memory." "I believe you, Cary."
"I didn't want you to think I was invading your
privacy, too."
I smiled at him and he wiped the tears from his
cheek.
"I believe you, Cary. I really do."
"Well, you ate. I guess I can brag," he said. He
stood up, his eyes fixed on me, strong, loving, and
very caring. "Don't run away, Melody. Ma's angry at
Dad for what he said to you and he's feeling low. If
you just pretend he never said anything--"
"More burying of the truth?"
"Sometimes, that's easier, I suppose." "Easier, Cary, but there's always a price to pay
when we hold a funeral for honesty, isn't there?" "Maybe. All I know is I don't
want you to
leave."
"I won't leave," I said finally. "I still have some
unfinished business, like finding out who my real
father is," I added dryly.
Cary took the tray.
"I'll take it down myself," I said. "I don't need
your father complaining about me being waited on,
too." "I don't mind waiting on you," Cary said. Our eyes met again and the memory of our
kisses and caresses upstairs in his attic workshop
rushed back over me. I felt a flush come into my face,
a tingling up and down my body. It was almost an
ache, a craving, and it was so strong, it actually
frightened me. Yet for all the warmth that flooded
through me, I still felt an eerie chill as I thought of
Cary's odd behavior and feelings for his sister.