Logan 03 Unfinished Symphony Read online

  Matter of time? Matter of centuries, I thought, but kept it to myself. My eyes filled with tears of determination. Somehow, somehow soon, I had to get Mommy away from him and away from all this.

  As soon as we returned to the apartment, Richard told Mommy about my evening dress, but when Mommy saw it and then tried it on, she moaned and pleaded for him to let us keep it. She did look absolutely beautiful in it.

  "I'll get a job where I'll need to wear something nice like this, Richard. Won't I?" she asked, spinning in front of the mirror. "And then, instead of having to rent something, I'll have it. And how about the wonderful, important parties you told me we would be attending soon? I'll need to look good for you, won't I? Oh please, let us keep it."

  "People will be impressed Mammy has something so expensive," I added, "and clothing is important to people in the business, isn't it?" I offered to support her.

  Richard glared at me.

  "How do you know what's important to people in the business?"

  "I met an actor who told me all about' it," I said.

  "Oh, you met an actor. Big deal."

  "She's right though, isn't she, Richard? You've told me that. That's why you needed the money for your nice jackets and suits," Mommy added.

  He squirmed in his seat.

  "We could get a nice piece of change for that." "Mommy's got work and you said you were sure you could get me work soon anyway," I chimed.

  He reddened with fury.

  "That's right, Richard," Mommy said, checking her reflection in the mirror.

  "You're going to keep calling her Mommy," he snapped at me. "You're bound to make a mistake in front of strangers."

  "1 won't," I insisted.

  "You better call me Sis or Gina even when we're alone, Melody," Mommy advised. "Get into the habit."

  "All right. I will. You look beautiful in that dress, Gina," I added, enjoying the way Richard twisted in his seat as the prospect of losing the money for the dress sunk in deeper.

  "Richard," she whined. "I've waited so long for something nice."

  "All right, all right. Just this once, I'll change my mind, but next time when I decide something--" "We'll listen. We promise," Mommy said.

  He smirked, turned a suspicious eye at me and then went to watch television while Mommy and I got my room organized.

  "The Livingstons must be so rich, Melody," Mommy said. "Such expensive gifts. But soon, I'll be able to buy myself things like this. I'll be driven in my Rolls to Beverly Hills and stroll into the most expensive stores, too," she said and pretended that my dingy room was a designer's boutique. "The salespeople will come rushing over, each eager to help me, to show me the latest fashion," Mommy continued. I sat on the bed and watched her pose as if she were gazing at a dress. "Yes, that might work. What's that? Only five thousand dollars? What, is it on sale?"

  She laughed and then spun around to look at herself in my evening dress once more. I laughed, too.

  "It's beautiful," she said and sighed. Then she looked at me. "But it's really yours."

  "No, it isn't Mommy, it's yours. I want you to have it, keep it in your closet."

  "Really? Thank you, dear. But please," she said, whispering, "try, try to call me Sis or Gina." She gazed at the doorway. "Especially when he's here."

  I nodded. She gave me a quick hug and then left to be with Richard.

  It felt strange going to sleep in their apartment that first night because it reminded me of the trip from Sewell up to the Cape. I recalled the nights on the road, sleeping in motel rooms with them sleeping together nearby, just as they were tonight.

  Back then I could only think of my stepdaddy and wonder how Mommy could hold and kiss someone else so quickly after my stepdaddy's death. Maybe she was afraid of being alone, so afraid she would even cling to someone like Archie Marlin. He took advantage of her vulnerability and replaced her fears with pipe dreams. Was Mommy just too griefstricken to notice? But what about now? What was her excuse for letting him rule her life now?

  I felt so small and alone myself, sleeping in this dismal little room. If Mommy hadn't realized what sort of a man Archie Richard Marlin was by now, how could I hope to open her eyes? He held up the promise of glamour and fame, riches and respect. What could I offer in its place except the truth? And for Mommy, the truth might be too painful a pill to swallow.

