Prodigal Daughter

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Prodigal Daughter Page 17

by Patricia Davids


  “Yes, sir.” He sounded just like her father. She didn’t salute, but she thought about it.

  Over the next two days, Melissa kept busy at the paper and worked in her spare time on her project. Of Richard, she saw very little. She was almost certain that his workload hadn’t expanded to the extent that he needed to be gone from the house from early in the morning until long after dark every night. He was avoiding her and she didn’t know how to repair their friendship.

  Angela and Dave’s home was almost finished. In a few weeks they would be moving out of Richard’s home. She would have to leave, too. She had put off looking for a place of her own, but she couldn’t put it off any longer. Armed with a copy of the paper, she spent one afternoon checking out apartments within her current budget range. The results were depressing, to say the least.

  Her current job didn’t provide enough hours or enough pay to let her find a decent place. Even what she had saved by living with Richard and his family was barely enough for a deposit and the first month’s rent.

  Of course, she could ask her brother for more hours or a pay raise, but that wouldn’t be making it on her own. Once, she might have considered moving back home, but not after her confrontation with her father. He would see it as a sign of weakness, as proof she couldn’t take care of herself or a baby. One thing she had learned was that if people treated you as powerless, you began to see yourself that way and to act that way. No, going home wasn’t an option.

  She needed a second job if she was going to get ahead before the baby came.

  On Friday, the week before Thanksgiving, she took her enrollment forms and the work-study application to the university. Angela had set up an appointment for her with Professor Haggerty. Outside the Women’s Studies department, Melissa drew a deep breath before going in. Her fragile stab at independence was on the line. Getting a second job and getting into school were equally important.

  “One small step at a time,” she whispered under her breath, then she knocked on the door.

  A woman’s voice bade her enter. Inside, she was pleasantly surprised by the office. All the walls were covered with beautiful black-and-white portraits of women. Old women, young women, a few famous faces and some that were simply stunning in the strength of character gazing out from the photographs.

  “I always love it when my office takes a young person’s breath away.”

  A woman in her late fifties rose from behind a narrow desk in front of the windows. Dressed in a black jacket with wide white trim and a short black skirt, she looked as if she could have stepped down from one of the frames. She came forward and held out her hand. “I’m Barbara Haggerty. You must be Melissa Hamilton.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Professor. Thank you for seeing me.”

  “My pleasure. Please have a seat.” She indicated a narrow sofa against the wall. “I’ve met your mother on several occasions. She is a supporter of Women’s Studies at this university.”

  Melissa sat down. “That doesn’t surprise me. My mother is a strong woman.”

  The professor returned to her chair behind her desk. She tipped her head to one side. “Like mother, like daughter?”

  “I only hope that may be true.”

  Leaning back in her chair, Professor Haggerty steepled her fingers together and regarded Melissa with a slight frown. “Tell me, why does the daughter of Wallace Hamilton need a place in our work study program? Frankly, I thought the Hamiltons were the last family in this town to need financial assistance.”

  Melissa’s hopes sank.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Melissa let herself into the quiet house. She hung her gray overcoat and scarf in the hall closet then carried her purse and books down the hall to her room. She breathed a sigh of pure relief as she kicked off her shoes and slipped her puffy feet into a pair of fluffy blue slippers.

  Flopping onto the bed, she closed her eyes and reveled in a moment of quiet bliss. Until her stomach growled. She tried ignoring it without success.

  “I can’t believe I’m hungry again.” But she was.

  Sitting up, she stared at her bedroom door. There would be ice cream in the freezer. Or peanut butter and crackers in the cabinet. Her stomach rumbled a third time. She patted it and smiled.

  “Okay, I get it, you want to be fed. I’m tired, but I guess I can make it as far as the kitchen.”

  Leaving her room, she walked down the hall, pausing to look into Richard’s study. He wasn’t in. Was he working late again or simply avoiding her?

  She went on to the kitchen and stopped short inside the doorway. Richard was making himself a sandwich. He looked up and their eyes met across the room. He looked tired. As tired as she felt. An awkward silence stretched between them.

  No one had told her the proper etiquette for the first meeting with a man after she had refused his marriage proposal. What should she say? What was he thinking?

  The best thing, she decided, was to act as if nothing were wrong instead of standing here as though her feet were nailed to the floor. “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “Angela is working late. Dave and the girls are outside putting together a new birdhouse. Their old one was accidentally knocked down and broken by the fire department when they were running hoses between the house and the street. Would you care for something to eat?”

  “What are you having?”

  “A grilled eggplant sandwich.”

  “Yuck.” She pulled open the freezer and took out a pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream.

  Richard smiled at the face she made. Did she have any idea how endearing she looked? “Eggplant is good for you.”

  “I’ll take your word for it. Is there any peanut butter?”

  “Sure. Do you want white bread or wheat?” Since she hadn’t brought up the subject of his rejected proposal, he wouldn’t, either.

  She rummaged in the drawer for the ice cream scoop and ladled two large dips into a bowl. “No bread, just the peanut butter, thanks.”

