Melody's Christmas

by ID Johnson

Disappointment melted the smile from her face. “Okay,” she managed to say. “That’s good that you get to go spend some time with him.” She really did think it was wonderful that he was going to go; she was just disappointed that she wouldn’t get to pick Michael up from school or see him until the parade.

  “You sound sad. I thought you’d be happy that you won’t have to mess with parent pick up or dropping him off at Karen’s.”

  “I don’t mind any of that,” she said, her voice sincere. “In fact, I was going to ask you what you thought about him not riding the bus anymore at all, after he’s allowed to again.”

  “You mean you want to keep picking him up and taking him to Karen’s every afternoon?”

  “No,” Melody continued, “I mean I want to pick him up and bring him here.”

  Reid was quiet, and Melody thought maybe she’d overstepped. He’d joked before about her wanting to kidnap his son—did he think now maybe she had lost her mind? Had she? “Do you really want to do that?”

  “Yes, I do,” she said. “I’m sorry if that sounds crazy, Reid. But there’s just something about Michael that lifts my spirit. I can’t quite explain it to you, but moving back here has been so difficult on me. When I lived in Chicago, I had distractions. I could sit in my apartment and pretend that my dad was at home with my mom, watching TV or playing the piano. Of course, I didn’t do that because that really would be nuts—but the option was there. I wasn’t constantly reminded that he was gone. Now that I’m back here, I’m bombarded with the scents and sounds I associate with him. I can’t walk down the stairs without thinking I’ll see him standing by the picture window looking outside the way he used to each morning, sipping his coffee. I fall asleep at night expecting to hear him playing the piano. At least, now that you and Michael are in my life, I have something else to think about. Now, whenever the snow begins to fall, I’ll still have the wonderful memories of making a snowman with my dad, but I’ll also have the memories of our snowball fight, of watching Michael chase snowflakes and catch them on his tongue. Does any of that make any sense to you at all—or do you just think I’m crazy?” She took a deep breath and wondered if she’d even been forming coherent sentences.

  His answer came more quickly than she had expected. “It makes perfect sense, Mel. And, no, I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m not sure what it is that drew you and Mikey together, but I’ve never seen him take to anyone the way he takes to you.”

  “I never paid much attention to children at all, if I’m honest,” Melody replied. “I mean, I’d taught a few Sunday school lessons and volunteered in the nursery when they were short handed. But I wasn’t even thinking about the possibility of….” She paused, thinking she might completely freak him out if she finished the sentence in her head.

  “Of having your own kids?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “You should. You should think about it, because you’ll be really good at it.”

  She couldn’t remember anyone ever saying that to her before, but now that she had a glimpse into what it really required to be a good mother, she thought it was one of the nicest compliments she’d ever received. “Thank you.”

  “Well, we’ve got a couple of weeks of Christmas vacation to talk about it and see if that’s what you really want to do, and if it is, you know I would love for Michael to spend his afternoons with you. Are you sure it won’t interfere with your work?”

  “I’ve got most of the rooms cleared out now and am working on getting the rest of the stuff to the antique store, so most of what I’m doing is online. I can’t imagine it would interfere with any of that.”

  “And is that what you’re planning to do? Stay here and do marketing?”

  It was a legitimate question and one she’d been struggling with for months, even before she moved here. “That’s something I’ve given a lot of thought to recently,” she replied. “When I originally moved back, I thought I’d get my mom straightened out and maybe move to Washington, D.C. or Richmond to find another marketing job. But my mom never wanted to be an antique dealer, and while she’s good at it, this was my dad’s dream. I know now I can’t leave my mom to handle all of this on her own. So I’ll definitely be staying here for the foreseeable future, depending upon a few things--how sales at the store continue to improve, how much freelance marketing work I can find, whether or not a certain handsome fellow continues to fancy me.”

  “Michael?”

  She giggled. “Precisely.”

