“I’m surprised you still have all of this.”
“It belonged to Patrick.” Except her microphone, which she’d been coming in to get when Brad had interrupted. It was the one piece of equipment that was hers. The piece that would break her heart to sell. But she had no choice.
“Do the boys come out here?”
“Josh does. He’s trying to teach himself to play.” Why was Brad still there? “Here are the photos.”
“Look, I know you said you wouldn’t consider it, but since I’m here, can I at least hear some of the new stuff you two were working on?”
He was relentless. “If I find the CD for you, will you leave my shed after you’re done listening to it?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.” Crossing the room quickly, she opened a CD case and flipped to the back where the new songs were—all of them except the one she’d written. She handed the CD to him and left the shed.
“You don’t want to listen?” he asked.
“I’ve heard them.”
* * *
AFTER SLIDING THE disc into the CD player, Brad removed his coat and sat on the edge of one of the chairs. A few bars into the intro, a feeling of nostalgia hit him. He remembered this first one. It was a song Melody and Patrick had written about the twins. When Brad had heard it years ago, it hadn’t held much meaning for him, a bachelor without kids of his own. Now he longed to know what it felt like to be exhausted after an all-nighter with a sick child or to come home to a family after a long tour. Patrick had had the best of both worlds.
Brad leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes as the next song started. Melody’s voice filled the space around him. Man, he loved her voice. Her talent rivaled that of any female vocalist on country-music radio. If only she’d give it another shot.
He listened to the next track, and the next one, each song warming his heart and tearing it apart. Patrick and Melody had been the real talent, not him. He’d always known that. He’d always been happy just to be along for the ride. Good-looking front men were a dime a dozen, but Pat and Mel had been special. Performing the songs they’d written had always made him feel like a fraud. He didn’t even come close to having their natural gifts, yet there he was, climbing his way to stardom. It wasn’t right.
But no matter how much guilt or self-loathing he experienced building his career on his friend’s platform, he couldn’t walk away from the industry. His therapist was right. Patrick wouldn’t have wanted that.
The shed door opened. Brad had no idea how long he’d been sitting there. “Hey, I have to go pick up the boys.”
He stood and reached for his coat.
“You don’t have to leave just yet,” she said, “but if you could lock up...”
He’d already spent enough time in the shed. He knew the song he needed was one she’d never give up. He slid his arms into his jacket and met her at the door. “It’s okay, I’m done.”
She hesitated before asking, “Did you...um...find anything?”
“No, but it triggered some great memories, so thank you.”
Her eyes met his and she nodded. “What happened to your eyes?”
“My publicist,” Brad said.
“Colored contacts?”
“Yeah. She said my different-colored eyes didn’t fit with my new look.” He ran a hand through his highlighted hair—another idea of Roxanne’s.
“I liked them just fine,” Melody said, clamping her lips together.
“Thank you. Me, too. But you gotta know Roxanne.”
“I don’t think I want to. This is the same woman who changed your last name, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
She glanced at her watch as he joined her outside. She looked like she had something to say, but she remained quiet as she shut the door and fastened the lock.
“What?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Why did you let her make all these changes?”
Brad rubbed his forehead. How many times had he asked himself that very question? “Because when it comes down to it, I want success, Mel. For years, Patrick and I did the local bar scene. We toured all over the state, playing in dingy taverns. We recorded CDs and mailed them out—you know how hard we worked. You did, too,” he said. “We all wanted this.” They had all wanted to live that dream—being onstage performing to sold-out crowds, hearing their songs on the radio, seeing their names on the top of the charts. But now that it was only happening for one of them, those measures of success felt bittersweet.
“Well, you’re there, Brad,” she said, quietly.
“Not quite,” he said, leaning forward and studying her. “And what about you? Isn’t there a small part of you that still wants this?”
“Music isn’t my dream anymore,” she said, looking away.
“You’re so full of it.”
“I have the boys, work... I’ve moved on.”
Brad bent to look into her eyes. “If that’s true, why do you still have all of this?” He gestured at the equipment. “You could have sold all that stuff years ago, but you kept it.”
“It was a part of Patrick.”
“It’s also a part of you.” He shook his head. “The truth is, Mel, I just never understood why you took a step back from performing. You were the most talented of the three of us.”
“No way. And besides, I had the boys...”
“So did Patrick. All I’m saying is, other music couples make it work—Tim and Faith...”
“Do you hear yourself? You just compared Patrick and me to country music’s hottest duo.”
“Why couldn’t it have been you two? Why didn’t you at least try?”
She checked her watch. “I have to go pick up the boys and the babysitter.”
“Let me watch the boys for you tonight,” he said, following her across the snowy backyard. He wouldn’t be in town for long, and who knew when he’d get the chance to spend time with them again.
“No.”
“You’re turning me down just like that? Not even going to consider it?”
“Nope.” She reached for the door handle of her minivan, but his hand on hers stopped her.
“Please, Mel. You said Josh wanted to learn to play guitar, so let me teach him.” The boys’ father used to play circles around Brad, but unfortunately they were stuck with him now.
