by Everly James
A car alarm went off somewhere on the main street as other vehicles crept along in Manhattan traffic.
Ellie shivered. “Fine. Tell me.”
Jason grinned. “I knew you’d want to know, Ellie. Melody is in line to succeed the crown of Madrana. She’s a princess.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Ellie felt tears stinging her eyes as she fumbled with the door handle, stepping inside the ballroom, unable to see more than two feet in front of her. She ran into someone.
“Ellie? Are you quite alright?” It was Herschel, concern etched across his face.
“Not now,” she said hastily. “Not now.”
She ran to the coat check, past all the rich people with their tinkling, bubbling champagne glasses. Ellie shoved the paper number slip towards the clerk, who returned with her puffy, worn winter coat. She stuffed her arms into it and stepped into the sharp weather. The cold took her breath away. But she didn’t have time to think about the cold seeping through the satin of her dress into her bones. She opened her Lyft app and called for a cab.
It was going to be eight minutes before it got there. She jogged in place to keep her body heat up.
“Ellie!”
It was Melody. She knew that without turning around. She ignored her.
“Ellie! Where are you going? They’re starting to serve the food and there’s lobster—” Melody stopped when she saw Ellie’s face. “What’s wrong?”
“You lied to me.” Ellie spat the words out like they were hot, bitter seeds. They fell onto the dirty New York pavement and sizzled there.
Melody’s face fell. “He told you.”
“He told me,” Ellie confirmed. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time. What did you do, sign up under a fake last name so no one would find out?”
Melody nodded. “Yes.”
“I don’t even know who you are,” Ellie said emphatically. “I’ve been sleeping next to someone I thought was a friend. But you’re just a stranger. I know more about the hot dog guy on the corner than I know about you.” Ellie bit her lip. “You know what? I thought I loved you. But how can I love someone I don’t even know?”
Ellie’s phone buzzed and a black Suburban pulled up to the curb. “I have to go.”
“Please, please don’t go,” Melody said earnestly. “There’s so much more we have to talk about.”
“Goodbye, Melody.”
Ellie stepped into the Suburban and out of Melody’s life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Ellie paid the Lyft driver and ran upstairs at the Block. She scribbled a note of goodbye for Constance and slid it under her door. She propped the Star Wars novel that Herschel had lent her against his door, leaving the bookmark placed into the back chapter to show him that she had finished the book. Then she shoved all her clothes into her suitcase, taking one last look at the room she had shared for the last four months with Melody.
She felt the petty urge to rearrange Melody’s Converse out of color order but resisted. She didn’t want Melody thinking that she thought anything about her.
She hopped in the Lyft and told the driver to go to Grand Central Station, checking for train tickets on her phone. It would be a lot of money to rearrange her schedule by one day, but she’d max out her credit card if she needed to. She didn’t care if it cost her. She needed to get out of there as fast as possible.
There was exactly one seat left on the train. She loaded onto it with all the holiday-goers traveling home for Christmas. There was a little kid behind her the whole way who kicked her seat relentlessly.
Ellie put her headphones on and turned on her favorite song from the band Bleachers. Then she fell asleep.
“You sure are a sight for sore eyes,” Eric said as she got off the train. He was bundled up in what looked like every single article of winter clothing he owned. Snow was falling wet and heavy around them.
Ellie hugged him. “Thanks for closing up shop and coming to get me. I didn’t want to explain everything to Mom and Dad why I came home early. It’s easier to say in person.”
Eric kept his arm around Ellie, taking her duffel bag from her. “What’s in here? Bricks?”
“Harry Potter books.” Ellie clapped a gloved hand to her forehead, trapping wet snowflakes on her warm skin. “Melody has book seven. She didn’t give it back to me; she wasn’t finished reading it yet.”
“I think we can find you another copy somewhere. It’s only the most popular book ever published second to the Bible.”
Ellie laughed for the first time in a long while. It felt good to be here, with her brother in this snowy place.
She was home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Melody stepped out into the crisp, sharp mountain air from the limousine that had picked her and Herschel up from the airport. She let him get their bags and began walking towards the front door of the icy log cabin in front of her. It was a grand place that had been in their family for centuries. It was a cottage compared to the castle, but it was still enormous, with ten bedrooms filled with bunk beds and cozy woolen blankets.
She didn’t knock, walking into the cabin to the smell of food she was sure her father had cooked. He heard the door open and sprinted from the kitchen to the foyer.
“There’s my baby girl!” He had on an apron and was holding a spatula that dripped red sauce all over the polished wooden floor. He enveloped Melody into a bear hug.
“Paul! You’re making a mess and we already sent the maid home for the weekend,” Melody’s mother Regina said primly. “No guests, I see.”
“Don’t act disappointed. You know that I was planning on coming home with a woman. But that’s over. So.” She stopped talking abruptly and looked around the cozy living room. The massive stone fireplace was lit, and she could see where her mother had been ensconced on the sofa with several history books. Her mother never read fiction as a rule. She wanted to be “learning something” at all times. “So, it’s just the four of us for Christmas?”
