Prodigal Daughter

by Patricia Davids

  Tuesday afternoon, Nora set a curtain rod into the brackets and adjusted the white eyelet ruffles until they hung to her satisfaction. She stepped down from the folding ladder and surveyed her work. “How does this look?”

  “It looks great, Mom.” Melissa, on her knees by the bookcases, added the last volume to the shelf and closed the glass-fronted door.

  “This is a charming house.” Nora, looking far younger than fifty-five in a pair of dark blue jeans and a lemon-yellow T-shirt, sank into the room’s only chair, a worn green recliner that had seen better days.

  “I was blessed to get it. All it needs now is some furniture.” Her new living room was empty except for the chair and a half-dozen boxes taking up space along one wall. Melissa stood and dusted off her faded jeans. She let out a heartfelt sigh.

  “Are you tired, dear?”

  Melissa appreciated her mother’s sympathy and her help. “After a busy day at work, packing and unpacking isn’t as much fun as it should be.”

  “Why don’t you take a rest? I can finish the curtains.”

  “No, I’m okay. Besides, take a rest on what? I don’t even own a bed yet.”

  Nora glanced at her watch. “Your bed and dresser from the house should be here any minute. The movers said six-thirty.”

  As if on cue, someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll get it,” Nora said. Melissa didn’t argue. She pressed her hands to the small of her aching back and stretched.

  “Hello, Nora. Is Melissa here?”

  Melissa’s heart skipped a beat, then sped up at the sound of Richard’s deep voice. She moved to stand beside her mother. He looked more handsome than ever in brown corduroy pants and a deep gold sweater with the sleeves pushed up past his elbows. The masculine scent of his cologne sent a skittering tingle of awareness racing along her nerve endings.

  “Richard, what are you doing here?” Melissa heard the breathy catch in her own voice, but hoped he hadn’t noticed.

  “I come bearing gifts from Lettie.” He indicated a large box beside him on the porch.

  “You brought the cradle? Oh, how wonderful. Mom, wait until you see this.”

  “Where would you like it?” Richard asked.

  “Through the kitchen and down the hall. The second door on the left is going to be the nursery.”

  “Through the kitchen and down the hall it is,” he said. Grasping the edges of the box, he maneuvered it through the front door. Melissa waited until he had it inside, then she grabbed the other end.

  “Don’t lift that,” he and Nora scolded at the same time.

  Melissa threw her hands in the air. “All right. I won’t lift it, but I’m not an invalid, I’m only pregnant.”

  Nora shooed her aside. “We can manage without you.”

  “I want to help. After all, this is my house.”

  “Your job is to look pretty and supervise,” Richard stated.

  Melissa knew she was blushing by the heat that rushed to her face. It was a simple, innocent comment. She shouldn’t read more into it. Stepping aside, she let them wrestle the box through the house. It didn’t take long for Richard and Nora to set the cradle up in the center of the nursery. Melissa parked herself on the window seat until they were finished.

  “Richard, this is beautiful,” Nora said, running her hand over the rich wood.

  “It’s been in Lettie’s family for generations.” He gave it a push and set it to rocking gently.

  “What a wonderful tradition to pass on,” Nora said.

  Watching him, Melissa wondered how he felt about her baby using something that belonged to his family. If he had any objections, she knew he would never admit to them. “I’ll take good care of it,” she promised.

  He smiled at her. “I never doubted that for a second. I’m glad Lettie thought of it. Cradles are made to hold babies. To see one sitting empty is a little sad.”

  “Speaking of traditions,” Nora said, “One of the Hamilton traditions is to invite our friends to share dinner on Thanksgivings. I was hoping that you and your family would join us. Please don’t say no, Richard. You’ve always been like part of the family to us.”

  She slipped her arm across Melissa’s shoulder. “I have so much to be thankful for this year. Please say you will join us.”

