Love for Beginners: An Under the Hood Novella

by Sally Clements

  Mel held hers up, too. “I’ll drink to that.”

  Later, when the pot roast had been eaten, and two of the three bottles of wine had been drunk, Betty stacked wood in the large fireplace and made a fire.

  “I want to talk to you about something,” Alice confided. “I’m probably too late, but I wanted to ask how the search for a buyer has been going.”

  Mel rubbed her temple. Her fuzzy brain wasn’t working right. The last thing she felt able to do was to talk about the only people who had shown interest in her home, the people who were so bloody unsuited, so undeserving of the house she’d poured her heart and soul into she wished she could tell them to take a hike. She tossed a cork into the flames.

  “I have one couple who is interested.”

  “You’re wrong.” Alice leaned close. “You have two couples who are interested. Mark and I would like to put in an offer, too.” Her forehead creased. “Would that be weird? I know you love that house. We both love it, too. If you’d prefer us not to—”

  Joy welled up, but tears filled Mel’s eyes.

  “Oh, I’ve upset you!” Alice tried to get off the chair, but dropped her crutch. “I didn’t mean—if you don’t want to—”

  “Happy tears,” Mel forced out. “I can’t think of anyone I’d like to live in my house more than both of you. Living there has been great, but I have to sell, and I hated the thought of someone paving over my garden.” Mel’s sudden glare made Alice smile. “You’re not thinking…”

  “I’d never pave over your garden. I love your garden. We’ll match your asking price; it’s within our budget…”

  She made come-over-here waves.

  Mel walked over, leaned down, and hugged her friend tight.

  It was over. The whole horrible problem of where to get the money to save her mother’s house was finally, totally, solved. But even that did nothing to dull the pain inside.

  Too much wine, too much good news. Eventually it took its toll, and Alice fell asleep.

  They laid her out on the sofa, with the crutch within easy reach, and tucked the throw from the back of the sofa over her.

  The fire’s embers glowed red, the fireguard was up, and the dishwasher was on.

  It was time to go.

  “How’s your head?” Betty asked Mel. They’d drunk too much. Even with two cups of coffee after dinner, the inside of Mel’s brain was fuzzy as though it were wrapped in cotton wool.

  “Nothing Alka-Seltzer in the morning won’t fix. What a night, huh?”

  “It’s been good.” Betty was slurring her words. “The whole gang, back together.”

  But some things were different. They hadn’t talked about the elephant in the room—hadn’t mentioned Heath. And now that Alice was getting married, things would never be quite the same again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Last night’s buzz had morphed into a full-on headache pounding behind Mel’s forehead. The last responsible thing she’d done the night before was set her cell phone alarm and left it on the bedside table. Now the thing was squawking like crazy. With a moan, she swiped the screen, multiple times, to disable it, and succeeded, but knocked it off the table in the process.

  She stood under the shower until the water ran cold. There was nothing to distract her today—no work to take her out of her funk. She couldn’t even borrow the keys to the cabin and escape into the mountains—being there would remind her of him. Remind her that he would be leaving New York for the meeting in Washington in less than a week. She went to refill her coffee and noticed the red light flashing on her answering machine. Backing up, she pressed the button to retrieve the message.

  “Mel? It’s your mother. Please call me when you get this.” The second message had been left an hour later, and although the words were the same, there was an edge of tension now apparent in her words. She sat down and dialed.

  “Mom? Sorry I missed your calls. What’s up?” Her hand clenched the phone tightly.

  “Oh, there you are!”

  “I was out at Alice’s last night.”

  “I wanted to tell you my news.” There was excitement in Marcia’s tone. “I went for an interview the other day—I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to jinx it. Anyway, I got a letter yesterday afternoon. They’ve offered me a job!”

  Rapidly, Marcia filled in the details. She’d applied for the position of secretary for a large oil company in a town a bus ride away. The salary matched her previous one, and once she’d gotten back on her feet, she’d be able to pay her way again.