Regina nodded. “Hopefully you can stand to be around me. Now, come inside so we can speak about your duties.”
“Regina, Melody only just got home. Can we give her a minute to unwind and unpack?” Paul asked pointedly.
Regina sniffed. “Fine. Make it quick. And change into something more flattering, dear. Did you put on weight in New York? All that heavy American food did nothing good to your figure.”
Melody rolled her eyes and walked down the hallway. She sent one more wayward glance towards the living room. There was a Christmas tree in the corner decorated in sterile white lights and light blue and silver ornaments. She was sure they were delicate, glass blown orbs sent over from Germany. Her thoughts turned to Ellie’s Christmas tree. She could feel the thick-walled plastic balls in all the colors of the rainbow still in her hand. Her mother would say the Mayhews’ decorations were cheap and tasteless. But they held the spirit of the season far better than her mother’s imported decorations ever did.
She walked into her bedroom, which had floor-to-ceiling glass windows. The darkness outside seemed to creep into the room, which housed a king bed covered in crisp white linens. The fireplace was lit, but the warmth didn’t reach Melody’s bones; she suddenly started shivering uncontrollably. She walked into the bathroom and turned the water taps. Steaming water filled the bathtub.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Mother, not now. I’m taking a bath.”
“Ma’am, I have your things here,” Herschel said.
“Oh, sorry! Come in! Just set them anywhere. Thanks.”
He paused. “Ma’am, I know it’s not my place to say anything about your personal life.”
“Indeed,” Melody said, crossing her arms.
“I just think that Miss Mayhew needed some time to herself to think things over. That’s all. She didn’t want you out of her life completely; she just needed peace. We all need that from time to time.”
Melody nodded. “Is that all?”
Herschel
looked disappointed. “Yes, ma’am, it is everything. I shall meet you in the living room in half an hour.”
“If you could, tell my mother it’ll be closer to one hour.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Herschel shut the door behind him.
Melody took a stainless-steel bottle from the side of the tub and poured liquid out of it into the bathtub. Thick bubbles formed on top of the churning water and made the air smell like honey and roses. She stripped off her many layers of clothes and stared at herself in the mirror. She twisted her long braids up into a high bun and splashed water on her face. It wasn’t enough to feel clean. Airplanes had a way of making a person feel extra grimy somehow. She unwrapped a fresh bar of facial soap and lathered it up in her hands. She took extra care around her eyes to remove all her mascara. A few minutes and a dab of the towel later, she felt clean.
She turned off the bath taps and walked into her bedroom, unzipping her bag to pull out a fresh outfit to wear. She saw the edge of her sequined dress from the ball and felt anger course through her body. Anger at Jason, at Ellie, at herself. It was an all-consuming rage. She flung her clothes around her room as tears streamed down her face. After chucking most of the clothes out of the bag, she felt something hard at the bottom.
It was a copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. The last book in the series. Her mind traveled back in time to a few weeks before. She and Ellie were on the roof at ten o’clock at night, bundled up in thick coats and nursing hot cocoa.
“When you get to the last third of the book, you’re going to want to stop reading until you can be all alone,” Ellie had said.
“Why?”
“Because you’ll cry like a baby. I promise you that.”
Melody’s thoughts returned her to her bedroom; she pulled the book out of the bag, walking to the bathtub and slipping the lower half of her body under the bubbles, careful to hold the book out of the water. She opened the hard covers and began reading.
Ellie had been right. Melody sobbed as Harry took the resurrection stone and turned it three times. Cried as he saw his parents one more time. As his mom told him she was proud of him. As he visited with Dumbledore at King’s Cross. As Narcissa saved Harry’s life in exchange for information about her son. As Harry came back to life in front of everyone. As they mourned Fred, Lupin, and Tonks. As she saw Harry, Hermione, and Ron with their children seventeen years in the future.
Melody set the book down on the floor and wept into her hands, her whole body shaking. When she finally calmed down, she took a deep breath and slipped down into the water, submerging her face but keeping her hair out of the liquid.
When she sat upright, she felt reborn.
She knew what she had to do.
It was the only thing to do.
CHAPTER FORTY
“Well, chicken, I’m just glad you’re home for Christmas. And a day early!” Ellie’s mom exclaimed the next morning. Ellie had given her a brief, highly sanitized version of what had happened between her and Melody. Her mom had listened intently, promising to pass it along to the rest of the family so she wouldn’t be forced to relive it over and over and over again.
Ellie was shelling peas in the kitchen, Eric was at the hardware store, and her dad was taking a nap. Blanche, her grandmother, was sitting on the sofa reading a book. The Christmas tree was lit, and Harry Connick, Jr. was playing on the stereo. The house smelled like cinnamon from the apples boiling on the stove.
Ellie was at home, sure. But the feeling had left her quickly the previous night; she didn’t feel it in her bones like she normally did.
“Come sit with me,” Blanche called out from the sofa.
Ellie dropped the last few peas into the bowl. They bounced out and rolled across the floor.
“I’ll clean up,” Lily said. “Go sit with your grandma. She needs the company. Eric’s been at the store, your dad is out of commission, and I’ve been trying to keep up with the chickens and the goats. Nobody has sat with her for a long while now.”