  Like so many other people in Los Angeles, dreams, no matter how false or impossible, were something she would much rather have. At least, I thought, I had found her, and at least now, there was a chance.

  I was up before either of them the next morning. I made coffee and toasted some nearly stale bread. They didn't have much more to eat for breakfast, no cereals or eggs and very little jam or butter. Nevertheless, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee brought them out of the bedroom.

  "Now this is more like it," Richard said. "I usually have to go out for some coffee. Your sister can't get her eyes open fast or wide enough to boil water first thing in the morning."

  "Oh, Richard."

  "What, am I telling her something she didn't know about you?" he said and laughed.

  "We need some groceries," I said.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  "So, you still got a few bucks. While we're off to the mall for your sister's job, you go buy what you want," he said.

  I made up my mind that was just what I would do.

  "Clean up our room, too, while we're gone," he ordered. "I'm tired of living in a pigsty and until you start working and bringing in money, you'll earn your keep that way."

  "I gave you money," I reminded him. He reddened.

  "What money?" Mommy asked.

  "Just some of her pocket money, hardly anything, but I need it to go riding up and down the valley seeing people and trying to get her a job, don't I? Well, don't I?" he pursued.

  "Yes, I suppose so," Mommy agreed. It seemed there wasn't anything he couldn't make her think or say.

  They drank their coffee, nibbled on some of the toast and then went to get dressed. I waited until they left and then I called Holly and told her where I was and what had finally happened.

  "So you've decided to stay?"

  "Yes," I said. Although I didn't tell her how Philip wanted me to leave, I did tell her how sad I thought Dorothy really was.

  "She can't buy enough things to keep the darkness from her door," I told Holly.

  "I know. It's a conversation she and I have had before. Maybe I should make another trip out there soon."

  "I wish you would. She does miss you," I said.

  "Listen to you, giving other people advice and trying to help them while your future is still uncertain. Don't take on more than you can handle, sweetheart, and call me if you need me."

  "I will. Thank you, Holly."

  As soon as I hung up, I called Cary, hoping he might just be home. He wasn't, but Aunt Sara was eager to talk.

  "Jacob's very sick," she told me. "It was worse this time. And now Cary's got me worried, too. He barely gets any rest between going on the boat, looking after our business and running up to the hospital. I'm on my way up there now."

  "I'm sorry, Aunt Sara. I wish I were there to help you." "Are you all right, dear? I haven't even asked you how your search is going. I'm sorry."

  "That's all right. You have enough on your mind. Just give Cary my phone number, please, but tell him not to call until he really has a free moment. It's not any sort of emergency."

  "I'm afraid it is here," she said in a tiny voice. "We all try to be strong for Jacob, but it gets so hard to keep our spirits up."

  I heard her start to sob and then she quickly excused herself and hung up. I felt awful about being away from Aunt Sara and the family when things were going so poorly. I felt myself pulled in every direction. Mommy also needed me, but she seemed to have chosen her predicament. Cary and Aunt Sara and May had no choice.

  Where did I really belong?

  It seemed like I had been searching for home forever. Just when I th
ought I'd found it. . . .

  8

  A Star Shines

  .

  After I got dressed, I went downstairs and

  asked a man working on the grounds where the closest grocery store was. He spoke broken English mixed with Spanish words, but I remembered enough from my high school Spanish class to communicate with him. The supermarket was a little more than three long blocks away. When I got there and saw all the delicious produce, I wanted to fill my cart, but thinking about the long walk home kept me from going wild. It was already hot and sticky, with only little puffs of clouds lazily sliding toward the horizon. A nice day for a stroll but not for lugging groceries around.

  A handsome young man with dark brown hair was just turning in his apron at the next counter when I checked out, and I caught him looking my way as I was paying the cashier. As I walked from the store, struggling not to spill anything out of my two bags and hoping the bottoms wouldn't burst, I heard someone behind me say, "You look like you could use a third arm."

