She forced a smile. "Sure."
She had blocked the pang of stepping through those doors for the rehearsal and the wedding. They'd had so much to do to prep for Morgan's big day that she didn't have time to face it. Now it was time to face it. What had happened? When had God become the last thing on her mind?
Her mother had attended church because that's what one did in society. Her father went along with his wife in matters of proper behavior and etiquette. When the old, established, long attended by all the "right" people church determined they needed a new building, her father, as was his way, built one. Melody and Morgan grew up in that building, attending all of the right functions so that they would be seen regularly.
Despite Melody knowing what motivated and drove her parents, she fell in love with worship. The music poured over her and lifted her spirit. When the music leader and the head pastor worked together with a theme, his message would just implant itself in her heart and she would walk out of there on air, ready to be an active and functioning member of God's kingdom.
But something happened inside of her soul when Richard's fist plowed into the side of her head. Something broke. Finding out he was a fake, a con artist, and the subsequent shame that followed broke her even further. How could God have allowed that to happen to her? Her heart had always only been for Him, and He left her to be used and beaten.
She worked through those thoughts and feelings for weeks, and instead of turning back to Him, she ran off to Nashville. Instead of feeding herself on the Word of God, she fed herself on the cheers of crowds and adoring fan mail. The faster she rose to the top, the further from God she felt, until He was just a memory, a part of her childhood. God became as unimportant to her as she had felt to Him.
Now she walked through the doors not for a wedding or a function, but to supplicate herself and worship. She assumed the time had come for a reckoning.
She recognized half of the people milling around in the lobby. Many more recognized her. She stepped a little closer to James and slipped her hand into his as a long time family friend approached them.
"Melly, what a pleasant surprise," Beatrice Stuart said.
"Mrs. Stuart," Melody replied, holding out her free hand. Beatrice and Melody's mother had worked several local charities together, always putting on some ball or function for fundraising. "how nice to see you."
The older woman squeezed Melody's hand gently and released it. "I saw you at the wedding yesterday but didn't get a chance to make my way to you and say hello. In fact, I saw you and James here dancing several times."
"Excuse me," James said, releasing Melody's hand. "I need to speak with someone momentarily." He looked at Beatrice and smiled a heart-stopping smile. "Nice to see you, Bea."
She smiled and a faint blush tinged her cheeks. "You as well." She stepped closer to Melody as James moved away. "I think it's been several years since I've seen you. Of course I see you on TV and so on but that isn't the same, is it? How have you been?"
"Busy." Two decades of etiquette training by her mother forced a return question when all she wanted to do was escape into the sanctuary and away from the people starting to gravitate toward them. "You?"
The older woman patted her well sprayed hair in a nervous, habitual motion. "This time of year with Christmas and all the charitable needs, it is always very hectic."
"Indeed." With a smile, she stepped toward James. "It was good to see you again, Mrs. Stuart."
"Melly, wait." Beatrice opened the clasp on her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. "I'm glad to see you. I have a children's home that seems to have fallen through the cracks this Christmas. One of my charities has donated to them regularly over the years, but this year they don't seem to have much in the way of Christmas gifts. Would you like to help?"
Melody looked up and saw James' profile as he laughed at something someone said to him, then shook the man's hand and turned toward her. She thought about the little boy whose parents died, leaving him to be raised in an orphanage. How many people could have given to them but didn't for whatever reason they told themselves at the time? Sadness for that little boy brought a sharp sting of tears to her eyes.
"I'd love to help," she answered, feeling her discomfort at being back in this church start to slip away. Memories of Beatrice always happy, always joyful, constantly encouraging her mom to give and do flooded her mind and she realized that this woman didn't do it for the same reasons her mother had done it — for show, for tax write-offs, for a resume filled with a laundry list of charitable causes she supported. Beatrice Stuart did it because giving and doing, helping and serving, lifting up her fellow man during times of hardship was simply how she chose to live her life.
The grin that lit up the older woman's face brightened the whole room. "Oh, wonderful. Here is the information of the children and their ages. If you will just let me know how many you can sponsor and I'll mark them off my list."
Melody's eyes skimmed down the list of names and ages, sizes, wants, and needs. "No. I'll take care of them all."
Beatrice's eyebrows rose. "All?"
"Yes. All of them. I'm happy to." Melody re-folded the sheet of paper and put it in her purse. "And thank you so very much for asking me."
Beatrice reached forward and grabbed Melody's hand. "God bless you, child. Thank you. The address and number for the home is on that paper. Can I just leave it to you to coordinate?"
Melody smiled and nodded. "I'll contact them soon. Thank you for giving this to me."
James returned and put a hand on the small of Melody's back. "Ready?"
She smiled up at him. "I think I might actually be."
¯¯¯¯
CHAPTER 16
MELODY had forgotten how much she loved worship music. Over the last four years, her focus had been country music with a largely secular ambiance. As she sang and clapped and worshipped with James, she felt a little door to her heart she had long ago slammed shut start to nudge open.
