Melody made her way back to her car thinking there was no way in the world she could ever be a daycare provider. Nor could she be a school teacher. If listening to twenty kids talk the way that Michael did on the way home all day long was any indication of what it was like to be a kindergarten teacher, she would add all kindergarten teachers to her nightly prayer list. She suddenly had a newfound respect for her mother who had done both jobs at one time or another.
She climbed into her Acadia and put her seatbelt on. She thought she should have asked about Kayla, but she’d only met her the one time. She’d been a good pianist, and her dad had remarked after the lesson that he thought she’d be quite accomplished if she continued to practice and if she had the right teacher. Unfortunately for all of them, the right teacher was no longer around.
There had been a time when Melody had considered teaching piano or even becoming a music teacher. Her father said she had the talent, but he wasn’t quite sure if she had the patience. At the time, he was probably right. But now that she was older, now that she had learned a bit about staying calm with children through her experiences with Michael, she wondered if it was something she might have been good at. Her father had lovingly taught her both piano and guitar, though he was far more accomplished on the former than the latter. Pulling into the driveway, she pushed those thoughts aside. It really didn’t matter what might have been now. She certainly wouldn’t be giving lessons anytime soon. She’d already decided to give music up completely, so she could hardly teach anyone else how to play when she refused to do so herself.
Walking into the house, she fished her phone out of her pocket. She was tempted to call Reid, just to hear the sound of his voice, but she decided against it. Knowing he was busy and not wanting to sound desperate or silly won out over her other desires. Before she went upstairs to start digging through more boxes, she sent him a text. “Michael is safely at Ms. Karen’s. Boy can that child talk!” She slid her phone into her pocket and started in on the boxes she’d pulled out of one of the guest rooms the night before. These appeared to be full of old books, and she wanted to get an idea of what they might be worth before she decided to lug them down the stairs. The valuable ones could go to the shop, but the others could be donated to the library to be given away, and that could wait a few weeks.
As she checked an early edition of War of the Worlds, her phone began to vibrate, and she was surprised to see it wasn’t a text; Reid was actually calling her.
***
Setting the book down, she answered and raised the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Are you implying that my little angel talks a lot, because if so, this is the first I am hearing about this.”
Melody couldn’t help but giggle at the seriousness of his tone, even though she knew for certain he was being sarcastic. “I think that might be an understatement. Would you like to know what Tommy had for lunch or what happened as a result of Billy’s shoe-tying negligence?”
“Oh, I will definitely hear about it,” he assured her. “I will hear about it for hours and hours and hours.”
She laughed again. The sound of his voice made her smile, and she felt a warmth radiating from her heart. “Well, I think that makes you pretty lucky. I wanted to spend more time with him, but someone told me I couldn’t….”
“Hey, you said you knew he shouldn’t go home with you because it would seem like a reward,” Reid reminded her.
“I know,” Melody admitted, repositioning so she was sitting cross-legged in the little space she’d carved out for herself between books. “But then I saw him, and I wanted to bring him home with me. But I didn’t.”
“You’ve done well, young grasshopper. You cannot let his angelic looks deceive you. That’s how he wiggles his way in, and just when you’re least expecting it, he attacks, and the next thing you know you have more Transformers in your home than pieces of silverware.”
“Or the most detailed piece of furniture in the house resembles an outdated vehicle?”
“Exactly. It’s whatever he wants. You will never get your way again.”
“Thank goodness I was able to escape his clutches then,” she laughed.
“For now. He’ll try again tomorrow,” Reid reminded her.
“True. And I might not be as strong tomorrow.”
“You have to be, Mel! It’s the only way! We must stick together!”
“Okay, okay,” she replied, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it or not. It had been so tempting to bring Michael home with her. After a pause, she decided a change of subjects would be worthwhile and wondered if he even had time to talk. “Where are you today?”
“At the home of my number one customer.”
“Mrs. Gregory?”
“One and the same. Somehow, she’s stretched my handyman-ness into Christmas light hanging.”
“Really?” Melody asked, not sure how those two jobs could be related. “So you’re hanging lights on her house?”
“Yes,” he assured her. “And since her dear friend Mrs. Watson is here, I’ll be doing her house tomorrow.”
Melody broke into a fit of laughter. “I’m sorry,” she finally managed.
“You sound sincerely sorry,” he replied.
“No, I really am,” she managed. “You know, my mom and I don’t have any lights on the outside of our house yet either….”
“I’ve gotta go,” he said, clearly joking. “Are you going through a tunnel or something? You’re breaking up.”
“It’s fine. I’ll text you a time so you can come over and hang our lights. But I should warn you, they’re in a tangle—about four feet wide. Hope that’s not a problem.”
“And what’s in it for me?” he asked, his voice still teasing.
Melody pretended to think for a minute. “Chocolate chip cookies?”
“Not that big of a fan.”
“Your son returned without a ransom note?”
“I told you, you’d give him right back soon enough.”
“Nah, I’d just invest in some good earplugs.” They both laughed, and then Melody said, “I was actually just messing with you anyway. My mom bought one of those BlissLights thing-a-ma-bobs that you put out in the yard and it lights up the whole outside of your house. It should be here tomorrow. So that should take me, like, fifteen seconds to stick in the ground and plug in.”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “I’ve been up on this roof for three hours, and I’m not even remotely done, and your mom figured out a way to get it done in fifteen seconds?” he asked.
“You’re up on the roof right now?” she asked.
“Well, I couldn’t call you from inside. I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but those little old ladies are a wee bit nosey.”
Melody giggled again and pictured him sitting on Mrs. Gregory’s roof on his phone. He probably had good reception. “Is Mr. Gregory still hacking away?”
“Man, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard anyone cough like that. It sounds awful. I stayed as far away from him as possible.”
“Is he up?”
“Yes, he’s sitting in the kitchen with them, pretending like he’s not sick. That’s about as close to resting as Mrs. Gregory said she can get from him.”
“Crazy,” Melody muttered.
“Well, if I’m going to get these lights hung up before next Christmas, I guess I should go. Thanks again for picking Mikey up for me.”
“You’re welcome. Be careful up there. No need to pull a Clark Griswold.”
He laughed, clearly catching the reference to the movie Christmas Vacation. “Thank God she didn’t want that many lights up here. Talk to you soon, Mel.”
“Bye,” she said, and once he had said the same, she disconnected the call and stared at her phone for a moment, letting out a long sigh. He wouldn’t have bothered to call her if he didn’t at least like her a little bit, right? Or was he just being nice because she’d volunteered to help out with Michael. Maybe it was time for her to take matters into her own hands and ask him out on a date—but she’d never asked a guy out before. What would she do if he said no? Would she be able to keep seeing him at all? How would Michael feel about that? With another deep breath, Melody decided to push those thoughts aside and concentrate on the books. She silently wished her own life were a novel and she could just flip a few chapters ahead to see what might happen next. “Don’t be ridiculous, Melody,” she muttered out loud. “This is real life, not some sappy romance novel.”