Melody

Read Melody Online

Authors: V.C. Andrews

V.C. ANDREWS®

HER BESTSELLING SERIES OF NOVELS
HAVE CAPTIVATED MILLIONS!

Be sure to read the shocking story of the
Dollanganger Family:
FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC
PETALS ON THE WIND
IF THERE BE THORNS
SEEDS OF YESTERDAY
GARDEN OF SHADOWS

Look for the spellbinding Casteel series:
HEAVEN
DARK ANGEL
FALLEN HEARTS
GATES OF PARADISE
WEB OF DREAMS

Don't miss the dazzling
Cutler Family series:
DAWN
SECRETS OF THE MORNING
TWILIGHT'S CHILD
MIDNIGHT WHISPERS
DARKEST HOUR

Discover the enthralling world
of the Landry series:
RUBY
PEARL IN THE MIST
ALL THAT GLITTERS
HIDDEN JEWEL
TARNISHED GOLD

“These people . . . I don't know them, Mommy, and they don't know me.”

“An even better reason to stay with them, Melody. You should get to know them, right?” She waited for the answer she wanted.

“I don't know, maybe. But why didn't we ever speak to them before? Why was Daddy so upset with them?”

“Because they didn't want him to marry me, Melody. I told you. They looked down on me because I was an orphan, adopted. . . . Now everyone realizes how foolish they were, I'm sure. The only way they could make up for their bitterness is to care for you. I only wish you'd see the logic in it and let me leave with a happy heart.

“Won't it be wonderful seeing me in magazines and in the movies? Can you imagine telling your friends that's your mother?” She laughed and twirled her hair. She was beautiful. Maybe she would become a model and be in magazines. If I went into a tantrum and stopped her from going without me, she would blame me for failing. I didn't want Mommy to hate me.

I looked back at the house. Archie paced behind the car impatiently. At least I wouldn't have to be with him anymore, I thought. I was the eternal cockeyed optimist, always looking for a rainbow after any storm of sorrow . . . .

V.C. Andrews® Books

The Dollanganger Family Series
Flowers in the Attic
Petals on the Wind
If There Be Thorns
Seeds of Yesterday
Garden of Shadows

The Casteel Family Series
Heaven
Dark Angel
Fallen Hearts
Gates of Paradise
Web of Dreams

The Cutler Family Series
Dawn
Secrets of the Morning
Twilight's Child
Midnight Whispers
Darkest Hour

The Landry Family Series
Ruby
Pearl in the Mist
All That Glitters
Hidden Jewel
Tarnished Gold

The Logan Family Series
Melody
Heart Song
Unfinished Symphony
Music in the Night
Olivia

The Orphans Miniseries
Butterfly
Crystal
Brooke
Raven
Runaways (full-length novel)

The Wildflowers Miniseries
Misty
Star
Jade
Cat
Into the Garden (full-length novel)

The Hudson Family Series
Rain
Lightning Strikes
Eye of the Storm
The End of the Rainbow

The Shooting Stars Series
Cinnamon
Ice
Rose
Honey
Falling Stars

The De Beers Family Series
Willow
Wicked Forest
Twisted Roots
Into the Woods
Hidden Leaves

The Broken
Wings
Series
Broken Wings
Midnight Flight

The Gemini Series
Celeste
Black Cat
Child of Darkness

The Shadows Series
April Shadows
Girl in the Shadows

My Sweet Audrina
(does not belong to a series)

Following the death of Virginia Andrews, the Andrews family worked with a carefully selected writer to organize and complete Virginia Andrews' stories and to create additional novels, of which this is one, inspired by her storytelling genius.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

An Original
Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com

Copyright © 1996 by the Vanda General Partnership

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce
this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue
of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

eISBN-13: 978-1-451-63701-4
ISBN 13: 978-0-671-53471-4
ISBN 10: 0-671-53471-8

First Pocket Books paperback printing Septmember 1996

18 17 16 15 14

V.C. Andrews is a registered trademark of the
Vanda General Partnership.

POCKET and colophon are registered trademarks of
Simon & Schuster, Inc.

Stepback art by Lisa Falkenstern

For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases,
please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at
1-800-456-6798 or [email protected]

Printed in the U.S.A.

Melody

Prologue

I think as soon as I was old enough to understand that Mommy and Daddy were having serious arguments, I felt like an outsider, for if I appeared while they were having one, both of them would stop immediately. It made me feel as if I lived in a house with secrets woven into the walls.

One day, I imagined, I would unravel one of those secrets and the whole house would come down around me.

Just a thought.

But that is exactly what happened.

One day.

1
 
The Love Trap

When I was a little girl, I believed that people could get what they wished for if they wished hard enough and long enough and were good enough, and although I'm fifteen now and long ago stopped believing in things like the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, and the Easter Bunny, I never completely stopped believing there was something magical in the world around us. Somewhere, there were angels watching over us, considering our wishes and dreams and occasionally, when the time was right and we were deserving, they granted us a wish.

Daddy taught me this. When I was still small enough to sit comfortably on his muscular right forearm and be carried around like a little princess, he would tell me to close my eyes really tight and wish until I saw my angel nearby, her wings fluttering like a bumble bee.

Daddy said everyone had an angel assigned to him or her at birth, and the angels did all they could to get humans to believe. He told me that when we are very little it's much easier to believe in things that grown-ups would call imagination. That's why, when we're little, angels will appear before us sometimes. I think some of us hold on a little longer or a little harder to that world of
make believe. Some of us are not afraid to admit we dream even though we're older. We really do make a wish when we break a chicken bone or blow out our birthday candles or see a shooting star, and we wait and hope, even expect that it will come true.

I did so much wishing as I grew up, I was sure my angel was overworked. I couldn't help it. I always wished my daddy didn't have to go down into the coal mines miles under the earth, away from the sun in damp, dark caverns of dust. Just like every other coal miner's child, I had played in the openings of the deserted old mines, and I couldn't begin to understand what it would be like going down deep and spending a whole day below the fresh air. But poor Daddy had to do it.

As long as I could remember, I wished we lived in a real house instead of a trailer, even though right next to us, living in their trailer, were Papa George and Mama Arlene, both of whom I loved dearly. When I wished for a house, I just added a little more and wished they would live in the house next to ours. We would both have real backyards and lawns and there would be big maple and oak trees. Papa George would help me with my fiddling. And when it rained hard, I wouldn't feel as if I were living in a tin drum. When the wind blew, I wouldn't fear being turned over and over while asleep in my bed.

My wish list went on and on. I imagined that if I ever took the time and wrote all the wishes down, the paper would stretch from one end of our trailer to the other.

I wished hard that Mommy wasn't so unhappy all the time. She complained about having to work in Francine's Salon, washing other women's hair and doing perms, even though everyone said she was an excellent hairdresser. She did enjoy the gossip and loved to listen to the wealthy women talk about their trips and the things they had bought. But she was like a little girl who could only look in the window at beautiful things, one who never got to buy any of them herself.

Even when she was sad, Mommy was beautiful. One of
my most frequent wishes was that I would be as pretty as she was when I grew up. When I was younger, I would perch in her bedroom and watch her at her dressing table meticulously applying her makeup and brushing her hair. As she did so, she preached about the importance of beauty care and told me about all the women she knew who were attractive but neglected themselves and looked simply awful. She told me if you were born pretty, you had an obligation to look pretty whenever you were in public.

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