I shook my head.

"There's another reason."

"There is no other reason . . . for anything," she declared and then turned to leave my room.

The rain grew heavier, its drum beat pounding on my heart as well as on the house. I saw Cary's loving smile, his deep green eyes revealing his great need for me and great trust. How could I disappoint him? Grandma Olivia's threats scared me. I thought about the fury in her face.

Some time ago, she had trusted her heart to someone who had betrayed her and from that betrayal my mother was born, a woman she couldn't control or mold. I was her last chance for revenge.

But revenge against whom? Against what?

Was it someone or was it merely a world she had come to despise? Maybe it was both, I thought.

I was sure that in the days to follow I would find all the answers, only I was just as terrified of making the discoveries as I was of not.

I was floundering in a world of adult quicksand.

Who would throw me a line to pull me out? Kenneth?

Judge Childs? My Grandmother Belinda? Cary?

Everyone seemed to be floundering just as much.

Only Grandma Olivia, only she seemed to walk on firm ground. I had to admire her for that, and suddenly, I was filled with a new fear.

What if she got her way and I became the woman she wanted me to become?

Would I become her?

Then surely, she would have her revenge.

Grandpa Samuel did not join us for dinner.

When Loretta began serving, I inquired after him.

"Samuel's-not up to coming down to dinner tonight,"

Grandma Olivia said and began to eat her soup.

"Isn't he hungry?"

"He doesn't remember when he ate and when he didn't," she remarked acidly.

"Well, that's terrible, isn't it?" I pursued.

"Yes," she said and paused. "I'm debating whether to have a nurse move in to help take care of him or-"

"Or what?"

"Have him placed in the home Belinda is in.

The doctor will be examining him again in a few days and we'll know what he thinks we should do."

"Surely, he'll get better. He's just overcome with grief," I said.

She dabbed her mouth daintily and signaled for Loretta to remove her bowl.

"Really Melody, I don't know if we have room on our door to hang it," she said.

"Hang it? Hang what?"

"Your medical degree. I didn't know you had one," she said humorlessly.

"I'm just saying that it's possible, isn't it? He just needs some tender love and care. It's very painful to lose someone you love," I shot back. Sarcasm dripped from those thin, smug lips of hers.

"Of course it's painful, but tragedy and sadness must be subdued if you are to be of any value to anyone, including yourself. If all you are going to do is wallow in tears, you might as well throw yourself into the grave with your loved one. I may sound insensitive to you, Melody, but I am a realist, pragmatic. All the success, all that we have, is a result of that strength.

"And the irony is," she continued, "the weaker, more sensitive members of my immediate family are totally dependent upon my strength. Where would they be without me? Where do you think Samuel would eventually end up, and Belinda and Sara? All of them. Even you," she added.

She nodded at Loretta, who began serving the entree, but who looked terrified of doing anything that would interrupt. Grandma Olivia continued.

"I don't expect gratitude. I don't need to be continually stroked with thank-yous, but I won't be despised for my actions either. Is that clear?" she demanded.

I glanced at Loretta, who looked like she was waiting for my reply before she would serve me, too.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"Good." She began to eat while I poked at my food. "You may go visit Belinda tomorrow. You should, now that I think about it. Tell her about Haille.

Give her all the details about her daughter. A good dose of reality might be beneficial," she said, nodding and smiling.

We stared at each other a moment and then we ate quietly, neither of us saying another word until we were finished. Loretta was there to remove the dishes in an instant and quietly announced that she'd be bringing out dessert momentarily.

"I'm tired and I've had enough to eat. You should take your time. Try the creme brulee. It's very good," Grandma Olivia said and retreated to the parlor.

I had no more appetite and left the dining room soon after her. When I passed the parlor, I saw her sitting in her grand cushioned chair, suddenly looking very small, exhausted and alone. She had a book in her lap, but she wasn't reading anymore. She was staring out the window at the slow downpour, watching as the sky poured out the tears she'd never allow herself to shed.

I went upstairs to my room, but when I reached the second floor, I heard a door open and close and saw Grandpa Samuel coming down the hallway. He spotted me and hurried toward me. He wore a pair of pajamas and a dark blue velvet robe, but he was barefoot. His hair was disheveled. It looked like he had been running his fingers through it for hours.

"Haille," he whispered. "I'm glad you're back."

"No, Grandpa. I'm Melody," I said softly with a smile. "Melody."

He shook his head and looked back as if he was afraid of being overheard.

"She's gone and done it. I told her it wasn't right, but she forbade me to utter a word. She said it was a family disgrace and if I should so much as drop a hint in public or to Jacob and Sara, she would have me thrown out. She would tell everyone I was responsible for your pregnancy after all. Can you imagine? I think she meant it."

"Grandpa."

"I'm not saying she's not right. Maybe she is better off where she is, but Haille, you-"

"Grandpa, it's me, Melody," I said. I reached out and took his hand. He turned and looked into my face. "What?"

"Look at me closely. I'm not my mother."

"You mustn't tell her I told you," he said. He looked very frightened.

"Tell her what? Who are you talking about?

Belinda?" He shook his head.

"I'm not responsible," he said, pulling his hand from mine and backing away. "You can't blame me."

"Grandpa."

"I'm going to bed. Things will look different in the morning. They always look different in the morning. But if you don't believe me, you go into the basement and you look. You'll find the papers. Shh,"

he said bringing his finger to his lips. "Don't say a word. Don't let her know I told you," he warned me.

"Just pretend you found the papers yourself," he added and hurried away, looking back only once before going into his bedroom and closing the door.

What papers?

Was it all part of his madness? Like Ophelia in Hamlet, had he been driven insane by the death of someone he loved? If he didn't come out of his constant state of confusion he would end up in a rest home, I sadly thought.

