Chapter Twenty-one
“I’m home!” Melody shouted as she banged through the front door of the Willows. She waited. “Anyone here?” she called again, setting her bags down.
She hadn’t told them she was coming, wanting it to be a surprise, but she hadn’t anticipated that no one would be home.
Where was Helenka? Melody removed her hat and coat and, out of habit, rifled through the mail basket on the Chinese table.
Nothing of interest. She hoped, now that she was home for good, that her friends—Cynthia in particular—would prove to be better correspondents.
Cynthia, as predicted, had been beside herself when Melody confessed her plan to return to Merriweather before the term ended.
“But why, dearest? Is it Vivian? She has been a pill lately.” Cynthia tapped her foot impatiently, thinking.
“Oh! It’s Eustace, isn’t it?” she guessed excitedly.
“Have you had a lovers’ quarrel? Oh, please say that’s it.
You’ll be back together in no time! Are you rushing away to see if he’ll give chase? How clever!”
Melody sighed. “No, that’s not it at all,” she said forlornly as she leaned against Cynthia’s bedroom window frame. “I’ve broken it off with him. For good.”
Cynthia was aghast. So much so that Melody almost laughed.
“You can’t be serious, darling. Why?”
“He’s not for me, Cyn. I just don’t love him.”
“You’ve barely given him a chance!”
Melody fingered the curtain and watched the cars whiz round Sheridan’s curve.
She wasn’t sure how much to confide in Cynthia, to whom, she had to admit, she no longer felt as close an attachment.
She now much preferred the quiet staidness of Elsie or even the simple companionship of Harriet.
Cynthia would never understand her desire to go back to her little hometown in Wisconsin, and she certainly wouldn’t understand her giving up Eustace Sinclair, nor her undeniable feelings for a certain someone else .
. . She let the curtain drop again, suddenly feeling flushed.
She had not ever told Cynthia about Cal—why would she?
—and there was no point in mentioning him now.
“Well, sometimes you just know, Cyn.”
“Melody, he’s rich. Fabulously rich. You could grow to love him.”
Melody let out a deep breath at the echo of Eustace’s similar plea. But she abhorred the thought of having to grow into loving someone. Shouldn’t there be at least some spark in the beginning?
“Why don’t you go for him, then?” Melody suggested.
“It’s a thought.” Cynthia twisted her lips, contemplating. “But dearest, you know I can’t. I’m practically engaged to Charlie. I can see him trying to work out how to propose. It’s really too, too funny!”
Melody gave her a weak smile.
Cynthia let out a little groan. “You’re not any fun anymore, Mel. You used to always be up for a laugh, and now you’re, well . . . you’re so serious all the time.”
Stung, Melody was about to retort when she paused.
She supposed Cynthia was right. But wasn’t that all the more proof she didn’t belong here?
She had thought she could slip back into these shoes, but they no longer fit.
She no longer cared about being at the top of Mundelein’s social ladder, and her “fling” with Eustace had been anything but light and fun.
Now that it was over, she realized how serious and heavy it had become. And there was home to worry about, too.
Melody absently picked up a torn ticket stub lying on Cynthia’s bureau and fingered it. Maybe the loss of her bubbliness lately had nothing to do with Eustace or worry over the Merc, or—God forbid, Cal. Maybe it was something else, something deeper and infinitely sadder . . .
“Well, my dad did just die,” Melody said quietly. “Maybe that’s it.”
Having spoken her grief aloud, she suddenly missed home more than ever. She desperately wanted to see her mother. She would even be glad to see Bunny.
“Oh, darling!” Cynthia cried, jumping up and embracing her. “What an absolute beast I’ve been! Of course you are sad, poor thing! Of course you need to go back. It’s perfectly understandable. What a selfish, selfish girl I’ve been!”
Melody allowed herself to be hugged for several moments before finally muttering, “You’re not selfish, Cyn.
I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty.” She took a step back, but one hand remained on her friend’s shoulder.
“But, let’s face it; you’re going to get married soon anyway, and I .
. . I guess I’m just worried about things back home. ”
“Of course you are. Not another word. I’ll help you pack.” She looked under Melody’s bed for a suitcase. “When are you leaving? Now? But you will come back for my wedding, though, won’t you?”
Melody let the various bills and advertisements slip through her fingers back into the mail basket.
“Rany boskie!” exclaimed Helenka now, coming from the kitchen with a tray in her hands. “What are you doing? Something happen?”
“Hello, Helenka!” Melody smiled. “I’m back!”
“Ja, I see. But why?”
