by Dori Lavelle
Scott cleared his throat and shifted his weight. “Melisa… I can explain everything.”
“You can explain?” Melisa’s whole body trembled as the words spilled out of her mouth. “You can explain that you faked your death? You made people believe you were dead? You let me grieve for you even though you were alive? Oh, my God.” Melisa buried her head in her hands.
“I’m… I’m so sorry.” Scott didn’t dare come near her again.
“Sorry?” Melisa looked up again, laughing and crying at the same time. “You’re sorry? No.” She jabbed a shaking finger at him. “You say sorry when you forget someone’s birthday, you say sorry when you accidently step on someone’s toes.” Her voice rose with each word. “You say sorry when you… when you…” She sucked in a breath, but it might as well have been lined with thorns. When she spoke next, her voice was low, broken into pieces. “Faking your own death… No, you can’t say sorry for that.”
She wanted to get away from him, wanted to pretend she was imagining things, and erase this day from her memory. But she was so shaken and weak that if she stood up, she was certain she’d crumple at his feet. So she wedged her hands in a prayer pose between her knees and gazed into the distance away from him. She heard him shift, and then his heavy breathing, but she was glad he didn’t come closer. She wasn’t sure what she would do to him if he did. He’d probably end up dead—for real this time.
After a long silence broken only by the swish of the breeze, birds chirping, and a distant car honking, Scott spoke. “I had to leave.”
In a heartbeat, Melisa was on her feet again, and the palm of her hand stung. Scott had his hand on his cheek.
He kept his eyes fixed on hers. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I went away. It was only a matter of time before we were torn apart.”
“So, lying to me didn’t hurt me, did it? Leaving me to freakin’ grieve for you, was all a damn joke to you? Do you have any idea… any idea at all what I went through when I thought I’d lost you? It took years to rebuild my life, and now you just reappear and destroy it again? What kind of monster does that?” She slapped him on his other cheek, and unable to stop herself, she pummeled him on the chest, the shoulders, the arms. At first he just stood there, welcoming her punishment. As the strength left her and tears started streaming down her face, burning her eyes, he opened his arms and allowed her to sink into them.
As she sobbed against his chest, he held her tight, not letting her go, even when she struggled to free herself.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over again.
With each word that exited his mouth, the fire of fury in the pit of her stomach grew stronger as sobs shook her small frame. She took a deep breath and pushed him away, backed away until the trunk of a tree halted her. “I hate you,” she said with as much venom as she could inject into three little words. Her eyes were swollen and her red hair clung to her cheeks and forehead, damp with sweat and tears.
“How could you do that to me? How could you do something so horrible?” She pushed away from the tree trunk and started walking away. She didn’t look back at Scott—was it really Scott?—because she was too afraid of what she’d see. She was imagining it, she had to be imagining it all. It couldn’t be real, she told herself as she ran all the way back to the Lux.
When she reached the entrance to the hotel, she didn’t slow down. She ran past the reception and through the lobby, not giving a damn that people eyed her with concern, whispered, and pointed in her direction. She wanted to hide from the world. If only it were possible to hide from the misery too, or slice it from her body like they had done to her baby. She wanted to drown it in her tears until it suffocated. But she couldn’t. She didn’t even know where the hurt was at this point. During the past few weeks, it had traveled from her heart through the rest of her body, hiding itself in every limb, torturing every part of her. Why did she have to suffer so much more than most people? Why couldn’t suffering be distributed fairly among everyone?
As soon as she let herself into her room, she went straight for the minibar and dropped to her knees in front of it. She yanked the door open, then slammed it shut again, releasing a puff of cool air. There was nothing in there to stop her from feeling. With Melisa’s permission, Carlene had ensured no alcohol would be brought to her room. But Melisa could walk out of her room now and go downstairs to the bar, where all the real stuff was anyway. She knew more than anybody, though, that the only thing alcohol did was delay the inevitable, and once it wore off, pain would rush back in with the strength of a hurricane. Besides, as much as she wanted it, the thought of drinking again nauseated her.
She decided to stay in her room, buried under the covers with a towel to catch her tears, because tissues were no longer enough. This time, she cried loud and didn’t care who heard her. She slammed her fists into the pillows as if they were somehow responsible and folded herself into a ball. She rocked back and forth, until the tears dried up and she fell asleep.
When she opened her eyes again, the room was dark, apart from the tiny red light flashing from the flat screen television. Watching the light, she enjoyed those few seconds of amnesia a person sometimes experiences upon waking. Those few but precious seconds when the head fools the heart into believing nothing bad has happened, that everything is all right.
But the moment disappeared, and reality stepped in.
Scott was back. He was alive and well. Her ex-husband, who she had grieved for and buried, had returned. He had lied to her and everybody else, fooled everyone. There were a lot of ways to deal with things in life. But how was she supposed to deal with something that only happened in the movies?
Not knowing what else to do, she did the one thing she knew could distract her: She used the hotel soap and shower gel to scrub the already gleaming bathroom and the rest of the hotel suite. With an old T-shirt, she wiped and dusted every surface. Then, with nothing else left to clean, she ordered room service and ate a light salad for dinner. It was all she could manage.