Her expression got cloudy. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. It might be hard on Josh.”
He nodded. “Okay, well, maybe ask him. At least give him the chance to say no himself.”
She sighed. “Fine.” She removed his hand from hers and opened the door.
A moment later, he watched her drive out of the cul-de-sac. Shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he sat on the front step and waited.
* * *
“THAT’S IT, you got it,” Brad said to Josh later that evening as the boy played his father’s guitar.
It shouldn’t have surprised her that Josh would have jumped at the opportunity to hang out with Brad and learn music from him, yet his excitement had unnerved her a little. Was her little boy that starved for male attention? His uncles did their best to be around and be positive male role models, but Josh’s connection to Brad seemed unique. Melody could hear them in the living room now, and it took all her concentration to keep straightening her hair in the bathroom mirror.
“Now just strum.” She heard Brad demonstrate the G chord on his guitar and wait for Josh to do the same.
The rich sound filled the air, followed by Josh’s excited, “I did it!”
“That actually sounded good,” David said from his perch in front of the TV.
Unplugging the flat iron and checking her reflection one last time, she left the bathroom and made her way to the living room.
; “Okay, let’s try a C chord,” Brad said as she entered.
Brad helped Josh rearrange his tiny fingers. The boy struggled to reach the fifth string with his pinky.
“It’s a tough one. I remember having trouble with this one, too, when your dad was teaching me to play.” Brad positioned the little boy’s finger on the fret.
That got David’s attention again. “Our dad taught you?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t play a note, and your dad said if I was going to be the front man I had to at least learn the basic chords for the slower ballads.”
“I think I remember watching you guys practice,” Josh said.
“You did all the time,” Melody said, checking the time on the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. She had a few minutes before she had to leave, so she took a seat on the couch. Something about the relaxed, cozy environment in her home that evening made her long to stay there with them. “You would sit out here with your plastic guitar and pretend to play along for hours,” she told Josh.
“That’s right,” Brad said. “And if you keep practicing, someday you’ll be as good as your dad was.”
Josh beamed. “That would be awesome. Dad was the best!”
The room grew silent for a long, excruciating moment. Time to go. Melody stood up. “Okay, well, I’m heading out.” She plucked her winter coat from the back of the armchair and kissed both boys on the forehead, aware of Brad’s eyes on her.
“Where’s mine?” he asked, teasingly.
She turned to face him with a puzzled look. Was he flirting with her? She stared at him, uncertain how to respond.
“I was kidding,” he said.
“Of course.” Melody headed for the hallway. “Don’t let them stay up past eight-thirty,” she called. She grabbed her keys from the key rack near the door and went outside.
Twelve minutes later, as she entered the bowling alley, her mind was still on Brad’s request for a kiss. Heather waved in greeting.
“Hi, Heather,” she said distractedly, hanging her coat behind the kitchen door. Brad couldn’t have been serious about wanting a kiss, could he? No, he’d said he was kidding. So then why was it bothering her? Actually, what was truly bothering her was that it had sounded tempting. Just seeing him with Josh... She frowned. Maybe letting him babysit the boys had been a bad idea. He was obviously getting too comfortable with her family again.
“You okay?” Heather asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She was both desperate and scared to hear what Heather would think of the situation. Her friend would give it to her straight. She just wasn’t sure she could handle it right now. Her own doubts about whether she’d made the right choice that evening were bad enough.
“You look a little spaced-out.” Heather studied her.
“It’s been a crazy few days.”
“Did you hear back from Greg Harrison?”
“No, and I’m starting to think I need to accept the fact that I have to wait to retake the exam.”
A customer approached the bar. “Hey, John, what can I get you?” Melody asked, putting her conversation on hold.
Heather tapped her red-and-green acrylic nails against the bar as she waited, shooting John an annoyed look as he scanned the holiday-inspired drinks menu.
“Um...how’s the candy-cane martini?” he asked, running a hand over his thick white beard. He played Santa at the local mall for good reason—with his real beard and round belly, he looked the part, even without the red suit.
Heather sighed.
“It’s minty?” Melody said. She hadn’t actually tried any of the new concoctions.
“Huh, maybe not. What’s in the elf cocktail?”
“You won’t like it. Here’s your usual,” Heather said, sliding a Bud Light toward him and grabbing the ten-dollar bill from his hand.
“Hey, you just cut your tip in half,” John said, a frown wrinkling his forehead.
“Who said you were getting your change?” Heather turned her attention to Melody. “Continue with your story.”
Melody moved Heather away from the register. Taking out a five-dollar bill, she extended it to John. “Sorry, John. Heather’s from New York.” She winked. “That’s what they’re like.”
John took it and stuffed it into the tip jar before rejoining his group—several men playing poker in a corner booth.
“You have to be nicer,” Melody said, still shaking her head. “You’re never going to make tips that way.”
“Not sure I care.” Heather leaned against the bar. “So what are you going to do about the house?”
“I’ve decided to sell some of the musical equipment.”
“What? Are you sure you want to do that? I thought Josh used it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t sell Patrick’s guitars, but the drum set maybe...” And her microphone.