  He watched as she spread a generous glob of it over her ice cream. “Talk about yuck. Are you going to eat that?”

  “Yes, if there’s any chocolate syrup.”

  “On the fridge door, second shelf. Do you usually eat peanut butter on your mint ice cream?”

  “I’ve never tried it. It just sounds good. I hope I don’t keep this up. I’ve got three more months to go. At this rate, I’ll look like a blimp.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the chocolate.

  “You need to gain some weight.”

  She frowned at him over the open door. “You think I’m too skinny?”

  Her defensive tone surprised him. “No, you’re definitely not skinny.”

  She slammed the fridge shut. “So you think I’m fat, but not fat enough?” she demanded.

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again and leveled his gaze at her. “I’m not sure how we got into this conversation, but I’m taking the fifth.”

  “Don’t play counselor with me. You said I need to gain weight.”

  “What I meant was, all pregnant women need to gain a certain number of pounds in order to have a healthy baby.”

  “Oh.”

  “Am I okay now, or do I need to hide the kitchen knives?”

  “I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”

  “While you’re thinking, can I eat?”

  “Yes.” She moved toward the table with her bowl and he joined her.

  “Angela told me you are going back to school.”

  She grinned. “I am, in the university’s new program for single parents. I met with Angela’s friend, Professor Haggarty.”

  “And she offered you a job?”

  “At first she didn’t think a Hamilton needed financial help.”

  “What made her change her mind?”

  “I told her about my situation. I was up-front about the fact that I’m doing this without any help from my father.”

  “Did she think that was strange?”

 
; “Not really. She said that she and her own father once shared vastly different opinions on her place in society. She seemed to understand that I want to be able to do this on my own. I was afraid I couldn’t get into the program this late in the semester, but Professor Haggerty told me about their adult education classes. They have one class that is only on Saturday evenings for six weeks and it doesn’t start until next weekend. I’m enrolled and I have a second job as her research assistant starting after Thanksgiving.”

  “That’s great, but can you manage two jobs?”

  “I have to keep my job at the paper because I need the insurance. The research I can do on weekends and in the evenings. I think it will work out.” She took a bite of her ice cream.

  “Things seem to be coming together for you.” Letting go of his need to protect her was much harder than he expected.

  “With a lot of help from you and your family. I don’t think I will ever be able to thank you enough.”

  He took a bite of his sandwich to keep from repeating his proposal. How was he going to let this woman slip out of his life? How could he bear watching from the sidelines as she raised her daughter? He had been wrestling with the same questions for days. He still had no answers.

  Lord, I need Your wisdom now more than ever. Help me do what is best for them.

  She stabbed her spoon into the concoction in her bowl and stirred it. “All that’s left is for me to find a place to live.”

  “Any ideas?”

  “I’ve been looking at a few apartments. I’m trying not to be picky, but what I can get on my salary isn’t much.”

  “I have a few friends in the real estate business. I’ll make some inquiries, if that’s okay with you?”

  She studied her bowl, then looked at him. “As long as you promise that you won’t use any undue influence on my behalf.”

  “You mean I can’t do any arm-twisting?”

  A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth. “No.”

  “No death threats?”

  Her grin widened, as he had hoped. “Definitely, no death threats.”

  “All right, no undue influence on your behalf. I promise.”

  “Good.”

  Gazing into her smiling eyes, Richard knew he couldn’t give her up. She held a place firmly entrenched in his heart. She wasn’t indifferent to him, he was sure of that. He would give her the space and the time she needed to prove to herself, and to her family, that she could manage on her own. He would bide his time and wait until after the baby came. He would be her friend, and he would pray that her feelings for him would grow into love.

  “What are your plans for this weekend?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

  “On Saturday morning I’m going apartment hunting. That is, if I can borrow your car for a few hours.”

  “Certainly. Anytime.”

  “Thanks. In the afternoon, Lettie has found a few more letters for me to look at.” She looked down at her bowl and stirred the contents. He had the odd feeling that she was holding something back.

  “What about Sunday?” he asked.

  She looked up and met his gaze. A serene expression settled over her face. “On Sunday, I was hoping to go to church with you and your family.”

  Joy for her spread through his heart. That she was able to seek the Lord’s presence meant more than he could express. He reached across the table and took her hand. “We would be honored to have you join us.”

  “Thanks, Richard. I knew you’d be happy.”

  To his dismay, she pulled her hand away and wouldn’t meet his eyes.

  The following morning, Melissa crossed off the third apartment on her list. She had only one more to see. The address was near the college, but it was apparently a house, not an apartment building. Holding out little hope, she drove toward the campus and turned onto a quiet street a few blocks south of the university.

  She almost drove past it. Set back from the street was a small, narrow cottage painted bright yellow with white trim. She turned into the drive that ran past the house to a small detached garage. The whole property had a well-kept air. She allowed her hopes to rise. The rent was within her budget and this was certainly the best place she had seen so far. Now, if the inside looked as good as the outside.