It felt natural and right to stand next to him. She loved the sound of his voice lifted in praise. It surprised her, actually, how much she enjoyed it. He didn't have a particularly great voice, but she could feel his love of the worship and it didn't seem to matter his lack of skill or talent.
When the congregation sat, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and she scooted in closer to him, feeling at home for the first time in a long time.
She listened to the pastor's sermon, but only with half an ear. Instead, she doodled on her worship bulletin, not paying attention to what she was writing, letting her mind wander. Before long, she realized she was filling the white space on the bulletin with song lyrics.
As she read the words, it occurred to her that the song was a worship song. She quickly opened her purse and pulled out her notebook and a fine tipped black marker before finding a blank page. As she uncapped the pen, the notes sprang forth, and she started translating what she heard in her mind onto the paper.
She worked fast. It had been years — years since she last felt this close to God and she didn't want to lose the song. The notes flowed around her, the chords, the melody. With one foot, she tapped a beat in tune to the one in her head.
The atmosphere surrounding her changed. She could feel movement and hear chatting. She paused and looked up and suddenly realized that service had ended. She glanced toward James, who remained sitting next to her as other congregants rose and made their way out. He sat silently just watching her. Her face flushed with heat.
"Sorry," she mumbled, putting the notebook and pen back in her purse.
"Not a problem. It's amazing to watch you do that." He ran a hand down her arm before he slowly grinned and his eyelids lowered. "Ready?"
Melody slipped her purse strap over her shoulder as she stood. "Sure."
James kept a light, steadying hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowd. He smiled and nodded to people he knew, but could sense that Melody didn't want to linger. He hoped that many of the people
she knew had talked to her yesterday at the wedding. Protectively, he preferred Melody not be bombarded with greetings and questions from old friends and family this afternoon.
The pastor was engaged in a conversation with a young family, so rather than stop and speak to him as was his typical habit, James walked by him, through the milling crowd, and out one of the side doors.
"Thank you for the hasty retreat," Melody said, smiling up at him. "I'm just not up to socializing for some reason."
"I understand." He stopped at his car and opened the passenger door for her. Once she had slipped into the seat, he shut the door and walked around to the driver's side to slide behind the wheel.
"Anywhere special you'd like to go for lunch?" He asked as he revved the engine.
She rubbed her face with her hands and said, "I have lunch waiting for us at the hotel. I hope you don't mind. I'm just so exhausted and don't really want to deal with people."
As he left the parking lot, he turned the car in the direction of the hotel. "I don't mind. I obviously have no experience with being recognized everywhere I go."
He shot a glance at her. She smiled as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "It's the price I pay, I reckon. It's different in Nashville. I'm one among many, and most people are used to singers popping up at the coffee shop or grocery store. They're all over the place. Here, not so much."
"I have the opposite problem. I'm gone so much, that most of my employees don't even know what I look like."
Her purse suddenly erupted in music - The Barber of Seville. It made him recollect an old Bugs Bunny cartoon and that thought made James almost laugh out loud as she dug it out of her purse. "Hello?"
He shot a glance at her profile and watched her frown. "No."
She toyed with the edge of her sweater. James could hear the other voice, but could not make out who was speaking or what was being said, exactly. "I appreciate that, but I need to be here." She huffed out a sigh as James accelerated onto the Interstate and drove toward downtown. Traffic had seriously picked up in the last ninety minutes. "Hal, I get that we can practice there and move everything there. Point is, I want to be here. This is my home. I'm not going to be run away from it. I'm not going to run from anything."
She started talking business then, naming names and places he didn't know, so he let his mind wander, thinking back to the conversation they'd had in the car that morning. Where had that come from?
He knew, deep down, buried under four years of life, that their meeting four years ago had sparked a small flame. He'd never been able to escape it. To hear the words out of her mouth — that she'd felt the same way, that she had fallen in love with him the way he had with her — that absolutely floored him. How he'd managed to get through the church service without jumping up on the pew and shouting for joy, he didn't know.
What now? Where did they go from here? He knew the answer his heart wanted — they'd go in the direction of a happily ever after. But, he wondered if she felt the same. He knew they both needed to digest it all first.
He pulled in front of the hotel and left the engine idling. The uniformed valet opened his door for him and handed him a valet ticket. "Good to see you again, Mr. Montgomery."
It fascinated him how much of the staff who had worked at the hotel while he lived there could still remember his name. "Eddie," he said, pulling the name and details from his eidetic memory. "It's been a while. How's college going?"
"I start the last semester in January, sir. I will be thrilled to be done."
"Did you ever determine a major?" He glanced inside and saw that Melody was still on her call, so he slowly made his way around the car.
"Yes, sir. I took your advice. Computers are obviously our future, so I will be graduating with a degree in Information Assurance."
James gave him another look. "Got any certifications?"
"I just got my Security Plus and I'm already studying for my CISSP."
