A Melody for James (Christian Suspense)

by Hallee Bridgeman

  "Of course. I'm sure Rebecca will love to have something to do. Would she even know what to do with her time if she weren't hassled on a Saturday?"

  They left the building, confirming that all of the locks were secure and the security enabled. "She's used to it and gets paid pretty well for it."

  ¯¯¯¯

  MELODY let herself into Morgan's house, feeling loose and limber after a relaxing jog. She loved Nashville, but nothing beat her little secure neighborhood in her corner of her daddy's city.

  She lifted her arms and stretched, unzipping the sweatshirt she wore, and thought about how much this house felt like "home" more than her big ranch outside of Nashville. She smiled and made her way to the kitchen to drink the water she'd left out and get some coffee started.

  Morgan sat at the table composing a text message. She wore a sweatshirt with her college emblem on the front and a pair of shorts. "Ah. You beat me to it. I was about to go out and run a couple miles myself."

  "Wish I'd known. We could have gone together." Melody grabbed her water bottle and twisted off the cap.

  "My short legs have never been a match for yours in distance running. I have to take two strides for every one of yours."

  "Maybe, but you could get twice the workout."

  "Har har."

  Melody took a big drink and eyed her sister while she swallowed. Deciding to plunge forward, she said, "Tell me what you know about James."

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

  With a shrug, Melody pulled out a chair and sat down. "That man has been through so much in his life. He's incredibly intense. I get the feeling that I'm battling demons that I don't even know about."

  "You don't even know half of it. It's amazing that men with James and Kurt's background have become as successful as they have." She stared at Melody. "Is this going to go anywhere?"

  "Don't know. I've probably spent twelve hours total with him in my life."

  "Yeah, but how were those twelve hours?" Morgan teased. "I knew I wanted to be with Kurt before I ever even spoke to him."

  "Maybe, but it took him years to get you to trust him enough to marry him." Morgan nodded sadly and Melody put her elbow on the table and propped her chin in her hand. "I met him in the airport coming back from London and we spent the whole day together. I didn't want to go home. I wanted that day to just go on and on. After Richard —" She stopped, remembering the pain of the beating, the time in the hospital, the therapy, the recovery, the lingering fear. Her hands turned cold and she shuddered. "My phone was destroyed by Richard. By the time I got out of the hospital and got my new phone, it was too late. James had quit trying, and I didn't have his number or even his last name."

  She pushed away from the table and walked to the counter, opening the bread box and pulling out a loaf of bread. "I've never been able to get him off of my mind. If I'd have known his name, I would have found him."

  "It's crazy how he's been in my life this entire time." Morgan shook her head when Melody held up a slice of bread, silently asking if she wanted some. "Every time you've been home in the last four years, James has been in London. Your paths just never crossed." She stood and pulled a hair band out of her pocket. "God's timing must not've been right with it."

  Melody felt her mouth twitch. "What makes you so sure God has anything to do with this?"

  Morgan studied her sister. "What makes you think He doesn't?"

  Melody decided the question deserved honesty. "The truth is I haven't considered God in a long time."

  With a nod, Morgan said, "I can tell. Why don't you think on that for a while and see where your thoughts lead you?"

  "Maybe." Melody waited for her toast while Morgan pulled her hair up and prepped herself for her run. As soon as the toast popped up, she spread butter on her toast, but did not sit back at the table. Instead, she grabbed her water and started out of the room.

  "It seems to me that if God wanted me to be happy, He could have made our paths cross sometime in the last four years," Melody opined.

  Morgan said, "Well, I guess I'm glad if that means you're happy now. You deserve it. But your argument doesn't hold water."

  "Meaning what?"

  "Meaning God doesn't promise we'll be happy in this life. In fact, Jesus promised that believers would have troubles. That's kind of the opposite of happy. But we take our joy in our salvation."

  Melody took a big swallow of her water and said, "Wow, Tammy Faye. Thanks for the sermon."

  Morgan smiled sweetly. "Don't be snotty, baby sister."

