He drank from his cup. “I would have
given just about anything to have his talent, his ability to
compose in his head and have the same composition just spill out of
the instrument like some sort of magical birth. So now it seems his
daughter has inherited his talent.”
He shook his head. “Instead of
fighting it, you should be embracing it. I bet Hank feels the same
way I did about Milton. Envious. Incredulous. Unworthy, even. I’ll
tell you, it’s bloody difficult sometimes to be a lowly mortal
around a musical genius. Bloody difficult. You should cut the man
some slack. He can’t help the way he feels, but he loves you, so
he’ll come around on that score. He did ask you to marry him, so
I'd say he's coping pretty well.”
She let her head drop back against the
sofa. She supposed he was right. The talent was obviously there,
and it wasn’t going to go away. She should embrace it to whatever
degree it would manifest itself. She didn’t think she had the
ability to compose original music, but she could play by ear. It
was a good parlor trick, at least.
“Uncle Jonathan, I’m far from being a
musical genius.” An understatement if there ever was one. “I’ll
leave the composing to you. Thanks for telling me about Daddy. It
does help, and of course the tea helped, too.” She set her mug on
the coffee table. “I’ll be okay. I’m not sure if Hank and I can
work out our differences or not, but you shouldn’t worry about
me.”
“I can’t help but worry about you.
What else is bothering you? You can tell me.”
No, she couldn't. Jonathan had never
blamed her for her father's death, but she knew in her heart he
did. Everyone did. How could they not?
“Nothing. Really, I’m
fine.”
Liar.
“For the record, I think you’re making
a mistake pushing Hank away. He's a good man, and if you love him,
you should hold onto him with everything you’ve got. A love so
powerful doesn’t come along every day you know. Take me for
example. I’ve been searching for it all my life, and believe me,
when I find it I won’t let it go without a fight.”
* * *
Hank stood in the doorway to his
office, watching her work. Her dark hair fell from a high ponytail,
exposing the creamy curve of her neck as she bent over the computer
keyboard. His fingertips itched to touch her, to trace the graceful
lines of her curves, to feel her satin skin.
“Hi.”
She glanced up with wide eyes. The
ponytail swung down her back. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but I
thought you should know Guy arranged for a photographer and a video
crew to come out next week. They’ll be here off and on until we’re
through recording.”
“Why?”
“For the cover shoot. We’ve
asked Jonathan to be in it. He said he would be honored. Can you
imagine?
Honored
.
We’re the ones who are honored.” He shook his head. “Anyway, the
video crew will tape some of the recording sessions. Pieces of it
will be used during the tour and to promote the CD when it’s
released.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. I think
Uncle Jonathan would recommend you all for Knighthood if he
could.”
“He’s the best. I don’t think we could
have done made the album without him.”
“What about me? I mean, in regards to
the photographer and video crew.”
What about you? You're
gorgeous, smart, stubborn, and I'd give anything to touch you right
this minute
. “If you don’t want them to
know who you are, they won’t. We’ll keep your secret.”
“Okay. I’d appreciate it. I’ll keep a
low profile, just in case.”
He nodded.
Whatever you want
. “I’ll
talk to everyone and let them know.” He turned to go.
“Thanks. I’m almost through anyway.
I’ll be spending less time here over the next few weeks. I can work
on the last articles and the book at home.”
With a silent nod of acknowledgment,
he left. Nothing had changed. She was still bent on running and
hiding.
She stared at the empty doorway long
after he was gone. He hadn’t argued with her about her choice to
remain out of the public eye. Not like before. After all the times
she had tried to get him to understand her reasoning, he did. He
wasn’t going to push her to come out of hiding.
She should be happy she had won him
over to her way of thinking, but instead, all she felt was…lost.
And alone in an empty prison of her own making.
He loved her enough to let her live
the life she saw for herself. He wouldn’t try to force her into one
she didn’t want.
It was as if she’d turned a page in a
book and there it was—the truth. He had tried to make her see it.
The only thing standing between her and a lifetime of happiness
were her own hang-ups.
I love him. He loves
me.
The hopeless paralysis that
had engulfed her for so long vanished. She wasn’t free, but
she
wanted
to be
free, and it made all the difference. Hank was right. The choice
was hers to make. Happiness or miserable loneliness.
I choose happiness. I
choose Hank.
But it wasn’t so simple.
Making the decision to be happy was the easy part. Actually
achieving happiness would require a lot of hard work. She’d lost
her way a long time ago, and she needed time to find it
again
.
I have to find out who I
am before I can be who I want to be.
Her head spun with images, flashes of
what could be. She saw her life with Hank, the children they would
have. That was the life she wanted. That was the life she would
have.
His words came back to her. “When you
come to your senses, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
Wait for me, Hank. Please,
wait for me.
Chapter
Twenty-five
She had a plan, and as soon as the
photography crews hit town, she made herself scarce. She spent her
days with her laptop in her home office and finished the promised
articles for the Gazette. She dropped them off before they were due
and handed in her resignation at the same time.
She polished her book
outline and wrote several chapters. It took days to research
literary agents online and compile a list to query. She had to stop
and take calming breaths before she took the next step toward
claiming her life. With trembling hands, she typed her name on the
bottom of the first query letter.
Melody
Harper Ravenswood.
It was shocking to see it in print.
Even her high school and college diplomas didn’t have her full name
on them. She checked the paper tray on her new printer and bit her
bottom lip as she hit the print button.
