Even though the conditions were better, I had a harder time falling asleep. Now that we would be in Provincetown the very next day, and meeting Daddy's family, I had a small trembling inside. Where was my new home to be? I felt like a balloon, floating, bouncing, carried this way and that by the winds of Mommy's and Archie Marlin's fancy. Maybe we didn't have all that much back in Sewell, but now I had nothing: not a friend, not a familiar sight, no one in whom to confide. I had never felt so alone. I could squeeze my eyelids shut until they ached, but I couldn't close out the fears that kept me tossing and turning, fretting in and out of nightmares until the first light of morning streaked through the motel room curtains.

Mommy and Archie slept very late. I washed and dressed and sat reading a visitor's guide, wondering if at least we could do some sightseeing.

Finally, tired of being shut up in the stuffy room, I went for a walk around the motel. By the time I returned, Mommy and Archie were awake. We went for breakfast. They were both very subdued, they hardly talked and their eyelids drooped.

"Are we going to do some sightseeing before we go on to Provincetown?"

Archie groaned.

"On the way back," Mommy said quickly. "We want to get to the Cape as early as possible today."

"I thought we were exploring new places," I muttered. "Oh Melody, please. No complaints today.

I'm afraid I had a little too much to drink last night,"

she said.

1 said nothing. After breakfast, we moved mutely, repacking the car and getting in for the drive.

I saw many good views of the ocean, especially when we crossed the Cape Cod Canal. It was a beautiful warm day. The sailboats and fishing trollers looked painted on the blue water. As I smelled the salty air, I had the funniest feeling, as if I were truly returning home. Perhaps I was experiencing what Daddy would have felt if he were alive and with me on this journey.

I would learn more about him by going to this place. I began to overcome my nervousness and fear. In a way, Daddy would be with me.

Mommy fell asleep as we continued our journey up Route 6. The miles slid by like a long ribbon with no end. When the road signs indicated we were getting closer to Provincetown, a tiny charge of excitement passed through my heart. How could Mommy sleep through this? After all, she was going home, too. Finally, Archie, who had been quiet himself, announced we were close to the tip of the Cape, Provincetown. Mommy stirred, opening her eyes and stretching.

I caught sight of the dunes. "It looks like the desert." Then Pilgrim's Monument came into view and Mommy told me what it was.

"The pilgrims supposedly landed here first,"

Mommy said. "The blue bloods make a big deal of that."

"Blue bloods?" I asked.

"People who trace their family history back to the Mayflower. Your father's family," she added disdain-fully. "They think that makes them better than the rest of us."

"Is that why you and Daddy left?"

"That among other things," Mommy said and sewed her lips shut.

"Where do we go?" Archie asked.

"Turn left," Mommy ordered.

"Are they expecting us today, Mommy?"

"Yes," she said. "Jacob should be home. I see the tide is in."

"How can you tell?" I asked.

"The waves are breaking on the beach up at the beach grass. See?"

I nodded.

"Fishing boats go out and come back at high tide," Mommy explained. "I remember that much, but don't ask me too much more," she said quickly. It was as if it were painful for her to remember.

Archie followed her directions. We moved slowly through the narrow street, on both sides of which were small souvenir shops, boutiques, restaurants advertising fresh lobster dinners, and taverns with names like The Buccaneer and Mast Head. Here and there were signs advertising bed and breakfast accommodations. The buildings, some of which looked very old, were made from gray cedar shingles. All had Vacancy signs dangling in the breeze.

Mommy explained that it wasn't the season yet, so the tourists really weren't here. "These small streets get so crowded in the summer, it's wall-to-wall people."

"Yeah, just like the Vegas strip," Archie commented.

"Turn here," Mommy directed. We went east on an even narrower street that had small Cape Cod houses on both sides, none with much more than a couple of a hundred feet of rough-looking grass in front. But some had flowers. I saw one with a lilac bush towering as high as its roof. As we rolled along, I heard Mommy mumble, "It seems like a hundred years ago, but not much has changed."

