A Melody for James (Christian Suspense)

by Hallee Bridgeman

  ¯¯¯¯

  WHEN Melody finished talking to the detective on the phone, she went to the couch and curled up into the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest. James followed her, not sure what to do or what to say. As he sat down, she turned to him. "I'm so scared. What is happening?" Her last word ended on a strangled cry and sobs shook her body. He didn't hesitate to put his arms around her.

  Confused, scared, James whispered, "I don't know." He swallowed the anger that welled up from his chest, temporarily choking him. He wanted to stop this, to lash out, to protect. But he felt helpless, and he didn't like that feeling.

  While Melody cried, he rubbed her back and spoke in a soothing tone, sensing that she needed to do this, and fought the ache her tears generated in his gut. She cried for a long time, the sobs gradually easing. When she grew quiet, he tilted her head back and kissed each eye, tasting the salty tears. Then he gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth. "You need to rest," he said.

  Melody nodded. "Can you stay with me?" She whispered.

  Need surfaced, surprising him. He fought back against a baser instinct. "Sure. I'll just get my laptop out of my car and work in here. Go lie down."

  She put a hand on each of his cheeks and kissed him again. Her lips felt soft, tasted of her tears. "Thank you," she said, standing and going toward the suite's bedroom.

  "You're welcome," he said, standing to clear the table. "Don't worry about anything. Go rest."

  ¯¯¯¯

  SHE gently shut the bedroom door. Mindlessly, he cleaned up from lunch, purposely forcing his mind not to churn on the last hour. Instead, he finished stacking the dishes and rolled the service cart back to the door. He called the kitchen to have it removed and ordered a pot of coffee. Then he quietly opened the bedroom door and looked in on Melody. He found her sprawled across the bed on her stomach, still in her clothes, breathing deeply in an exhausted slumber. He pulled a blanket out of the closet and covered her with it, then shut the door quietly.

  He put the palm of his hand flat against the door and bowed his head. "God," he whispered, "please help me." He cleared his throat as anger tried to be the first emotion. "Help me protect, and help me to guide Melody. Lord, You know everything in your omniscient wisdom, so I'm desperately trying to hand this one over. But, honestly, the man in me wants to be in control here."

  Feeling more centered, he used the suite's land line and called the front desk, asking to have the valet retrieve his briefcase from his trunk.

  He rushed downstairs to the valet stand just as Eddie walked up with his laptop bag. He took it with a smile, worried room service would arrive before he did and wake Melody. When he got back to the room, he was relieved to find the old cart still there. As he set up a temporary office at the desk in the corner of the room, a brisk knock at the door announced the arrival of the coffee and the retrieval of the lunch cart.

  He tipped the waiter and poured himself a cup of coffee. Before getting to work, he checked in on Melody one more time. She hadn't even moved since the last time he checked. He took off his jacket and draped it over the back of the couch, loosened his tie, and got to work.

  Every time the door in his brain tried to nudge open to analyze the words of Melody's stalker, he slammed it shut again. What did he mean, he knew Angela? How did that relate to Melody?

  He couldn't think about that now. He had to digest it first, to mull it over and chew on it. Instead, he would do what he did best — drown himself with technical specifications and industry jargon that meant nothing to anyone not in his field.

  ¯¯¯¯

  THE citrus smell of gun oil filled the room. Rikard sat in the dim space. He ran his hands almost lovingly over the cool metal and black plastic of the high powered rifle.

  He knew the risk associated with calling her, but the taste of the terror in her voice was so appealing to him. As he savored the memory of the sharp intake of her breath and the shaking in her voice, the ringing of his phone nearly startled him.

  "Yeah?"

  "Am I to correctly assume you received my package?"

  Through an appreciative grin, he answered, "I did. It's very nice."

  "Remember," the voice on his phone chided, "to aim carefully."

  "Oh, you don't have to worry about my aim," he assured before disconnecting the call without another word. He chuckled and ran the oily rag over the muzzle of the weapon. "No worries."

  ¯¯¯¯

  CHAPTER 17

  MELODY spent the next two weeks at the hotel. During the day, she stayed holed up in the suite, sitting at the piano for countless hours, writing her fear away. Evenings, she spent every spare moment with James. They talked, played games, watched movies, attended a few Christmas parties, and spent hours and hours just talking.

  Every night when he would leave, she would have to stop herself from begging him to stay. Then she would fearfully toss and turn in the bed until she finally gave up and slept fitfully in a chair in the suite's living room. When she finally gave up on that, she'd move to the piano and write and write until James came back in the evening.

  After breaking the ice that first Sunday, her apprehension at attending her old church disappeared. She attended two different Christmas parties there with James, and four services, renewing old friendships, meeting new friends, and worshiping. Every second in those two weeks, she felt the foundation of her faith begin to repair itself and start to grow. Gradually, she began praying with James, praying for James, and talking with him about spiritual matters.

  Neither one of them mentioned the stalker. When she was with James, she felt safe, and as the days rolled into each other and the holiday approached, she thought maybe James felt like she did — just maybe calling had been her stalker's end game. She had received no further notes, roses, or phone calls from him. The police had not been able to glean anything from tracing her phone calls, and had hit a wall in trying.