  “What are you up to today? Can you come for lunch? I’ll cook.”

  It had been ages since Marcia had made the offer of preparing a meal. Her house was sold and her mother had a new job. Mel felt the pain in her chest ease a little. “Sure, I’ll be there in an hour.”

  …

  Mel picked up a chocolate cake at the bakery on the way to her mother’s house—ready to hear all about her mother’s new job, and share the news that Alice and Mark would be buying her house.

  The deal had been so perfect, and she didn’t even need to move back home—she could either take over the rent of Alice’s place or rent with an option to buy Mark’s apartment.

  Mom was wearing a pretty floral dress when she opened the door, and the mouthwatering smell of roasting chicken hung in the air. “Come on through, I’m just making some gravy.”

  “This looks very nice.” The kitchen table was set, and a small vase of flowers from the garden sat dead center. Nothing out of the ordinary in most normal houses, but for Marcia it was a gigantic effort that served to illustrate just how bad she’d been recently. “I’ve got news.” Mel sat down on a kitchen chair and put the box from the bakery on the table. “I’ve sold the house.”

  Marcia’s face lit with a smile. “Really?”

  “Really. Mark and Alice have made a great offer, and we’re doing the paperwork next week. Now that you’ve got a job too, I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

  Marcia clutched a tea towel, wringing it in her hands. “I’ve got other news too, about your father.”

  Mel’s breath caught in her throat. After years of asking… “What about him?” she croaked.

  Marcia pulled out a chair and sat. “You’ve wanted to know about him for so many years, and I couldn’t face telling you. It was hard, you know?” Her expression pleaded for understanding. “I couldn’t own up to the mistakes I made.”

  “You can’t blame yourself for falling in love with someone. Love just happens.” Mel knew that; she’d been damned close to giving her heart to a man who would walk away, too. “He walked away and you did the best you could, Mom.”

  Marcia’s fingers pulled at the cloth between her fingers. She breathed in deeply and chewed her bottom lip. “I let you think things that weren’t true. He didn’t leave—I pushed him away.”

  And as she elaborated, the light at the end of the tunnel turned out to be a runaway train, heading straight for Mel.

  …

  The next morning Mel called Betty and asked her to come over. She didn’t know what she’d do without her friend, and to her everlasting relief Betty had agreed instantly. She fixed a large jug of coffee and gazed out of the window.

  Day dawned with a cloudless sky—a day so fresh, so clean, so new, it should have sparked hope. Instead, threatening clouds and dark skies dwelled in Mel’s heart. Marcia’s revelations yesterday had turned her well-ordered life upside down.

  Squinting in the bright daylight, Mel stepped out into the garden. Even this early, the sun’s rays heated her skin. She tilted her head to the left, rubbing the ache blooming at her temple. Secrets and lies, her whole life reduced to secrets and lies with one sentence.

  He never knew about you.

  The way Marcia had hugged her arms around herself as the words spilled from her lips, combined with the pleading written in her eyes, showed she yearned for forgiveness, for understanding.

  But understanding hadn’t come.
Instead, shock-born numbness had stilled Mel’s limbs, kept a frozen smile in place. Unable to question, she’d listened silently as the whole, sorry tale played out like a TV soap.

  The doorbell buzzed, and she went to the front door.

  “Good morning.” Betty clutched a white paper box. “I brought pastries.”

  “Come on in. Can I get you some coffee or something?”

  “I’m fine.” Betty settled herself at the kitchen table. “How are you? You look like crap.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Mel scrunched her face into a grimace. “I feel like crap.” She took plates from the cupboard, opened the box, and pulled out a pastry. “Maybe sugar will help.”

  “Still nothing from Heath?”

  “It’s not about him. I had one hell of a lunch with my mother yesterday.”

