Melody

 

Wiping the perspiration collecting along her brow, Melody groaned at the persistent afternoon sun streaming through the window in her dad’s room. She’d been at it all day and still didn’t feel like she’d accomplished much.

Melody hadn’t slept well and she blamed Stryder. Of course, she would blame him. He was so distracting, so confident in his charm, so… Ugh. The gall, the audacity of Stryder to think she… but she hadn’t given him anything else to go off of. He had no need to know how much she’d pined for him after he’d left. He didn’t need any help making his head bigger – any bigger and it wouldn’t fit in that cowboy hat he wore like a crown.

But she couldn’t fault him. She wanted to be mad as sin at Stryder, but her stomach was full because of him, she’d had a chance to spend some time with just him in an environment she couldn’t have imagined more romantic. He’d given her that.

And Brock.

The jerk had manhandled her. He’d touched her in such a way that made her want to kill him. How could her dad have pushed her into marrying the brute? Along had come Stryder without much effort to pull Brock off her, but obviously tightly controlled anger. What would he have done, if he’d lost his control?

Melody ignored the aching bruises where Brock’s fingers had dug too deep. She’d gotten good at tuning out the negative in her life.

She didn’t have anywhere to go and she couldn’t stop thinking about the dinner she’d had with Stryder. Not just the food, but the time she’d spent with him. She’d learned a lot and her regret was strong. They seemed to be having genuine time together, and both had seemed to be honest and open, until he’d mentioned her dad keeping something from her.

As if that were true. But the niggling thought wouldn’t go away. What hadn’t her dad told her? Would Stryder try to make her question her own father without reason?

She shook her head and returned to her kneeling position on the ground beside her dad’s bed. She’d been cleaning all morning and was finally getting around to going through her dad’s things.

“Did you have to keep so many shoes?” Melody fell to all fours and reached deeper under the bed, pulling out another shoebox. There were shoes under there Melody had never seen on her dad or on her mom. Some of them had obviously never been worn. She could probably sell the lot of them and cover one month’s mortgage payment, there were so many.

The box she grabbed held a pair of penny loafers. Glancing over her shoulder, Melody narrowed her eyes. Did she put them in the donate or sell pile? She had piles for everything including garbage and keep. The keep pile was decidedly smaller than the other three, but that was purposefully planned. If she was getting rid of the house, she would have to keep the car and there wasn’t a lot of room in the Vette for all of her things and the items she wanted to keep of her dad’s.

None of her mother’s things were in the keep pile. Just because her dad wanted to keep everything of her mom’s didn’t mean Melody had any misplaced sentiment toward the woman who had abandoned them. She didn’t need reminders that she wasn’t enough to stay for.

She pushed the penny loafers toward the donate pile. They looked like they were from the seventies and Melody didn’t feel like trying to get top dollar for them when she wasn’t even sure anyone would want them.

Peering under the bed skirt for any more boxes, Melody groaned at the sight of one more back in the far corner, shoved halfway behind the night stand and wedged against the wall. Why? Maybe she should just leave that one and go dig through the cabinets for something to eat. Or take a few dollars from her stash and buy food.

She stared at the box for a long minute, contemplating between food or finishing the job she’d started. After going back and forth more times than she wanted to admit, she finally sighed and dropped back to the floor to fit under the bed frame.

Shimmying under the bed on her stomach, she sneezed at the dust and grasped the lip of the box lid with her fingers, barely pulling it out as she backed from under the bed. A strand of her hair dragged behind her and she shivered as she thought of the scrubbing she would have to undergo to get the dirt off her.

Pushing her hair behind her shoulders, she huffed. “These better be Manolos or something worth some money to shove clear back there.”

Her dad’s cologne wafted from the edge of the bed skirt a couple feet from her face. Melody settled onto her rear and pulled the box into her lap. The search through everything as she’d packed and moved things around had long lost the appeal. Nothing was treasure anymore. It was just more stuff to get rid of or deal with.

Pulling the lid off the box, she set it to the side and furrowed her brow. A pile of papers and envelopes met her probing fingers. No shoes. Wait, all of that work for papers? Melody growled softly and took a deep breath. What had her dad worked so hard to hide?

There was no real filing system, so Melody grabbed the entire pile and set it on the floor. Clint must have kept his receipts and things in there. She thought she’d gotten them all in the filing cabinet, but everyone had their idiosyncrasies. She wasn’t surprised on this one – especially after finding all of the shoes. Oh, the shoes. At least there weren’t anymore of those under the bed.

