A Melody for James (Christian Suspense)

by Hallee Bridgeman

  "Did Melody ever mention meeting someone, a man, on the day that she —" he hesitated, unsure of the words to use. "The day that she was assaulted?"

  Morgan frowned. "Maybe. There was something she was talking about in delirium one time. Something about a date she couldn't miss."

  His lips thinned. "Thursday dinner?"

  Morgan paused, her eyes locking with James. Despite the years of personal knowledge, she looked at him with a little bit of suspicion and demanded, "How did you know that?"

  "It was me, Morgan. I was the man she met. Her date was with me." He released the air in his lungs.

  Kurt's eyes widened in curiosity. "What?"

  "We were both returning from London. A northeaster grounded all flights in Newark for several hours. We started talking, then kept talking. I waited for her outside baggage claim hoping to talk her into going to dinner with me that night. The guy she broke the wedding off with, Richard, was waiting for her, too. She was scared, Kurt. Like, beaten dog scared. I've never seen anything like it.

  "I acted like we were a couple, called her darling, and whisked her off in a cab away from the creep. We ended up spending the entire day together and made plans for dinner that week. Except she never called, never returned any of my texts, and her phone always went straight to voice mail. Then the number came back disconnected.

  He loosened his tie and looked at Morgan, who had a wide-eyed shocked look on her face. "I was broken, wishing I could die. I remember sitting in that airport, exhausted, wishing I'd been with Angela when it happened so I could have died, too."

  He saw their eyes widen slightly. He looked at Kurt. "Melody made me forget Angela. She made me feel. For the first time in months I felt something other than raw pain. That was priceless to me at the time. For those few hours —" He felt defeated and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "I tried to get in touch with her for weeks — months even — but to no avail. I know why, now. I remember you saying she was in the hospital because she was attacked. But I was so angry and hurt I just gave up on her."

  Kurt said nothing through the whole exchange — he merely sat back and listened. When James finished, he didn't respond right away, obviously letting it sink in and processing all the information before speaking.

  James broke the silence. "I have thought of her every single day since. Every day. I wake up thinking about her and fall asleep thinking about her. I cannot fathom the connection between her and Morgan right now."

  "This is the most incredible thing I think I've ever even heard of!" Morgan exclaimed. She checked her watch. "Hey! It's almost time."

  Morgan rushed to the coffee table and picked up a remote control. Pushing a series of buttons, a large flat screened television the width of the massive mantle came on, and the logo of the music association spread across the screen to signal a commercial break.

  ¯¯¯¯

  MELODY took a sip of water, hoping her stomach would keep it down, then leaned back and started her deep breathing exercises, trying to force her body to relax. She loved her job. She loved to write songs. She loved to hide away in the studio for days and record her albums. Above all, she loved interacting with her fans and the press.

  But she hated to sing in front of a live audience. Where once she would take to the stage as naturally as rising from bed each morning, now it terrified her. In college she had no problem with all of her required performances. But, now, all she could think about was that he might be watching her.

  Once she took the stage, once she found herself actually up there and singing, the terror faded. But to actually willingly walk out onto a stage with thousands of eyes on her — she almost had to be forced out every time.

  This came as quite a shock to everyone involved in her first concert appearance. Melody probably felt more surprise at the stage fright than anyone in her entourage. Until the very second before she had to walk out in front of the audience, she was mentally prepared to confidently strut up to the microphone. That had been a very, very bad night.

  Feeling a little better after the breathing, she sat straight and let Lisa put the final touches on her makeup. Her eclectic makeup artist with the hot pink pony tail and thick black eyeliner popped her gum to signal that she had finished her work, then stepped back to give Melody access to the mirror. Melody stood and began her inspection.

  She'd opted to wear her hair down tonight, letting it fall just past her shoulders. She wore a long black gown with subtle sequins sewn throughout the fabric, designed to catch the lights just so. The sleeves started just barely off her shoulders, leaving her neck and most of her shoulders bare, then fit her arms tight all the way to the wrist. The dress fell to her ankles, but had a slit up one side to mid-thigh. She'd chosen a diamond choker and matching earrings to complete the outfit.

  Now for shoes. "No boots tonight," she declared with a nervous chuckle that she judged a shade too close to hysteria for comfort. Lisa handed her the plain black heels. As Melody slipped into them, Lisa popped her gum again exactly at the same time a knock sounded at the door.

  Melody jumped then smiled nervously. "You're always right on time," she said, making Lisa smile.

  With hands that started to shake again, she opened the door and stepped out into the orderly chaos of the awards show backstage area. She stepped over cables and around technicians, and brushed shoulders with the host of the show, a popular comedian. Men all along her path, from technicians to the host, paused to stare and watch her progress to the stage. Melody fought so hard to make herself keep walking that she barely noticed.

  She knew her band was already in place and forced herself to walk up the steps to the darkened stage. It's only one song, she told herself. Just one song then I'm done.

  She found her mark and waited for the curtain to rise. She could hear the host introducing her, and felt her stomach turn to water.

  Wait a minute, she thought, I can't do this. What am I doing? This is insane!

