Michael was exclaiming, “Miss Melody! Miss Melody!” and she wondered if he had heard what the teacher said and chose to ignore it or if he hadn’t caught it. Deciding there was nothing she could do about it now, Melody followed the car in front of her out of the parking lot and double checked her speed as she drove through the school zone.
“Did you get your seatbelt buckled?” she asked smiling at him in the mirror.
“Yep! And guess what! My friend Hailey said Santa is going to be at the library on Saturday. And there’s a parade, too. On Friday. At lunch today, Tommy was eating noodles, and one of them came through his nose. It was really gross. Dad was supposed to give me chocolate chip cookies in my lunch, but we must have been all out because there was a brownie instead. I can have one sweet for lunch and one at Ms. Karen’s if it’s small and that’s it. But sometimes Ms. Karen gives me two. In science today, we talked about our five senses. Did you know that people can smell good, but not as good as dogs?”
As he continued to rattle off what seemed to be every single thing that had happened to him throughout the day, Melody struggled to keep up. She wondered how he could possibly talk so quickly and pause so infrequently for air. She was able to say things like, “You did?” and “That sounds fun,” but as far as a complete sentence or question, it wasn’t happening. She wanted to ask Reid if he was always like this after school or if he was just saving it all for her. Of course, when he was on the bus, he would have no one to share any of this with, except for maybe whomever he happened to be sitting by, and that other child probably wouldn’t want to hear about how Billy had fallen down at recess because he forgot to tie his shoes and Mrs. Clifton the recess monitor says you should always check your shoes before you take off running at recess. Maybe the fact that Michael didn’t have to ride the bus after all was really a blessing in disguise. She was glad to give him the opportunity to share his day while it was still fresh.
“Miss Melody?” Michael finally asked as they turned onto the street where Ms. Karen’s house was located.
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Are you going to the parade on Friday?”
“I sure am. I go every year.”
“Do you wanna go with me and Dad? It’ll be so much fun!”
Looking at him in the mirror, she could see the anticipation written all over his face. “That does sound like fun. I usually go with my mom.”
“She can go with us. Your mom is fun, too. She bakes yummy cookies.”
He licked his lips, and Melody giggled at him before returning her attention to the road. “She does bake yummy cookies. Tell you what, sweetie, ask your dad about it. If he wants me and my mom to meet you up there, I would love to watch the parade with you. But your dad might have other plans.”
“He doesn’t,” Michael said, his voice sounding certain. “But okay.”
Melody thought back to all the times she’d actually ridden on a float in that parade. Her dad used to help organize it every year when she was younger. One year, she’d even ridden in a convertible with the grand marshal. All of those memories seemed quite distant now as she came to a stop on the road in front of the house she believed to be Ms. Karen’s.
“Is this the right place?”
“Yes,” Michael replied, his voice sounding less chipper. “Are you sure I can’t just go home with you?”
Melody was already unbuckled and checked for traffic before pushing her car door open. “Sorry, buddy. You already know the answer to that.” She stepped out and opened the back door for him. Reluctantly, he grabbed his backpack and melted out of the door onto the road. Melody had to hold back a chuckle at his antics. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time.”
“I never have a great time,” he muttered as she followed him up the driveway to the door at a snail’s pace.
“Your dad will be here in a couple of hours.”
“It’ll take forever.”
As they neared the front porch of the home, which had the street appeal of a large cottage, the door opened, and a woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late forties stepped out, a smile on her face. She looked tired, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and she wore a warm up suit that looked like it saw more activity from chasing toddlers than actually jogging. “Michael! You’re here!” she exclaimed, and if the smile was forced, Melody couldn’t tell. “You must be Melody. I’m Karen. Nice to meet you.”
Melody hadn’t realized that Karen was her first name until that very minute. “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you, too,” she said, taking the hand the woman offered. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
“I’m not sure,” Karen replied, looking at Melody closely. “We’ve lived here a few years. It’s such a small town, we’ve probably bumped into each other at some point.”
“Right,” Melody chuckled. Then a memory hit her and she said, “Wait—are you Kayla’s mom? Did your daughter take piano lessons from my dad?”
Karen’s face shifted into an expression of recognition. “Oh! You’re Tim’s daughter. Yes, she did, for a couple of years. He was so great with her.”
A vision of Karen coming to pick her daughter up from piano lessons a few days before her father passed away flooded her memory. She’d been home for Christmas, and he’d still been giving lessons because he loved that even more than he loved his antiques. She heard Karen remark, “We were so very sorry to have lost him.” Melody gave her usual quiet thank you, but the comment stuck with her. So many people had lost her father—people Melody hadn’t even realized he’d been attached to.
Turning her attention to Michael, who was unusually quiet, Karen said, “Why don’t you go on in and get your snack, Michael? Carmen and Dustin are waiting to see you.”
Michael let out a sigh that almost sounded like a growl. “Okay,” he said, and then turning to Melody with a pleading expression in his eyes, he asked, “are you really gonna go?”
“Yes, Michael. But I’ll see you soon.”
“Tomorrow at pick up?”
“Yes.”
“On Wednesday— you’re coming to church, right?”
“I’m not sure about that yet, sweetie, but I’ll see how my schedule looks. I’ll definitely see you tomorrow, though.”
“Okay,” he repeated and then he gave her a hug around the waist, which she returned, and moped his way into the house.
“He’s such a silly boy,” Karen said with affection in her voice. “He’s a handful though.”
Melody giggled. “Yes, he is. But he’s precious.”
“How long have you and Reid been dating?” she asked, her tone completely innocent.
Melody hoped her enlarged eyes didn’t seem rude. She stammered, “Oh, no. We aren’t. I mean—he’s really nice. And we have been spending some time together. But nothing like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Karen replied. “I just assumed, as much as he talks about you….”
“Yeah, I guess Michael does talk about me a lot. “
“Well, yes, he does,” she agreed, “but I meant Reid.”
Once again, Melody was flabbergasted. She managed, “We’re friends, I guess you could say.”
Karen nodded, and Melody wondered what that meant. In the background, Melody heard a child shouting and another one begin to cry. “I’ve got to go,” Karen said, her tone nothing if not exhausted.
“I’ll let Reid know Michael’s here. It was nice to see you again, Karen.”
“You, too,” she said, but it was over her shoulder as she hurried off to either break up a tiff or calm a tantrum.