A small manila envelope on top caught her eye among the countless white and she opened it first.

A contract between Clint and Stryder. Scanning the legal verbiage, Melody’s stomach clenched and she slowed down to read it more fully. Her dad had agreed to pay for Stryder’s college. He’d paid for Stryder’s college and refused to pay for Melody’s. In exchange, Stryder would let Melody have a chance to make her own way. He could come back when he had enough money not to lose Melody and he could pay Clint back for the schooling. Those were the conditions – give Melody time and make enough money to pay Clint back and to support her.

Melody blinked worriedly at the contract. What did that mean? If Stryder had paid Clint back, then why were they in debt? What had happened? Stryder had made more than enough money to pay Clint back and provide for her, a thousand times over.

Her father had taken loans out against the house. That made sense. But those loans should have been paid back. Instead, they were the reason she was signing papers to sell the house before it went into foreclosure.

Letters from Stryder still in their envelopes made their own bulk of the stack. The more recent ones had been sent three or so years before, after Stryder had already made a name for himself in the business world. Statements accompanied those letters with bank balances that had more zeroes than Melody had ever seen on a statement.

In other envelopes, Stryder had included checks for large sums and notes showing what his balance should be for the debt he owed Clint with interest.

The checks were never cashed and since the time had long since run out, all of them were just scraps of paper.

Melody’s chest constricted and she dragged in shallow breaths.

More envelopes filled with letters – some addressed to Melody, some to Clint. All of them rich with desperation and confusion.

 

Melody,

I’ve been calling, where are you? Is there another way I can get a hold of you? Do you have email or maybe your own phone? Please, I need to talk to you.

Please.

Love always,

Stryder

 

Melody numbly picked up another letter. This one was to Clint and it was unopened. Melody tore the envelope flap up and read the tight cursive with a desperate wish to go back in time.

 

Clint,

Please, I’m almost finished with my first deal. I’m making money. It won’t be long and I’ll have you paid off. Please, don’t let Melody marry Brock. Make up an excuse, lie or something. Please.

I got your last letter. I know she’s probably mad at me, but I can’t believe she hates me. Melody and I have too much between us. She wouldn’t do that to me.

You promised this was the best way to take care of Melody. You promised this would make her happy. I never would’ve left, if you hadn’t promised to help me with her and making our future.

Why are you doing this?

Stryder

 

Mortification curdled in Melody’s heart. What had her dad done? She’d teased about letters as if there wasn’t a possibility, and yet, there they were. Worse than she could’ve imagined.

The last letter on the bottom was to her and it had a postage date on it from two years ago.

 

Melody,

I went to Two Rides last weekend.

I saw you with him. I hadn’t believed it. Your dad was adamant that you had moved on, but I didn’t want to accept it. I held onto your promises for so long, I think… I don’t know.

You were holding his hand and he pulled you close.

That broke me. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you. For us.

You promised me forever.

You lied.

I still love you. I’m not sure how I can survive this.

Nothing is right without you. I’m not whole without you. I love you.

Always.

Stryder

 

Heart breaking, Melody hunched over her lap and moaned, her tears ripping from her with each sob. What had her dad done? He’d destroyed so much more than just his life with his drinking and grief over his wife leaving.

He’d torn Melody’s apart. How long had she pined for Stryder, waited for him, for something from him to let her know he hadn’t forgotten her? How much of her had died every night she cried herself to sleep?

Everything had been blocked from her.

Why would her dad ruin her life? What would he gain from that? So he wouldn’t be alone? So she wouldn’t end up abandoned and broken like he was?

And now, he wasn’t even around to ask.

Pure anger covered her pain with a red haze. She shoved all of the paperwork back into the box. Grabbing the shoebox filled with her lost dreams, Melody strode to the garage. She dropped the box on the side of the outer stall where the Vette was stored. Turning to the side, she grabbed a crowbar from the tool closet.

The cool metal felt good in her palm.

Whirling back to face the Corvette, Melody took a deep breath. She couldn’t think straight. All she could see and feel was her father’s betrayal. All of that pain needed to be released. She had to do something to release it.

He loved the Vette more than anything. Melody had loved Stryder more than anything. What was it going to take to mend her broken heart or at least get revenge?

She gripped the cool metal of the crowbar. How much strength would it take?