Hand on the passenger door, James paused, considered, and stepped forward on faith. "I have an intern program at my company. Contact me tomorrow and I will be happy to set you up." He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a business card. "Tell Rebecca I said to put you through to me."
Eddie stared at the card for a long second before taking it from him. "I can't thank you enough, sir."
"I'm not offering a free ride. Work hard. That's all the thanks I need." He saw Melody disconnect her call and opened her door. "Everything okay?" he asked her as he helped her out of the car.
"Hal thinks I should go stay in Nashville until it's time for the tour to start." They walked together through the hotel lobby and to the bank of elevators.
He didn't necessarily want her so far away again so soon. "Oh?"
"He feels like everything got intense when I got back home. He feels like I'll be safer back there."
She pressed the button for the sixteenth floor. "What do you think?" James asked.
Melody looked up at him, her bright blue eyes trapped him, stopped time. "I think we've spent enough time apart, don't you?"
Surprised by her directness, he laughed. "I absolutely concur." The elevator came to a smooth stop and he gestured for her to lead the way. They walked past doors until they came to her corner suite. She produced a key card from her purse and swiped it.
As they walked all the way into the room, James noticed the room service tray next to the table. "What does a singing heiress pre-order for a late Sunday lunch?" he teased, lifting the silver dome off of one of the plates on the cart. "Cheeseburger and fries?"
"My comfort food," she said with a grin, slipping her shoes off and pulling out a chair at the table. She put one of the domed plates in front of her and the uncovered one at the place next to her. James pushed the cart out of his way and sat down next to her. "I remembered that you liked sweet tea," she said, gesturing to the pitcher next to the ice bucket.
Touched by her thoughtfulness, he held out his hand. "May I bless the meal?"
She smiled and placed her cool hand into his warm one. His prayer of thanksgiving was quick and simple.
As Melody swallowed her first bite, she said, "I remember that after my parents died, one of the first things I did was buy a cheeseburger and fries at a fast food restaurant." She grabbed a hand-cut French fry off of her plate, and dipped it in the ketchup that she had poured onto the side of her plate. "One of my mother's rules was no fast food at all. She used the excuse about it being unhealthy, but I think that what she was most worried about was that someone would see us there. A Mason would never have cause to eat fast food." She took a sip of her drink. "It was one of the best meals I had ever eaten, but I kept looking over my shoulder expecting my mother to be standing there."
"I lived on fast food in college," he said. "Well, and Vienna sausages and Ramen noodles."
"I went to a performing arts college in New York. Most of my friends there were earthy vegetarian types, and almost every meal was eaten at this little café around the corner from my apartment." She shrugged, "I also didn't have to worry about budgeting money. My dad made sure my allowance was pretty high, then Mr. Patterson did." She thought back for a moment. "I did eat some pizza from one of those chains at a study party one time. That was pretty good."
James wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin. "How different our lives have been," he said.
Melody saluted him with a fry. "Morgan and Kurt seem to get along okay with their differences."
James laughed. "You're right. You almost forget they're from two different worlds. The mermaid and the squire."
"That's because they were meant to be."
With a nod, James said, "I believe you're right. I hope they're having a great time." They ate in companionable silence for a while. As he polished off his last fry, he said, "Tell me about the song you wrote this morning."
Melody sat back, full and content, and smiled. "I can play it for you if you'd like," she said, gesturing to the baby grand piano on the platfor
m by the huge window. "I loved what I was hearing as I wrote it down."
"I'd love that."
Melody tossed her napkin on top of her plate and stood. "Let me grab the notebook." As she opened her bag, her phone rang. The number looked weird — an international number she didn't recognize. She thought of a couple of friends on European tours, so she answered without caution. "Hello?"
The voice on the other end was unrecognizable, heavily accented with maybe a Russian accent. "There is only one reason to send you messages."
Not quite comprehending the call, she said, "Oh?"
"Yes. It is so that I can put you on edge. It makes the end so much sweeter to know that you're afraid, rather than oblivious."
Tingling fear swept her limbs, leaving her weak. "Who is this?" she whispered with an outward breath.
"You will never know. And that makes it funny." After a long pause he said, "I knew his wife, you know."
"I beg your pardon?" Uneasy, Melody shifted her eyes to James. He clearly saw something wrong because he immediately came to her side. Melody pulled the phone away from her ear as if it hurt to have it touch her skin. With a swipe of her thumb, she put the phone into speaker mode.
"Unlike you, she didn't know she was going to die."
No sound preempted the line going dead. One minute the call was connected, the next it wasn't. With a cry, Melody dropped her phone. She put her arms around her middle and hugged herself tight. She felt James' arm come over her shoulder.
"We need to call the police," she said. James pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and dialed the number for Detective Suarez. He answered on the first ring as James handed Melody the phone.
"Mr. Montgomery?"
"No." Her voice didn't work properly, so Melody cleared her throat. "This is Melody Mason. He called me."
There was a slight pause. The detective did not ask for clarification. "Tell me everything he said."
A Melody for James (Christian Suspense) Page 15