  “There’s no doubt that will continue,” he assured her.

  “Then I guess I’ll still be living in Charles Town when I am Mrs. Watson’s age.”

  “Well, don’t be asking me to put up your Christmas lights because something tells me by then I will not be scampering up any ladders.”

  Melody laughed, the thought of them growing old together making her heart happy. “Michael can do it.”

  “He’ll be in a nursing home, remember?’

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said, still giggling.

  “I think I was going to let you go quite some time ago.”

  “My fault. I brought up a lengthy subject. But hey, have fun at the party tomorrow. Did you bake cookies?”

  “Are you kidding? Do you think the children want trips to the emergency room for stomach pumps for Christmas? No, Mrs. Gregory made them for Michael.”

  “That’s so nice. She’s so sweet,” Melody said, thinking she should stop mentally calling Mrs. Gregory nosey.

  “You could come with us,” Reid offered.

  Melody thought about it for a second and then remembered how the school staff already seemed confused about how she related to Michael. “As much fun as it sounds spending time in a classroom full of sugared-up five year olds, I think I’ll leave this one to you. But thanks anyway.”

  “You’re going to wish you’d said yes when I start texting you pictures of what you’re missing out on.”

  “I’m sure Michael will fill me in at the parade.”

  “And for three weeks after the parade.”

  “Ha! True. Have a good night, Reid.” She didn’t want to hang up, but she knew if she didn’t do it now, she’d find reason after reason to stay on the phone with him for the rest of the night.

  “You, too, Mel. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Bye.” She cradled her phone for a moment before she finally plugged it into the charger on her nightstand. She knew it would be hard to sleep that night because she could hardly believe she actually had a real date with Reid the next day—even if her mom and Michael would also be there. Still, she hadn’t been this excited about anything for as long as she could remember, and she was glad she’d be able to sleep for as long as she wanted to in the morning because she had a feeling she’d be up half the night thinking about those beautiful blue eyes.

  Chapter 11

  The day crawled by at a snail’s pace, and as much as Melody tried to focus on her work, she was having a hard time getting anything done. As soon as she’d dig into a box, she’d start to replay bits and pieces of her conversation with Reid the night before and completely lose track of what she was doing. Or she’d sit and stare at an antique, thinking about what she should wear or what he might say that night instead of considering how to price it or how best to market it. By the time Reid began to send her pictures from the party, she’d given up on actually getting any real work done and was sitting in front of the television with a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie on.

  “You are missing out!” his text read, and he sent her a series of pictures involving children running around a classroom, gingerbread houses with sagging roofs, ornaments with acrylic fingerprints on desks coated with a dusting of glitter, and most importantly, Michael and himself smiling and waving. Even though she was glad they were able to have this time alone together, part of her was a little sad that she had missed it. She secretly hoped that next year she would be there with them, and maybe as more than a family friend. Was it rid
iculous for her to start thinking she might actually be a part of their family someday?

  Sending a text back to him thanking him for the pictures, wishing him the best time ever, and reminding him not to run with scissors, she set her phone aside and tried to concentrate on the movie. It was the story of a woman trying to check everything off of her Christmas to-do list before Christmas Eve. A handsome stranger appears and soon he begins to help her celebrate the most magical Christmas she’s ever had. Could that be Melody? Would this Christmas with Reid and Michael be so special she would no longer celebrate Christmas transfixed on her loss and memories from the past?

  Sighing, she flipped the channel to something less invasive. As much as she wanted to believe in Christmas magic, she knew it wasn’t real or else her father wouldn’t have been taken from her on what used to be the most special night of the year.

  Her phone buzzed, and Melody looked down to see another text from Reid. “We are very excited about tonight!”

  She smiled. It was a nice gesture. She could imagine Michael going on and on about the parade and asking Reid how much longer until it started. “I am very excited, too,” she replied. “I can’t wait to hear all about the Christmas party!”