  Melody glanced at her watch. "I have to meet my choreographer at Ginger's dance studio in an hour. I think I'll go up and get ready."

  "I thought you were on vacation."

  "I am. But I'm also on tour in four weeks. I have to get in shape, work with the dance routines."

  "You told me you were going to take the next three weeks off completely." Morgan pointed a finger at her. "You can't keep up the pace you've been keeping. You'll end up collapsing."

  Melody walked over to her sister and hugged her. "Morgan, I'm going to work out for a couple of hours a few times a week. That won't cause me to collapse. In fact, it will probably be really good for me." As she left, she paused at the kitchen door, toast in one hand, water in the other. "Are we still planning on trimming the tree tonight?"

  "We have to. I have a magazine coming Monday morning to photograph it." Morgan said, raising her arms and stretching her lower back.

  "Okay. I'm really looking forward to it."

  "Me, too, Melly. Hey," Morgan caught her. "Say hi to Ginger for me. Tell her I'm looking forward to seeing her Friday."

  Melody winked at her as she shoved the kitchen door open with her shoulder.

  ¯¯¯¯

  CHAPTER 10

  "MELLY, pick up your feet. We aren't doing a 'shuffle'. Good … good. Now, turn, two three four. Kick." Melody finished the dance routine, every muscle in her body screaming. "Okay, Melody. Take five." She collapsed against the wall, too tired to open the water bottle sitting next to her. She managed to raise her head long enough to see Ginger bounce over wearing a hot pink body suit.

  "Turn off the suit, Ginger." Melody teased as she let her head fall back to the floor and threw her arm over her head to shield her eyes. "Where in the world did you find that color?"

  "Aw, don't be that way, Melly. I've seen you wear boots this color. Except they had sequins on them. Real flashy." She sat down next to Melody and opened the water for her. "You're pretty good you know."

  "I'm a musician, not a dancer anymore," At Julliard, she discovered that her passion wasn't truly dancing. But she knew she had to dance to put on a good show. She pushed herself to a sitting position and took the water. "How do you do this for a living?"

  "You should know. You're the one who went to Julliard."

  "Yeah, but my love is not this. My love is the black and white notes on the page."

  Ginger shrugged, "My mother was a professional dancer before she met my dad. I guess it's in my blood."

  Melody's choreographer, Clarissa, stepped back into the room. She stood taller than Melody by a good three or four inches, with light brown skin and a face so beautiful that she often stopped conversations when she entered a room. A broken ankle ended a very successful dancing career on Broadway. Now she was one of the most sought after choreographers in the business. "Break's over. Let's get another hour in before we finish the day." She walked over to the sound system and started one of Melody's songs.

  Melody groaned and rolled to her feet, prepared for more torture. Clarissa paused the song and gave Melody time to find her mark and get herself into position.

  For now she worked out alone. After Christmas, the background dancers would work with her. Because they had more complicated steps to perform, it wasn't necessary for Melody to practice with them every day, just the week before the tour began to make sure they were all in sync and to give Clarissa a chance to work out any kinks in the routine.

&n
bsp; When her body could take no more, Clarissa decided to call it a day. Melody collapsed again, laying down on the floor and breathing heavily. Clarissa sat down next to her, a notebook in her hands. "We need to sit down and go over three more of the songs."

  She wearily sat up and grabbed the towel that Ginger threw her. "Let's get together for lunch tomorrow, Clarissa. We can talk about them then. I still hate you right now, so give me a few hours."

  Clarissa tapped her pen against her lip. "Okay, Melly. That sounds like a good idea." She cleared her throat and tried her very best to keep her voice even and nonchalant. "How's Hal these days?"

  With a knowing smile, Melody said, "Hal's just fine, Clarissa." She ran her towel over her face. "He's totally blind, of course, and I guess a little stupid about certain things, but other than that he's fine."

  "It's so frustrating. It's like he doesn't even know I'm here."