  I turned to see the handsome young man from the store. In the sunlight, his hair held hints of copper. His laughing eyes were hazel with long eyelashes. Although he wasn't what I would call muscular, he was well proportioned, sinewy, sleek, his face very masculine, especially around his mouth.

  "I could carry one of those for you," he offered. "I won't steal your food," he added with a soft smile when I hesitated.

  "How do you know where I'm going?" I asked. "The Egyptian Gardens, right? I saw you there yesterday. I was at the pool when you went by. I live there, too," he said. "I'm walking that way anyway," he added, "going home." He shrugged when I didn't reply. "Light's changing."

  "What?" "We can cross now," he said, indicating the traffic had stopped.

  "Oh."

  He reached out and took one of my bags.

  "Better hurry up," he said. "This is one of the shortest lights in L.A."

  He grabbed my elbow and gently directed me across the street. We walked quickly and didn't speak again until we were on the sidewalk.

  "I don't blame your hesitating to accept my offer. I don't trust my groceries with strangers either," he said with that silly, impish grin again. "Strange women are always approaching me and offering to carry one of my bags."

  "Very funny."

  "My name's Mel Jensen."

  "Melody . . . Simon," I said.

  "There. Now we're no longer strangers," he quipped. "I can carry your groceries all the time."

  "Just because we exchanged names doesn't mean we're not still strangers," I replied and he turned very serious.

  "You're right. Besides, around here, you're never sure the person is giving you his or her real name anyway," he said with a tiny turn in the corner of his mouth, and I felt myself turn a bright crimson. He was looking straight ahead, so he didn't notice. "But that's my real name and I intend to make it a household word," he bragged, now turning to see my reaction.

  "What are you selling?" I asked and he laughed, the light in his eyes getting even brighter. He paused when he saw I wasn't kidding. "You're serious? You think I'm a salesman?"

  "Well, you said household, so I thought . . ."

  "What are you doing in L.A.?" he asked, suddenly very curious and suspicious. I looked away before replying.

  "I'm visiting my sister," I said.

  "Sister? Simon," he thought aloud. "Oh, you're Gina Simon's sister?"

  "Yes," I said. I never thought of myself as a good liar and I had doubts that I would be able to fool people the way Mommy and Richard Marlin wanted. I was positive people would see through me or hear the hesitation in my voice and know immediately I wasn't telling the truth, but if Mel Jensen saw my deceit, he ignored it.

  "Of course," he said nodding, "you two do look a lot alike. I suppose you want to be an actress and a model, too?"

  "Not really, but my sister's agent thinks I can be. He says he's going to try to get me a job while I'm here," I replied.

  "Stranger things have happened. The doorman at the Four Seasons got offered a small part in a television pilot. The pilot was picked up and he got a recurring role in it. Now he's an actor who drives up to the Four Seasons in his own Mercedes and has doors opened for him."

  "Are you an actor, too?"

  "No, I'm a dancer, jazz, interpretive, that sort of thing. However, if they made musicals the way they did when Gene Kelly and Fred Astaire were alive, I'd be in the movies," he claimed. "Anyway, this job packing groceries and stocking shelves is just something to keep a roof over my head while I fight the good fight. I share an apartment with two other guys, who both happen to be actors. Aren't you and your sister from the Midwest someplace?"

  "Yes," I said quickly, hoping he wouldn't press me for details. I didn't know all the lies Mommy and Richard had spread about themselves.

  "I'm from Portland."

  We turned into The Egyptian Gardens and I stopped to take back my second bag of groceries.

  "That's all right," he said. "I'll go up to your sister's place with you. I'm not in any rush. I'm not waiting for anything. I have an audition tomorrow morning and then I'll be hovering around the phone." He laughed and we walked down the pathway to Mommy's building. "You should see the three of us when we've all gone for something and the phone rings. It's a mad dash. Lately, all three of us have been disappointed, but my luck's changing. I can feel it." "I hope so," I said.

  "Thanks. See, we can't be strangers any longer. You're already wishing me luck."

  He stepped into the elevator with me and carried my bag of groceries to the door of Mommy's apartment.

