Finally Home

by Taylor, Helen Scott

  “I thought I might sleep here tonight?” Jack said as she returned to the table. “I don’t want you two to be alone.” A moment of loaded silence. “Unless you don’t want me here, of course,” he added softly.

  She would like nothing more than to lose herself in Jack’s arms, let him offer comfort. But her emotions were balanced on a knife edge. If she leaned on Jack she feared she might never pull back and regain the control she needed to deal with this situation. Far better to push him away now. He had a way of prodding and poking at her psyche, working his way inside where she couldn’t control her feelings.

  “Thank you for offering, but we’ll be all right,” she said without looking up. If she saw the concern in his eyes she might break.

  She fiddled with her food, removed some batter from the cod and ate a few flakes of white fish. Ryan helped himself to a blob of tomato ketchup then dipped in a chip, using his fingers. “Knife and fork please, Ryan,” she said automatically.

  “You can’t eat fish and chips with a knife and fork,” Jack said with forced humor. “You have to use your fingers.” He ducked his head to see her face, then smiled as he picked up a chip and popped it in his mouth.

  Ryan laughed and ate another chip, squashing the whole thing into his mouth with the flat of his palm. Somewhere inside she knew Jack was only trying to lighten the mood, but a frisson of anger passed through her. One thing she could control was her son, and she wouldn’t have Jack undermining her authority.

  “If you put too much in your mouth, you won’t chew it properly and you’ll get a tummy ache.” She glared at Jack although her words were for Ryan.

  Ryan wrinkled his nose in a cheeky expression and stuffed another fat chip in his mouth.

  “Ryan!” The tone of her voice rose as panic spiraled through her.

  Ryan stopped chewing, a look of wide-eyed confusion on his innocent face.

  Melanie trembled, sweat prickling her skin, her breath shallow and fast. Everything was falling apart, her control over Ryan slipping. She’d been able to protect him from the hateful comments and prejudice when he was tiny. Now he was at school, she couldn’t monitor who he mixed with or what he heard about his dad.

  Jack’s hand closed over hers on the table. “It’s all right, Mel. Calm down, love.”

  The panic subsided, but the fear didn’t fade. She couldn’t stay here, where people knew who she was. One day she would have to tell Ryan what his father had done, but not yet. She would not let Ryan find out from a stranger in the street or playground. Her husband might be dead, but even in the grave he could still hurt his son.

  As Melanie’s erratic heart rate returned to normal, Ryan finished eating and set his silverware neatly on his plate. “I want to play with Jack. You do the dishes, Mummy.”

  Jack crouched and held Ryan’s shoulders. “Mummy isn’t just here to clear up after us, kiddo. She likes to have fun as well.”

  Melanie waved her hand in acquiescence. She was in no mood for playing tonight. “You two play. I’ll tidy the kitchen.” She’d rather do that anyway. It kept her occupied so she didn’t think.

  At seven-thirty she went back to the living room and watched them finish a game of animal pairs. “Time for bed after this game.”

  Ryan gathered the final pair of animals and counted his score. He leaped on Jack’s lap and put his arms around Jack’s neck. “I want Jack to put me to bed.”

  “All right?” Jack asked, looking her way apologetically. She nodded, feeling isolated and suddenly alone.

  Ambling to the bathroom door, she watched Ryan paste his toothbrush as Jack supervised. “After he’s finished, you need to make sure he’s cleaned them properly, I usually brush the—”

  “I know how to clean teeth, Mel,” Jack said.

  “Oh. Okay. Sorry.”

  She wandered back to the kitchen feeling peculiar with nothing to do at a time of day when she was normally busy. Ryan’s laughter echoed down the hall from his bedroom, followed by Jack’s. They always laughed together. She tried to remember the last time Ryan had laughed like that with her. Ryan enjoyed Jack’s company more than hers. Jack was football, games and picnics; she was baths, tidying and manners.

  She put on the coffee and watched the dark liquid drip from the filter into the glass jug. Jack roused her from her meditation when he entered the kitchen. “Is Ryan ready for me to say goodnight?” she asked.

  “He went to sleep while I read to him.”

  “Oh.” She went to her son’s room and stood beside the bed. Staring at Ryan’s peaceful expression, she smoothed the hair off his forehead. She bent and kissed his soft, plump cheek, smelling the peppermint toothpaste on his breath. He was so precious, so vulnerable. Her darling baby boy. She would do anything to keep him safe and make him happy.

  Later, after Jack had left, Melanie lay in bed staring at the shadows on the ceiling. She tried to ignore the pulse of longing she felt at the fragrance of Jack’s shampoo on the pillow, the memory of his hands sliding across her skin, his whispered words of love.

  Instead she concentrated on the problem of what to do now her identity was out. Instinct told her to leave town before the trouble really started. From past experience, she knew she had a window of a few days before too many people found where she lived and things really turned nasty. But she didn’t want to take Ryan away from Jack. If only Jack would come with her.