  “Oh, you will,” he replied. “He’s had enough sugar to last until Christmas, and his teacher just announced there are goodie bags to take home. Oh goody!”

  “Maybe that will get conveniently left behind,” she offered.

  “Are you kidding? He has a kung fu death grip on it. The only way I’m getting this out of his hands is to offer him a puppy or a pony in exchange.”

  “Thank goodness you have a big back yard!” she said.

  He didn’t answer right away, and she wondered what they might be up to now. It was almost time for school to be out. Eventually, he said, “We’ll see you in a couple of hours. Have a great afternoon!” and she responded that she’d see him soon before letting out a sigh and plunking her phone on the table next to the couch.

  After another hour or so, she decided the only way to stop obsessing over getting ready for the parade was to go get ready for the parade and head down to the shop to hang out with her mom before Michael and Reid arrived—which still seemed like an eternity away.

  Turning the TV off, she went upstairs and stood in front of her closet. She knew she’d need to dress warm, but this was also an important date to her. While she’d normally just wear jeans and a sweater, didn’t she need to dress up a bit? After much deliberation, she finally decided on a long emerald green sweater that set off her eyes and thick black leggings that would match her black dress coat. She could wear her black boots as well. She didn’t even know for sure if Reid would even get a chance to see the sweater since they very well may be outside the entire time wearing coats, but she wanted to look nice just in case. An hour later, after a shower and a battle with her makeup and hair, she decided she was finally ready to head downtown. It was almost 4:00 now, which meant she’d be able to help out her mom for a little while before the parade, and she was hopeful that would keep the butterflies at bay and her mind on other things.

  The downtown area was already starting to get crowded when Melody pulled in a few blocks from her mom’s store. She knew from years past where she could and could not park and what cars would have to be moved off of the parade route, so she parked in one of the city parking lots, locked her car, and pulled her coat around her. It wasn’t as chilly as it had been earlier in the week when the wind was really blowing, but she was thankful to have her hat, gloves, and scarf with her in case it got chillier as the evening wore on.

  She passed lots of smiling shoppers and excited children pointing at different Christmas decorations that hung from light poles and store fronts. With school out for the holidays, the magic in the air seemed palpable as children realized Christmas really was only about a week away. She overheard one little girl explaining to her mother how she couldn’t wait for Christmas morning so she could finally play with the new doll she’d been writing Santa about for weeks, and by the look on her mother’s face, Melody hoped this was not one of those rare dolls that “Santa” might have a hard time locating at the last minute. Melody couldn’t help but giggle, remembering when she’d asked Santa over and over again for a particular Polly Pocket but had failed to mention it to her parents until a few days before Christmas. There had been a lot of unexpected trips into the larger towns that year as her parents scrambled to hunt down the elusive toy.

  The bell over the door rang as she pushed it open, finding her mother helping a younger couple decide which of two music boxes to choose for the woman’s mother. Melody shook her head at her lousy timing. “Oh, my daughter is here!” Sarah exclaimed with a smile. “She’ll know. Honey, what is the name of the song this is playing? You know I can’t remember the names like you can.”

  Even though it physically hurt her stomach to have to listen and identify the tune, Melody plastered a smile on her face for the sake of the customers and approached. They were trying to choose between a Nineteenth Century piece with a spinning ballerina and a slightly newer music box with a dancing butterfly. “This one plays Vivaldi’s Spring,” she said, pointing at the butterfly, “and the other one is Cannon in D by Pachelbel.”

  “Oh, isn’t that a Christmas song?” the woman asked, brushing long blonde hair over her shoulder.

  “I think my sister played it at her wedding,” the man—either her boyfriend or fiancé, Melody presumed—chimed in.

  “It’s very popular for a lot of events,” Melody replied, “but no one knows for what purpose Pachelbel wrote it. Some think it was for one of Bach’s brother’s weddings. Either way, it’s a lovely song, and I’m sure your mother will enjoy either of these. They’re both beautiful.” Melody smiled and excused herself, hoping she’d been able to lend enough of a hand that her mother could make the sale.