“I . . . I decided I missed everyone too much. So, I’ve come home!”
“For good?”
“Yes, I think so. What’s that?” She nodded at the tray.
“For your mother. I take to her.”
“Oh, let me!” Melody begged, taking the tray from a somewhat reluctant Helenka. “It’ll be a surprise! Where is she?”
“In bed,” Helenka said, as if it were obvious.
“In bed? Is she ill?”
A strange ripple crossed Helenka’s normally stoic face. “Not ill, just sad. She’s not the same. You know?”
Melody hadn’t thought about how Helenka might be faring since her father’s death. After all, she and Mums had been more like friends these past twenty-odd years.
“Not to worry,” Melody said as cheerfully as she could then proceeded up the stairs. Helenka watched her for a few moments, as if contemplating following, and then silently retreated back to the kitchen.
Melody knocked briefly on her parents’—now just her mother’s—door, but there was no answer. “Mums?” she called softly pushing it open with her hip.
“Just set it there, Helenka,” Mums mumbled. She was lying on her side, her back to Melody. Melody hurriedly set the tray on the vanity and rushed around to the other side of the bed.
“Mums!” she said, trying to keep her voice cheerful. “It’s me!”
Mums lifted her head off the pillow, her eyes fluttering open. “Melody?” Her voice was rough.
“Yes! It’s me, Mums!”
Mums awkwardly struggled to sit up, and Melody was surprised to see that she was still in her nightgown.
“What are you doing here?” Mums asked. “What’s wrong?”
Melody put her arms around her mother. “Nothing’s wrong.” She kissed her temple. “I missed you. I couldn’t stay away any longer.”
“How long are you home for?” Mums’s face was not one of disapproval. Instead, the hope that fluttered there was more crushing than any scolding could have been.
“Forever, I think!” Melody said, straining to keep the cheer in her voice. “I found I can’t live without you and Bunny and Fred, and well, everyone.”
“Oh, Melody, really? I’m so relieved. Nothing’s been the same since you left. I’ve been so . . . so tired. You can’t imagine.”
Her mother did, in truth, seem tired . .
. and much older. She looked like she’d aged twenty years, and it set off a panic in Melody, as if she had somehow missed twenty years of her mother’s life.
She switched on the bedside lamp, hoping it would help dispel some of the gloom, but it only served to illuminate how unkempt her mother looked.
She wore no makeup, and her hair looked almost matted, as if she hadn’t brushed it in days.
Oh, why had she left! How stupid and selfish she’d been!
“Not to worry, Mums! I’m here now!” She deposited another kiss on her mother’s head and strode to the window, throwing open the drapes. The sun immediately flooded in, nearly blinding Mums, who quickly put one arm over her eyes.
“Melody! Close that! It’s too bright!”
Melody obliged, though not entirely. She left the drapes open a crack to let in at least a sliver of light. It was clear she had a lot to do to make up for lost time.
“Would you like some of the tea Helenka sent up?” Melody asked brightly.
Mums shook her head slightly. “No more tea. I’m tired of it.”
“How about I run you a nice bath, and then we can sit and have a chat? You can tell me everything that’s been happening.”
“No, Melody, I’m not in the mood for a bath.”
By the look of her, Melody guessed that she had not been “in the mood” for a bath in several days.
“I think you’ll feel better if you do.”
“Now you sound like Helenka!” Mums chastised, raising her voice slightly.
“Helenka’s very worried about you.”
“What did she say?”
“She didn’t say anything, but I can tell just by her face that she’s sad that you’re sad.”
“Well, I have a right to be sad.”
“That’s true, Mums. No one knows that better than you,” she added softly. “But we’re all sad. We all miss him.”
The few stray tears that ran down Mums’s face nearly caused Melody’s heart to break.
She sat down on the bed and put her arm around her mother.
“Come on, Mums. You’ve got to rally. That’s what Pops would have wanted, wouldn’t he?
What is it he used to say? ‘Can’t lie in bed and sulk all day! People die in bed, you know!’ ”
Mums let out a little grunt that could have been a cry or a laugh. “He did say that, didn’t he?”
“What does it even mean? Doesn’t everyone die in bed?”
“Well, not if you’re in a war, or something.” There was silence for several long moments, and then her mother spoke again. “I miss him. I miss him, Melody.”
“Me, too, Mums.” Melody leaned the side of her head against her mother’s.
They remained in comfortable silence until Melody lifted her head.
“Come on. Have a nice bath, put on something pretty. I’ll do your hair and tell you all the news from Chicago.”