  In a panic she took a step back, ready to flee, when the curtain started to rise. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back to the spot, folded her hands in front of her, and forced herself, through the inner turmoil and fear, to look calm.

  A single spotlight shone down on her, the bright light obliterating her ability to see the crowd. Her band was set up behind her, hidden by another curtain, back lit so that they appeared as a tableau of black shadows to the audience. Silhouettes. Through the applause she could hear fans in the back chanting her name, "Mell-y! Mell-y! Mell-y!" and waited for the noise of the audience to ebb at least slightly before starting to sing.

  She sang the first verse a cappella, her voice strong and sure, flowing through the building. The song she chose to sing was a simple love song, the words painting a beautiful picture of the joy of true love. This was the song that had played in her head while driving home from her wonderful day with her James, the song that made her itch to get to her piano. She'd entitled it "My Love Song." The lyrics were touching and poignant, and those accompanied by their loves in the audience reached over and held hands as the words soared through them.

  As she began the first chorus, very softly in the background, a flute joined in, slowly followed by a fiddle. One at a time the members of her band added their own instruments, until by the beginning of the third verse, they reached full tempo. Melody strengthened her voice to compete with the music, singing with all she had. For a brief moment, even the activity backstage stood still, as the full power of Melody's voice hit them. At the end of the last verse, every instrument suddenly stopped, the building fell perfectly silent for a heartbeat as the chords faded away, then Melody began the last chorus as she had begun the song, with no musical accompaniment, singing softly. She reached the end of the song, holding the final note for a full count of ten, lifting her arms above her head to keep her voice strong. Then, she slowly lowered her arms and bowed her head, breathing heavily.

  No one moved at first, afraid to break the silence. But as she lifted her face back t
o the light, she heard the audience surge to their feet and a tidal wave of deafening applause washed over her in more and more intense waves. Tears came to her eyes as she peered beyond the lights and saw her fans and her peers standing for her. She gave a small bow, like a curtsy, as the spotlight went dark and the curtain began to descend.

  The host of the show ignored the script on the tele-prompter, barely able to see through the unexpected tears in his eyes. He waited for the ovation to die down and had to clear his throat twice to speak. "Well, only an idiot would follow that act. We'll go ahead and take our next sponsored break now," he said roughly, then stepped back from the podium.

  Melody stood in her spot in the dark for a moment, shaky and weak from the effort she put into the song before slowly making her way across the stage. She knew she had to make room for the next band to set up in the short time between performances.

  As she stepped from the stage, she got bombarded with people hugging her, everyone around her talking at once. She looked up and caught Hal's eye as he started making his way toward her.

  "Get out of the way. Move. Let the girl breathe," Hal said, using his huge frame to bodily move a few people who weren't intelligent enough to listen.

  Hal enveloped her in a hug, nearly snapping her spine, then set her away and wiped his eyes. "You did real good, Mel. Real good." With one massive arm, he sideways hugged her again.

  "I did, didn't I? It isn't every day a woman can bring Hal Coleman to tears, is it?" She smiled up at him.

  "Miss Mason! Over here! They're announcing Performer of the Year!" This came from somewhere around the monitors. Hal grabbed Melody's hand and dragged her over to the group standing around a monitor, and held his breath. Melody was nominated this year — the only woman nominated and competing against some really well established male stars.

  ¯¯¯¯

  JAMES stared transfixed at the television as the curtain rose on Melody. She looked so at ease, so beautiful. Then she began to sing. His stomach muscles clenched at the sound of her voice rising and falling with the song. He felt the song weave through him, felt like she was singing just to him and not to millions of people around the world.

  He couldn't move after the song ended. Somewhere in the back of his mind he heard Morgan and Kurt talking, but couldn't make out their words. Suddenly, he was staring at a commercial for dish detergent, and he came out of his reverie. He shook his head to clear it, then stood.

  "I need to go." Did his voice sound odd to them? Anxious to be alone so that he could analyze all of this, he started toward the door but stopped. "I don't have a car. I'll need a cab. Can we call the gatehouse?"

  Kurt looked at Morgan. "He could take your sister's car. You have it ready for her to drive tomorrow."

  James watched her weigh her options then nodded. "Sure. Take Melly's car. But, please have it back here after lunch. Her plane arrives at eleven."

  "Her plane?"

  "She's coming in for the wedding." Morgan stepped forward and put her arms around his waist, hugging him. "I try not to think about what happened four years ago. I'm sorry that somehow, in the process, you were hurt."

  "I found God back then, Morgan. Or He found me. Don't forget that. Above all, I needed that." She squeezed him tighter.

  Kurt left the room and returned with James' still wet coat and the keys to Melody's little white Mercedes. James vividly remembered spending that morning riding in her car with her. "I'll see you two tomorrow."

  "Good to see you, brother," Kurt said, walking him to the door.

  James held out his hand and they clenched hands as they hugged. "Likewise. Goodnight."

  Morgan called from the front room. "Don't leave yet, James. They're about to announce Performer of the Year."

