We had lunch and then Cary and I took May for a walk along the beach, just as we used to do.

"While you were away, May and I came out here often. I'd pretend you were with us. It was easy because she can't hear, so I could talk aloud to you. I don't know how many times I told you I loved you."

"I heard you each time," I said. He tightened his hold on my hand.

"Can you stay for dinner?"

"I think I'd better go back for dinner, but I want to see Kenneth this afternoon and I was hoping you'd drive me out there," I said.

He turned away quickly.

"What's wrong?"

"I was out there yesterday," he said. "Kenneth's . . different. I think all of it, finishing his big work, your friend's discovery of Haille, your leaving . . . all brought back painful memories, memories he was able to bury in his work."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He was drinking a lot. Actually, I found him sleeping on the beach, Ulysses whining beside him. I helped him into the house. He had obviously been out there all night."

"Oh no, Cary."

"I don't know if you should go there."

"More than ever, Cary. I should go there more than ever," I said.

I said it with such determination and strength, I even surprised myself.

"With all your unhappiness and all your own problems, you think you can go and help someone else?" he challenged.

"Because of all that," I replied, thinking about some of the things Grandma Olivia had said. "It's important to learn how to deal with unpleasantness, how to accept what you can't change and move on to what you can."

"And you think you can change Kenneth's unhappiness?" he asked with skepticism and amazement.

"Yes," I said gazing out over the blue waves that rolled toward us. "Yes, I do."

12.

The Downward Spiral .

The wind picked up considerably as we drove down the bumpy beach road to Kenneth's house. I could see the ocean spray bouncing off the rocks, and the seagulls looked like they were struggling to stay on course. The sky was still quite blue, but over the horizon long somber clouds with ominously gray faces were snaking toward us.

"Bit of a nor'easter coming," Cary said. "We'll get some heavy rain tonight."

We stopped beside Kenneth's jeep, and noticed that he had left the driver's side door wide open.

Getting out of the truck slowly, I stepped up to the jeep and peered in at the empty beer bottles and the empty fast food bags on the floor, some old french fries and packets of ketchup beside them.

"I think he burned out his battery," Cary said, gazing over my shoulder. He nodded at the dashboard.

"Looks like he left the headlights on all night after he returned from whatever bar he was at."

I shook my head, my heart thumping in anticipation as we turned toward the house. The door was unlocked as usual, but it, too, was partially open.

The house was even a worse mess than it had been before I had begun working for Kenneth. It looked like he hadn't washed a dish in the kitchen since I had left. Food was caked on plates. Glasses, some still with wine, whiskey, beer and flat Coke in them, were scattered everywhere, even on the windowsills.

I knocked on the bedroom doorjamb before gazing in, but Kenneth wasn't there. I didn't know how he could sleep in the bedroom anyway. The blankets were half off the bed, as were the sheets.

There was a pillow on the floor, along with clothing and shoes he had discarded. I waded through the mess and then stopped and stooped down to pick up the picture of Mommy and me I had once found under the bed.

"Boy, it smells in here, doesn't it?" Cary said. I saw some rotted food and what looked like a pile of vomit in the corner. "Disgusting. What's that?"

"A picture of myself and Mommy. Did you check the bathroom?"

"Yes. He's probably in the studio," Cary said.

He shook his head as he gazed around the room. "I told you things were bad, but I didn't know how bad they were."

"Okay. Let's go find him," I said and we walked through the house, both grateful for the fresh air. I gazed down at the small pool where Kenneth kept Shell the turtle and some fish. Two dead fish floated on top of the water and Shell was nowhere in sight.

The door to the studio was wide open. I stood in the doorway, sweeping my eyes over the bottles, the plates, the paper and cans. A chair was overturned and the small sofa looked as if it were missing some of its stuffing.

Kenneth was sprawled at the foot of Neptune's Daughter. He was folded in the fetal position, one hand holding a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. His cheeks were unshaven, his beard very straggly, his hair long and untrimmed. He wore a stained pair of dungarees, no shoes and a faded brown T-shirt ripped down the right side. His eyes were shut tight and his mouth was twisted in a grimace. It looked like he was having a terrible nightmare.

Ulysses, sleeping at his side, rose with great effort, and came to greet us, his tail wagging emphatically.

"Oh, Ulysses, you poor baby," I said as he licked my hands and my face. "When was the last time you were fed?"

"He's probably been eating off plates, leftovers," Cary remarked.

We both looked at Kenneth again. He hadn't stirred.

"Maybe we shouldn't wake him," Cary said. "I told you I did that before, but I didn't tell you he wasn't so nice about it."

"We can't leave him here like this," I declared, took a deep breath and went to him. He smelled awful but I knelt down and carefully pried the bottle of whiskey out of his fingers. Cary rushed over to take it and put it on the table. Then I shook Kenneth's shoulder gently. His mouth closed and opened, but his eyes remained shut. I shook him again, harder.

"Kenneth. Kenneth, wake up. It's Melody. I'm back. Kenneth. Kenneth!" I jerked his arm and his eyes snapped opened with a start as he groaned. He shot up so quickly, I nearly fell backward to avoid being struck by his swinging left arm. Then he fixed his eyes on me and rubbed them into focus.

"What?"

"I'm back, Kenneth. It's Melody."