  Melissa met his gaze and saw uncertainty in his eyes. Their relationship, while friendly, continued to be strained since she had refused his proposal. It was up to her to try and put him at ease. “I’d love it if you and your family would come, Richard. Please, say you will.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The morning of Thanksgiving dawned bright and clear. Melissa rose early; excitement had made it hard to sleep. She would be going home for the first time in months. Not with her head hung in shame, but with her head held high, proud of the changes she had made in her life. She took a moment to give thanks to God for showing her the way.

  Armed with an index card written in Lettie’s flowing handwriting, Melissa tackled a pecan pie. When she pulled it out of the oven an hour later, she knew she had succeeded in baking a pie that looked and smelled good. The real test would come when Richard tasted it.

  The thought brought her up short. He wouldn’t be the only one at dinner, but his opinion was the one that really mattered.

  “You poor woman,” she muttered. “In this day and age you are worried a man won’t like your cooking. Get a grip.”

  It was good advice, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to follow it. So much about Richard’s life and likes were important to her. She worried about his health and the stress his job sometimes caused him. She wanted to hear about his day and tell him about hers. She wanted to be included in every part of his life. If only he had proposed because he loved her.

  But he hadn’t. He had proposed because he wanted to protect her and her baby. As noble as that was, it wasn’t something to base a marriage on.

  Later that morning, she stood on the porch outside her mother’s front door, foil-covered pie in hand, and rang the bell. The heavy, leaded-glass-inlaid front door swung open revealing Vera Mae, the family’s part-time housekeeper and dear friend. With her gray hair pulled back into a bun, a bright smile of welcome on her face and a sizable apron covering her best lavender dress, Vera Mae was as much a part of Melissa’s childhood memories of her home as the wide staircase banister and her grandmother’s grand piano in the little parlor.

  “Miss Melissa, if you aren’t a sight for sore eyes. Come here and give me a hug, baby girl. It’s so good to have you home.”

  Before Melissa could comply, she was engulfed by Vera Mae’s ample arms. She barely had time to keep the pie from getting squished between them.

  “It’s good to be home, Vera Mae. Happy Thanksgiving,” she managed to whisper past the lump of emotion in her throat.

  Vera Mae released Melissa and dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her large white apron. “The same to you, child. Come in. Most of the family is already here, except your brother, Jeremy. I do wish he would call your mother. She worries about him so.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal. You know how she is, she wants everything to be perfect for her children. What have you got there?” She pointed to the dish in Melissa’s hands.

  “My contribution to the feast. I baked a pie.”

  “I declare, will wonders never cease!”

  “Vera Mae,” Melissa declared in mock chagrin. “I cook a little. It’s not rocket science.”

  “I’m sure it will be wonderful. I’ll take it to the table.”

  Melissa followed her through the foyer and into the dining room where the antique oak table had been expanded for the occasion to accommodate the family and all the guests. The dark wood, set with her mother’s best china, gleamed with loving care and the scent of lemon oil and furniture polish vied with the smell of turkey and sage drifting in from the kitchen.

  Melissa’s heart expanded with a wealth of
emotions. Memories of happy times gathered around this table with the people she loved filled her mind. How sad that she had discarded it all out of bitterness and fear, and how wonderful was the Lord to bring her home again. Smiling, she joined the rest of her family gathered around the TV in the next room.

  A series of moans issued from the men as she paused in the doorway. Since no one was looking in her direction, she was certain she wasn’t the cause of the disgruntled sound. Chris was seated in the overstuffed chair with Felicity perched on the arm beside him. Heather and Amy sat on the sofa with Bryan and Ethan on either side of them. Tim and Dawn looked very cozy on the love seat opposite the sofa. Dave, leaning forward with his elbow propped on his knees, occupied a straight-backed chair at the end of the love seat, while Angela stood looking out the window. Through the French doors leading out onto the patio and the lawns, Melissa saw Dylan, Samantha and Lauren tossing a Frisbee back and forth.

  Another groan rose from the men. “Can you believe that?” Chris shouted.

  “Favorite football team not doing well?” Melissa asked.

