A Melody for James (Christian Suspense)

by Hallee Bridgeman

  He took off his glasses and gently tossed them onto the table in front of him. He couldn't objectively analyze feelings. Maybe that was the problem. Feelings didn't come with numbers and parameters and formulas. They just existed in a sea of constant and maddeningly dynamic variables. And, in this case, they apparently possessed the power to hold one's heart and mind hostage.

  Surging to his feet, restless, he scooped his glasses up and slipped them back onto his face as he walked across the room to his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Running his fingers across the leather-bound spines, he found The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky. He put his finger at the top of the spine and gently pulled. Immediately and silently, the bookshelves parted and slid back to either side like the silent opening of a stage curtain, and revealed the most sophisticated personal computing system M & L Enterprises had developed to date.

  Unable to restrain himself, James had enhanced the prototypes with personal touches here and there over the years. Panels of flat screen monitors covered the wall and keyboards stood ready to respond when voice commands became too cumbersome. James felt lazy tonight, so he pulled the ergonomically designed preacher's bench out from beneath the console, propped himself on it, and just spoke.

  "Function voice." At the audible command, he heard the very quiet fans whir to life, moving airflow over the solid state storage and memory chips. "Display overview. Albany site. Angela project."

  With each new parameter the system drilled down in real-time. On the central monitor panel, the computer displayed a floor plan of his highly secure Albany site. "Display security cameras CAD overlay. Night vision. Zoom R&D lab insider threats."

  Atop the wire-frame schematic, a real time view of the lab at midnight overlaid it like a cartoon texture. The security cameras at all of his secured sites where equipped for both starlight ultraviolet recording as well as infrared night vision. James' proprietary artificial intelligence extrapolated the red-blue-green values of each green-red mixed pixel into hues and saturation levels that a human eye could appreciate in the visual spectrum. The technology was similar to that employed to transform old black-and-white film into color versions, just orders of magnitude more sophisticated and accurate.

  The computer extrapolated and, in near real-time, James viewed the lab in very sharp and fine detail including all the elements that human eyes could never ordinarily see. Specifically, he could perceive the three glowing dots behind three electrical outlets. The glow represented the encrypted electronic signal the listening devices transmitted every few milliseconds. These bugs had been placed in his lab during the inspection of the arson and vandalism a week ago.

  James felt a muscle in his jaw tic at the sight of them. He had turned over recorded images of the female crime scene investigator planting the devices to the FBI and Mike Redman had quietly been coordinating with InfraGard. But in perfect opposition to his own policy, he had not removed the bugs from the lab. He wanted to trace the signal and find the people who planted them, first.

  A backup generator test had provided the opportunity he needed. He made sure the facilities UPS was off-line before the test and the lab had lost total power for seven minutes on Monday morning. That gave him all the time he needed to get to one of the devices, photograph it, and closely examine it. The technology tool marks of the military grade microelectronics looked far too similar to the burned up bugs they had also found in Angela's lab for him to interpret this as mere unrelated coincidence.

  He had an inner circle of people trying to run careful traces, trying to intercept and decrypt the signal of the person or people listening, trying to back-trace and give him a location — anything. So far, very limited success.

  In the meantime, his team continued to work. James didn't want anything to tip off the people listening to the fact that he knew. He just prayed that he could find them before any kind of useful breakthrough happened. He aided that by working closely with the manager there, a man he trusted implicitly. They had forced each employee to endure mandatory "trauma counseling" and follow-ups in the wake of the break-in which resulted in hours spent outside of the lab. This strategy worked so well, that James got creative.

  He had planned for mandatory certification training and use-it-or-lose-it leave time for vacation. He had already hired a "workplace stress" counselor and suggested weekly putting, foosball, and table-tennis tournaments to relieve "stress." He would soon require fulfillment of a series of mandatory compliance briefings and tests covering every subject from export laws to OSHA and FISMA requirements. Every few days, Mike Redman planned to disable one of the key engineers' access cards or logon credentials and blame it on patches or system upgrades.

