Love Inspired April 2021--Box Set 1 of 2, page 41
Anyway, it was too late to change her mind. A knock on the door announced Clay’s arrival. All she could do now was go through the event and hope for the best.
She pasted on a smile and opened the door. Clay blinked and stared a long moment. “Wow. I wouldn’t have recognized you. You look like you did back when—”
He stopped speaking, and she looked down at the floor, overwhelmingly self-conscious. “Am I overdressed? Sandy said this would be more appropriate than jeans and a top. It’s been a long time since I wore anything feminine.” Her cheeks flamed and she resisted the urge to cover her face with her palms. Clay had no interest in her wardrobe habits.
He smiled. “I just meant you look nice. Very nice.”
“Thank you.”
“Shall we go?” He gestured toward the door, and she walked ahead of him, remembering the times they’d spent together, following whatever whim captured their fancy that day. But that was then. Today was about meeting the townspeople, making connections that would aid in making this book the best it could be.
Clay opened the car door for her, and she settled in, clutching her purse and her camera in her lap. She kept her gaze on the scenery as they drove through town and onto a wide boulevard lined with huge live oaks and large homes nestled on green lawns. The middle of the avenue was laid out like a long park with a winding walkway and welcoming benches along the way.
Vehicles lined the street, and Clay pulled into the last remaining parking spot. Melody exited quickly, her photographer’s eye feasting on every charming aspect. “This is amazing. I had no idea it would be so lovely here. I don’t know where to start.”
Clay smiled. “Take your time. We have all afternoon. I’m sure you won’t miss a thing.”
They started down the sidewalk, and Melody began snapping pictures. She quickly realized there was no way she could capture the charm of every stately home on the block. “Are these the homes of the families who founded Blessing?”
“A few. Most of these mansions belonged to the timber barons and the local merchants who made their fortunes supporting them. The loblolly pine forest here provided Blessing’s main industry for decades until oil was discovered.”
They reached the first porch, and Melody tensed. It was already crowded with people, and others were approaching from the opposite direction.
“How many porches will we visit?” Her changed appearance still left her feeling awkward. They might not know it was a new look, but she did. What would they think?
“Ten. It’s a good turnout. Everyone wants to support the bicentennial. The town has really stepped up.”
“Are porch crawls usually this big?”
“It depends. Most of the time, it’s only a few neighbors who want to get together. Sometimes it’s a small group that wants to promote a club or charity.”
Clay lightly touched her elbow as they climbed the broad steps to the generous porch at the light green Queen Anne Victorian. A woman about their age smiled and came to greet them.
“You must be Melody, our book lady,” she said. “I’m Jennifer Hill. Welcome to my home. We have refreshments on that end and lively conversation on this end.”
Decorated like a Victorian high tea, the Hill porch fairly dripped with Southern elegance. Every detail was perfect, and Melody suspected the utensils and china were all heirlooms. After sampling several of the dainty treats, she listened in on the conversations of the other guests. She found them as fascinated with her task of compiling their town’s history as she was to learn about their families’ contributions.
She was relieved when Clay came and escorted her to the next porch. This one graced the front of a stately Victorian Eastlake style. The owner, an elderly woman named Miss Ada Lisle, had chosen a floral theme, cramming every inch of the porch with fresh flowers. It was beautiful, but a bit over the top for Melody.
Clay introduced her to the hostess.
“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Lisle,” she said.
“Ah, you’re the book lady. Bless your heart, you had to come all the way down here from up north just to write our little history.” She looked Melody up and down before continuing. “I’m sure there are plenty of Southern girls who could have done a wonderful job and saved you the long trip.”
Melody wasn’t sure how to take the comment. It sounded kind but something in the way the woman had chosen her words left a big question in her mind. Clay smoothly steered her toward the long table filled with pastries.
“Congratulations. You’ve passed the first test.”
“I have? How?”
“You’ve survived being insulted by Miss Ada.”
She had felt a bit put down. “She wasn’t being kind?”
He grinned. “She was complaining that we had to bring a Yankee down here to do a job one of our Southern belles could have done better. That’s where the ‘bless your heart’ comes in.”
“That’s an insult? It sounded so sweet.”
He nodded. “It can be. It can also be a dig at your behavior or your attitude or your choice in colleges. It’s a multipurpose insult. It all depends on the tone of voice.”
“I think I have a lot to learn about life in a small Southern town.”
“No worries. I have your back.”
The sincerity in his voice touched her heart. She looked into his eyes and for the first time saw only kindness. “Thank you. That means a lot. I don’t want to get on the wrong side of anyone here. I want to write a book that will make them proud of their heritage.”
“You will. I have complete confidence in you.”
As the day wore on, Melody lost track of names and information and just started inviting everyone to contact her at her annex office. Clay strolled at her side, nodding to those who passed, stopping to talk to others and introducing her. There was no way she could keep up.