  As she pushed open the door to the back room, she heard the woman say, “You know what? Let’s get them both. We can give one to my mom and one to yours.”

  The dark haired man seemed to think that was a great idea, and Melody heard her mother’s chipper sales voice assuring them that they had made a “splendid” decision. She continued to chat with them while she rang up their purchases, wrapped them, and placed them in a shopping bag. Melody hung up her coat and stuck her hat and gloves in the pocket. When she heard the bell ding again, she came out.

  “I’m so glad you came by,” her mother said, still smiling. “I need to write that sort of thing down somewhere, but then I’d probably just lose it.”

  “We could write it on the tag,” Melody suggested. Her mother was staring at her, her eyes wide with a sort of far off, melancholy expression in them. “What is it, Mom?” Melody asked as she stopped a few feet in front of the counter.

  “Nothing, darling. You look lovely. I think it just made me a little sad to see you off on a first date with a wonderful man, and your father isn’t here to see it.”

  Melody leaned an elbow against the checkout counter. “Thank you, Mom,” she managed, quietly.

  Sarah came around the other side of the counter. “You know, it’s okay to talk about him, Melody. It’s okay to remember him, to laugh at the silly things he used to say and do. To remember what he taught us about music and all these old things we are surrounded with….”

  “I know, Mom,” Melody said, just wishing she would stop.

  Standing next to her daughter, Sarah continued. “It’s okay to move on, Melody. It’s okay to be happy.” She lovingly picked up a lock of her daughter’s brown hair where it lay on her shoulder, ran it through her fingers and straightened it. “That’s what he would have wanted.”

  Melody was just about to say something in response—though she wasn’t quite sure what—when the door opened and one of her mother’s friends from church, an older woman whose name Melody couldn’t quite remember, came in with a boisterous greeting. As the two went off to the back of the shop to find an item Sarah had laid aside for her
friend, Melody went behind the counter and grabbed the duster, thinking she may as well make herself useful, all the while replaying her mother’s comments and coming up with a million reasons why she was wrong, even though she knew deep down in her heart that she wanted her mom to be right. She wanted to be able to do all of the things her mother had just listed—if only her heart would let her.

  Eventually the two ladies came out, still laughing like school girls, and Sarah rang up the old clock her friend had picked up. “Bill is going to love this,” the woman, dressed in a loud red coat with shimmering rhinestones across the lapel, mused.

  “I certainly hope so,” Sarah replied, her face beaming. “All right, Ruth. Here it is, darling. Now you two kids stop by and say hello before the parade. Melody and I will be right out there on the bench in front of the store.”

  “Bill will be excited to see you,” Ruth replied with a giggle, “but not as excited as he will be to see this clock!”

  “Take care, dear,” Sarah said as her friend headed for the door.

  “See you in a bit, hon,” Ruth shouted back and then added, “Goodbye, Melody!”

  Turning to smile in her direction, Melody said, “It was nice to see you again, Ruth,” and tried to commit the woman’s name to memory.

  Once the door was closed, Sarah came back around the counter laughing, and leaning against it, she crossed her arms. “That Ruth sure is a spunky one. I wish I had her energy.”

  Melody looked at her mother, duster in hand. She wasn’t even fifty yet. She had many years ahead of her. “You do have her energy, Mom. Maybe not her—giddiness,” Melody said for lack of a better word. Zaniness, maybe? “But definitely just as much energy.”

  “Thanks, honey,” Sarah said, “and I was going to tell you, if you think Reid wouldn’t mind, I’d be happy to take Michael back to our house for a little while after the parade, so that you and Reid can have some time to yourselves.”

  Melody nearly dropped the glass figurine she’d returned to dusting. Setting it carefully back on the shelf, she turned to face her mother. “You’d do that?” she asked.