  An elderly woman appeared in the doorway of the house next door. Melissa waved as she stepped out of the car. “I called about seeing your rental.”

  “Yes. Let me get the key.” A few minutes later she was unlocking the door. “My last renter moved out after ten years. I was sure sorry to see her and her little girl go.”

  Inside, Melissa was pleasantly surprised by the open floor plan. The living room was divided from the dining room by twin square columns flanked by low, glass-fronted bookshelves. The dining room was small, but felt larger because of a wide bay window that jutted out and let the light pour into the room.

  Following her host through a tiny but functional kitchen and down the hall, Melissa peeked into the bathroom. The green-and-white tile was vintage 1930s but everything looked in good shape. It was, however, the second bedroom at the end of the hall that truly won her heart. It was painted a deep rose with a white trim. The single window was deep set with a window seat covered in needlepoint upholstery depicting entwined hearts. “This will make a great nursery.”

  The landlady nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when I got your call. Today is the first day my ad was in the paper. I surely thought I’d have a harder time renting this little place.”

  After having looked at quite a few inferior places, Melissa knew she had been fortunate to get here before anyone else, or blessed. Perhaps the Lord was looking out for her, after all.

  Turning to the woman, Melissa grinned and said, “I’ll take it.”

  After signing the papers and handing over a deposit, Melissa headed to Lettie’s home. It wasn’t long before she was once again engrossed in reading letters that were decades old.

  “These are fabulous. I never knew people wrote such wonderful letters to each other.”

  Lettie, crocheting in a chair by the window, smiled. “You forget, not many folks had telephones back then. The country was still suffering the effects of the Depression. Visiting folks in another town was sometimes difficult. Writing came easily for us the way computers seem to come easily to this new generation.”

  “I guess that’s true. May I have a few of these to make photocopies? I’ll take care to see the originals aren’t damaged or lost.”

  “Of course, dear.”

  Melissa noticed the balls of pink and white yarn spooling into Lettie’s lap. “What are you working on?”

  She held up a square with delicate pink and white fan shapes alternating across the width. “It’s a baby blanket for you.”

  Tilting her head to one side, Melissa asked, “How did you know I’m keeping my baby?”

  “I saw how happy you looked the minute you walked through the door.”

  Melissa cocked one eyebrow. “But you were working on that before I came in.”

  “Was I? I guess that’s true. You didn’t expect those girls of Angela’s to keep it a secret, did you?”

  “I guess not. They are really excited about getting to see the baby.”

  “Are you?”

  Melissa grinned. “I’m really excited, too.”

  Lettie laid her needle and yarn aside. “Good. I’ve got something that I’d like you to have. Mind you, it’s only a loan, but I’d love for you to use it. I was going to wait till later, but I’m just busting to see what you think of it.”

  “What is it?”

  Rising, Lettie hurried across the room. Melissa watched her in puzzlement. At the door to the hallway, Lettie looked back. “Come on. I can’t carry it out here.”

  Melissa rose and followed her, curiosity burning a hole in her mind. What on earth could Lettie want to loan her that was too big to be moved?

  At the second doorway in the hall, Lettie spun around, her hands clasped in front of her, looking ex
actly like Lauren did when she had something exciting to share. “Close your eyes,” she commanded.

  “Miss Lettie, is that really necessary?”

  “Close your eyes and don’t talk back to your elders.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Taking a deep breath, Melissa did as instructed.

  She heard the sound of the door being opened and then she felt Lettie take her elbow. “Two steps forward.”

  Searching with her other hand for the doorjamb, Melissa located it and stepped through.

  “Open your eyes, honey.”

  Melissa did and her breath caught in her throat. In the middle of the room sat an antique cradle.

  The walnut headboard and footboard were both carved with an elaborate seashell design between panels of burled wood. Tall carved finials rose from each corner. The sides were rows of open walnut slats turned into elongated figure eights. Somehow the whole piece managed to seem massive and yet dainty at the same time. Stepping forward, she touched the side and the cradle rocked gently. “This is beautiful.”

  “It belonged to my grandmother. It’s called an Eastlake Victorian cradle. I never had children of my own to rock in it, but Richard and Angela slept in it, as did their daddy and both of Angela’s girls.”

  Melissa’s delight quickly changed to consternation. “Lettie, this is a family heirloom. I can’t use it.”

  “’Course you can. It’s mine and I say who gets to put their babies in it.”

  Melissa threw her arms around the slender little woman. “You are so wonderful to me. How can I ever thank you?”

  “I’ll think of something, never you fear.”

  Stepping back, Melissa wiped at the moisture forming in the corners of her eyes. “I’m sure you will.”

  “For starters, you can come to church with me tomorrow.”

  Melissa forced her face into a frown. “Oh, I can’t.”

  Fisting her hands on her hips, Lettie fixed her with an unblinking stare. “It’s high time you went back to church, young lady. No baby that sleeps in the Corbet family crib is going to be brought up as a heathen.”

 

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