By the time they reached the end of the block, Melody was feeling the strain of so much activity. She’d tasted every kind of Southern dessert imaginable, from pecan pie and strawberry tarts to bread pudding and Mississippi mud pie.
Clay rested his hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street to the boulevard park. Ancient live oaks draped with Spanish moss provided shade along the walkway. Melody hesitated, then took a seat on an ornate bench positioned between coral azalea bushes.
Clay took a seat beside her. “Tired?”
“A little, but it’s been fun. I’ve never attended an event like this before.”
“Southerners enjoy getting together. We like to talk and eat and sit on our porches watching the world go by.”
She smiled, her gaze taking in the colorful surroundings. “I could get used to that kind of life. Slow, peaceful, gentle.”
Clay studied her a moment. “Really? I wouldn’t have thought that you would. Used to be, you were all about being on the move every moment and looking for excitement.”
He wasn’t wrong. The old Melody would have been quickly bored with a porch crawl. “I’m older. I’ve learned to appreciate a less hectic pace of life.”
“Hey there, Clay.”
A man waved from across the street. Clay waved back. “I need to speak to him. Will you be okay here for a minute?”
“Sure. Go ahead.” She watched as he jogged across the street and shared a man-hug with the gentleman. Clay had been kind and thoughtful today. He’d made sure she met everyone and that she tried as many culinary delights as possible. She’d watched him, glad that he seemed to be enjoying the porch crawl, too. He’d laughed and joked with the guests and behaved like the man she remembered.
Their truce was in force, though she sensed an odd undercurrent in him that concerned her. Maybe it was her own insecurities acting up. The Lord knew she was riddled with them.
Her gaze drifted around the park, settling on the tiered fountain at its center. Small planters overflowing with flowers flanked the winding walkway. She’d never appreciated flowers until she’d come to Blessing. Her gaze drifted to Clay, who was still speaking with his friend.
There were a lot of things she’d learned to appreciate since coming to this town. Not the least of which was Clay. As much as she wished it weren’t true, her heart still held a deep affection for him.
The beauty of spring displayed in the park seeped into her spirit, filling her with contentment. Every step she took was like walking through a watercolor painting. She looked forward to visiting the homes on the other side of the street and learning more about the town and its history.
She rose and strolled toward the fountain. The trickles of water added a soothing undertone to the birdsong overhead. A faint sound of music floated on the air, and she glanced over to see a young woman cross the street, holding her cell phone and singing softly.
Melody recognized the song and tried to quickly block it from her mind. Too late. The past swooped around her, yanking her back to the office in Shanghai. The song had been playing on her friend’s device when the world exploded in noise and smoke and darkness. Her mind replayed the sound of breaking glass. The shouts. The screams. The heat and pain. It was the last thing Melody remembered.
“Melody. Melody!”
Someone touched her shoulder, and she jumped. The scene melted from her internal vision, replaced by the bubbling fountain and colorful blossoms. She became aware of a comforting hand on her arm. She blinked and found Clay standing close at her side. A look of deep concern was etched on his handsome face.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
She carefully stepped away, breaking contact. “Nothing. I was...lost in thought.” She forced a smile. “Daydreaming. It’s the perfect...setting for that, don’t you think?” Her voice sounded shaky to her ears. She hoped Clay would ignore it.
“Are you sure? You were in a trance. I had to squeeze your arm to get your attention.” His gaze raked her up and down. “You’re shaking. Are you ill?”
Melody shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She wasn’t going to admit to Clay that she’d had a flashback. He’d want to know why and what had happened. She wasn’t going to relive that day for any reason.
She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. “Really, I’m fine. I guess I was lost in thought. There’s so much to learn.” She ran out of words so she made a gesture instead, hoping he would let things slide. “I’ve met a lot of people today.”
“Would you like to leave?”
Yes. Desperately, but she’d learned that hiding from the flashbacks only made them worse. Best to push forward. “No. I want to visit the rest of the porches.”
Clay stared at her a little longer, then nodded. “All right. If you’re sure you’re okay.”
“Fit as a fiddle.” She started across the street to the sidewalk, trying to put a bounce in her step and praying he wouldn’t ask any more questions. The fog in her mind was dissipating and by the time they reached the next house, she was feeling almost normal, though her embarrassment over the flashback still resonated. It was bad enough when they happened in private, but to experience one now, in front of Clay, was too humiliating.
Melody searched for something to say to divert attention from her episode. “So who was your friend?”
“A customer. He’s thinking about going with the Delta Company. I think I convinced him to hold off awhile.”
“Why are your customers leaving?”
“Delta is offering a much lower price. We won’t be able to compete if this keeps up. Add to that the rain we’ve had over the last few months, and we’re unable to spray when the fields are drenched. We’re behind, and there’s more rain forecast for the next two weeks.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ll think of something. It’s not your problem.” Clay pointed to the stately Italianate home they were approaching. “You’re going to like this family. Their forefathers started the first bank in Blessing.”
