"I know. I'm just thinking about it."
I stopped and turned to him.
"What do you mean?"
He thought and then nodded his head, "All right." He dug into his pocket and came up with a money clip stuffed with bills. "I'll drive you to Boston and give you the money you need for your bus ticket."
"You will?"
"Of course, I will. I'm not going to let you walk down Route Six and hitchhike, and I can see you are determined. Wait here. I'll go back and get the truck."
"But your father will be furious, Cary."
"It won't be the first time or the last, I imagine. He's already going to be mad about my taking the truck," he added and shrugged. "Don't worry about me."
He ran back to the truck and drove up to rne. I got in and we started down the highway.
"It's a long trip back to Sewell, West Virginia, Melody."
"I know, but it's the only real home I've ever known where there are people who love me."
"There are people who love you here," he said. He turned and smiled. "May and me for starters."
"I know. I'm sorry about May. You'll explain it to her. Please."
"Sure. But who will explain it to me?"
"Cary, it was horrible, sitting there and hearing the story and seeing Grandma Olivia's anger. I never felt more like an unwanted orphan," I explained.
He accelerated.
"She shouldn't have done that. She should have made something up, something more sensible, something that wouldn't have upset you this way."
"More lies? No thank you. I've been brought up with lies. I've eaten them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It's time for the truth. It's time to get back with people who don't know what lying is."
"Everyone lies, Melody, to someone else or to himself," Cary said.
Raindrops splattered on the windshield. I thought about him having to drive back alone.
"I feel terrible about you doing this, Cary."
"Don't. I would feel terrible not doing it," he said. "Tell me more about what Grandma Olivia said."
I recounted our conversation and he listened attentively, his green eyes growing darker and smaller.
"It makes some sense now, the whispers, the words I picked up here and there."
"It's terrible. I feel as if my insides will be tied into knots forever. I feel betrayed, fooled, Cary. The man who loved me and called me his princess wasn't really my daddy."
"Well, being a father doesn't have to be dependent on blood, does it? He was good to you, wasn't he? You never doubted he loved you. You told me."
I nodded, swallowing back my tears. "Still," I said softly, "it leaves me feeling. . . incomplete. You've got your family name, your heritage. It's so important to you and your family. I see that, even more than I saw it in West Virginia. I'm nobody. I'm Melody Nobody," I said laughing. He looked at me. I laughed harder. "Meet Melody Nobody." My laughter started to hurt and soon turned into tears, sobs that shook my shoulders so hard I thought I would come apart.
He pulled the truck to the side and stopped. Then he slid over and embraced me, kissing the tears off my cheeks and holding me tightly.
"Don't do this to yourself," he said.
I caught my breath and sucked in some air with deep gasps. Then I nodded.