Reid followed, and just before she reached the bench, he hurried around her and wiped the thin layer of snow from the seat.
“Thank you,” Melody said with a smile, taking a seat. He found a spot next to her, and Melody was glad to see he chose to sit only a couple of inches from her instead of completely on the other end of the bench, which was also an option.
“So no tree for you today?” Reid asked, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward, his eyes following Michael across the snow.
“No,” Melody said, trying to keep her voice cheerful. The song playing now, “Jingle Bells” had no true significance, which made it easier. “My dad always said, ‘Only Murphy’s pick out the Murphy Christmas tree.’ So Mom and I will go in a day or two, I guess.”
“Why haven’t you gone already?” he asked, glancing at her for a moment before returning his stare to his son.
“Well,” Melody let out a sigh, “we were going to go last weekend, but one of Mom’s friends got hurt and needed some TLC. I asked her a few times during the week if she just wanted to run down to one of the lots in Charles Town, but she said no, she was too busy.”
“And you think she’d mind if you went ahead and got it while you’re here?” he asked, his voice sounding completely sincere.
Melody considered the question. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to actually pick out the tree without her mom, but had she been ignoring her mother’s actual preference? “She did say I could go ahead and get one while I was here if I wanted to,” she admitted with a shrug. “But I thought she was just being nice.”
“Or maybe she just never really liked picking out a tree and would just as soon you did it without her.”
Dismissing his remark almost immediately, Melody said, “No, there are certain Murphy Family traditions that my mom and I would never want to break. I mean, my dad was very particular about how the holidays were supposed to go. Christmas was his favorite time of the year, so I’m certain my mom wouldn’t want to do away with family customs now.”
It took him a moment to say anything at all, and Melody glanced over to see his blue eyes trained intently on his son, but it looked as if he was pondering exactly what to say next, perhaps how to phrase it. “Do you follow all of your father’s traditions?” he asked quietly.
Somehow, Melody had the feeling he knew more than he was letting on, and she wondered precisely what Mrs. Gregory had said to him. However, she couldn’t answer that question quite the way that she wished she could. “No, not all of them.” Her voice was quiet, and she wondered if he could even hear her over the laughter of the children and the whoosh of the falling snow.
“It’s definitely not my business, Mel, and I wasn’t trying to pry. I’m just saying, if you’d like to get your tree while we are here, Michael and I would be happy to help.”
The second the words were out of his mouth, the upbeat holiday song ended, and another song, one that brought back a flood of memories came on over the PA. Her father had loved “Oh, Holy Night” more than just about any other Christmas song he’d ever sang, and while she did her best to tune it out, to focus on Michael running around with his newfound friends, she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. Other than the song he had written for her to sing at the festival that last year, this had been the song that held the most remembrances of her father.
Perhaps to drown out the sound of the music, Melody suddenly found herself speaking, hoping that the single tear that ran down her cheek on the side away from Reid might go unnoticed. “We would go out and find the perfect tree every year. Sometimes, if we were in a rush we’d just go to a lot, but many times, my father would find a tree farm like this one, though I don’t think he ever took us here. We’d spend all day—have lunch, maybe do some shopping. It was so much fun. Even when I went away to college, he and Mom would fly to Chicago to help me find a tiny tree for my tiny dorm room. And then, when I got my job and my own apartment, a week or so after Thanksgiving, they were there, just so we could pick out my tree together.
“Then, of course, I would fly home for Christmas each year as well. I had more time off while I was still in school, but when I was working, the years right before he died, I flew in just a few days before Christmas Eve. I’m sure it was driving him nuts not to have the tree up already. But he waited for me. I didn’t know then…. I didn’t know that would be the last tree we picked out together.”
She didn’t realize his hand was on top of hers between them on the bench until after she’d finished talking. She glanced down at it, and he moved it, only to put his arm around her shoulders, though resting on the bench and not actually on her. She hadn’t meant for him to move his hand. Even with thick gloves on, she found the gesture quite comforting.
“I’m sorry, Melody. I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t.” She turned and offered him a smile, hoping the tear was gone by now, though her face was so cold she couldn’t really tell. He smiled back at her, his eyes showing concern, and she cleared her throat and said, “I don’t usually talk about my dad. Thanks for listening.”
“Any time,” he assured her, his smile becoming less empathetic and more sincerely joyful.
“I’ll call Mom and see if she really meant for me to get the tree without her,” Melody said, fishing her phone out of her pants pocket and turning back to face where Michael was playing. Reid removed his arm, and seemed to scoot over just a bit, as if trying to give her a little privacy, though it wasn’t necessary.