by Sydney Logan
NO TIME FOR LULLABIES
NO BRIDES CLUB, BOOK 2
SYDNEY LOGAN
© 2019, Sydney Logan
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system without the prior written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.
Excerpt from The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein ©1964
Edited by Kathie Spitz
SWEET PROMISE PRESS
PO BOX 72
BRIGHTON, MI 48116
CONTENTS
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Sneak Peek
Acknowledgments
More from this Series
More from Sweet Promise Press
More from Sydney Logan
About the Author
Prologue
“Mel, please don’t do this.”
With a heavy sigh, Melody Mitchell zipped the last of her suitcases. The rest were already in the trunk of the Toyota—her rusty but reliable graduation present from her parents. Just yesterday, her dad had insisted on buying four new tires, and she was grateful. It was a five-hour drive to Nashville. A surprise flat was the last thing she wanted on this road trip.
She’d had enough surprises to last a lifetime.
Taking a deep breath, Melody slowly turned to face him.
Brody Myers sat on the edge of her bed, gazing at her with his big blue eyes.
She loved those eyes.
She loved him.
Sometimes love just wasn’t enough.
Gathering her courage, Melody walked over and knelt before him. Now that she was close, she could see tears swimming in his eyes. She’d probably be crying, too, if she hadn’t spent the last two months sobbing uncontrollably. Maybe she was all cried out.
“Brody,” she said softly. “Can’t you please try to understand? I need to get out of Meadow Creek. I need a fresh start, and this is an amazing opportunity.”
“It’s a waitressing job, Mel.”
“At a café in downtown Nashville. It’s a songwriter’s dream, Brody. Someone could hear my music—”
“This has nothing to do with your songs. You’re running away.”
She didn’t bother denying it.
“There’s plenty to run from, don’t you think?”
“Then I’ll run with you.”
Of course he would. Melody and Brody had been joined at the hip since third grade. Now they were eighteen. They should be headed to college. Loving life. Loving each other. But life had other plans. Amazing plans. Plans filled with blues and pinks and diapers and bottles.
Then life took those plans away.
“You deserve better, Brody.”
“Better than you?”
“So much better than me.”
“How many times have I told you there’s nothing better than you?”
Melody bowed her head.
“I can’t be what you want, Brody. Not anymore.”
His eyes flashed with understanding.
“This is because of what the doctor said, isn’t it? That’s why you’re leaving me?”
“You want kids.”
“And we’ll have them, Mel. Don’t you think I’m heartbroken, too? Don’t you think I want to run away, too? Away from all the judgment and the impossible expectations? My own father still won’t speak to me.”
“Your dad wanted you to be a preacher, just like him. Instead, we’re the two biggest sinners in Meadow Creek, Kentucky. We’ll be lucky if they don’t throw us both out of church.”
“None of that matters.”
“It matters to me.”
Brody shook his head. “Leaving won’t change a thing. You know that, right? We’ll still have gotten pregnant, we’ll still have miscarried, and we’ll still be the biggest scandal in town until something more scandalous comes along. Your moving hundreds of miles away won’t do a thing except kill me.”
His tormented words ripped through her chest, leaving her breathless.
Keep it together, Mel. He won’t let you go if you don’t.
Lifting her head, Melody gazed into the sweet eyes of the only boy she’d ever loved.
“I can’t be what you want, Brody. Not anymore.”
“You are everything I want.”
“What about kids?”
“What about them? The doctor said there was a ten percent chance that you would carry the next baby to term. He didn’t say we’d never have kids.”
“Ten percent is close enough to never for me.”
Brody urgently reached for her hand and gently laced her fingers with his.
“Melody Mitchell, I have loved you since I was eight years old. I’ll never love anybody else. Why isn’t that enough to make you stay?”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Brody had always been stronger. Always willing to face things head on and ignore the gossip. But the constant judgment of their families and the hushed whispers of the town had taken their toll, and she simply couldn’t handle it anymore. If she moved away, maybe Brody would have a chance at a normal life. Maybe his parents would forgive him. Maybe he could still preach. Maybe he could still be a father someday.
So many maybes.
“You have to let me go, Brody.”
“I’ll never let you go.”
Leaning in, Melody kissed him softly. Their mutual tears mingled on their lips, breaking her heart just a little bit more. When she opened her eyes, she could see the anguish etched on his face, and she knew that, today, she would have to be the strong one.
Melody took a deep breath and whispered the biggest lie she’d ever told. A lie that would surely break what was left of both their hearts.
“You will let me go, Brody. Because I don’t love you anymore.”
Chapter 1
“Melody, I know you’re in the zone. But it’s almost seven, and all you’ve eaten today is a granola bar.”
