by ID Johnson
“Yay!” he exclaimed, and heading over toward the sanctuary, he tugged her along for several steps before one of his friends shouted his name, and he took off running to join her on the stage.
“That boy,” Melody said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how his dad ever tells him no.”
Mrs. Gregory chuckled. “Reid is so good with him though, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Melody said definitively. “I can’t imagine how difficult it is to do that all on his own.”
“It can’t be easy,” Mrs. Gregory agreed. As they reached the aisle that ran between the two sets of pews in the sanctuary, Mrs. Gregory put her hand on Melody’s arm. “I’m so glad you decided to stay, Melody. It means a lot to Michael. And I think it will do your soul good.”
Melody forced a small smile, thinking Mrs. Gregory had no idea just how wrong she was, but it would be good for Michael, so she followed her up a few rows and then slid into one of the pews, taking a seat so that she would have a good view of the stage. There were a few parents here and there, some in groups chatting quietly, others absently looking at their phones, a few even paying attention to their children, and Melody wondered what kind of a parent she might be. Would she have kids someday? Would she be able to keep up with all of them? Would she be the kind who was looking at her phone or the kind that never took their eyes off her child?
As the pianist, Mrs. Agnes Watson, who couldn’t have been a day younger than ninety, began to play the opening bars of “Away in a Manger” Melody gave all of her attention to Michael. If she was looking at him, she couldn’t possibly dwell on the times her father had played that very song on the piano, and she’d sang from the bench next to him in their parlor at home. He’d join in on the harmony, and her mom would listen and applaud when they were finished.
Michael was standing in the middle of the stage, beaming. He seemed to know all of the words, even though this was his first rehearsal, and as soon as the song was over, he waved at Melody, and she waved back. As Mrs. Watson began to play, “Go Tell it on the Mountain,” Melody started to wonder what Reid might be doing. It seemed strange that he wasn’t there. Why didn’t he bring Michael himself? While the voice of self-doubt in her mind worried that he might be on a date with some other woman, she thought surely Michael would have mentioned anyone his dad was seeing. Was Reid sitting at home alone while Michael was here singing, and if so, what did that mean for him as a parent?
She knew it wasn’t her business, but at least thinking about Reid gave her something else to concentrate on as the carols continued and each one tugged at her heart. When Michael stepped forward to say his line, with Mrs. Gregory’s coaching, Melody snapped a picture. He was so cute, pulling the microphone down so that he could speak into it, and his loud, clear voice was adorable as he recited a familiar scripture from the Book of Luke. As soon as he was finished, Melody raised her hands in the air and tapped them together in a silent clap. He grinned at her from ear to ear and took his place in line next to a cute little girl with long brown pigtails.
Unable to stop thinking about Reid, Melody decided it might be nice for him to see how cute his little boy looked up there on stage, so she sent him the picture. She didn’t send any text, choosing rather to wait and see what he had to say—if anything—before she commented.
A few seconds later her phone buzzed, and she looked down to see his message. “Oh, wow! He really looks like a natural up there. Is he having fun?”
Relieved that he had responded so quickly and positively, Melody replied, “He is! I wasn’t going to stay for rehearsal, but he talked me into it. He’s quite persuasive.” She read it over several times before she sent it, wondering if she’d spelled anything wrong or said anything that sounded ridiculous.
“You’re telling me,” he sent back. “That’s why I have five boxes of cereal in my pantry and every single one of them has a cartoon character on the box.”
Before Melody could even reply, another message came through. “I’m really glad you’re there with him, Melody. I bet he was so happy to see you.”
“He was,” she assured him. “I was happy to see him, too. Are you working?” She knew she shouldn’t pry, but she couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t there.
“Something like that.”
She wasn’t sure what that might mean, but she decided not to meddle anymore, and looking at the time, she saw that rehearsal was almost over. “Can I call you later to talk about Saturday?” she asked, hoping that didn’t sound lame.