“But that would mean you really are done with music.” Heather looked disappointed.
“I’ve been done with music for a long time.” Why had that been easier for her to accept than for everyone else? “Like I told Brad today, I have to focus on the boys now.”
“Brad Monroe? You spoke to him?”
Melody cringed. “He’s babysitting the boys tonight.” She waited for Heather’s lecture.
“Why would you let him do that?”
Good question. “He decided to stick around to spend the holidays with his family...and he is the boys’ godfather. He offered to teach Josh how to play the guitar.” She bit her lower lip. This didn’t feel right. “I made a mistake, didn’t I?”
“All I’m going to say is, be careful. Don’t let him get too close. This man could hurt you.”
“Okay,” Melody said, as reassuringly as she could. She suspected she had already let him get too close.
* * *
“THANK GOD YOU’RE HERE. Let’s go,” Luke said as he opened the door to his home the next afternoon. He softly closed the door behind him and picked up his skates and hockey sticks from the deck.
Brad accepted a stick but nodded toward the SUV parked in the driveway next to his rental. “Hey, isn’t that your mom’s vehicle? Shouldn’t I go in and say hi?” Surely, they knew he was there. He didn’t want to be rude. Luke’s parents had been like a second, slightly less crazy family to him growing up. His friend only had two annoying sisters, which had been much better than his five. And Luke’s father had given him a part-time job stocking shelves at the family pharmacy when he was a teenager. They had always shown kindness to Brad.
“No,” Luke said, shaking his head as he zipped his jacket and bent to tie his boots.
“Why not?”
“First of all, Kayla is in there and unless you want her falling all over you...”
“I don’t know. I hear she’s grown up to be quite a looker,” Brad teased his friend. A stern look from Luke made him add quickly, “Kidding, man. Just kidding.” Sisters were off-limits. Always.
“Hey, buddy, I’m just trying to do you a favor. Mom is in there, too, and tomorrow night is the holiday bachelor auction at the community hall. If you go in there, you won’t be leaving without a number.”
“They still do that?” Brad shook his head. Not much changed in the small town. The bachelor auction annually raised money for the local medical clinic. He’d participated every year before moving to Nashville and he’d been one of the few men who’d enjoyed it—he was comfortable onstage, and he’d never been one to turn down a date with a pretty lady. Hmm, maybe he should participate. He wondered if Melody would be attending. Would she bid on him? A date with his best friend’s widow. A shiver ran through him at that thought. She was about as off-limits as Luke’s sister. What the hell was he thinking? His joke about the kiss the night before had been bad enough.
“Yes. And believe me, the only single women around he
re with unlimited cash flow seem to be Mrs. Norris and Lindsay Harper.”
Brad laughed. “Fine, I won’t go in.”
He’d barely heard the front door creak before he was pushed straight into the hedges at the side of the house. What the...?
Luke’s eyes widened and he placed a finger to his lips as his mother stepped onto the front porch.
Brad ducked lower.
“I thought I heard Brad out here,” Mrs. Dawson said, looking around.
“Oh, yeah. He headed down to the lake already.”
“And left you to carry his hockey gear?” She pointed to the hockey bag at Luke’s feet.
“Ah, you know, since the accident he’s kind of weak and stuff...”
Brad glared at his buddy over the hedge. Weak? He’d kick Luke Dawson’s butt any day. Probably today if he kept up the trash talk.
“Oh, okay...well, Victoria is wondering about the paint color for the you-know-what.” The woman’s voice lowered.
Brad’s suspicions had been right. His friend and his new wife were expecting. Well, they were smart to try to keep things to themselves, but they were crazy if they thought they were doing so successfully.
“I’ll be right in,” Luke said.
Mrs. Dawson went back inside and Brad came out of hiding. “Jeez, man. Weak?”
“I did it to save you. Trust me, the women at that auction are crazy. Anyway, I have to go help Victoria. I’ll meet you down at the lake. Steve and the boys are already there setting up the nets.” Luke bounded up the porch steps and waved him away.
“Sure. I’ll carry your stuff. Prove I’m not weak.”
Following the path to the lake’s edge, Brad trudged through the deep, heavy snow. He shifted the hockey bags on his shoulder, wishing his leg didn’t ache so much. Without the weekly physiotherapy sessions, the pain in his right shin was intense. The cold, damp weather wasn’t helping. But as he drew closer, the sound of the crowd at the lake helped to distract him from the pain.
A large section of the frozen lake had been cleared of snow and a hockey net had been placed about twenty feet from the shore. Luke’s nephew Steve was positioned as goalie in one net, and in the center, Melody, David, Josh and Melody’s brothers Jim and Ethan were fighting for control of the puck. Brad hesitated before going farther. He hoped the Bishops wouldn’t mind him being there. The family looked to be having such a great time, he didn’t want to destroy the mood. Melody’s smile lit up her face, and her dark hair whipped across her cheek as she skated toward the net and shot the puck. It sailed in past the teenager with ease. Impressive.
The Mistletoe Melody Page 13