  Instead, they just enjoyed each other. Melody felt her feelings for James grow every minute of every day and hoped - and prayed - that he felt the same. Neither mentioned love again. No long confessions of deep abiding feelings happened, and as the days wore on, Melody worried maybe he regretted being so open with her that Sunday. But, as much as she wanted to be the first one to broach the subject, every time she started, she stopped herself. They'd only technically been together for a few weeks. Despite her mindset of forever, she thought she'd give him a little more time before pouncing on him with eternity.

  On December twenty-second, Melody sat next to James in his car while she gave him directions. "Turn here, and go over the railroad tracks," she said. He shot her a questioning glance as he carefully maneuvered the sports car along the potted road and over the railroad tracks. She laughed and patted the hand he had resting on the gear shift. "Trust me."

  "What Christmas present could you possibly have for me out here?" He approached a T-intersection and Melody pointed to the left. "Go that way, and at the second warehouse on the right, pull into the parking lot."

  Large metal buildings stood in rows on both sides of the road. The area appeared largely deserted. Melody prayed that she had followed the directions properly and that they were in the right place. Her secretary had made all of the arrangements, and she couldn't wait to see what she found inside. She was so excited that she didn't even wait for James to open her door and instead bounded out of the car the second he put it in park.

  She pulled the key out of the pocket of her red leather jacket and unlocked the glass door to the office. James came in just as she hit the light switch. Light flooded the empty interior, allowing her to see the door at the end of the room that led to the warehouse.

  She grabbed James' hand and turned to look at him. "This is my Christmas present to you and Kurt."

  He smiled down at her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and his eyebrow quirked up. "An empty office attached to a warehouse. What we both always wanted."

  With a laugh, Melody pulled him to the door. Anothe
r key unlocked this one, and she stepped carefully into the cold, dark warehouse. "There should be a switch…" she felt along the wall, shuddering at the feel of a spiderweb before her hand brushed the light switch. "There it is." She flipped the lights on, illuminating the room.

  Pallets of toys stood near the big metal rolling doors. Melody walked toward them, her red boots clicking on the concrete floor. She saw the controls for the door and flipped them on. With a screech and a groan, the door rolled up and daylight illuminated the interior.

  James walked around the pallets and looked at the boxes of toys, bikes, and scooters. "What is all this?"

  "Beatrice Stuart told me about a children's home here in Atlanta and that it had been overlooked this Christmas season. She gave me some information on it, and I found out the charity that normally adopted them had struggled against closing its doors last year. She asked if I'd help. I told her I'd take care of it all."

  She approached him, and felt emotion burn her throat. "When I got all of the information, I e-mailed Kurt and found out that it's the home where you both grew up." She ran her fingers over a box that contained a boys' bike. "I can't imagine what life was like for you. My heart breaks for the little boy with no parents. Imagine how much worse it would be without Christmas."

  She stopped in front of him and looked up at him. The intensity of the look on his face made her worried. Had she acted out of turn? Was he upset? "James?"

  He cleared his throat and looked up at the ceiling. "It never occurred to me —" When he looked back down at her, she could clearly see the tears glistening in his eyes. "Sometimes we had Christmas, other times we didn't. It just depended on the hearts of people that year. All this time, it never occurred to me to help them this way."

  He reached out and put a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her forward. She gladly went, laying her face against his chest as his arms came around her. "My love for you has done nothing but grow every minute of every day." At his words, her heart started beating a little faster. "What a beautiful gift. Thank you."

  She tilted her head back and looked up at him. He took the opportunity to run a finger over her cheek and lower his head to kiss her with the sweetest kiss. Tears fell down her cheeks as emotion overwhelmed her. When he ended the kiss, she took a step back and scrubbed her cheeks with her hands.

  "I'm glad you like it," she said. "I don't think the toy company would be overly thrilled with us returning everything."

  James threw his head back and laughed. "I imagine not." He looked around. "What all do you have here?"

  "Bikes for every child, scooters, lots of books, Christian music albums, stockings with stocking stuffers for everyone…" Melody listed while pointing to various shelves. "I think there might be a crate of candy in here somewhere. Lots and lots of clothes and socks and underwear and warm coats."

  "Do you have a list of the children?"

  Melody nodded. "I do." She walked to a box and tapped it. "This should be wrapping paper and accoutrements." She looked at her watch. "Morgan e-mailed me their itinerary this morning. They're due in at three."

  James walked toward her and took her hand. "Any plans this afternoon?"

  Melody spread her hands and gestured at the boxes. "I guess we need to get busy wrapping and labeling presents, and putting stockings together."

  "Weren't you going to do that with Morgan and Kurt helping?"

  "Sure, but there's a lot to do, and I have the afternoon free."

  "How are you going to get the presents there?"

  "I have a truck coming on Christmas Eve."

  "I think I might have a better idea for the afternoon," he said, slipping a hand into his suit pocket.

  "What?"