  Chris, closest to door, rose to his feet and gave her a quick hug. “They fumbled on the eight-yard line. Happy Thanksgiving, little sis.”

  “Same to you, and to all of you.”

  Hugs were exchanged all around, but the one person she wanted to see seemed to be missing. Where was Richard? Suddenly, Melissa was struck with a stab of self-pity. Everyone in the room had someone they loved at their side. Her sisters looked radiantly happy. Even her brothers looked happier and more carefree than she had ever seen them. Only she was the odd one out.

  “I never did get into the football thing,” she said after everyone returned to their seat. “I’m going to see if Mother needs any help in the kitchen.”

  “Mom, Miss Lettie and Vera Mae threw me out half an hour ago, but you can try,” Amy offered.

  “No need to go looking for me,” Nora said from behind Melissa. “Dinner is ready. Hello, sweetie.”

  “Hi, Mom.” Melissa kissed her cheek.

  “About time. I’m starved,” Chris said. Felicity gave him a playful smack on his shoulder.

  “What?” he demanded. “I get grumpy when I’m hungry.”

  “You get grumpy when your team is losing.”

  “That, too. How is it that you know me so well?”

  Felicity winked at Melissa. “I have my sources.”

  In the general bedlam of calling the children in, sending them to wash up and then finding places for everyone at the long table, Melissa ended up with Lauren on one side of her and Lettie on the other. It wasn’t until she sat down that she realized she was directly across from Richard.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Melissa,” he said over the growing hubbub of voices.

  She knew she was blushing. Would he always have this effect on her? She smiled and hoped it didn’t look as wistful as it felt. “Happy Thanksgiving, Richard. I didn’t see you when I came in.”

  “I was outside with the kids.”

  She should have known. He loved spending time with kids. “You’re going to make a wonderful father.”

  Melissa realized she had spoken the thought aloud when a startled look crossed his face.

  “I mean, someday.” She looked down at her plate. “When you find the right person.”

  Lettie leaned toward Melissa. “Maybe. If he isn’t so dense that he lets her get away.”

  Richard scowled at Lettie but didn’t say anything. Melissa felt compelled to defend him. “Richard isn’t dense, Miss Lettie.”

  “Couldn’t prove it by me,” she stated.

  Nora drew everyone’s attention by tapping her spoon on the side of her glass. Quickly, the table grew quiet. She laid her spoon down and smiled. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have so many of my family and friends with me today. Wallace and I want to wish all of you the happiest of holidays. Even though he can’t be here with us today, he wants you all to know that he is with you in spirit. And he especially wanted me to ask Vera Mae to smuggle some of her peach cobbler into the hospital tonight.”

  “I’ve already saved him a big ol’ slice, Miss Nora.”

  Everyone laughed, including Nora. “Wonderful. Now, let us bow our heads and give thanks to the Lord for His bounty. I ask you to pray not only for Wallace, but also for Jeremy, who can’t be with us today.”

  “Prayers for me won’t be necessary, Mom.”

  They all turned in surprise to see Jeremy standing in the doorway. A moment of stunned silence followed.

  Melissa saw at a glance that her oldest brother had changed in the past months. Gone was his casual, confident air. In its place she saw uncertainty in his piercing blue eyes and perhaps a touch of bitterness. He stood aloof and alone and her heart went out to him.

  She glanced from Jeremy to Tim and saw that Tim was on his feet. She couldn’t decipher the look on his face. She knew her brothers had parted on bad terms. Was there going to be another scene?

  Tim left his place at the table and crossed the room to stand in front of Jeremy. He held out his hand. “I acted like a jerk. Can you forgive me?”

  The expression on Jeremy’s face softened. “I can—if you can forgive me for the way I’ve acted.” He took his brother’s hand and pulled him into a hug.

  Melissa and the rest of her siblings left their places to join Tim in welcoming Jeremy home. Jeremy’s face broke into a smile when Melissa reached him. He held her close and kissed the top of her head.

  “The prodigal daughter has returned, I see,” he said.

