"My father . . . my father suffered great guilt about Laura."

"I know."

"And Grandma Olivia knew it, too. She must have known it," he said quickly.

"Maybe. Maybe she saw only her own guilt, her own pain, her own fears, Cary."

"She doesn't have an ounce of love in her," he muttered through his teeth. "I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone. I'm glad she had a stroke. I hope she dies tonight," he said.

"Don't become like her, Cary. You only end up so full of hate you can't love."

He stared a moment.

"What do we do? Do I tell Ma now?"

"No. Let's go there first," I said. "Perhaps . . .

we can bring her home."

He nodded, smiling.

"Maybe so." He reached for the key in the ignition. "We'll go in the morning, Cary. It's too late now," I said.

"No. I don't want to think of her being there five minutes more," he said. "We have to go now," he insisted. He looked at the papers. "I know where this is. It's a four, four-and-a-half hour drive."

"But it will be the middle of the night," I reminded him.

"Who cares about that?" he said and started the engine. "I can drop you off, if you want."

"Cary Logan, do you think I would let you do this yourself?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, let's go," I said. "We probably couldn't sleep anyway. Shouldn't you tell your mother something?"

"No, I don't want to utter one more lie, even a white one," he said.

I smiled.

"Okay, but we've got to be prepared for anything, Cary."

"I'm prepared," he said. He started away. "As prepared as I could ever be."

It was a long, hard ride. Cary talked more about Laura than he had ever talked, recalling things they had done together, things she used to say. I sensed these were thoughts he had forbidden himself to have these past few years. He was afraid of what reviving such memories might do to him.

A few times during the journey, he sat there silently, crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he relived the tragedy and everyone's sorrow.

How could Grandma Olivia attend those services knowing what she knew? I wondered. How could she be so confident she was doing the right thing for the family, so positive that she could bury her feelings, watch her son suffer and not say a word?

Instead of a heart in that chest, she surely had a cube of ice, I thought. How horrible her own parents must have been to her to shape her into the woman she had become.

I shouldn't have been surprised. She put her sister away without a single regret and did the same to her husband. Individuals meant nothing in the face of her fanatical faith in the family name. Love was merely a minor inconvenience. Correct behavior, prestige, respect, wealth and power were the five points of her star, and that star was embedded on the face of her soul.

I lay back and closed my eyes and dozed for a while. When I woke, we were near a town. I saw the lights of an all-night restaurant.

"You want some hot coffee or something?"

Cary asked.

"Yes, please," I said and we pulled in and ordered coffee and doughnuts.

Cary drank and ate in a deadly silence, his eyes fixed on his anger, brightening with the stream of furious thoughts behind them. I didn't speak. I reached for his hand and smiled at him. He snapped out of his daze and nodded.

"I'm all right," he said. "We'll be all right."

"Yes, we will, Cary. We will," I agreed.

We had another hour's ride before we found the entrance to the institution. It was a tall, gray stone building with a parking lot on its left. It was too dark to see clearly, but we could make out some nice grounds around it. We saw the high fences and then woods.

The outside lights in front of the building were bright. We parked and after Cary shut off the engine, we just sat there, both trying to gather strength.

"Ready?" he asked me finally. I nodded and we got out and walked to the entrance. The door was locked, but there was a buzzer beside it with a little sign that read USE ONLY AFTER TEN P.M. Cary pushed the buzzer and we waited. Because of the reflection of the outside lights on the glass of the doorway, we couldn't see very much of the inside. It looked like a small entryway before a set of double doors. No one came so Cary pushed the buzzer again, holding it longer.

"It's pretty late, Cary."

"Someone's got to be here," he said undaunted.

Finally, the double doors were opened and a redheaded man in a pair of white pants and a light blue shirt stepped out. He looked no more than thirty, thin and slim-waisted, at least six feet tall with freckles over his forehead and cheeks. He peered through the glass before opening the door, scowled and then opened it quickly.

"What'dya want?" he demanded.

"We're here to get someone," Cary said firmly.

"Huh?"

"My sister," Cary said.

"What the hell are you talking about? It's almost three o'clock in the morning," the redheaded man said.

"I don't care what time it is. She's not supposed to be here," Cary said and stepped between the man and the door. The redheaded man recoiled as if he thought Cary would strike him.

"You can't come in here now. Visiting hours begin at ten A.M.," he said.

"We're here and we're coming in. Get whoever is in charge," Cary ordered.