After dinner, she lay awake in the dark room, gazing into the velvet curtain of night. She ached for her husband, for comfort and honesty, for something familiar.
Then she remembered something. She remembered Carlene and Nick. How Nick had found out about Carlene’s dark past and walked out on her. He had refused to hear her out and in the end, it turned out there was more to the story than what he had been led to believe.
It hurt Melisa to see the world she had known go up in flames, but she wanted to believe Scott could offer a good explanation, something that justified the horrible thing he’d done. Even though she had moved on, and too much had happened, she wanted to find something that reminded her of the man she used to love. Not for him, but for her own peace of mind. To prove to herself that she was a good judge of character and wasn’t such a fool. She didn’t want to see him again, but she knew she would never find peace if she didn’t hear him out.
She buried her head into the pillow and thought of Heat again, and the need to go back home overwhelmed her. She could pack her bags and be home when he returned from his shift in the morning. But something stopped her. If only she knew what.
Melisa sat up. She couldn’t keep this to herself. She would not tell Heat—not yet, at least—but it would kill her if she kept it all inside. But there was one person she could always turn to. She picked her cell phone from the bedside table and dialed Carlene’s number. She picked up on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Carlene?”
“Yes? Melisa, your voice sounds different. You okay?”
Melisa shook her head and tears started pouring down her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong? Tell me, sweetheart.”
Melisa wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffed. She couldn’t form the words.
“Honey, you’re crying,” Carlene said, concerned. “I’m coming over.”
***
Melisa pulled open th
e door and buried herself in Carlene’s hug.
Carlene smoothed Melisa’s red curls. “Whatever it is, it’s all going to be all right.”
“Not this time.” Melisa pulled back and swallowed. “Something unthinkable happened.”
Carlene closed the door and took Melisa’s hand, led her to the couch. From a glass pitcher on the coffee table, she poured water into a glass and placed it in Melisa’s shaking hands. “Talk to me.”
Melisa took a sip of her water and gave a bitter laugh. “I don’t even know where to start.” She shook her head.
“Tell me everything. I have time.” Carlene patted her arm reassuringly.
“Apparently my life will always be filled with drama. Something will always stand between me and happiness.”
“What happened?”
“Scott happened. He’s alive.”
Carlene’s brow knitted. “Scott? Not Scott, your…”
“Yes, my ex-husband, my dead husband, Scott Bergfeld. He’s back and right here in Serendipity.”
“But he’s dead, Melisa. How can he be back?”
Melisa put down the glass and turned to Carlene. “It was all a lie. He faked his death.”
Now Carlene looked worried. Whether because the idea of a person faking his death was too much to handle, or she thought Melisa was going crazy, Melisa couldn’t tell. “I don’t understand. What exactly are you saying?”
Melisa sighed. “I went to the lake for a walk today. I saw him there, in the flesh.”
Carlene moistened her lips. “Are you sure it was him? Did he, you know, speak to you?”
“Yes. He was close enough for me to touch him. I know I sound crazy, and I wish I was, but it was him, Carlene.”
“So he’s really not dead? How’s that even possible?”
“He faked his death. I don’t know how.” Melisa leaned her head against the couch. She was still reeling.
Carlene stared at her with wide eyes.
They stayed like that for a long time, saying nothing, listening to the hum of the mini-fridge, digesting the impossible.
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” Melisa asked eventually, wishing the answer would be “yes.”
Carlene reached for Melisa’s glass of water and drank half of it. “I don’t know what to make of what you’re saying, but no, I don’t think you’re crazy. It’s just so hard to believe. What did he say to you?”
“Not much. He wanted to explain, but I didn’t let him. I’ve never been so angry in my life.”
“Melisa,” Carlene said slowly. “You said Scott used to buy you yellow roses. Do you think… Could it be he was the one who sent you those flowers on your birthday?”
Melisa’s heart clenched as she remembered. “Oh, my God. He must have tried to make the connection before he showed up in person. I thought I was going crazy that day, too.”
“Now what? Is he here to stay?”
“I don’t know what his plans are. I don’t know whether he expects to continue where we left off.” She took a deep breath in. “I’m so confused, and my emotions are a mess at this point.”
Carlene took Melisa’s hands. “Are you safe with him? Do you think he could be dangerous?”
“I don’t think so.” Despite what Scott did, Melisa could never be afraid of him. He used to be her husband once—a man she had vowed to spend the rest of her life with.
“If you’re positive Scott won’t hurt you, I think you should hear him out. I’m tempted to judge him at this point. I think what he did to you is horrible. I want to tell you to walk away and shut him out of your life, but I know from experience that sometimes things are not black and white.”
Of course Carlene was right. Melisa had to find out the truth, even if it hurt. But she’d wait until the initial shock had worn off.
Chapter Eleven
The day before Scott died, Melisa had been busy all day at Mel’s Delights. When the last customer left, she closed up and decided to go for a walk along the lake to unwind, as she did almost every day after work. She was pregnant and the baby needed her to take it easy. A dose of fresh air and some walking always did them both a world of good. Since the lake was close to the bakery, it was the perfect place to end the day.