  She grinned up at him. “Along with the prodigal son.”

  His smile faded. “Stepson.”

  “You’ll always be my big brother. Nothing changes that.”

  “Thanks, kid.” He leaned back. “You look different.”

  “Tell her she looks fat and you’re a dead man,” Richard told him as he stood at her side, extending his hand to Jeremy. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  Jeremy shook Richard’s hand as he glanced between the two of them. “What did I miss?”

  “A lot,” Melissa said. “I’ll fill you in later. For now, I think Mom is waiting for you.”

  Nora stood near the head of the table, her hands clasped together over her heart, tears of joy sparkling in her eyes. Jeremy moved out of the circle of his siblings and walked toward her. He stopped a step away. “Can you forgive me, Mom?”

  She reached out and took his face between her hands. “There is nothing to forgive. You’re here and that’s all that matters.” She moved into his embrace and for a long moment, mother and son stood unmoving, holding each other close.

  Richard watched Melissa wipe at the tears forming in her eyes. He offered her his handkerchief. She accepted it and sent him a grateful smile.

  Jeremy turned to face the rest of the family, but kept his arm around his mother. “The one true thing I have learned in my time away is just how much this family means to me. I’ve missed you all. I couldn’t imagine spending Thanksgiving anywhere else.”

  “We’re glad you are here. What are your plans?” Nora asked, looking up with adoring eyes.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Tim spoke up. “You can have any job you want at Hamilton Media. I mean that. Any job.”

  “Thanks, Tim, but I’m not sure what I want just yet.”

  Nora said, “It’s enough that you are home. Please, everyone come back to the table. We don’t want the turkey to get cold.”

  Richard took his place opposite Melissa and drank in the sight of her happiness. He was glad for her sake, and Nora’s, that Jeremy was home, but he knew Jeremy and Wallace would still face difficult times. For Jeremy to learn so late in life that the man he loved wasn’t his father must have been a painful blow.

  Looking at Melissa, Richard decided her daughter would know from the start that she was the child of his heart, if not of his flesh and blood. After all, her mother was the woman who owned his heart. Somehow, he had to make Melissa believe that.


  After Nora led the family in a beautiful blessing, the entire gathering quickly took on a festive quality. Heaping platters of turkey, corn bread dressing, black-eyed peas and other traditional foods were passed from one end of the table to the other and back again.

  By the time the desserts made their way down the table, stories of previous Thanksgiving disasters and laughter filled the room. Richard helped himself to a generous slice of the pecan pie and passed it on. Melissa took a small slice of the pumpkin pie and kept glancing toward him. She seemed unusually interested in something on his plate. He made a quick check of his shirtfront to make sure he wasn’t wearing a splotch of gravy. Seeing nothing, he cut into the pie and forked a bite into his mouth.

  “How is it?” Melissa asked, sounding breathless and on edge.

  “Great,” he mumbled around his mouthful.

  “Oh, good.” She relaxed with a self-satisfied smile.

  He swallowed his bite. “Lettie makes the best pecan pie in the country. You should try some.”

  Lettie, looking as smug as a cat with canary feathers sticking out of its mouth, said, “I didn’t bring a pecan pie today.”

  “Really? This tastes every bit as good as yours.” He forked another piece in his mouth.

  Lettie turned to Melissa. “Didn’t Vera Mae tell me that you brought this luscious, made-from-scratch pecan pie?”

  Melissa nodded, looking pleased. “I’m glad it turned out okay.”

  Lettie propped her elbow on the table and set her chin on her hand. Smiling sweetly at Richard, she said, “I declare. It looks like this gal can make a pecan pie just as good as mine.”

  Richard wisely chose not to reply.

  The conversation at the table soon turned to the upcoming weddings that were being planned. It was while Amy and Heather were telling Jeremy about shopping for wedding dresses that Richard happened to glance at Melissa. Her earlier happiness had faded. Now, she simply looked sad. She caught him looking and tried to smile, but she didn’t fool him.