“Sure. Michael will be in bed by 8:30 so I should have some time after that.”
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Sounds good. Thanks so much for the picture.”
“No problem,” she typed and hit send before she put her phone down and returned her focus to Michael whose expression seemed a bit annoyed now, as if he couldn’t do without her undivided attention. She smiled at him, and his countenance shifted back to his naturally happy self. Melody hoped that this song, “Joy to the World,” would be the last.
She wasn’t so lucky. The last song they sang was “Silent Night,” and even though the voices of thirty children aged four to ten made it sound a lot different than it had when her father used to sing it with her, she felt a tear in her eye. This rehearsal couldn’t end quickly enough.
As soon as the last refrain was over, Melody rose and approached the stage. The children were running about, many of the parents having come to retrieve them now, and Michael ran right for her. “Did you like it?” he asked.
“Yes, Michael, I loved it,” she assured him. “But I have to go now, okay? I have a lot of work to get done.”
“Okay,” he said, his face showing he was doing his best to understand. He opened his arms wide. “Goodbye, Miss Melody.”
“Goodbye, Michael,” she said, dropping to her knees to hug him. “I’ll see you really soon.”
“Promise?” he asked.
“I promise,” Melody replied, his soft hair rubbing against her cheek.
As she stood, Mrs. Gregory came up behind Michael and said, “That was wonderful, my boy! You are a natural!”
“Thank you!” he said, his face beaming.
“Now, we don’t have too many more rehearsals before the festival, so you’ll have to practice that line everyday, okay?”
Michael nodded his head ferociously, his face still beaming.
“Good night, Mrs. Gregory,” Melody said with a smile.
“Melody, I’m so glad you stayed,” Mrs. Gregory said, resting a wrinkled hand on Melody’s upper arm. “Have a lovely evening, dear.”
“You, too.” She nodded and turned to make her way to the exit, Michael having bounded off to run around with a few other children.
Melody saw her mother standing in the back of the sanctuary, a questioning expression on her face, and when she reached her, she asked, “Why are you here? I thought you’d headed home an hour ago.”
“I was going to,” Melody assured her, “but I ran into Michael on the way out, and he asked me to stay and listen to him sing. So I did.”
Sarah said nothing more, but Melody could tell by the smile she was trying to hide that her mother wanted to read more into this situation than she should. She’d simply been humoring a child that she cared about. Nothing else. This night certainly had done nothing to change the way she felt about music—Christmas or otherwise.
“I’ll see you at home in a little while,” Sarah said, waving at a friend across the room, and Melody nodded before taking off for the door again, hopeful that she could finally escape before anyone else stopped her or talked her into any other uncomfortable situations.
Once she was finally in her car, she took a few deep breaths and slowly released them. She wasn’t sure if her heart was racing because she’d been forced to endure the Christmas rehearsal or because she realized she’d promised to call Reid when she got home. Texting was one thing—you could look that over before you hit send--but having a real-life conve
rsation was something else entirely. She just hoped she wouldn’t say something stupid or somehow mess it up. If she just kept it simple, focused on talking about their plans for Saturday, she should be able to make it through. But she knew she had a tendency to ramble, and as she backed her car out of the parking lot, she started rehearsing her lines in her head, hopeful that she could complete her performance as nicely as Michael had.
It was 8:30. She had said she’d call at 8:30, but if she actually called at 8:30, wouldn’t it seem like she was just sitting around waiting to call him? Like she had nothing better to do than stare at her phone until it was time to call? Maybe she should wait. Maybe 8:35 would be better. Or maybe a totally randomly seeming time—like 8:37—would be even better. Should she even call tonight at all? If she waited until tomorrow, wouldn’t he think this was absolutely no big deal to her?
Melody tossed herself backward onto the lavender bedspread she’d had on her full-sized bed since she was in high school. She’d convinced her mom to let her redecorate a little bit and taken down the trophies and medals her mom still had on display when she’d moved back in, but the wallpaper was still the white flowers with a purple background she’d helped her dad hang when she was twelve, and the furniture was more suitable for a little girl wishing she was a princess than an adult woman wishing she had a speck of the confidence it must take to be royalty.