  All these efforts would add up. His team of engineers would spend a great deal of time outside the lab. James felt certain they would also remain fairly distracted with other issues by the time they actually accessed the lab to perform potentially useful work within range of the bugs. It would cost him a small fortune, but if he caught those responsible — Angela's killers — he would consider it money well spent.

  Angry, frustrated, confused about Melody, James shut it all down and closed the bookshelves. He had to let it all go for the next 24 hours — the bugs, the roses, the threats against his company and Melody. He had to focus on Kurt's big day, on Morgan, and, hopefully, on dancing with Melody at the wedding tomorrow.

  ¯¯¯¯

  CHAPTER 14

  "YOUR second wedding is supposed to be the quiet, simple one. You know, run off to a wedding chapel in Vegas or go to a Justice of the Peace on a Tuesday during your lunch hour," Morgan complained as she applied mascara. "Why I ever let Kurt talk me into this, I'll never know."

  "Probably because you love him, and it's his first wedding," Melody answered with a rough voice. Melody had booked a room next door to Morgan's, and had fully moved in not intending to go back to Morgan's house while she and Kurt were on their honeymoon. She had no desire to be alone in that big house while someone intentionally tried to scare her with the roses and notes.

  While Morgan fussed with her makeup, Melody lay sprawled across the bed of Morgan's hotel suite, trying to calm her stomach. She hadn't given a thought to her stage fright, thinking that for her own sister's wedding it wouldn't hit her. But she'd woken up this morning sick as a dog, and once she emptied her stomach, she'd fought the rest of day to keep from throwing up again.

  "Are you going to be okay?" Morgan asked, concern for her sister evident in her voice.

  "Yeah. I just took some medicine that's supposed to settle my stomach. Maybe it'll help." She sat up slowly. Morgan didn't know about Melody's stage fright. Very few did.

  A knock sounded at the door of the suite. Melody carefully stood and moved through the bedroom and the main room to the door. As she opened it, Ginger came bouncing in, looking bright, sunny, and otherwise perfect.

  Morgan had very carefully picked out the dresses for her attendants, knowing the extreme differences between the appearances of each woman, but Melody and Ginger in particular. The style she'd finally settled on looked impeccable. The red velvet dresses matched the winter theme, square cut at the neck and back, and came to just above the girls' knees. Simple diamond chokers, a gift from Morgan and Kurt, added the perfect complement to the image.

  Excited, Ginger hugged Melody hard. "You look wonderful!" Ginger exclaimed. "Where's the bride?"

  With a genuine smile and wave, Melody gestured toward the bedroom.

  "Why aren't you dressed yet?" Ginger demanded from the doorway, putting her hands on her hips.

  "Because I still have an hour before I'm supposed to be ready," Morgan said.

  "Goodness gracious, Morgan, you should be saying I only have an hour to get ready. You also don't have on nearly enough makeup. You're going to look washed out in your pictures."

  Morgan tried to struggle, but Ginger became an irresistible force. Forty-five minutes later, Morgan looked like a fairy tale princess. The other three attendants had shown up,
and all five women stood back commenting on how beautiful she looked. Somehow, during the process, Melody forgot about the feeling of panicked sickness that had threatened her all day.

  Right on cue, Kurt sent Melody a text, letting her know the cars had arrived to drive the wedding party and musicians to the church.

  "All right, let's get this show on the road," Morgan said, and grabbed the box containing her veil. She whispered a quick prayer. "Dear God, before I leave, please let me know if I forgot anything. Amen."

  ¯¯¯¯

  MELODY stood in the back of the church, waiting for her turn to walk down the aisle, surprised the flowers she held still had petals since her hands shook so badly. She turned around when she heard Morgan grumble, and went to help her arrange her train. By the time she finished, some of her nervousness had passed and it was her time to go. She slowly walked down the aisle of the church, passing about 600 guests, trying to forget that she would have to sing in front of them.