She practiced her signature a few
times on a notepad before affixing it to the letters. Just for fun,
she tried writing Melody Travis a few times. It looked good. Really
good. But before she could be Melody Travis, she needed to learn to
be Melody Ravenswood.
She stared at the strange signature
for a moment before folding the letters and sealing them in the
appropriate envelopes. She drove to the post office and tossed them
into the drive thru drop box before she lost her nerve. Trembling,
she pulled to the curb until she was calm enough to
continue.
It was done. The letters were signed,
sealed, and delivered. No going back.
She pulled into a parking space as
close to the Donut Hole as she could find. She pasted a smile on
her face and went inside. Cathy spotted her immediately and waved
her to the side.
“Mel, you’re shaking. What’s the
matter? Come in the back and tell me what’s wrong.” Cathy led her
around the counter to her office. She pushed her into a chair.
“Wait here.”
Cathy returned with two hot chocolates
and a plate of doughnuts. “Here, eat, then tell me what’s got you
in such a state.”
Her hands trembled too hard to hold a
mug, and she didn’t think she could keep anything down the way her
stomach was churning. “Thanks. I shouldn’t have come here. You’re
busy. I should go.”
“You aren’t going anywhere. I’m not so
busy I can’t take a few minutes for a friend, so tell me what
happened.”
She took a deep breath and told her
about the letters she’d written. “I guess I needed to tell somebody
what I’d done.” Calmer, she sipped the chocolate and bit into a
glazed doughnut. “Thanks for listening. And for the sugar,
too.”
Cathy whistled low. “Wow! So, you’re
going public?”
“Yep.”
“I think that’s fantastic, but why
now?”
“It hit me a few days ago. I love
Hank. I want a life with him, and the only way I’m going to have
one, is to get my act together. He accused me of running and
hiding. He said I was making excuses not to be with him. It took me
a while to see it, but he was right. I’ve been Mel Harper for so
long I lost track of who Melody Ravenswood is. I have to find her
again. That’s the first step. You can’t even imagine how strange it
was to see my own signature.” She laughed at herself. “I even had
to practice before I signed the letters. Imagine. A woman my age
having to practice her name like a kid in grade school.”
“Have another doughnut. Your return to
the real world is cause for celebration if I ever heard it.” They
ate in silence for a few minutes. “What’s next?”
“I’m going to finish the book I
started on Hank and BlackWing. It would be great if I could sell
it, but if I can’t….” She shrugged. “I’m going to write my dad’s
biography.”
Cathy froze, her cup of chocolate
midway to her lips. “Are you sure you’re ready to do
that?”
“I think I have to do it. I’ve given
it a lot of thought. Writing the book will help me come to terms
with what happened, so I can get on with my life. I need to ask the
questions I was too young to ask when he died. I hope, once I have
the answers, I’ll be able to move on. Either way, I have to learn
to live with being Melody Ravenswood, and everything that means.
Hank says he can live with it. But I'm not sure I can.”
“What do you mean?”
“I grew up in fear of being discovered
by the paparazzi, and to hear my mother tell it, musicians will
break your heart. If I'm to use her life as an example, and I have,
then she makes a good case. But, being around Hank and the other
band members, I've learned some things, and I can’t help but
question the way I was brought up. My mother is going to have a cow
if she starts seeing my name in the papers, but it's what I have to
do. I have to find out who I am and deal with it.”
Cathy offered Melody another doughnut
and took another one for herself, too. “What do you expect to
find?”
“I know what happened to my dad, and
there's no way around the fact he was coming to see me when his
plane crashed. I'm just wondering why our family was in that
situation in the first place. You know, my parents never divorced,
don't you?”
“I think I remember hearing
that.”
“Yeah, well, I, for one, want to
understand why. Maybe if I dig into my father's life I can figure
out why my mother and I lived the way we did. It was almost as if
we were in the witness protection program or something. I didn't
know any better when I was a kid. As an adult, I can see it wasn't
normal. I need to know why.”
“What if you put yourself through all
this soul searching and heartache and you still can’t face a life
with Hank? What will you do?”
Mel swallowed hard, trying to force a
bite of doughnut past the lump in her throat. There was too much on
the line. Failure was not an option.
“I don’t know. But it’s past time for
me to confront my mother, and even Uncle Jonathan about what
happened. Hiding from it all these years hasn’t done me any good.
It’s time for me to confront it, head-on.”
Cathy placed a reassuring hand on her
arm. “I’ll be her for you. Just tell me how I can help.”
She squared her shoulders. “You can
call me Melody for starters. It’s my name, and I’m going to start
using it. Only two people have ever called me by my name. One of
them is gone, and I pushed the other one away. I’m going to get to
know the first one, and I’m going to get the other one
back.”
Cathy embraced her. “Oh, Melody, I’m
so happy for you. You’re going to be all right, I can see it. You
and Hank are going to be so happy.” She sat back. “You aren’t going
to drag him off to England to live, are you? I want you both to
stay here in Willowbrook.”
Melody laughed. “No. I plan to fill
his big old farmhouse with kids. Lots of them. Hank thinks we can
live here without too much media attention. I hope he’s
right.”
“I’m sure he is. So, how are you going
about this return to the living?”
“I quit my job at the Gazette the
other day. I’m going to Boston to interview some people about
BlackWing, and I’m going to finish the book. It's almost done.
After that, I’m going to confront my mother and Uncle Jonathan.
I’ll interview everyone else I can think of who knew Daddy. I’ll
probably spend quite a bit of time at Ravenswood, getting to know
who he was, interviewing people he knew there. I may even stay
there and write for a while.”