In actuality, she had been staring at her phone for most of the forty-five minutes she’d been home. She went ahead and slipped into some cozy light blue pajamas with little snowflakes on the pants so that she’d be comfortable on the outside even though she was definitely a nervous wreck on the inside. She propped a pillow up behind her and glanced at the screen again. 8:32. Was that a good time to call a person? Was she completely neurotic now? Why would Reid want to spend any time with a rambling, overly-anxious interloper who didn’t even know a screwdriver from an allen wrench?
With a sigh, she dropped her phone onto her lap and whispered, “I’ll call at 8:37. That’s a good time to call. And I will let him do most of the talking.” Besides, she reasoned, what were the chances that Michael was even in bed yet? Didn’t it take little kids, like, an hour to actually go to bed and stay there?
Just as she started to rethink her 8:37 strategy, her phone began to ring. Melody caught her breath and looked down. It was him—his name blinking at her from the display screen, daring her to answer. She was so nervous, her swiping finger was shaking and it took her two tries to get the phone to cooperate. Finally, with a deep breath and what she hoped was a nonchalant voice she said, “Hello?”
“Hey, Melody. It’s Reid. How are you?”
The sound of his voice sent little tingles down her spine, and she pictured him sitting in his living room on a manly-looking, plaid sofa, a fire blazing behind him, maybe a painting with hunting dogs or something else masculine in the background. “Good,” she said, still trying to sound as casual as possible. “I was just about to call you.” Why did she say that? Stick to the minimum!
“Well, Michael went straight to sleep tonight, so I figured I’d give you a call before whatever magic spell he’s under breaks and he spends half the night requesting water and screaming that he needs to go to the bathroom.”
He sounded a bit exhausted, as if the bedtime routine was not his favorite part of parenting, and Melody couldn’t help but chuckle. “That sounds fun,” she said sarcastically.
“It’s a nightly battle of tug-of-war where he always finds a way to win. Anyway, I hope now is a good time.”
“Oh, yeah,” Melody assured him, trying not to let the glee that he’d called resonate in her voice. “I was just going over a few things on the website—nothing pressing.” That was a lie. She hadn’t touched her computer since she got home. Could he tell that was a lie?
“Cool. So do you still want us to meet you on Saturday? I mean, I’m sure you have better things to do with your day, and if you were just offering to be nice, I can find a way to break it to Michael.”
Melody hesitated, wondering if maybe he really didn’t want to go. “No, I think picking out a Christmas tree with Michael sounds like fun. Unless, you were hoping to keep it just a family event.”
Reid chuckled. “If someone else actually wants to help me chase Michael around a Christmas tree farm, I’m all for it. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to. Since you already got roped into watching his rehearsal tonight, I think you’ve done more than enough to check your good deed for the week off the list.”
She found it a little odd that he seemed to think hanging out with Michael was some sort of charity to her. “I really like Michael. He’s so sweet and funny. He brings out a side of me I never knew I had. I don’t mind spending time with him at all.”
There was a pause, and then Reid said, “Good. Because he sure does like being with you.”
She wondered if he was thinking of tacking on “for some reason” at the end of that sentence, but then she continued her own thought, which likely should’ve stayed in her head. “I hope that doesn’t seem weird to you. That this woman who doesn’t even have her own kids likes hanging around your little boy. I’m not going to kidnap him, I promise.”
Reid laughed, and Melody realized what she’d said probably sounded incredibly stupid—or creepy. “If you did, you’d probably bring him right back,” Reid muttered before he added, “no it doesn’t seem weird at all. He picked you after all, and Michael has a habit of getting what he wants probably more often than he should. I just can’t imagine you don’t have better things to do—friends to hang out with, a boyfriend to see—than spending your Saturday with us.