Ellie wiped her wet hands on her apron and lifted the fabric over her head. The drawstrings tickled her neck. She draped it over one of the barstools and walked over to sit with her grandmother. “What’s up?”
Constance patted her leg. “Let me rub your feet for you.”
Ellie looked at her grandma’s gnarled, arthritic fingers. “No, Grandma. You’re in too much pain, surely, to give me a foot rub like when I was little.”
“Nonsense. The motion stretches out my joints and makes me feel better. I promise you that.”
Ellie sighed. “If you insist. I’m not going to turn down a foot rub.” She pulled off her pilled, wooly socks and draped her legs over Blanche’s lap. She sighed with pleasure as her grandmother worked the knots and kinks out of her feet. With the snow falling outside, she was transported to Christmases of old when her grandmother would rub her feet and tell her stories.
“So, what is this I hear about Melody?” Blanche asked abruptly, tearing Ellie from her reverie.
Harry Connick, Jr. was belting out that he’d just seen Santa Claus. The happy music was at odds with the foul mood that had suddenly overtaken Ellie.
“We had a fight,” Ellie said.
“A fight,” Blanche replied, sounding skeptical. “Lots of couples have fights.”
“This was different.”
“What happened?”
Ellie closed her eyes and nestled in further to the squashy couch cushions. “She lied to me.”
“About what?”
“Grandma, I don’t see what the relevance—”
“It’s relevant. Trust me. Did she cheat on you?”
“No.”
“Did she intentionally hurt you in any way?”
Ellie paused. She couldn’t lie to make the story go away, not to her grandmother. “No.”
Blanche reached over to the side table and grabbed a bottle of cucumber melon-scented lotion and squirted some into her wrinkly hand. She kneaded it into the bottom of Ellie’s foot. “I don’t see the problem.”
Ellie sighed. “Grandma. She lied about who she was.”
“What do you mean? How in the hell can someone lie about who they are? I just think you’re being far too harsh on this girl, Ellie. I don’t understand—”
“Grandma. She’s a princess.”
Blanche stopped rubbing Ellie’s feet. Then she tilted her silver-haired head back and laughed uproariously. “That’s funny.”
“I’m serious.”
“No way.”
Ellie pulled out her phone and unlocked the screen. She didn’t need to go far; she’d spent half the night awake in her bed googling things about Melody. She’d found out that Melody was something of a party woman, out on the town with her friends and a rotating group of men and women. Though she was only seen holding hands with a few of them; one of them was a gorgeous Italian woman who was eight feet tall and made Ellie feel like a mountain troll. She went to the Madrana Wikipedia page and held the phone up for her grandmother to see.
“I don’t have my glasses on.”
“Well, get them then, because you clearly aren’t going to believe me if I tell you,” Ellie snapped.
“Mind your manners, young lady, or I won’t finish this foot massage.” Blanche reached over to the side table and put on her thick-lensed reading glasses. Then she took Ellie’s phone from her. She spent several minutes reading and clicking links on the screen before handing it back to Ellie.
“So?” Blanche asked. “I still don’t see the problem.”
“Grandma!” Ellie exclaimed. “She lied.”
Blanche went back to kneading Ellie’s feet. “You’re a damn fool.”
“What?”
“You got a stunningly gorgeous, kind, generous royal woman to fall in love with you, and this is how you repay her? By dumping her? By running away and not giving her a chance to explain?”
“Grandma—”
Blanche held up her hand. “No. I’m not finished. You have eve
ry right to be upset. For a minute or two. But then your compassion should start to come into play, young lady. Have you thought for a second why she lied to you?”
Ellie chewed on her lip. “No.”
“She probably wanted people to see her as a normal girl. To get to know her and not her minor celebrity. She wanted anonymity. You know how that is. This town is far too small for someone like you, Ellie. It’s why you fled when you did, isn’t it? You left at the first opportunity because you were tired of everyone knowing your business in this tiny little pond. You know this better than most people.”
Ellie didn’t know how to respond.
“Do you love her?”
“Yes,” Ellie said.
Blanche patted her foot kindly. “Like I said, I don’t see what the problem is.”
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The next morning, Ellie arose before anyone else. She saw that her mom had put out the Santa gifts, unwrapped as per usual, next to the tree.
She pulled a thick roll of pre-made cinnamon rolls out of the fridge and clicked the oven on to preheat. Then, she ground some coffee and started a pot. Soon, the kitchen was smelling the way Christmas morning should: of cinnamon, butter, and hot, black coffee.
Ellie pulled her coat on and shoved her feet into snow boots. She was still wearing pajama bottoms but she didn’t feel like getting dressed yet. The gentle snow that had fallen the night before had been just enough to fill in the footprints to the barn. She made her own trail underneath the dull morning light. The sky was iron grey and barely holding back snow. It was supposed to blizzard that evening. But for now, everything was still and silent.
Ellie pulled the barn door open and walked over to the goats. The chickens were clucking peacefully. She saw that the baby goats, both girls, were feeding from their mother.