It was freezing outside, but nothing could dampen her mood. With her scarf wrapped around her neck and hands in the pockets of her coat, she hummed a tune as she sauntered down the street past people rushing to escape the cold.
At the lake, she found her bench and placed an old newspaper on it before sitting down. She sighed with contentment as she gazed at the frozen water, watched as it met the darkening, overcast sky. Her phone vibrated inside her pocket, breaking the spell of the moment. Her smile didn’t falter when she pulled it out and saw Scott’s face smiling across the screen. She picked up.
“Honey, are you okay?” He sounded worried. “I called several times.”
“Better than fine. I was up to my elbows in flour all day.” Since Melisa had gotten pregnant, Scott always worried whenever he couldn’t reach her. He called her several times a day from the fire station, even just to say, “I love you.” She loved him more for it. It was clear that she and their baby meant the world to him and he would do everything for them.
“Are you still at Your Delights?” When speaking to Melisa, Scott always referred to the bakery that way.
“No, I’m sitting on my bench watching the icy lake. It’s so relaxing.”
Scott laughed. He knew how much water calmed her, frozen or not. “When do you think you’ll get home? I’ve got surprise for you.”
“I was thinking of heading home in about fifteen minutes, but”—she stood up—“for a surprise, I’ll get home sooner. But aren’t you on duty tonight?”
“Took the day off. I want to spend some time with my girls. Hurry home. I’ll see you two later. I love you.”
Instinctively, Melisa laid a hand on her stomach. “Okay. We love you too.” She didn’t bother asking him why he was so sure the baby was a girl. Melisa was flattered he loved her enough to wish for a miniature version of her. Whatever the baby’s sex turned out to be, she or he would have the kind of childhood Melisa never had. Unlike her own mom, she would be present in her kid’s life. She’d be at all the sports events, the plays, the birthdays, the sick days, and the happy ones.
***
Melisa stood outside in the cold, gazing at their new home, the dream home Scott had bought her. Looking at it filled her with warmth every time. The lights were on, creating halos around the windows. It looked so inviting. As she stood there smiling, it started to snow. Large cottony flakes swirled around her, blurring her vision and transforming her world into a fairytale. She was living her perfect life. She was married to the most wonderful man and they were expecting their first child. There were so many good things to look forward to.
She went inside walking on air. The house smelled of love, food, and chocolate.
Scott kissed her and helped her out of her coat, pulled off her boots, and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He led her to the candlelit dining table. He placed a mug of creamy white hot chocolate in front of her. “This should warm you up.”
Melisa reached out and placed a hand on his cheek. Butterflies fluttered inside her stomach. “You know I can never get enough of this. But it will be more than the hot chocolate warming me up.”
A few weeks ago, they’d gone to New York for a “babymoon” weekend, to celebrate being pregnant, after the miscarriage they had suffered not long after they were married. The hotel they’d stayed at had served the most amazing hot chocolate. Seeing how much Melisa had enjoyed it, Scott had somehow convinced them to give him the recipe, which he had vowed to keep a secret.
“I missed you.” He sat beside her and rubbed her free hand, bringing it to his lips to warm her fingers with his breath. “It’s torture not being able to hear your voice.”
She kissed him on the lips. “I love how you miss me. And I love you.”
“I know that.” A smile tipped one corner of his mouth. “Now, drink up so we can eat. Then I can show you my surprise.” He stood and went to the oven.
Being a baker, Melisa was most at home inside a kitchen, but Scott was a better cook than her by far.
Tonight he served her chocolate chicken curry with basmati rice, and as she relished her meal, they talked about their day and laughed at silly jokes only they understood.
Scott’s surprise turned out to be the furniture he had made for the nursery—a sleek, mahogany crib that had a flower carved into the headboard, with a matching dresser and mini wardrobe.
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Melisa traced a fingertip along the edges of the carving. “This is perfect. So this is why you wouldn’t let me buy a crib? How come I didn’t see you make this? Where did you hide it?”
“You think I’d hide it here, under your nose?” He twirled her around and pulled her to him, holding her and swaying, dancing to silent music.
“This is the best surprise ever,” Melisa whispered into his ear. She stopped their dance and kissed him with a passion she reserved only for him.
For a long time, they stood in the nursery with arms around each other, deepening their kiss, as if their lips were meeting for the last time. Scott took her hand and led her to their bedroom.
After making love, they lay in each other’s arms, and Scott fell asleep with his lips pressed to the back of her neck and the palm of his hand over her naked stomach.
Melisa had no idea it would be the last time they would make love, the last time she would lie in his arms. The last time he would be her safe haven.
Chapter Twelve
Melisa held her breath as her gaze darted around the park. If Scott was really alive, maybe he would show up again. It was time to find out the truth. Not knowing was hurting her more than knowing probably would. She paced around near her bench, where he had found her three days ago. He knew how much she loved coming to the lake. No wonder this was the place he had come to look for her.