Glancing up from the studio piano, Melody was surprised to find Claire, her personal assistant, gazing at her from behind the control room glass.
“Not true. I had a banana, too.”
Rolling her eyes, Claire walked into the rehearsal studio while Melody continued to play. She’d been working on the same song for hours. The lyrics, like always, flowed easily. It was the chord progression in the bridge that was giving her a migraine. And carpal tunnel. Sure, she could’ve worked on the song upstairs in her office, but Melody liked the seclusion of the studio. Besides her apartment, the rehearsal studio was her favorite place to write.
“I didn’t realize you were still here,” Melody said. “Don’t you want to get home to that pretty little girl?�
�
Claire’s face morphed into a dreamy smile. “Is it that obvious?”
Melody grinned. “Just a little. Get out of here.”
“I thought we should go over your schedule one more time.”
“Might as well,” Melody said with a sigh. “I’m stuck on this section, anyway.”
“And you need to eat. I think I saw some leftover pizza in the lounge. I can heat some up and meet you in your office?”
“You’re an angel, Claire.”
One of the many perks of being a songwriter and music producer—besides having a personal assistant—was her high-rise office in the Big Apple. As she gazed out the window at the beautiful city below, she couldn’t help but feel proud of herself.
Melody had just been a kid when she moved to Nashville. Brokenhearted and desperate for a new life, she waited tables and performed at open mic nights just to get her music heard. She knew she wasn’t a great singer, but her songs caught the attention of an exec at Harmony Music who offered her an internship and freelance writing position. When Melody wasn’t delivering coffee to some of the most famous singers on Music Row, she was gazing longingly at the platinum records and Grammy awards that lined the shelves. Whenever she had a free minute, Melody was chained to her desk in a tiny cubicle, writing until her fingers were ready to fall off.
Two years later, she wrote her first number one song and won her first Grammy. And with that success, she was promoted to staff songwriter and transferred to the main office in New York City.
Still a simple girl at heart, she argued with management that she didn’t need a fancy office of her own. All she needed was a desk. But eight years later, she was a successful songwriter and music producer, and she was grateful to have her own space on the tenth floor of Harmony Music in the heart of Manhattan.
And her six Grammys looked amazing on her shelf.
With a contented sigh, Melody made herself comfortable on the love seat just as Claire walked in with a slice of pepperoni pizza and a bottle of water.
Melody’s stomach growled immediately. Claire smirked.
“I guess I am hungry. Thanks.”
“No problem,” Claire said, slipping off her heels before curling her feet beneath her on the couch. “I hope you don’t mind. I wore slippers for six weeks. My feet are killing me.”
“Not at all. And I’m sorry I kept you here so late. I just lost track of time.”
“Please don’t apologize. I’m so happy to be back at work.”
“But you miss your baby. I get it.”
Claire sighed softly. “I do miss her. It’s hard. So much harder than I thought it would be. But I’m determined to juggle both my family and my career. I can do this.”
Melody gave her assistant a sympathetic smile. Claire’s first week back from maternity leave had been an emotional time for the new mommy—filled with spontaneous eruptions of tears that struck fear in the hearts of all the men in the office. Melody—completely out of her element but desperate to help her friend—had tried to be a constant source of pep talks and tissues.
“Of course you can do this. You are doing it. I’m so proud of you.”
Claire smiled. “Thank you. Now grab your phone and let’s go over your calendar, because it’s killing me. Who knew you could make such a mess of it while I was on maternity leave?”
With a laugh, Melody took a few bites of her pizza before setting it aside and reaching for her phone. Besides her guitar, her phone was her most prized possession. It was basically a high-tech Rolodex, with a contact list that read like a Who’s Who of the biggest artists in music today. Most importantly, her phone contained thousands of random lyrics. Being a songwriter was both a blessing and a curse. It was fantastic when the royalty checks rolled in. It wasn’t so great when words and phrases woke her up at two in the morning. Luckily, her music studio app was always handy, just waiting for Melody to record song lyrics in the middle of the night.
She glanced at the week ahead on her phone. Claire was right. Her calendar was a mess. The only bright spot was Thursday night—her weekly night out with the No Brides Club.
“Wow, my calendar is a scary place.”
Claire frowned. “No kidding. Now, I know we’ve been over this, but I still think you should let me clear your schedule for next week. You’ve had a death in the family, and the funeral is nine hours away. I know you have vacation days.”
“Claire, I can’t be away from the office that long.”
“You mean you can’t be in Meadow Creek that long.”
“That, too.”
“The office will survive without you, and I can move your meetings. Besides, your parents would love to see you. How long has it been since you’ve been home?”
“I don’t know. Let me just check my calendar.”