  "There has to be a way to make him see you." She pushed herself up onto all fours, trying to find the energy to stand so she could get to the showers. "He'll be here after Christmas for the full week. Maybe I can throw a dinner party or something."

  "I would love that." With a grunt, Melody made it to her feet and limped from the room. Clarissa called after her, "You look good, Melly. Your audiences will be impressed with the show."

  She waved behind her as she walked away, too tired to speak. In the dressing room, she stripped on her way to the shower, and stood under as-hot-as-she-could-stand water for as long as she could take it. Feeling moderately better, she pulled on her clothes, opting for the same outfit she'd worn that morning, draining a bottle of water while she dressed.

  Her driver and security guard, Peter Glasser, waited for her outside. He drove them back to Morgan's house. Melody knew Morgan had an appointment with a client and would not be home, so she decided to take a nap to make up for such an early morning.

  After sleeping for an hour, she woke up sore, but refreshed. The house was still quiet, so she went down to the kitchen and diced some fresh strawberries and pineapple for a smoothie. She added some yogurt and ice to the blender and turned it on. When she turned it off, she heard a noise at the back door.

  Her hands went cold, and she felt sweat break out on her upper lip. She put a hand to her chest to try to still the sudden furious pounding of her heart. Noises sounded amplified and her ears started roaring with fear. Feeling like her vision was closing in on her, she picked up the large chef's knife lying by her cutting board and slowly walked to the door, nausea swirling in her stomach.

  Reaching for the door handle, she saw her hands trembling. She ripped the door open and jumped back at the same time, screaming out loud when she saw a raccoon digging through Morgan's recycle box. At her scream, the raccoon paused, looked up at her, then rambled away.

  As tears burned her eyes, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. Sweaty fingers had her push very hard as the touch screen barely responded to her swipes. She managed to look through her address book and find the number she needed.

  Despite four years' time passing, she recognized his voice when he answered. "Detective Roberts?"

  "Yeah, speaking."

  "This is Melody Mason. Do you remember me?"

  Without hesitation, he replied. "Yes, ma'am."

  Overwhelmed with being afraid all the time, she sat down at the chair at the table. "I need help," she whispered.

  ¯¯¯¯

  MELODY saw the car pull up, so she didn't hesitate to answer the door. "Detective Suarez. Detective Roberts. What a pleasure to see you again." She grasped each man's hand warmly and sincerely.

  Roberts' face turned a light pink, uncomfortable with her attention. "Miss Mason. I wish we were here under different circumstances."

  "I know. Me, too." She led the way to the study and gestured to have them sit on the couch across from the wing-backed chair she claimed.

  Suarez pulled a notebook and pen out of his jacket. "Why don't you tell us what's been happening."

  Melody told them about the roses with the notes, trying to give as much detail as she could. Then she added, "I wish I had kept the notes when I received them. In the beginning, I thought they were just pranks, and lately I just throw them out to get them away from me. I know that isn't much help to you, but if I get anymore, I'll make sure I keep them."

  "If you get another rose, you need to make sure that you touch as little of it as possible, and if you can, put it in an envelope or a paper bag. Don't put it in a plastic bag. The humidity you lock in with the paper destroys any shot we have at getting a clean set of prints," Roberts instructed. Then he continued more quietly, "This has been going on for a year. What made you call us today?"

  She sat back and crossed her arms. "One thing that has kept me from contacting the police before is the publicity," Melody said. "You can imagine the fodder this would be for the tabloid rags."

  "You don't have to worry about either one of us letting this information out, and I think we can convince our Captain to let as little people in on this as possible," Suarez said. "I would worry that if the press started reporting this, we would start getting copycats, which would muddy up our investigation. But that's not it, is it? Something happen today?"

  Melody had fully recovered from her scare, or so she thought. She felt pinpricks of fear moving up her neck. "I'm afraid all the time," she whispered. "Whenever I forget, whenever I think I have it beat, he leaves me a rose. Receiving one at my video shoot the day of the awards show, it totally threw me off my trip here."