  Come on, Melody, she said to herself as she smiled and nodded to people in their wedding best, you've packed stadiums filled with tens of thousands. You can do a wedding of 600. Stomach rolling and flipping, heart pounding, panic overtaking her and causing her vision to gray, she fought and won the battle to keep walking forward.

  She made eye contact with James and felt a little balance return. He stood next to Kurt, hands crossed in front of him, looking so handsome in the black tuxedo that it nearly took her breath away. His dark hair was just long enough that it curled on the ends. His hazel eyes flashed from behind the lenses of his glasses, and he gave her a small smile and a nod.

  She took her place at the front as the music changed to the bridal march and the audience came to their feet. Feeling almost as if she had to tear her gaze away from James, she turned her body toward the back of the church. Morgan appeared in the entrance on David Patterson's arm, and Melody forgot herself and her own fears as she saw how truly beautiful and happy her sister looked.

  As Morgan set her hand in Kurt's, Melody felt her heart give a wistful tug. She found herself making eye contact with James again. He made her wish and he made her want. His eyes seemed to reflect her desires, but her head spun so that she couldn't cognitively say exactly what she wanted.

  The beginning of the service passed quickly, and suddenly the time came for Melody to sing. She braced herself for the thrust of panic, but this time it felt very low-grade, very manageable. Her hands felt steady as she handed Ginger her bouquet. She went up the steps smoothly and took her microphone like joining hands with an old friend.

  Melody began singing the song unaccompanied, a capella, as she had the week before, and heard Todd and Gina joining perfectly on their cues. Morgan and Kurt lit the candles in the middle of the song, and the timing worked out so that they resumed their places just as she began the last chorus.

  As she resumed her position and took her flowers back from Ginger, she glanced at James again. She wondered if he realized that she wrote that song for him, with him and him alone in mind. Did he hear the dedication to him during the awards show last week?

  The rest of the service went without flaw, and in no time Kurt gave Morgan a long, passionate kiss. When they turned around for their first introduction to the audience as husband and wife, the guests surged to their feet, cheering and clapping. The newlyweds walked arm and arm, back down the aisle amid cheers with their five pairs of attendants following.

  ¯¯¯¯

  THE Viscolli Atlanta Hotel hosted the reception. The chosen decorations helped emphasize rather than overpower the luxury and taste of the bride. Elegant centerpieces of white and red roses graced the tables, candles in the burgundy of the gowns cast each table in a soft glow, reflecting the crystal glasses. Gold trimmed china held delicate morsels and tender food in different varieties.

  Morgan opted for a buffet rather than a sit down dinner and the staff stayed busy keeping the chafing dishes stocked. People stood talking in small groups. Many couples took turns on the dance floor while others sat at their tables eating. Through all of this, children darted between adults' legs, hid behind table cloths, and chased each other around the room.

  When the wedding party first arrived, James excused himself and left Melody talking to Ginger. She listened with half an ear to her friend who kept tearing up while describing the whole wedding for what had to be the fifth time when Melody felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around, and found James standing there with a beautiful, petite woman on his arm. She had straight dark hair cut to her chin, with features that showed a strong oriental background.

  James introduced them, "Melody, this is Rebecca Lin, my secretary. Rebecca, Melody Mason." He extended the introductions to Ginger.

  Melody smiled her warmest smile, "I am so very glad to meet you," She took both of Rebecca's hands in her own.

  "The pleasure is mine," Rebecca said. "I promised myself I wouldn't get star struck, but I must tell you how much I enjoy your music."

  "Thank you." She squeezed Rebecca's hands and released them. "I hope you enjoyed the CD."

  "Yes, I absolutely did. Thank you so much. Your tour starts in a few weeks?" Rebecca asked.

  "It does. The first concert is on New Year's Day here," she said.

