegant black velvet dress and a rope of pearls with pearl earrings. Her hair was held back in a severe bun by a pearl comb decorated with small diamonds.

Grandpa Samuel was more casual. He sat with his legs crossed, a tall glass of whiskey and soda in his hand. He wore a diamond pinky ring in a gold setting that glittered in the early twilight that poured through the open curtains on the window. His dark suit looked rather dapper, I thought. As before, he had a wide, warm smile when he looked at me.

On Grandma Olivia's right side sat a distinguished looking elderly man. His gray hair still showed traces of light brown. It was neatly trimmed and parted on the right. He wore a tuxedo and a bow tie. When Judge Childs turned to us, I saw he was still a handsome man. His face was full and his complexion robust with wrinkles only in his forehead.

He had light brown eyes that dazzled with a glow more like those of a man half his age.

"You're late," Grandma said before anyone else could utter a word.

"We had a problem with the boat that kept us busy," Uncle Jacob said.

Grandma Olivia didn't consider that a valid excuse. "Boats can wait, people can't," she replied.

"Now, now, Olivia, don't be too harsh on those who still do an honest day's labor these days," the judge chided. "How are you, Jacob?"

"Fair to middling, I suppose," Uncle Jacob said.

He nodded at his father, who still had his pleasant smile. "And you, Judge?"

"At my age, you don't dare complain," Judge Childs replied.

"Oh, come now, Nelson," Grandpa Samuel said, "you're only a year and a half older than I am."

"And you're no spring chicken, Samuel," the judge retorted. They both laughed. Then the judge turned with interest toward me. "Well now, Sara, you've got another chick under your wing, I see. And a pretty one at that."

"Yes, Judge." Aunt Sara put her hands on my shoulders and pulled me forward. "This is Melody.

Haille's Melody."

"Looks just like her," the judge said, nodding.

"Just as I remember her at that age. Hello, Melody,"

he said.

"Hello."

"How old are you now?" he asked.

"I'll be sixteen in a few weeks."

"Oh, that's nice. Another June birthday celebration."

"Kenneth's a Gemini, too, isn't he?" Aunt Sara asked the judge.

"Oh Sara, not that astrology again," Grandma Olivia warned. Aunt Sara shrank back.

"Well, he was born June eighteenth. Does that mean anything?" the judge asked.

"Geminis are May twenty-first to June twentieth,"

Aunt Sara said in a small voice, her eyes full of fear as she glanced quickly at Grandma Olivia.

"I see," Judge Childs said. "I'm afraid I don't keep up with that star business." He shook his head at Grandpa Samuel and Grandma Olivia. "My maid Toby won't start her day without first checking those predictions in the newspaper."

"Nonsense and stupidity, ramblings of the idiotic," Grandma Olivia said.

"I don't know," Judge Childs said shrugging.

"Sometimes, I wonder what's better. Most of the fishermen I know are quite superstitious. Speaking of that, how's the lobstering been so far this year, Jacob?"

"Erratic," Uncle Jacob said. "With all the pollution, the oil spills, I doubt if my grandchildren will be doing much lobstering."

The judge nodded sadly. Aunt Sara directed Cary, May, and me toward the settee as the butler approached to see what sort of cocktail Uncle Jacob wanted.

"I don't drink," he said sharply.

"You oughta ease up on that, Jacob," Judge Childs said. "Doctors are now saying a drink a day is good for the heart. I know I followed that prescription even before it was the fad."