The redheaded man looked from him to me and then stepped toward the double doors. Cary put his hand out to keep the double doors from closing.

"You're going to get into big trouble for this,"

the redheaded man threatened.

"Good," Cary said. "Now go get a supervisor or someone. Do it!" Cary ordered, so fiercely, the man rushed off. Cary and I followed and entered the lobby.

There was a counter with a glass window ahead of us.

To the right were sofas and chairs, small tables, magazine racks and a television set. The door directly in front of us most probably led into the institution, I thought.

We waited and finally heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It was opened and a very heavy woman in a nurse's uniform came charging out, her dark brown hair chopped rather crudely at the nape of her neck and ear lobes, her hips rubbing against the stiff material of the uniform, producing a loud swish.

"What's this all about?" she demanded, directing her beady black eyes at Cary. She folded her arms over her heavy bosom like a battering ram and walked within inches of him.

"My sister was illegally brought here," Cary said. "We've come to take her home."

She stared at him a moment, grimaced with confusion and then glanced at the redheaded man.

"Should I call the police?" he asked.

"Not quite yet," she said. Her curiosity was piqued. "Who are you and who is this sister you are looking for?" she asked.

"I'm Cary Logan. This is Melody Logan. My sister's name is Laura. Show her," Cary said and I produced some of the documents taken from the metal box. She eyed me suspiciously and then took them and began to read. When she was finished, I saw that her face softened a bit.

"You just found out about all this?" she asked.

"Yes, today," Cary said. "Those papers are incorrect. My sister did have parents and not a legal guardian," he said.

"Where are your parents? Why didn't they come here, too, if this is so?"

"My father recently died and my mother . . . my mother is not able to make this journey. In fact, she doesn't know the truth yet," Cary explained.

The nurse handed the documents back to me.

"This is a legal matter," she said. "It has to be handled in a proper way."

"Look-"

"But as for your coming for your sister," she continued, "I'm afraid you're too late."

"What?"

My heart stopped. I stepped forward and took Cary's hand quickly.

"This young lady unfortunately died a short time after she was admitted," she said.

"Died? How?" I asked.

"She drowned. We informed the grandmother about it. She was listed as next of kin."

"How could she drown?"

"It was deliberate, self-induced," the nurse confessed after a moment. "I'm not permitted to discuss the details. There are always legal issues when something like this occurs. It wasn't our fault, however," she added quickly. "I really don't understand who you are and why you're here," she continued.

Cary just stared at her, refusing to believe her.

"I want to see my sister now," he said.

The nurse looked at me to see if she had heard right. "Don't you understand what I'm saying?" she said. "Cary, come on," I said.

"No. I want to see her right now. I'm not leaving until I do," he insisted.

"Call the police," the nurse told the redheaded man. He spun around and disappeared inside.

"Cary, it's no use," I urged. He shook his head.

"You're lying," he told the nurse. "She got to you.

You were told to say this in case I ever arrived, weren't you?"

"Absolutely not. I don't know anything about you," the nurse said. "And I don't lie about my patients."

Another attendant arrived, an older, bigger man. "You having some sort of trouble, Mrs.

Kleckner?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. -The police have been called, Morris. No one is permitted into the hospital," she said, her eyes fixed on Cary.

"Cary, let's go," I pleaded, but he was as stiff and unmovable as one of Kenneth's statues. It was like trying to uproot a tree.

The larger attendant took his position in the doorway. Mrs. Kleckner turned to me.

"I'm not lying about this. You have to go through proper channels and you will learn I've told you the truth. You're just making things harder for yourselves."

"I'm sorry," I said, "but you have to understand we just learned about all this and it really was done illegally. I'm sure you can imagine the shock. That's why he's so upset. He doesn't mean to make trouble for you. Please understand," I begged.

She considered and then nodded.

"Wait here. I have something that might help you accept what I'm saying," she declared and left us.

The attendant was joined by the redheaded man and they both blocked the doorway.

"Cops are on their way," he said gleefully.

"Cary, we're only getting ourselves into deeper trouble," I whispered. He didn't hear me. He glared at the two attendants. Moments later, the nurse reappeared, carrying a small cloth bag.

"These were her personal things. Among them,"

she said, "is this," she said, lifting a thick notebook out of the bag. "It was her diary. Her doctors encouraged her to keep it, hoping recollections, thoughts would help her revive her identity.

Apparently, no one ever came for it. If she wasn't gone," the nurse added in a harder tone, "I wouldn't be giving it to you, now would I?"