  "The radio is really hyping it. As far as I know, if it's not already sold out, it will be soon."

  "I'll make sure that we reserve you some good seats and backstage passes. It's going to be a great show. My choreographer has outdone herself. And Ginger, here, will be dancing with us on opening night." Melody said.

  Rebecca looked at Ginger, who shrugged and said, "I've never had the guts to go out and try to 'make it.' Melody is giving me one of the rare opportunities I've had to perform in front of an audience."

  "What do you do now?" Rebecca asked her.

  "I own a dance studio, and teach everyone age three to sixty. My mother was a professional ballerina before she married my father, so he was sentimental enough to buy me the building and fund the studio for the first few years," Ginger said.

  "I seem to be surrounded by talented women. I'll just slink back into a corner so that no one notices how clumsy I am or that I can't carry a tune," Rebecca joked, making all of them laugh.

  James returned and passed out the glasses he carried. Until Melody took a sip of her tea, she had no idea how thirsty she felt. She drained half the glass. "Morgan often says how much she admires you and Kurt's assistant. Don't cut yourself short."

  "Speaking of," James said as he turned to Rebecca, "did you bring my phone with you?"

  "Yes," she said as she pulled it out of her purse, "I just checked the messages, and there wasn't anything important on them. They're all stored."

  "Thank you," he said.

  Someone stood up on the stage and tapped the microphone. "If I could have everyone's attention, please. It's time for the best man to give his speech."

  James looked up and said, "That's my cue." He put a hand on the small of Melody's back. "If I have to do it, so do you."

  Melody put a hand on his arm, stopping him. "No. I'm not giving a speech."

  "Of course you are. You're the Maid of Honor."

  "No, I don't want to." James started moving again, putting pressure on her back to make her step forward. Real panic set in, clawed at her throat, rolled at her stomach. "James, stop! I don't want to give a speech!"

  He turned and looked at her, the shrill note of terror in her voice making him realize she was serious. Putting a hand on her cheek, he said, "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I'll take you to your sister." Making a quick detour, he took her to the head table before he walked up to the stage. He stepped in front of the microphone, his glass in hand, and waited for the room to quiet down. "I have no speech prepared for tonight. To be honest, between all the other things she had to do, my secretary probably just forgot to write it."

  Laughter flowed through the room like a wave. "I'll just say the things that come to my mind, and the closest thing to my heart."
He looked in the direction of the bride and groom. "Morgan, when I was a little boy, I met Kurt Lawson, and immediately knew I had found a lifelong brother. Now, because of his love for you, I consider myself lucky to have also gained a sister." He raised his glass in her direction. "Welcome to the family."

  As the night wore on, the hotel wait staff took down the dinner buffet and replaced it with a dessert buffet. Kurt and Morgan cut cake, danced, ate fruit, and danced some more. Melody never had a moment to sit down and enjoy any of the luxurious looking food. She danced every dance, with men aged everywhere from eight to eighty, and loved every minute of it.

  More than once, she danced with James, surprised at how naturally he moved and how much fun he appeared to be having. She would have never pinned him as a dancer. At one point in the evening, she found herself wrapped in his arms during a particularly slow song, her head on his shoulder, doing almost nothing more than swaying with the music.

  Relinquishing Melody to his 70-year-old choir chairman to partner with her in a group line dance, James worked through the crowd and made his way to Kurt. He found the groom sitting at his table, jacket off and tie loosened, feet propped up on the chair next to him.

  "What a party, eh?" Kurt observed with a grin. "Morgan outdid herself."

  "She really did." James smiled. "This soiree will be the talk of Atlanta for years to come." He sat in a nearby chair. "What time are you supposed to head out?"

  Kurt look at his watch. "Our flight leaves at six a.m."

  "Where are you going when you leave here?"

  "I got us a room here so that we could just take their airport shuttle in the morning." Kurt narrowed his eyes. "Problem?"