  She knew. Something about the look on his face, part happiness, part nervousness, tipped her off as to his intentions. When he pulled his hand out of his pocket and slipped the ring on the ring finger of her left hand, she thought her heart would beat itself out of her chest. The diamond caught the light from the afternoon sun and sent a splash of rainbow reflection through the warehouse.

  "Marry me. Today. Before another minute of our lives goes by. Marry me. Be my wife."

  She licked lips suddenly dry. "Marry you?"

  "Yes. My good friend, Mark Night, arrives from London in an hour. Let's see if he'll marry us."

  "Today?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  She held her hand up and looked at the ring. Married. To James. Excitement fluttered in her chest. The grin that stretched across her face seemed to appear on its own. She looked up at him and laughed. "Okay. Let's do it."

  "Really?" He cupped her face with both of his hands, running his thumbs over her lips. "I'll take a yes, let's wait, if you don't want to do it now. As long as it's a yes."

  Melody gripped his wrists. She could feel the furious rhythm of his pulse. "Nothing would be more wonderful than becoming your wife."

  ¯¯¯¯

  MELODY called Hal on the way to the hotel to collect her passport. Strangely, he didn't object. Instead, he said, "This is going to cause a media uproar."

  Melody sighed. "I know. But no matter what, that would happen. A big wedding would just drag it out and be a bigger uproar."

  "True. Are you going to change your name? Tell me you're keeping your name. You're a brand, you know."

  That stopped her. "I don't know. We haven't talked about that yet. I'll let you know." She had always imagined that she would become her husband's wife in every way. She once thought she would be Melody Johnson. What would James want, she wondered? She sounded out the name Melody Montgomery then Melody Mason Montgomery in her imagination and decided she liked it.

  Hal sighed. "God bless you, girl. I would object, strongly, if it were anyone but James."

  She smiled and reached over in the car for his hand. The ring on her finger felt good. It felt right. "Me, too." She smiled as he took his eyes off the road momentarily to look at her and kiss her hand.

  As soon as she hung up with Hal, his phone rang. "Mark!" James said as he pulled up to the hotel. He put the car in park and waved the valet away. He nodded as Melody slipped out and said she'd be right back. "Are you on the ground?"

  "I am. The pilot made good time. Something about wind currents."

  "That's fantastic. I'm looking forward to seeing you."

  "Likewise, brother. I still have to clear customs."

  "Considering the holiday season, I'm sure that's going to be a bear."

  "Certainly. The flight was full."

  James checked the clock on his dash. It was just after two. "She said yes, by the way."

  James could hear the smile in his friend's voice even through the thick Scottish accent. "Congratulations!"

  "Can you marry us?"

  "It would be my honor. When do you think the big day will be?"

  "How long do you think it will take you to clear customs?"

  Mark paused for several heartbeats before laughing. "No time like the present, is that right?"

  "That is absolutely right." James couldn't help but smile.

  "Then we shall pray that nothing holds us up. As you know, I usually like to enjoy a wee bit more premarital counseling."

  James knew he was only half joking. "I really, really appreciate it, Mark."

  "All right, then. I'll see you at your flat in just a tick."

  "Do you need a car?"

  "Not at all. I have one reserved. I learned the last visit that Atlanta's public transport is not as user friendly as London's. I'll just have to ensure that I drive on the wrong side of the road."

  James grinned, "Mark? It's Atlanta. Everyone drives on the wrong side of the road."

  As he hung up, Melody came out of the hotel. She still wore her red boots and red leather jacket, but had traded the black jeans and black sweater for a white sweater dress. Her black hair tumbled down her back, curls bouncing as she walked. He felt his breath catch in his chest. He had never met anyone more beautiful. As the valet rushed to open her
door, he whispered a prayer of thanksgiving to God for bringing them together — not once, but twice.

  "You are so beautiful," he said as she slid into the seat next to him.

  He watched color tinge her cheeks. "Thank you," she said.

  "All set?"

  "Yes. I have a passport and driver's license. I hope that's enough."

  James shot out of the parking lot. "It should be." He only had to go a few blocks to the courthouse, and prayed they'd be able to find parking. "Mark just landed. He said he'd marry us today."

  "Do you mind if we wait for Morgan and Kurt?"

  James reached over and took her hand. "I wouldn't dream of doing it without them. I've already sent Kurt a text asking him to come straight to my apartment when they get home. As soon as he turns his phone on when they land, he should get it."

  They found parking in easy walking distance to the probate court where they could obtain the license. At two in the afternoon on the week of Christmas, there was little activity in the building, and no wait applying for the license. The man who helped them was older, a gray-haired man with skin the color of rich cocoa. He did not seem to recognize Melody. She was thankful that they might actually have a few days before word of her nuptials reached the press.

  License in hand, they went back to James' apartment. Melody had been there a couple of times in the last two weeks, and felt comfortable shedding her jacket and going to the kitchen to make some coffee while James went into his home office to conduct a conference call with a client. She put dark roasted beans in the grinder, poured some filtered water from a pitcher into the well, added a clean paper coffee filter to the basket, and hit "Brew."

  She arranged a tray with five cups, some cream, and some sugar, and carried it back into the main room. As she set it on the table in front of the couch, James came out of the back room, hanging up his phone as he walked.