"You're back?" He scrubbed his face with his palms, dropped his head as if he were going to fall asleep again, and then lifted it slowly, gazing at me harder. "You're not a vision, a dream? You're really here," he said smiling.

"Yes, Kenneth. I'm really here. What's going on? What have you done to yourself?"

He smiled.

"Done to myself? Nothing. What you see here has been done to me, not by me," he replied. "So . ."

He finally noticed Cary standing to the side. "Oh, the beach rescue service has arrived, huh?"

"Hi, Kenneth. I think you drained your battery in the jeep. You must have left the lights on last night."

"Most likely," he said nodding.

"I have some jumper cables in the truck. I'll give it a boost and get it running for you."

Kenneth brought his hand to his temple, to his mouth and then bowed.

"My family thanks you."

Cary laughed and then looked at me and saw I didn't think any of this was funny.

"I'll just go charge the jeep while you two talk,"

he said and hurried away, Ulysses at his heels.

"Talk? We're going to talk?"

"What's happened to you, Kenneth? You weren't like this when I left."

"I don't know," he said quickly and struggled to get to his feet. I moved to help him, but he pushed me away. "I can do it myself," he said, but he wobbled when he stood and had to put his left hand against the statue. He opened his eyes and smiled. "I knew I created this for a reason."

"It has a lot more reason to be than that, Kenneth. It's spectacular," I said, glancing at Neptune's Daughter again. There was no question the face was my mother's face.

"Right. Art for art's sake, to bring out the beauty that is otherwise unseen, unheard, untouched around us. I am a prophet, a singer of songs, a . . ." He groaned. ". . . a man with a terrific hangover."

He staggered over to the sofa, grabbed a pillow and flopped down, nearly turning the sofa over at the same time.

"Why are you drinking like this? You're killing yourself," I said.

"No, it just looks that way. I can go on like this indefinitely. So," he said coming more to his senses, "I did hear from Holly a few times. Apparently, our Miss Cape Cod did pull a fast one, huh? She performed a death and resurrection, just as we all suspected?"

"Yes, she and her so-called agent took advantage of a situation to fake her death. The woman in the car with Richard Marlin was borrowing my mother's identification and was first mistaken for Mommy and then deliberately made out to be her."

"Olivia's not going to appreciate less than blue blood bones in her sanctified ground."

"Why is everyone so worried about what Grandma Olivia thinks?" I moaned.

"I don't really worry about it. I'm amused by it, actually." He thought a moment. "I shouldn't be at all surprised. Haille liked to pretend she was someone else all the time, especially movie actresses. When she met strangers, she would give them a fictitious name, make up a whole history for herself and do it rather convincingly."

"Then she's in the right place," I said and began cleaning up the studio.

"Don't do that. I don't care about it being clean and organized anymore. You are looking at my last work," he said staring at Neptune's Daughter.

"Stop it, Kenneth. You're not going to let this be your last work. You're too young to retire."

"Retire?" He laughed. "Yes, retire is a good word for it. Kenneth Childs, renowned New England sculptor, has declared his retirement. I like the sound of that."

"I hate it because it's full of self-pity," I said.

His eyes widened.

"Whoa. Et tu, Melody? Then fall Kenneth Childs."

"I understand, Kenneth, because I've been wallowing in it as well." I put another pillow back on the sofa and sat beside him. Then I told him what had happened in California and why I had left. He listened, his eyes regaining some of their spirit and light as I spoke, especially when I described my mother and how young she looked.

"Then she's still very beautiful?"

"Yes, but there are many beautiful women in Hollywood, most with more talent, and all probably with more reputable and reliable agents. Richard Marlin is just some lowlife that has her beguiled," I said.

He nodded.

"I feel sorry for her. She was just as much a victim as I was. I feel sorry for you, too," he added quickly.

"I don't want you to. I'm not going to think about it anymore and I'm not going to try to make something happen that can never happen."

He looked at me with new interest.

"I see. You're learning to grin and bear it, huh?"

"Yes, and I want you to learn as well." I paused and then added, "You were actually lucky you didn't end up with my mother. Grandma Olivia is right about people making excuses for her. She is what she is not because of what happened between you two, not because she discovered your father is her father, but because it's in her to be who she is. She was always selfish, Kenneth. You know that's true."

He laughed.

"Where did you find all this wisdom and knowledge?"

"It was a long journey," I said dryly, "through a rain forest of tears. Just because she lost you as a lover doesn't mean she had to turn me away, to deny me as her daughter, does it? When do you stop blaming your father for every mistake you make and start blaming yourself?"

His eyes widened.

"You don't understand," he said in a hoarse whisper, his head shaking.

"I understand. Don't you think I wanted to love her, too? Don't you think I wanted to have a mother?

When I was growing up and I had so many questions, girl-talk questions, don't you think I longed to have her spend hours and hours with me and not talk about herself and her pimples or her new ounce of fat? Do you think if you had been able to marry her, you would have changed her?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "All I do know is I would have liked the opportunity." He sighed deeply.

"Okay, Melody, okay," he said. "I'll stop wallowing in self-pity, but I don't know about my work." He looked at Neptune's Daughter. "This project just seemed to drain me. Maybe I gave it everything I had."

"I doubt it," I said. We heard the jeep's horn and looked toward the doorway. Cary gave us the thumbs-up sign.