  Suarez inclined his head toward the front of the house. "Your security is tight. I don't think you need to worry about your sister's home here."

  Melody nodded and tried not to burst into helpless tears. "Yes. My team is top notch. I don't travel without them."

  Suarez spoke again, "Do you think Richard Johnson is leaving you these roses? That why you're afraid?"

  "What?" The idea spoken aloud made her head spin with panic. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she'd feared that, but she'd never faced the idea. Could he be? "How?"

  "That's the question." Suarez stood and Melody walked them to the front door. Suarez paused with his hand on the door. "We haven't quit trying to locate Richard Johnson."

  Melody took his hand and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, for everything in the past and for now. I appreciate you two working so hard for me."

  After they walked out and Melody shut the door behind them, she rubbed her arms with her hands, trying to ward off the chill that had settled around her. She hugged her arms to herself and slid down the door. She wrapped her arms around her legs and buried her face in her knees, trying to contain the terror that settled around her like a cloak.

  ¯¯¯¯

  "MOVE it over about one more foot." Morgan directed before once again hearing the sound of male grunting under muscle strain behind the giant Douglas fir. Morgan stood back, her hand rubbing her chin. "Actually, I think it might look better back where it was. What do you think, Melody?"

  Melody sprawled across the couch in Morgan's front room, amusement dancing in her eyes. "I think if you make Kurt move that tree one more time there might not be a wedding next week."

  A voice came from behind the tree. "Listen to your sister, Morg."

  Morgan sat down next to Melody. "Actually, looking at it from this angle, I think it's perfect where it is. Thanks, honey."

  Kurt came out from behind the 14-foot tree. "Where did you get that tree, honey?"

  Morgan snorted, "Are you kidding? I'm an interior designer. I have all sorts of sources."

  "Well, as heavy as that tree is, I thought you might have gotten it from the petrified forest."

  Morgan decided to press her luck one more time. "Now, if you can go up to the attic and bring down all of the boxes marked 'Christmas Tree', us girls will get this tree decorated."

  It took six trips for Kurt to bring down all of the boxes. When he set the last one down, he said, "Before you put me to anymore work, I'm leaving." He kis
sed Morgan. "I'll see you tomorrow."

  Morgan walked to the first box and opened it. "I think I scared him off." She laughed as she pulled out a string of lights.

  Christmas carols played in the background and a fire burned invitingly in the fireplace. Morgan and Melody worked side-by-side, conversations coming and going, until late into the night. Morgan viewed the tree as a painter would view a canvas, and created art from nature. Melody let Morgan do what she did best, and simply followed directions, offering little decorative input.

  Hours later, the two women stood back and viewed the tree, a beautiful creation of festivity. "I think you need to call The Journal again this year and have them feature your tree," Melody said.

  "They'll be here Monday afternoon, after the magazine folks leave." Morgan draped her arm over her sister's shoulders. "For the last two years that I've been featured, the response for my business has been amazing."

  "You deserve it." The clock in the hall sounded the hour, stopping after one chime. "Let's go to bed. We can do the rest of the house tomorrow."

  ¯¯¯¯

  CHAPTER 11

  MELODY spent the next few days working with Clarissa on her dance steps and helping Morgan decorate the house. She claimed exhaustion to avoid going to church with Morgan Sunday morning. Sunday and Monday dragged on and on and she found it hard to sleep at night. She tried to tell herself it was because she was used to a much more demanding schedule, but she caught herself counting the days until Wednesday more than once. James called once while she was out, but she didn't hear from him again.

  Tuesday brought a cold rain. Melody felt clumsy, restless, and didn't feel like working out. Despite Clarissa's objections, she called a halt to the workout an hour early.

  After she showered, she stepped out of the studio. Peter held an umbrella above Melody's head. She got in the car and wiped the rain from her face. She looked over as Peter's door opened, then noticed the rose lying on the front seat. It was a red one. She reached over the seat back and snatched it out of the way before he sat down, holding it by the end of the stem. Her hand shook so badly that she almost dropped it.