CHAPTER FIFTEEN - MELODY
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
MELODY
Melody locked up Hidden Treasures after what she would call a successful Saturday Bag Sale. Truly, getting an entire brown paper bag stuffed to the brim with clothes and books was a good deal. One could buy a whole new wardrobe for the cost of a large pizza.
Melody drove back to her father’s house and parked in the driveway, prepared to go inside and freshen up before meeting Liz at her house for girls’ night part two later. She hooked her purse on her shoulder and closed the driver’s side door. As she was making her way down the driveway toward the front door, she heard a woman’s voice across the lawn.
“Excuse me? Hello?”
Melody turned and looked around, spotting an older woman with gray hair in the doorway of the house next door. She immediately turned and headed in that direction, knowing it was Mrs. West, who Christopher had said was homebound these days. Melody hadn’t asked for specifics on why, but considering that Mrs. West wasn’t cutting across the lawn to meet Melody halfway implied that she couldn’t. “Is everything okay?” she asked as she hurried to be closer.
“Oh, dear. Is that you, Alyssa?”
Melody stopped in her tracks at the sound of her sister’s name. And for a moment, before her mind had processed that Mrs. West was talking to her, some part of her lit up at the thought that Alyssa was actually here, after all this time. “Um, no. It’s, um, Melody Palmer. Alyssa’s, um, sister.”
“Oh, Melody.” Mrs. West placed a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry. My eyes aren’t as good as they once were.” Melody noted that Mrs. West’s glasses were perched on the crown of her head instead of over her eyes. “How are you, dear?” the older woman asked.
“Fine.” Melody climbed the porch steps toward Mrs. West. “I’m staying with my dad for a little while this summer.”
“Well, of course you are. Do you think you can step inside and help me with a few things?”
“Um, sure.” Melody stepped past Mrs. West’s open door into her cozy home. “What do you need help with?”
“Well . . .” Mrs. West massaged a hand to her forehead. “Let’s see. There was something. What was it?” She looked around. Then a timer went off in the kitchen. “Yes, yes, that’s right. I’m baking a cake. Can you get it out of the oven for me, dear?”
“Sure.” Melody followed Mrs. West to the kitchen where the timer was still chiming. She grabbed a mitt off the counter and opened the oven door. Instead of a cake, she saw a pie.
“Does it look done?” Mrs. West asked.
“I think it does.” Melody reached in and pulled it out, placing it on the stovetop.
“A pie.” Mrs. West furrowed her brow, looking suddenly upset. “I made a pie, not a cake. Oh, no. Why did I make a pie?”
Melody shook her head. “Pie is good. Everyone loves pie.”
“But it’s his birthday. You can’t have pie on a birthday,” Mrs. West lamented.
“Whose birthday?” Melody asked. “Christopher’s?”
Mrs. West met her gaze. “No. My husband’s. He’ll be home soon and I wanted to have a cake to celebrate.”
Melody slipped the oven mitts off. Hadn’t Christopher told her that his father died? Had Mrs. West remarried? “Oh, well, I’m sure—”
“Mom?” a man’s voice called from the front door. “It’s Christopher. The front door is open. You okay?”
Melody whirled to see Christopher heading into the kitchen. He stopped short when he spotted her. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he said. Something about his face seemed to light up as he met Melody’s eyes.
“Alyssa was just helping me get the cake out of the oven for your father’s birthday.” Mrs. West gestured toward the stove and frowned again. “Pie. Your dad doesn’t even like pie. Why did I make a pie?”
Christopher stepped over and put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom. Pie is fine. I’d love a piece of pie actually.”
Mrs. West smiled up at him. “Well, of course, you would. You always did have a sweet tooth. Would your friend like a piece too?”
Christopher turned to Melody. “It’s okay if you have something else to do.”
“No. I don’t. I’d love a piece of pie too.”
Christopher looked pleased. “All right then. Can we have two slices of pie? I’ll cut it. Would you like some too, Mom?”
“Yes, I suppose so. Although there’ll be nothing for your dad when he gets home.”
Christopher shared a look with Melody, his eyes regretful.
Ah. Melody understood now. Christopher’s father was gone and Mrs. West hadn’t remarried. She just wasn’t remembering things correctly. Melody resisted the urge to wrap her arms around Christopher and give him a big hug. Having to deal with this day in and out must be hard. Moving forward couldn’t be easy when his mom was stuck in the past.