Or were there more skeletons dangling in a closet I had yet to discover? Was it not just madness but painful memories that did this to him?

I heard footsteps below. Grandma Olivia was coming up the stairs, and for now, I thought, I would keep Grandpa Samuel's words to myself.

In my room I lay on the bed, my thoughts tumbling through my mind, making it impossible to sleep. Grandpa Samuel's words echoed in my ears and when I did finally drift off to sleep, it was of secrets and lies and whispers from beyond the grave that I dreamt. I tossed and turned for most of the night before I finally gave up on sleep.

I lay there with my eyes wide open for the longest time. The rain had stopped but the wind continued to whistle and blow over the big house, scratching at the window and whispering a name. My nightmares had stirred a voice. I could not make it out, but I knew it was a secret deeper than I had ever fathomed.

13.

How Sweet It Is .

After breakfast the next day, Cary came by to take me to see Grandma Belinda. I waited at the parlor window so I could rush out to meet him as soon as he pulled into the driveway. I didn't want him to have to see the look of disapproval on Grandma Olivia's face.

He would surely ask me about it and I would have to tell him her feelings concerning us. If there was anything I wanted to avoid at the moment, it was family turmoil, especially when it could be traced back to me.

Yesterday's storm had passed and the small vanilla scoops of clouds looked like they were melting over the powder blue sky. The instant I saw Cary's truck, I ran out to greet him. As we drove away from Grandma Olivia's dreary home, Cary and I remarked on how bright the sun seemed, how clean and clear the air, how beautiful the grass and flowers. It filled me with a renewed sense of hope and reminded me of when I was younger and I believed life would be like one long and perfect summer day, a day just like this one.

I was about to see my closest relative again. I hoped that taking her off her medication had cleared her head. I couldn't wait to hug her and talk to her about everything, especially all my dreams and plans for the future. At least Belinda had time to listen, I thought. At least I had someone neither Mommy nor Grandma Olivia could take from me.

As we drove up to the rest home, Cary talked about the times his twin sister Laura had gone to see my grandmother before Uncle Jacob had forbidden any further visits. Cary hadn't talked about Laura for quite a while. When I had first come to Provincetown, just pronouncing her name seemed to bring pain to his lips.

"Why did Laura visit her so often, Cary?" I asked. He thought for a moment, his memories brightening his sea-green eyes.

"Belinda took to Laura the first time she met her. It was as if they recognized something soft and loving in each other, some secret the two of them shared. No matter who else was present, Belinda directed herself only to Laura. No one knew about the first time Laura visited her up here. In fact, if I recall, my father didn't discover it was going on until the third or fourth time, and only then because some spy of Grandma Olivia's told her about the visits. She called Dad and he chastised Laura for going; after all, Belinda was the black sheep of the family. We weren't supposed to mention her name, much less visit her.

"But Dad always had trouble forbidding Laura to do things," Cary continued. "Whenever Laura and I did something he didn't approve of, Dad would direct himself mainly to me, barely looking at Laura, as if she hadn't been involved at all He never thought he let his soft spot show, but it was obvious he always thought things were my fault anyway, as if I was the one who should have known better or should have been more responsible. Laura would fly to my defense, of course, taking as much blame as she could, but Dad wouldn't hear of it. He would accuse her of trying to protect me."

Cary laughed, as he continued remembering.

'But Dad,' she would exclaim, 'Cary wasn't even there!'

"No matter,' Dad would growl back. 'He should have been there to stop you or warn you.' "

"Once," he said turning to me as we drove up the side road toward the rest home, "I took quite a beating for the both of us. He whipped me with a thick leather strap and I had so many welts on my rear end I couldn't sit for days. I had to lie on my stomach.

Laura came into my room and sat beside the bed, crying as if she felt the pain as much as I did. I tell you, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and didn't feel as much pain. One of my tears would draw ten of hers, so I had to stop crying or she would drown the two of us," he explained with a laugh.

"Anyway, she would bike all the way up here to visit Belinda, and Belinda really looked forward to her visits, from what I heard. I think Grandma Olivia was jealous. Laura never biked over to visit her." He smiled, turning to me. "Like you, Laura cared more about other people than she cared about herself, especially those who were less fortunate, whether it was because of lack of money or lack of love."

We pulled into a parking space and got out of the truck and made our way to the entrance of the home. A pretty nurse greeted us just inside the lobby.

Her name tag read MRS. WILLIAMS. I hadn't seen her before. She didn't look much older than her late twenties.

There weren't as many residents sitting there as the last time I had visited, but once again, my appearance, and especially Cary's, too, drew all their attention, quieted their conversations, interrupted their checkers and card games.

I explained who we were and whom we had come to visit, but before Mrs. Williams could respond, Mrs. Greene stepped out of her office and drew our attention as she came toward us, her high heels clicking over the tile floor.

"Well, it's been some time since your last visit,"

she said. "Iron led me to believe you would be here frequently," she added as if she had caught me in a lie.

"I've been away," I explained. She smirked and turned to the nurse. "I'll see to them, Mrs. Williams."

"Yes, ma'am," the nurse said and returned to the other residents.

"Your grandmother is in the garden," she said, glancing quickly at Cary. "This is a family member, I assume?"

"Yes, he is. How is she doing?"

"Quite well, actually. I should warn you that since you've been here, Miss Gordon's formed a friendship with one of our other residents, Mr.

Mandel, and the two of them spend most of their time together."

Cary smiled but Mrs. Greene didn't even acknowledge him.

"It's just a companionship, of course," she continued, speaking through her tight jaw as she led us through the lobby and down a corridor to a side door that opened on the gardens and walkways, "but we encourage such things. We find it's good for their mental health to develop relationships with other residents."