  With a stab of hope, she grabbed her mobile phone from the bedside table and selected his number. She chewed the inside of her cheek as she listened to the phone ring. “Jack,” she whispered the moment he picked up, “we need to talk.”

  “Do you want me to come over?” he said drowsily.

  “I’ve been considering my options,” she continued, deciding it was easier to talk on the phone as she felt more in control than she did face to face with him.

  “Don’t run away, Mel.” He suddenly sounded more alert. Worried. “We can ride out this storm together. You’ll see.”

  She drew in a steadying breath. “Did you read those letters you took?”

  He grunted with disgust. “People who write things like that are evil. Just ignore them. We can ask Stephanie for advice about the situation if you’re worried.”

  “Like she’s going to help us.” Melanie laughed grimly.

  “You’ll be surprised. She’s a professional. If you go to her with a legal problem, she’ll handle it.”

  “Jack, nobody can put the genie back in the bottle.” Melanie rubbed her eyes. Suddenly the day’s frantic cleaning caught up with her and she could hardly stay awake. “I don’t want Ryan to find out about his father until he’s old enough to handle it. If I stay here, how can I stop someone telling him?”

  “Melanie, I love you. Both of you. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She closed her eyes and remembered the handsome face of her beautiful golden-haired, blue-eyed god as he’d lain beside her in bed. But it was his little imperfections she loved most. The small scar on his chin from a football boot that she’d kissed last night, his crooked bottom teeth. “Come away with me, Jack. Let’s start somewhere new. The three of us together.”

  On the other end of the line his breath hitched. The suggestion had obviously taken him by surprise. For long moments silence hummed in her ear. “What about Greyfriar House? My family?” He swallowed audibly. “You’re asking me to leave everything behind.”

  “Put a manager in the hotel.” She knew she was being unfair, but she couldn’t be
ar to lose him. “Ryan needs you. I need you. But I can’t stay, Jack. I’ve lived through this nightmare before. I can’t do it again. I’m just so tired of it all.”

  “Maybe you could stay with your grandmother for a few weeks until it all blows over. Or we could go on a vacation together.” His tone lightened as he warmed to his subject. “Where do you fancy going?”

  “The problem won’t just go away. My husband murdered those old folks five years ago, and my name still made the front page on Friday.”

  “Yes, the front page of a tiny local rag. It probably pushed off a report about a dog show or a school play. We’re not talking national news here, Mel. I know what publicity’s like. In my heyday, I was often in the papers and not always for my skill with the ball. People forget eventually.”

  “Did you ever get hate mail?”

  He released a frustrated breath. “Everyone in the public eye gets the odd weirdo write to them.”

  “Jack, you read those letters. Some things people never forgive or forget.” The only way to make him understand was to show him her account of the past five years. She opened the drawer in her bedside table and pulled out the gray journal of shame she kept lest she ever forget and repeat her mistakes. “Meet me at your back door in two minutes.”

  She put on her dressing gown and slippers and hurried through the balmy summer night across the yard and through the hedge into Jack’s garden. The light above his door blinked on and he appeared, silhouetted in the doorway. He reached for her but she only allowed him a brief kiss. She pulled away and pressed her journal into his hands before she lost her nerve. “I kept a record of all the bad things that happened to me.”

  For a few seconds, Jack gazed at the shiny gray book in horror, as though she’d passed him something rotten. Then he squeezed her hand. “I promise I’ll read this, Mel. But before you make a decision about leaving, go and see Stephanie and ask if there’s anything she can do to help. For me.”

  Melanie shrugged. “Okay.”

  It would be a waste of time, but she agreed to keep Jack happy. The appointment would have to be in the next few days because she didn’t intend to stay much longer. If Jack wouldn’t come with her, she had no choice but to leave him behind. Ryan would eventually forget him.

  Maybe one day she would as well.

  Chapter Nine

  Melanie caught the bus into the center of town and made her way to Stephanie’s office. Jack had persuaded her to come into work at the hotel on Monday and Tuesday and it hadn’t been as bad as she expected. Gossip about her identity spread like wildfire among the staff, but although everybody knew who she was, the people she worked with were civil, even if she did notice them giving her strange glances when they thought she wasn’t looking.

  Melanie was cautious as she walked through the crowds of shoppers to the quieter business district where solicitors, accountants and real estate agents had their offices. Nobody in town appeared to recognize her, probably because the photo of her in the newspaper was an old one in which her hair had been longer and tied back.

  As she reached the metal railings in front of Stephanie’s office, Jack hurried from the opposite direction. He’d wanted to accompany her, but she thought he was too busy.

  “I caught you.” He smiled as he walked up, took her hand and kissed her. “I rescheduled so I could come with you.”