Melody concentrated on listening to Clay as he explained about the residents and the history of the old home. His quiet voice helped clear her mind and find her center again.
By the time they returned to the car, she was overflowing with information and ideas for the book.
“Thank you for taking me today.” She fastened her seat belt and looked over at Clay. “I had a good time. I’m starting to feel like a local.”
He looked her way, a grin on his face. “You certainly made an impression on everyone.”
What? “Good, I hope.”
He laughed. “Of course. You’re an easy person to like.”
“Wow. A compliment.”
“It’s the truth. Dad was right. You are the perfect person to write our history.”
“Thank you. That means a lot.” Their eyes met and just as quickly looked away.
“My issues with you have nothing to do with your job.”
“I know. It’s personal.” She chuckled softly. “Ironic. That’s the opposite of what most people say.”
Clay pulled up at the cottage and killed the engine. “So what did you think of your first porch crawl?”
“It was wonderful. Fun. When’s the next one?”
“Not sure, but the committee is planning at least two more this year. One in the fall and one at Christmas.”
“None during the summer?”
He shook his head. “Too hot. You’ll understand if you’re still here in the summer.”
“I should be finished with the book by then. Your dad gave me an end of May deadline.” A tiny thread of disappointment surprised her. She hurried on before she could think about it too deeply. “I really did enjoy the day, Clay. Thank you for taking me. Everyone was so friendly and so eager to help. It made me realize that I need to add personal stories to the book. Maybe you can help me decide which ones are most significant.”
“I don’t know,” Clay said slowly. “That would risk making the ones left out mad at me and I have to live here, remember.”
It took her a minute to realize he was joking. Like the old days. Then she laughed. “You can blame me. I won’t be here to suffer the abuse.”
He looked at her oddly, as if he were taking inventory. What was he looking for? The old Melody? He’d be disappointed. She didn’t exist anymore. That Melody had died in Shanghai. The person she was now bore no resemblance to that woman. She’d changed from inside out.
She doubted Clay would believe it if she explained it to him.
CHAPTER FIVE
Clay parked his vehicle in front of the garage and killed the engine, his thoughts replaying the afternoon with Melody at the porch crawl. She’d been more like the woman he’d fallen in love with—friendly, upbeat and enthusiastic. She’d seemed to be having a wonderful time meeting everyone and trying the local delicacies. But then he’d found her zoned out by the fountain, and he couldn’t shake that memory. He’d touched her multiple times and called her name repeatedly before she snapped out of it. His heart had been racing.
Uncle Paul had suffered a PTSD moment once during a family get-together. A loud noise had sent him into a flashback, and he’d huddled in the corner of the room for a long time while his wife talked him back to reality.
Clay rubbed his chin. Dad had wondered if Melody suffered from PTSD, but Clay had dismissed it as nonsense. Now he couldn’t ignore the possibility. What had happened to her in the years they’d been apart? He’d envisioned her living the high life, traveling the globe, reporting from world events, her smile lighting up the TV screen each night. It was obvious now, however, that something more disturbing had occurred. What? For all his anger, he’d never wished her any harm. Ever.
His father’s comments replayed in his mind as he tried to bring up an image of her from the past. Sadly he couldn’t get beyond that look in her eyes the last time he’d seen her. That determined glint in her eyes that he realized now meant goodbye.
Dad had thought she looked pale and frail. Well, she was a Northerner. Give her some time in the sun and her color would improve, wouldn’t it? She did seem thinner, but he didn’t know a woman who wasn’t on some kind of diet. He couldn’t remember her ever being concerned about her weight, though.
He growled in frustration. How was he supposed to make a comparison after all this time?
He thought back to the day they’d toured downtown. She’d wanted to know about the businesses and the evolution of the square, but she didn’t seem to have the same bounce to her step she’d once had. Of course, neither did he.
Then he thought about her eyes. Their golden-brown color had fascinated him from the beginning. When she was happy, they sparkled like amber, rivaling the brightness of her smile. Now her eyes were a darker shade of brown and the sparkle was gone. She smiled frequently, but he’d noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. Why not? What was he seeing? A change in her personality or maturity, or was he just looking to confirm what his dad thought he’d seen?
One thing was certain. She had changed. And he wanted to know how deep that change went.
Eli and Dad had both suggested Melody needed a friend. Maybe it was time he became a real one... And maybe he could start by finding out what she’d been through.
* * *
Clay stared at the water in the pond, his mind shuffling through the mounting problems facing Dusty Birds. Rumors were circulating that Delta had offered Clawson Farms a lowball offer for their application services. Clawson was his company’s biggest customer. Losing that account could spell disaster for Dusty Birds. Things were bad enough as it was. The Pawnee Brave plane had an engine problem that could cost thousands to fix, and the cost of aviation fuel had gone up.