Melody didn’t really know what to say to that. “Delaney is really the only good friend I have left since I moved back, and she’ll be there. Although, if things go her way, I might not see much of her. I’ve been trying to stay busy these days with work. Being back here is… hard. I miss my dad a lot.” Before she even realized what she was saying, she’d gone down a path she hadn’t meant to. Why was he so easy to talk to?
The phone was quiet for a moment, as if he was absorbing all that she had said before he replied, “I can understand that. Mrs. Gregory mentioned that your dad passed fairly recently. I’m very sorry to hear that, Melody.”
She’d been offered a thousand condolences over the last two years, but none sounded as sincere or thoughtful as this one, and she felt a tear in the corner of her eye. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
As if he could sense her mood shifting, with a chipper air in his voice he said, “So where is this place? Shepherdstown? I’ve never been there before. It’s not far, though, right?”
“No,” Melody replied, happy to be able to talk about something else. “It’s about a half an hour, depending upon how fast you’re driving and whether the roads are slick. The name of the place is Taylor Tree Farm. I could give you an address, but it might be better if you looked at their website because they have specific directions for how to get there from different locations and a map.”
“Okay, that seems easy enough.”
“Delaney said we would try to get there around 11:00, if that works for you.”
“Sure,” Reid responded. “Michael gets up around 8:00 on Saturdays, so that means I’ll only have to spend a couple of hours answering, ‘Can we go now?’ questions.”
Melody giggled, picturing her little friend bombarding his dad with pleas to leave already. “I think you’re right about the snow, though. It’s supposed to start Friday night. They said it should be pretty light without a lot of accumulation.”
“Yes, we will have to make sure that we bundle up.”
“Right.” Melody realized the conversation was about to start wrapping up if she didn’t think of something to say to prolong it, and even though she’d spent days telling herself not to say more than she needed to so as to avoid saying something dumb, she wasn’t ready to let him go just yet. “What ended up happening with the school?” she asked, hoping he didn�
��t think she was prying. She was directly involved in the scandal, after all.
The sigh Reid let out was sharp, and Melody could hear his frustration. “He was suspended from the bus for the rest of the semester.”
“The rest of the semester?” she repeated, unable to believe she’d heard correctly.
“Yes, but it’s not quite as harsh as it sounds. Next Friday is their last day before Winter Break. He’ll be able to ride the bus again in January.”
“Still,” Melody said, “that seems a little steep for a first offense.”
“I thought so, too,” he admitted, “but he did lie to the bus driver and forge a note. It could’ve been pretty dangerous. What if you hadn’t been home?”
“I have thought about that a million times,” she agreed. “I make a lot of my runs to the shop in the afternoon. It was just good fortune that I was home at all.” She didn’t add that she’d since altered her schedule so that she was home in the afternoons just in case Michael decided to pull a similar prank.
“Exactly. So, I’ve been picking him up in the afternoons. It’s not a problem in the morning because I always dropped him off then anyway. It’s just kind of difficult to leave a job to go get him and then drop him off at Ms. Karen’s and get back to work long enough to finish a job before 5:00 or so, which is when most people want you to go away and leave them to their evening family routine.”
“Oh, yeah, that would be a problem,” Melody agreed.
“I’m making it work,” he said, but she could hear the tension in his voice.
Before she even thought about what she was saying, Melody offered, “I could pick him up and take him to Ms. Karen’s if you’d like. My schedule’s completely flexible, and I live pretty near the school. Isn’t Ms. Karen’s place just around the corner from my house?”
“Mel, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” he said rather quickly.
She paused at the shortening of her name. No one had called her that since her father passed, but she actually sort of liked the way it sounded when she heard it in his voice. Ignoring it for now, she said, “You didn’t ask. I volunteered. It’s really no trouble at all. I definitely won’t let him come home with me because then he might feel like he got his way, but picking him up and taking him to the sitter’s can’t be too time consuming, and it will give me a chance to see him for a few minutes.”