Free Music in the Night by V. C. Andrews Page B

the
men were making their way back to the house. "It looks like the great minds have settled the
problems of the world and are returning," she said
dryly. "Why don't you ask your mother and sister to
come out now."
I rose quickly.
"When I was your age, I always thanked my
elders for taking the effort and time to talk to me and
share with me their wisdom, Laura," she said as I
started away. I paused and turned back slowly. "I know you want only happiness for me,
Grandma. I thank you for that," I said.
It didn't please her enough. She gave me the
most chilling and piercing look I could remember, a
look that sent me hurrying into the house to get
Mommy.
    4
A Sign from Above
.
During the days that followed, an uneasy truce
    developed between Cary and myself. He continually tried to maintain an air of anger and disapproval, once again trying to prove that he knew more than I did about dating. He would talk to me through May, signing and delivering his lectures aloud, even though we both knew she could hear nothing. He claimed May needed to learn what to do and what not to do on dates, since I had obviously never been taught the rules. He sounded like Daddy, complaining about young people being too forward, too advanced for their age. At times, when he put on Daddy's face and took on Daddy's voice, I was afraid I would laugh, so I had to turn away to hide my smile. Cary didn't have to imitate Daddy's temper. He had one of his own that was bad enough.
    "Now that you're getting older, May," he lectured, shifting his eyes to me, "you have to be careful you don't waste your time on foolish boys or boys who think of girls as trophies and not as people."
"She doesn't have any idea what you're talking about, Cary," I said.
    "That's more reason to talk to her now, before it's too late. You're a big influence on her," he growled. "A negative one," he added.
    "What's that supposed to mean, Cary?" "Just what it means. What she sees you do, she'll think is the best thing to do, the right thing to do."
"I haven't done anything in front of her that I shouldn't," I protested.
"Maybe not yet," he muttered.
He was infuriating, but it was better for me to bite my lip and swallow back my words. He simply continued to make his speeches, talking about boys as if they were poisonous. Poor little May was smart enough and sensitive enough to know she shouldn't contradict him, but she looked to me continually to see if I would reinforce or challenge anything Cary said. I said nothing and looked away. Later, when we were alone, she asked me why Cary was so mad at the boys in school. I told her he was just trying to protect her; he was worried about her. She fixed her large hazel eyes on me and waited for me to say more, but I couldn't.
Sadness was like a spider weaving a web around us. Cary's face of gloom cast long shadows in our house. Whenever he entered a room May and I were in, her eyes swung from me to him and back to me in anticipation of some nasty wave that might drown us all in a sea of depression. Cary spent more and more of his time alone, up in his attic workshop. At school, he stayed to himself, even in the cafeteria. Sometimes, he sat with some of the boys from other fishermen families, but his eyes were always on Robert and me, making me feel self-conscious, making me feel guilty for every laugh, every smile, and especially, every touch.
Robert tried to be friendly toward Cary, tried to have conversations with him, but Cary would only respond in monosyllabic grunts, usually hurrying off or simply ignoring him. I told Robert it would just take time. I told him to be patient, that once Cary saw how nice Robert was, he would stop being so protective and concerned.
"I suppose if I had a sister who looked like you, I'd be walking around with a shotgun over my shoulder, too," he told me. It brought a smile to my face and laughter to my lips. Robert had a way of parting the clouds and bringing the sunshine into every desolate moment. I had never