They all sat at a small round table and ate pie. Melody was a little hesitant at first, but Mrs. West hadn’t seemed to forget how to bake. She’d only forgotten the details of her life, or at least some of them. When they were done eating, Mrs. West collected the dirty dishes.
“You’ll come to Sunday lunch?” she asked Melody. “Christopher comes every week after church.”
Melody hesitated and looked at Christopher.
“Mom makes a delicious spread. You’d think she’s expecting the entire town. Sometimes Matt joins us. Liz has been over a couple times too. You should come,” Christopher urged.
Melody nodded. “Yeah. I’d love to,” she told Mrs. West. “Thank you for the invitation. And for the pie.”
“You’re welcome, dear. Anytime.”
Christopher stood and looked at Melody. “I’ll walk you out.”
She waved at Mrs. West and headed back toward the front. When they got outside with the door closed behind them, Christopher turned to Melody.
“Sorry about that.”
“No, it was fun. I enjoyed catching up with your mom. Is she . . . okay?”
“Her memory is a little iffy. Some days her thinking is as clear as mine. Others are like this afternoon. She gets confused and frustrated.”
“That’s why she’s homebound?” Melody asked.
“That and she gets lost on the roads. She used to call me from random places and not know where she was. It was pretty scary, for her and for me.”
“I imagine. I’m sorry.” The more time Melody spent with Christopher, the more she saw how wrong she was about him. He had the weight of the world riding his shoulders and he carried it in stride. He made it look easy and acted as if it were no big deal, but Melody knew better than most the toll that kind of selflessness took on a person.
After her mother had died, Melody’s dad had checked out mentally. Great-aunt Jo had been amazing, yes, but Melody had also sacrificed to care for Alyssa, disregarding her own needs in the process.
Christopher didn’t deserve Melody’s hard feelings toward him. He couldn’t help that he didn’t feel the same way about Alyssa as she had for him all those years ago. It was a silly high school crush that had happened ages ago.
“Fortunately, she’s never really liked to the leave the house,” Christopher said. “I know a lot of people might wander out and get lost, but I don’t worry about that with Mom. She’s the most clearheaded when she’s at home, and for the time being, she’s okay.” He tipped his head toward the side of the house opposite of Melody’s father’s home. “Janet and Larry still live next door. They check in on my mother several times a day. It’s a revolving door over here. In a good way.”
“That’s nice,” Melody said.
Christopher nodded. “It’s just another reason why small-town living is the best. We take care of each other. We’re family.”
Seeing Trove Isle through Christopher’s eyes was fascinating. Melody hadn’t allowed herself to have any positive feelings toward her hometown in years. Now, listening to him, she understood the appeal. “Your mom is a lucky woman.”
“And I’m a lucky guy to have her.” He cleared his throat, looking suddenly nervous. “So you meant it when you agreed to Sunday lunch? Because my mom hasn’t lost her touch with cooking at all. Her food is the best on the isle.”
Melody smiled, feeling like perhaps she was lucky too. “I meant it. I’ll come.”
A slow grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Perfect. I’ll look forward to it even more than usual.”
To: Liz Dawson
From: Bri Johnson
Subject: Dreams
Liz,
I had a pretty good dream last night. I dreamed that I was home, at last, and everyone was accepting of me. We were at a big festival of sorts and people were coming up to me, excited to see me. Like I was a long-lost friend or something. I kept wondering to myself, Don’t they know I’m an ex-felon? Don’t they care? No one did though. I was just me and everyone treated me as such.
I know that won’t be the case for a lot of folks in Trove. I mean, how many ex-felons actually live on the isle? I might be the first. I’m okay with the stigma for myself, but what about Ally? The older she gets, the harder it’ll be. She’ll be the girl whose mom is the one and only ex-con. How can I do that to her? After my dream, when I woke up in the middle of the night, my thoughts went to dark places. I considered letting Ally move to Cali and be with her father. I thought maybe it would be better to grow up without my reputation haunting her. In the light of morning, I know that’s not the solution. My grandma has raised Ally to this point. Ally’s home is in Trove Isle. And I’m her mother.
Liz, you might need to talk sense into me, more than once, when I get out. I apologize in advance for all the freak-outs I might have and the midnight calls waking you up.
B