Suddenly, there were no more houses, just a stretch of dunes. I thought we would stop, but Mommy told Archie to continue following the road. It turned north, and then, on the right, just a few hundred yards or so farther, a house appeared. I could see the beach and the ocean not too far away. A flock of terns circled over something on the sand.

"There it is," Mommy said, nodding at the house. There was a light brown pickup truck parked in the gravel driveway, and in front of that a dark blue, four- door automobile with its right rear end jacked up. A tall, lean man with hair Daddy's color was bending over a tire. He didn't turn to look at us, even when we stopped near the driveway.

"That is your uncle Jacob," Mommy said softly.

He finally glanced up. I saw the resemblances in his face, especially in his chin and cheekbones, but he was much leaner in build and he looked older than Daddy, not younger. Even from this distance I could see the deep lines at the corners of his eyes. He had a much darker complexion than Daddy's had been. He stared a moment and then went back to his tire as if he had no interest in who we were or why we were here.

"Should I pull in?" Archie asked.

"Yes," Mommy replied with a deep sigh. "Well, Melody, it's time to meet your family."

5.

The Only Mother I Had .

Archie slowly pulled into the driveway. Uncle Jacob didn't turn around again until we came to a full stop. Then he stood up and gestured emphatically for Archie to back up.

"I need the room to work here," he explained.

"Sorry," Archie said. He backed up a good ten feet and we all got out of the car. Uncle Jacob, his back to us, continued to work on removing the flat tire.

"Hello Jacob," Mommy said. He nodded without turning around.

"I'll be a while with this," he finally replied, still not looking our way. "Go on inside. Sara's been waiting on you all morning. Thought you were supposed to be here last night." He groaned as he turned the nut on the flat tire. The muscles in his long arms tightened and the muscles in his neck bulged with the effort. The nut loosened and he relaxed again.

"It took longer than we expected," Mommy said. Uncle Jacob grunted.

Mommy looked at me and then at Archie, who had his lips twisted in disgust. She put her hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the front door. The house was a Cape Codder with a widow's walk that faced the ocean. The trim on the railings and shutters was a Wedgwood blue, but like the cedar siding, it was faded by the salt air. There was a short, narrow cobblestone walkway to the front door.

On the windows were dainty eggshell white curtains, and on the sills were flower boxes full of tulips and daffodils. A bird feeder dangled from the roof of the small porch and a tiny sparrow fluttered its wings nearby, cautiously waiting for us to pass.

Mommy tapped gently on the door. Then, after a moment, she tapped again, a bit harder.

"Just go on in," Uncle Jacob called from the driveway. "She won't hear you. She's in the kitchen, I'm sure."

Mommy turned the knob and we entered. A small entryway led us to the living room on our right.

A massive brick fire place consumed most of the far wall. There was a bluish-gray throw rug on the tongue-and-groove floor. A deep-cushioned sofa and the overstuffed chair beside it were the only things that matched. The rest of the furnishings were antiques, which included a well worn rocker, two small pine tables at the ends of the sofa, an old sewing table in the corner, and lamps made of cranberry glass and milk glass. On the mantle were framed photos.

Mounted on a dark blue board and hanging over the fireplace, was a swordfish that looked at least seven feet long. Its glass eye seemed to turn toward us as we entered.

"Sara?" Mommy called. "We're here."

We heard a pan being dropped into a metal sink and a moment later, my Aunt Sara appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

A tall woman, maybe an inch or so taller than Mommy, she wore a long, flowing light blue skirt that made her look all legs. Over her skirt she had a plain white apron, on which she wiped her hands. Her blouse had frilled sleeves and pearl buttons closed almost to the top. The collar parted just enough to reveal her very pronounced collarbone and a thin gold chain that held a gold locket. Her chestnut brown hair hung down over her shoulders. Through it were delicate streaks of gray. Aunt Sara wore no makeup to brighten her pale complexion, and she wore no jewelry but the locket.

She might once have been pretty, but the silvery webs at her temples were deep and her eyes looked a dull, dark brown. The darkness spread to the puffiness beneath her eyes, too. She had a small nose and high cheekbones with gracefully full lips, but her face was thin, almost gaunt.