  Betty frowned. “Her house is safe and she has a job.” Her face hardened. “You have to stop being manipulated by Marcia—you’ve given way more than most daughters would to prop her up. It’s time to just say no.” She took a pastry from the box. “What’s her problem this time?”

  A noise, more snort than laugh, burst from Mel’s lips. Where to start? Her eyes welled up with tears, and she breathed in deeply, struggling for control.

  “Mel?”

  “I…” Mel shook her head. “I don’t know where to start.” Her head lowered into her hands as sobs shook her body. He didn’t know. Her father hadn’t even known she existed. So many wasted years, so many wasted chances. The sobs intensified.

  Eventually the storm eased. Mel raised reddened eyes to her friend.

  “She told me about my father. Apparently after the interview, she walked into my father on the street.” She pulled in a deep breath, let the indrawn air soothe and steady her. “He was glad to see her after so many years. Insisted that they go for coffee. I’d always thought he must be a total bastard to walk out on a pregnant woman. A player. In fact, the very opposite is true. My father was the son of a friend of the family. He had a summer job with my grandparents, the summer before he was due to enter the seminary.”

  Betty gasped. “Your father is a priest?”

  “Not anymore, but he was.” The whole story was so fantastical, the decisions her mother had made so tragic. “They were teenagers, both of them virgins. Attraction swept them into a clandestine love affair that lasted for a couple of months. Marcia said he was torn between her and his vocation. She made it easy for him to walk away.”

  “She never told him?”

  “Never. She broke up with him, and he went to study for the church.” Mel dried her eyes. “Twenty-six years later, a chance meeting has changed everything. She told him about me. And she said he cried.”

  Betty’s arm tightened.

  “He left the priesthood ten years ago. All these years, and he’s been living half an hour away.”

  “Are you going to meet?”

  “She gave me his telephone number. He wants me to call. What if he doesn’t like me, Betty? What if we have nothing to talk about?”

  …

  In movies, the moment someone saw their long-lost father, they’d recognize each other. In a moment carefully designed to bring the audience to tears, they’d run into each other’s arms. In reality, it was very different.

  Mel glanced around the diner, wondering which of the men sitting alone in a booth might be the one who’d given her life. The large, bald one, scratching the back of his meaty neck? That dodgy guy with the mustache and leather vest, looking as though he’d escaped from the Sons of Anarchy?

  Nerves clenched at her throat and she ran her tongue over her parched bottom lip. It might have been a good idea to get more facts from her mother before agreeing to this meeting. Basic facts, like what the hell he looked like. None of the men in here looked like her idea of what an ex-priest might. No halos floated overhead.

  The door flip-flopped behind her.

  “Melody?”

  She turned at the quiet voice to see a tall, slender man staring at her with eyes that matched the ones that met hers every morning in the bathroom mirror.

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything in that moment but jerk her head in an affirmative gesture.

  The man—Bill, her father, grasped her hand. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined you’d be.”

  As they sat in a booth far from the door, Mel couldn’t take her eyes off him. The birth lottery was so random, yet somehow she’d hit the jackpot. As if aware of how difficult she was finding speech, Bill talked constantly. About his time in the church, the regret he’d always felt that he never had children. About the joy he’d felt the moment he discovered that he had a daughter.

  “We’ve lost so much time. You’re all grown up, and we’re practically strangers.” One side of his mouth lifted higher than the other when he smiled. So that’s where I got that from.

  “I know it’s difficult, being lumbered with a father you’ve never known. But it’s never too late. I’d like the chance to know you. To be here for you and your mother.”

  There was no anger in his tone, just a naked honesty that penetrated straight to her heart.

  “It must have been a shock to learn about me. To see Mom after all this time.”

  He nodded. “I never stopped loving her—she was the love of my life, you know. She made a mistake, but we were so young, I don’t blame her.”

  “If you’d known…” She couldn’t finish the question.