  Melanie smiled back, but her insides twisted. He had such high hopes that Stephanie would come up with a miracle solution, but once the news was out, it was out. People knew her identity and that wouldn’t change.

  Once they were inside, Stephanie saw them immediately, unlike last time. When they were ushered into her office, she stood and actually smiled in greeting. “Melanie, I saw the newspaper article. I’m so sorry.” She offered her hand and then indicated a chair. “I’d no idea about your past. But I guess that was your intention.”

  Melanie wasn’t sure what she’d expected Stephanie to say, but she hadn’t expected sympathy and understanding.

  Jack shook Stephanie’s hand and she looked at them expectantly.

  “No hard feelings. I’ve moved on.” She flashed an engagement ring on her finger. “How can I help you?”

  “You’ve seen the newspaper article…” Melanie suddenly found she didn’t know what to say. However sympathetic Stephanie appeared, Melanie was uncomfortable talking about the way people treated her.

  “Is there something we can do to make sure they don’t print anything more?” Jack asked.

  Stephanie clasped her hands on the desk in front of her and thought for a few seconds. “Not really without making a big fuss that would likely get you more bad publicity than another article.” She leaned forward. “Look, I know of other people in your situation. I researched the effects of crime on the criminal’s family when I was taking my law degree. Everyone feels sorry for the victim’s family, but the criminal’s relatives tend to be forgotten or suffer by association.”

  “What do you suggest?” Jack’s eager tone irritated Melanie. He seemed to think this was something he could just fix. He obviously hadn’t read her journal, or he’d understand.

  “Beat them at their own game.” Stephanie sat up with an air of triumph. “Melanie must tell her side of the story. Gain public sympathy and turn the tables on the critics. Do it well, and there’s a lot of money to be made. You’ve seen the sort of story I mean. They often get a double-page spread in the middle of a tabloid newspaper at the weekends.”

  “No!” Melanie froze in horror at the thought of cameras flashing and people watching her.

  “Mel.” Jack faced her. “This sounds like a great idea. You could use your notes.”

  “You kept notes?” Stephanie said. “Well done, you. That’ll certainly make it easier.”

  Melanie looked at her hands and tried to control the trembling inside. The thought of people knowing every shameful detail of what had happened made her flinch. She’d never be able to show her face outside again.

  “You might even get some publicity for the hotel out of the process if you play it right,” Stephanie said to Jack.

  The two of them discussed ideas for a bit longer, but Melanie couldn’t listen. A dark chill filled her heart and her head. Jack’s voice was edged with excitement. He didn’t understand how she felt at all, didn’t understand what it had been like. She had to get out of there.

  “Mel, what do you think?” Jack asked.

  “Let’s talk about it later.” She stood and held herself tautly controlled to shake Stephanie’s hand.

  As she headed for the door, Jack said, “We’ll be in touch, Steph. Thanks for the advice and good luck with your new guy.”

  He caught up with her on the pavement. “Why did you race out like that?”

  “I’m not talking to any journalists.” She threw her hand out for emphasis. “I’m trying to keep this quiet, not shout it from the rooftops.”

  “But what Steph said makes a lot of sense. Tell your side of the story, please.”

  Melanie started walking. She didn’t know where, she just had to keep moving or she was going to explode. Jack followed her, skipping between other pedestrians to stay at her side.

  “Can’t you get it into your head that I don’t like people to know?” she said between gritted teeth. “Why do you think I moved on in the past?”

  Jack halted but she kept walking. “You’ve got to stop behaving as though you’re guilty of something, Mel,” he shouted after her. “How can you
expect people to believe you’re innocent if you don’t?”

  She cringed at the curious stares of the pedestrians around her. How could she have ever thought Jack would understand?

  * * *

  Jack stood helplessly in the middle of the pavement, the crowd of office workers returning from lunch flowing around him.

  Why? That one word kept running through his head.

  Stephanie had made good suggestions on how to handle the media. Why wouldn’t Melanie consider taking the initiative and beating her critics at their own game? Once people read her side of the story and knew the truth, she’d be free of a past that hung over her head like the Sword of Damocles.

  He knew she had a problem with talking about what had happened, but she wouldn’t need to speak to a journalist. Whoever wrote her story could work from the notes in her journal.

  Jack’s gut clenched as he remembered her account of what she’d gone through. He’d been up most of the night reading that book, glued to the pages with a growing sense of anger. He’d wanted to tear the journal to shreds. It damn near ripped him apart to discover how Melanie and Ryan—his Melanie and Ryan—had been so frightened and alone. How could people verbally abuse and threaten a vulnerable woman and her young son? Just thinking about it made Jack want to hit something, and he wasn’t a violent man. What happened to innocent until proven guilty?

  That journal was bad karma, a record of malice and spite. No wonder Melanie ran from the past if she kept rereading what had happened. Any journalist worth his salt would produce a truly shocking report of her experiences and put a lot of self-righteous middle England to shame.