"Hello, Sara," Mommy said.

"Hello, Haille," Aunt Sara replied without changing her expression. The way Mommy and Aunt Sara gazed at each other made my stomach turn. It was as if they were not only looking at each other across this room, but across time and great distance.

Neither made an attempt to hug or even shake hands.

A deep silence lingered for a confusing moment, making me feel as if I were floundering in the world of adult quicksand.

What sort of welcome was this? I stood there, full of a thousand anxieties, butterflies panicking in my chest.

"This is my friend, Richard," Mammy said feeling she had to explain Archie's presence first, I suppose. "He was kind enough to drive us here from West Virginia."

Aunt Sara nodded but her eyes quickly went to me with greater interest, her face brightening in anticipation.

"And this is Melody," Mommy added, putting her hands on my shoulders. Aunt Sara's gaze was so penetrating I thought she could look right through me.

A small smile, almost impossible to notice, formed at the corners of her mouth.

"Yes," she said nodding as if I were exactly the way she imagined I would be. "She's about Laura's size and height, only Laura's hair was darker and she never kept it that long," she said, sadness making her face long and hollow eyed.

"I'm so sorry about all that," Mommy said softly.

"Yes," Aunt Sara said, still staring at me. I looked to Mommy. What was she sorry about? Who was Laura? Apparently, she knew more than she had admitted about Daddy's family.

"I bet you're hungry," Aunt Sara said to me, a smile returning to her lips. I smiled back, but my stomach was tied in so many knots I didn't think I could ever put food in it. "I've got a chicken roasting.

Cary will be home from school soon with May.

They're both very excited about your coming here."

She turned to Mommy and Archie. "In the meantime, I have some clams steamed for you."

"Oh good. In the years since I've been here, I've never had any good as yours, Sara."

"I don't do anything more with clams than anyone else around here does," she said modestly.

"You scrub them and drop them into a clam kettle with just enough water to cover them. No mystery about it," Aunt Sara said, her voice suddenly harder, sterner.

"Maybe it's just the clams here," Mommy said.

She seemed awkward and uncomfortable under Aunt Sara's icy glare.

"That's it for sure," Archie said. Aunt Sara raised her eyebrows and looked at him as if she had just noticed his presence.

"Well now, come into the dining room and make yourselves to home," she said.

An antique trestle table stretched nearly the whole length of the dining room. It had a captain's chair at each end and four straight chairs in a perfect line on each side. Lying at the head of the table was a leather-bound Bible. There was a small pine table in a corner of the room with a vase of yellow roses on it.

On the wall was an oil painting: a seascape with a lone sailboat moving toward the horizon. I looked closer and saw what looked like a ray of bright sunshine pouring through an opening in the overcast sky with a godlike finger in the center of the ray of light. The finger pointed at the lone sailboat.

"Please take a seat," Aunt Sara said. "That's Jacob's chair," she added and nodded toward the captain's chair at the end of the table where the Bible lay. Obviously, no one else was permitted to sit in it.

"Everyone like cranberry juice?"

"It makes for a great mix with vodka," Archie quipped.

"Pardon?" Aunt Sara said. Mommy gave him a reprimanding look.

"What?" He recovered quickly.

"Oh, sure we like it. Thank you." Aunt Sara hurried back to the kitchen.

"Who's Laura, Mommy?" I asked. "Why didn't you tell me about her?"

"It's too sad," Mammy whispered and brought her finger to her lips. "Not now, honey."

Aunt Sara reappeared carrying a pitcher filled with cranberry juice on a tray with three tall glasses, each with two ice cubes. She gave us each a glass and started to reach for the pitcher.

"Let me pour that," Archie volunteered. Aunt Sara nodded to him. She gazed at me again, drinking me in for a long moment, her eyes twinkling with pleasure and approval. It made me feel uncomfortable to be scrutinized so closely. I looked away.

"Do you like clams, dear?" she asked.

"I guess so," I said. "I don't remember eating them."

"She loves them," Mammy said quickly.

"Laura loved them so," Aunt Sara said. She sighed. "I'll go get them."

She returned to the kitchen.