  “If I’d known she was pregnant?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve thought about it a lot since I saw Marcia again. She decided to take the decision out of my hands by hiding the pregnancy, by hiding the fact that she loved me. She thought she was making the right decision, that my vocation meant more to me than she did. If I’d known, I would have chosen her, Melody. I would have chosen you.”

  A shadow of pain lingered in his eyes.

  Silence grew for a moment, then he shook his head, as if throwing off the black mood that had descended. “Tell me about you. Is there a man in your life?”

  If only she knew the answer to that question.

  “There was…there is…I don’t know,” she confessed. Confession was easy; years as a priest must have given him the ability to draw out facts like a magnet. “I care about him, but he left a week ago. I’m not sure where we’re going.”

  Bill’s hand covered hers. “Do you love him?”

  There was no hiding the truth. “Yes, I love him.”

  “Have you told him?”

  “He needed to leave. He’s a photographer; he had an assignment to do. We’re so different, it never would have worked. I told him to go.”

  “And you didn’t tell him you loved him.”

  “The time wasn’t right—I don’t think he wanted to hear…”

  “Don’t make the same mistake as your mother, Melody. You don’t know what he wanted to hear. He may not have known what he wanted to hear, either. And maybe the words you kept locked inside are the very words to unlock his heart.” He rubbed the side of his face. “I can’t believe I’m giving you fatherly advice after knowing you for less than an hour, but I know what I’m talking about here. Find him.” He leaned across the table. “Tell him. Don’t let your fear of rejection destroy your chance of happiness.” He released her hand. Leaned back. “Because you might be a very old woman by the time that chance comes back around, if it ever does.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It was the biggest gamble of her life. One she had no option but to take. Mel’s fingers gripped her bag tightly as she walked into the arrivals hall.

  Alice, newly released from her cast, walked alongside her. Thank God for good friends.

  “Right. Stage one of plan complete,” Alice said as she scanned the crowd. “He should be here by now…” She checked her phone for messages, then looked around again and smiled. “Here he is.”

  A tall stranger was making his way toward them in quick strides. He enveloped Alice in a hug, then eas
ed back and eyed Mel.

  “Ben, this is Mel,” Alice said.

  “Hey, Mel.” Ben smiled. “Good to meet you.” Stage two had started.

  As Ben walked them to his waiting car, Alice peppered him with questions. “Is everything ready?” she asked. “And Mom, Dad, and the family, are they in place?”

  Ben nodded. “Yes. The idea of a party was a masterstroke. It’s Heath’s last day at work, I’ve been promoted, and you’re engaged—Dad had no chance of refusing Mom a party to celebrate.”

  “And the pictures…” Alice climbed into the front seat.

  “Are all set up in the room we hired in the hotel—with your extra additions.” He grinned. “Now I just need to call Heath.”

  He stuck his phone on the dash and put it on speakerphone. Touched a finger to his lips and called Heath’s number.

  “What’s up?” At the mere sound of Heath’s voice, Mel’s stomach flip-flopped. She’d missed him so much, had regretted sending him away without telling him how she felt every day since he left. It had taken the meeting with her father to make her accept that, to make her see the truth. That she wanted him back.

  “Change of plan, bro,” Ben said. “Mom wants you to go back to the house and fetch the bouquet of flowers she had delivered.”

  Heath puffed out a frustrated breath. “Alice will get them soon enough, can’t we just give them to her later?”

  “Mom says she wants them,” Ben repeated. “Do you want to call her and tell her you’re not going to do it?”

  “Jeez, Ben. Cut me some slack. I’m trying to finish up here, can’t you swing around for them?”

  “I’m doing my bit, man. I’m picking Alice up at the airport.”

  “Fine.” He delivered the word in a voice that telegraphed that it definitely was not fine. “I’ll see you later.”

  “That buys us some time to get there before him,” Alice twisted around in her seat and her gaze met Mel’s. “How are you holding up?”

  Mel twisted her hands together and fought down the rising tide of panic. “I’m thinking this is one hell of a way to meet your family.”