  "Thank you," I said as he put the bag into my arms.

  "Just an added service we provide at the Bay Market," he replied with a soft, beguiling smile on his lips. "What are you doing with the rest of your day?"

  "I'm . . cleaning," I said.

  "It's so hot today."

  "I have to do it," I said.

  "When you take a break, come on down to the pool and I'll introduce you to some of the other tenants." "I'd like that," I said hesitantly.

  "See you later then," he replied and started for the elevator.

  I don't know why I said I might go to the pool, I thought. I don't even have a bathing suit. I put away the groceries and began to clean the apartment. From the gobs of dust and the cobwebs I found, I realized neither Mommy nor Richard had ever done much cleaning since they had moved into this place. The pail of water turned black from my dipping the mop in it after two or three swipes of the kitchen floor. The windows were so crusted with grime, they made the outside world look gray even on a beautiful day.

  The bathroom was even dirtier. Stubborn mildew had formed in every crack and space, and when I moved a small rug near the tub, I jumped back a foot because of the size of the bugs that came crawling out.

  Finally, I turned my attention to the bedrooms. The little balls of dust under the beds were like tumbleweeds. There wasn't any vacuum cleaner either, so I had to sweep under the beds and wash by hand the places the mop wouldn't reach. I didn't know whether Mommy would want me to go into her and Richard's dresser drawers, but .1 saw she wasn't folding her clothes any better than she used to fold them back in Sewell. I did most of our washing and ironing back then, too.

  Clothes were draped over chairs and there was a pair of jeans and a blouse crumpled on the floor. While organizing one of her dresser drawers, I found a light pink two-piece bathing suit and I thought about Mel Jensen's invitation. It was still very sunny and warm outside and I was about due for a break.

  When I tried on the bathing suit however, I realized it was very revealing. I was going to take it off and look for another, more modest suit, but all I found was another bikini, this one even skimpier.

  I stood up and gazed at myself in the mirror again. The suit fit well. I was a little bigger in the bosom than Mommy so the top was snug. My hips were more narrow, but the suit was like new and not stretched. I turned around, gazing at myself from different angles, not unhap
py with what I saw. I didn't approve of girls who flaunted themselves, but I didn't see why I should be ashamed of having a nice figure. I could use a little tan, I thought, and conjured up Mel Jensen's soft, handsome, inviting smile. Did I have the nerve to go down to the pool in this suit? Just the thought of it was titillating.

  While I was considering it, the phone rang. It was Cary.

  "I tried calling earlier," he said, "but when the answering machine came on, I decided not to leave a message. You wouldn't know when to call me anyway. I'm in and out so much."

  "I went shopping for groceries."

  "Shopping for groceries? Where are you? What did you tell Ma? She can't remember anything these days. What's happening?" He fired questions at me without taking a breath.

  I told him about my confrontation with Mammy and summarized her story quickly.

  "So they sent a strange woman's body to Provincetown? I can't believe it. That's against the law, isn't it?" he asked.

  "I suppose so," I said.

  "What about the woman who's in the grave? Isn't anyone looking for her?"

  "I don't know all the details, but there are a lot of people here who have left their families behind forever. Besides, I think it was mostly Richard Marlin's doing," I added. "Mommy seems . . . under his control, but I'm going to get her out of here," I said and explained why I wanted to stay in Los Angeles and try to save her from Richard's evil grip.

  "Maybe she doesn't want to be saved, Melody," Cary said.

  "I've got to try."

  "Why? She didn't care about you. Look at what she did. If your friend back in West Virginia hadn't found that picture in the catalogue, do you think your mother would have ever called again?" he argued. "She was just like those other people you mentioned, people who forgot their families."

  I knew he just wanted me to go home to him, although what he was saying was not untrue.

  "That's just it, Cary. I did see the picture and I did find her and I know she needs me. One day she's going to find herself all alone here. Once Richard decides he can't get anything more out of her, he'll leave her stranded."