  The two men returned to the room with the television. Morgan grabbed Kurt's hand, watching the screen intently.

  ¯¯¯¯

  "AND the winner is … Melody Mason!" The crowd went crazy. No one in the building doubted that she deserved the award after the performance she had just delivered.

  Melody almost fell down. Hal pushed her to the stage, and suddenly she found herself walking toward the podium. When the presenter handed her the award, she shook so badly that she feared she would drop it.

  "I, um … I had no idea I would win tonight, so I have no speech prepared. I have to say I'm just floored. Wow, y'all," She stopped for a moment to breathe, then continued.

  Her voice sounding worn out, and getting harsher and more hoarse with each word, she said, "Sorry about my voice. I think I overdid it back there." The audience started applauding, and she had to wait a moment to speak again.

  "Okay, I want to thank my band. They're the best. And I have to thank Hal, y'all know Hal don't you? I swear he's about as popular as I am." The audience laughed and cheered. "I also want to thank my sister, my fans, and Patterson Records for an amazing year."

  She started to step away, then stepped back up to the microphone. "Oh, and, one other thing. I don't know if this person is watching tonight or not, but I was a damsel in distress a few years ago, and a knight in shining armor came to my rescue. If you hadn't done that, I wouldn't have had the courage to even be here tonight. So to you my handsome hero, I say thank you. I hope you liked your song. Buy me a coffee sometime."

  ¯¯¯¯

  RIKARD Šabalj stared at the television set as Melody finished her speech. The phone rang.

  "Yeah," he answered, turning the television off as the MC started into his canned closing. He listened to the voice on the other end. "Team is already prepared for that one. We move tomorrow."

  He listened some more. "You know I'm ready for it. The question is, are you?" He smirked while the caller paused. "It's up to you. Just give me a go."

  At the affirmation, he disconnected the call without another word. A new note was attached to the stem of a rose, this one with a much clearer message.

  ¯¯¯¯

  CHAPTER 7

  JAMES entered his office through his private elevator. At five-forty in the morning, he expected an empty office, but he could see Rebecca's light on. She normally came in at six so that their schedules didn't vary too much when he was in England, but she must have anticipated his early arrival this morning.

  Not wanting to bother her for coffee, he decided he would make it himself. He secured his laptop to the docking station and brought it out of hibernation. His office door opened and Rebecca Lin walked in, carrying a steaming mug.

  James glanced at her as he logged in to his computer. Even at this early hour, she still looked smart and crisp in her gray pencil skirt and white blouse. She had her straight black hair cut to her chin, making her petite frame seem even smaller. As a second generation Chinese woman, she could speak either Mandarin or Georgia southern drawl with equal fluency.

  "Good morning, Mr. Montgomery," she said, handing him the cup. "Welcome home. Burroughs called earlier and asked if you could try to call him if you got in before the conference call."

  "Thanks."

  It took him a long time to fall asleep after hearing Melody's speech, and once there dreams of her had haunted his slumber. He'd decided to work out at four in the morning, thinking that sweat and muscle strain would purge her from his system.

  Obviously it didn't work, he thought to himself, because you're still thinking about her.

  He took a sip of the coffee. "See if Kurt is in yet. I'll need to brief him before the seven-o'clock call."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Then come back in here to take down some letters for me." As Rebecca turned to leave, he added, "Oh, and get me the cell number for that Steel Hill guy. I want to touch base with him about the off-site data warehousing later this morning."

  "Yes, sir." She pulled a phone out of her pocket. "Here is your U.S. phone. It's charged and ready to go. I went through the latest texts yesterday afternoon and wrote messages for you, so it should be clear."

  "Thanks." He turned it on as he sat back in his desk. While it power
ed up, he went through his written messages, making notes in his calendar as needed. "Go ahead and grab yourself a cup of coffee. We have quite a bit of work to do."

  Four hours later, Rebecca sat down wearily at her desk. Her boss was in rare form this morning. Usually, upon his return from England, he holed away and worked at the site in Albany, catching up on the latest with the data warehousing project. She didn't usually have to worry about this kind of workload for at least a week after his return to American soil.

  She picked up the phone to schedule yet another meeting, while she started another memo. Her inner office door opened, and Julie, her part time assistant, stuck her head through. Julie was a nineteen-year-old college student, perky and cute, with long, curly red hair. She had yet to be in a bad mood, as far as Rebecca could tell, and she lit up any room she entered.

  "I'm here, Rebecca. Need any help with anything?" Julie asked.

  "Yes. Thank goodness you're here. Mr. Montgomery is back. We have a pile of work. Go make these calls, then come see me for some memo distribution," Rebecca said as she handed Julie a stack of notes. "I have to go to a lunch with him today."

  Julie came all the way into the room and put a hand to her heart, "I wish Mr. Montgomery would ask me to go to lunch with him."

  "Trust me, speaking from experience, it's not all it's cracked up to be. I'll have to eat before I go because I'll be so busy taking notes for him that there's no time to eat," Rebecca said, hitting the button to tell the computer to print the memo she just finished. "He will slow down a little bit. It's just been so long since he was here."