“Oh, alright,” Mums said wearily.
Melody immediately shot up and began running a bath in the adjoining room before her mother could change her mind.
She added a generous scoop of bubble powder and rummaged through the closet for the fluffiest towel she could find.
Thankfully, her mother insisted on undressing herself, and once she heard her step into the water, Melody knocked briefly and then poked her head around to make sure all was well.
“You soak for a while,” Melody instructed, “while I unpack.”
Melody hurried down the staircase to the foyer. She was just reaching for her suitcase when the front door opened, and Bunny bustled in.
“What are you doing home?”
“I’ve decided to come back,” she said matter-of-factly, holding the case in front of her with both hands.
“Why?” Bunny rifled through the mail basket. “Are you on break?”
“No, I’ve come back for good.”
Bunny stared at her, disbelievingly. “But why?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Melody heaved the case onto the first step. “A lot of reasons.”
“Does Mums know?” Bunny asked as she removed her coat and hat and hung them on the rack.
“I was just up there telling her. She looks terrible, Bunny.” Her tone was slightly accusatory.
“Well, don’t blame me!”
Melody sighed. “I’m not exactly blaming you, but I . . . I guess I’m just surprised is all. And worried.”
“Well, we’ve all tried. Even Fred.”
“You might have written me.”
“So that you could do what exactly? Anyway, I thought Fred might have mentioned it.”
“I did not receive a single letter from him. Or from you.”
“Likewise.”
Melody let out an irritated breath. She hadn’t been home an hour, and she was already quarreling with Bunny.
Bunny squared her shoulders and gave her blonde hair a toss. “Listen, Melody, I want to discuss something with you. I wasn’t sure how I was going to undertake it, but now that you’re here, it just might work.”
Melody’s brow furrowed. “What is it?”
“I want to go live with Miss Elliot.”
“What?”
“Just for the summer. I . . . well, the truth is, I want to try to get into Julliard, and Miss Elliot has agreed to help me prepare. It will require hours and hours of practice a day, and I can’t manage that here.”
“But what about school? High school, I mean?”
“Well, I am graduating next month, if anyone around here cares to remember. I’m not ten any longer, as you all seem to think.” She rolled her eyes.
In truth, Melody had forgotten that Bunny was graduating, but she wasn’t about to admit that. “Well, why can’t you practice here?”
Bunny rolled her eyes. “On this piano? It’s ancient. It barely stays in tune from week to week. Miss Elliot has a Steinway, and that’s what I need. It’s really my only chance.”
Melody wasn’t sure which item to address first—the fact that Bunny wanted to be away all summer or that she had hopes to go to Juilliard.
“Bunny, I . . .” She hesitated, trying to choose her words carefully. “I’m quite proud of how much you’ve been able to achieve and how . . . how dedicated you are, but I don’t think we can—”
“Yes, yes, I know. We can’t afford it. But Miss Elliot thinks I have a good chance at a scholarship.
I’ve mentioned this before, but either no one is listening to me, or no one thinks I can actually do it.
It’s time everyone in this family treats me with some respect.
I’m not a child! And Pops told me to try my hardest and never give up,” Bunny said, her voice wavering slightly, “and I don’t mean to.
Why should I?” she added with more resolve.
“Fred’s quit school, and now you have, apparently.
But I’m not going to! There’s more to life than this stupid little town! I have a chance, and I’m taking it!”
Melody rubbed her eyes with her fingers. Not Bunny, too. “Okay, Bunny. I’ll . . . let me think about it.”
“That’s what you said the last time, and you didn’t. No one ever thinks of me. I need a decision soon!”
Melody let out a deep breath, trying to think on the spot. “Well, I suppose you could stay with Miss Elliot for the summer,” she said haltingly. “Provided she’s agreeable to the idea. Is she?”
“She’s the one who suggested it!” Bunny gestured angrily.
“I’m assuming we’d have to pay room and board?”
“I don’t know the particulars.” Bunny folded her arms now. “I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Okay, I’ll . . . I’ll think about it. I promise.”
“And don’t tell Fred.”
“Well, he’ll have to know at some point.”
“Yes, but come to a decision first. You know what he’s like, and he’s become even more insufferable than he was before. He’s one of the reasons I want to leave! I’ve tried complaining to Mums, but you can imagine how that went.”
“Speaking of, I need to go help her out of the bath.”
“You got her to take a bath?” Bunny raised her eyebrows.
Melody didn’t answer, but hurried up the stairs, wondering how, in the space of an hour, she had somehow become the parent of not only her sister, but her mother as well.