Disapproval flickered across Claire’s face. Melody could feel the lecture coming.
“Very funny, Mel. Family is so important.”
Melody raised her hands in surrender.
“Okay, okay. Let’s . . . clear my schedule for next week.”
“Great. I’ll book your flight and your rental car.”
She shook her head. “I’m curious . . . did they teach motherly guilt in Lamaze class? Because you’re already a pro.”
Claire smiled triumphantly and typed notes on her tablet. “Whatever. You’ll thank me for this.”
I seriously doubt that.
To ease the ball of anxiety that suddenly formed in the pit of her stomach, Melody checked her email while Claire worked her calendar magic. When she was finished, there was only one event listed for next week.
Trish’s funeral.
Melody didn’t know why she was expected to attend. She hadn’t spoken to Trish since high school, and honestly, they weren’t exactly friends back then.
“I ordered flowers, just as you requested.” Claire sniffled quietly, and Melody braced herself for the wave of tears that were sure to come. “It’s just so sad, isn’t it? Wasn’t she young?”
“Thirty, just like me.”
“And she has a baby daughter. What will happen to her?”
“I don’t know. Trish’s mom—my Aunt Hannah—passed away a few years ago. Her dad took off when we were kids. I’m pretty sure my parents and I are all the family she has left, and my folks certainly can’t take care of a baby.”
Claire’s tears erupted then, and Melody hastily reached for a nearby box of tissues. With a sad smile, she leaned close to her friend and gently dabbed her cheeks.
“You know what you need? You need to go home to your beautiful little girl and that handsome husband and have a nice, quiet weekend. Since I’m apparently on vacation next week, you will have very little to do and can work from home if you want.”
That brought a smile to the new mommy’s face. “Really?”
“Really. Just keep your phone charged. Pretty sure I’ll be the one who’ll need the moral support next week.”
“You got it. Believe me, Mel. You won’t regret this. Family is everything.”
She forced a smile. Claire had no way of knowing it, but spending the week with her family was the least of Melody’s worries.
* * *
With take-out Chinese in her hand, Melody curled up on her leather sofa and grabbed the remote. After finding something random to watch on Netflix, she dug into her first real meal of the day. When the songwriting juices were flowing, inconveniences like food were easily forgotten. Honestly, everything was easily forgotten when she was in the writing zone. If not for the weekly dinners with her best friends, she probably wouldn’t leave the studio at all.
Melody’s music—and the ladies in the No Brides Club—were her only true passions in life.
Best friends who were focused on their careers instead of their love lives might not sound like fun to a lot of women, but Melody and her friends couldn’t be happier. They met every Thursday for dinner and drinks at the Briarwood Tavern in Tribeca. The six women were smart, savvy professiona
ls who loved their careers and adored the city. They dated—when they made time to date—but they’d all accepted the fact that marriage just wasn’t in the cards, and that was absolutely fine with them.
If only it was fine with my parents.
Despite her success, Melody knew she was a disappointment to her mom and dad. As their only child, Melody was her mother’s only chance to be a grandma, and her father’s only chance to walk his daughter down the aisle. So, to avoid the inevitable guilt trips, she only went home to visit when it was necessary.
Like Christmas.
And funerals.
After devouring her teriyaki chicken, Melody headed toward the beautiful kitchen she never used. After living in ratholes for years, the spacious apartment overlooking the Hudson River was her real estate dream come true. She bought it for a steal, thanks to Kinsley King, hotshot real estate broker. Melody signed the mortgage papers, and Kinsley promptly dragged her to the Briarwood Tavern to celebrate. They’d been best friends ever since.
“It’s really too bad,” Melody muttered to herself, surveying the stainless-steel appliances and breakfast nook. She didn’t deserve such a beautiful kitchen. With the exception of the dishwasher and coffee maker, most all the pretty appliances had never been touched.
She barely had time to eat. When could she possibly cook?
After throwing away her take-out carton, Melody sat down at the island and leafed through the pile of mail she’d avoided all week. It was mostly junk, and she was ready to toss it all when a long brown envelope suddenly caught her attention.
Tucker & Associates
There weren’t many lawyers back in her hometown, but Troy Tucker was one of them.
Confused but curious, she ripped open the envelope and scanned the letter, which requested her presence at the reading of Trish’s will.
Weird. Why would he want me there?
With a tired sigh, Melody tossed the rest of the mail in the trash and took the letter with her to her bedroom. She grabbed her suitcase and placed the lawyer’s letter inside one of the zipped pockets before heading to her closet to pack what she’d need for the week. It was after midnight by the time she set the alarm and climbed into bed. Pulling the blanket close, Melody closed her eyes and prayed for sleep, but rest didn’t come easily. It never did when she was anxious.
