Lost Melody (26 page)

“Flatterer.” She grabbed his hand and
pulled him out the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want to miss a
thing.”

They drove the few blocks to Henry’s,
and the three of them walked the short distance to Main Street. A
crowd had already gathered, but they found a place on the sidewalk
in front of the Donut Hole to view the parade. Cathy came outside,
handing out miniature flags and doughnut holes covered in red,
white, and blue sprinkles. Mel snapped her picture—the first of
many memories she wanted to document.

The Willowbrook High School Band led
off the parade, proudly sweating inside their new uniforms. The
School Superintendent trailed behind the band in an open
convertible. When he was right in front of The Donut Hole, he
jumped from the moving vehicle and snatched Henry from the crowd.
The car stopped long enough for the two men to climb in and
continued on its way, leaving Hank and Mel laughing on the
sidewalk. They waved their flags, clapped, and shouted
good-naturedly at the passing entries. She clicked away, taking
photos of every float and turning the camera on Hank as often as
possible.

As the last group made its way down
the parade route, they moved with the crowd to City Park where all
the floats would be on display and the picnic festivities would be
held. Henry was there, accepting thanks from band members, their
parents, and school officials. They left him to his admirers and
wandered through the displays. She bought earrings from one booth
and a handmade tote bag from another. They ate roasted corn on the
cob, barbeque, and ice-cold watermelon. Hank bought two apple pies
from the Methodist Church women’s group and arranged for them to
bake a special batch to be delivered to the farm the following
week.

She didn’t have a care in the world
walking hand-in-hand with Hank, sitting in the shade of the ancient
oak with him while sipping lemonade made by the Boy Scouts. This
was normal. It was the life she longed for, the one she could never
have if the paparazzi found out where she was. And they would find
out if she stayed with Hank. There was no way around the
inevitable. When she thought about living the rest of her life
without Hank, her heart felt like a stone, but she couldn’t live
with him either. If they had been anyone but who they
were….

Hank stopped at nearly every booth or
food vendor and was greeted by name. Everyone in town seemed to
know him, and to her surprise, he knew them. He asked about their
families, jobs, and vacations. She expected someone to ask for his
autograph or want his or her picture taken with him, but no one
asked. Instead, she handed over her camera several times for his
friends to snap a photo of the two of them. He went along with it
every time, holding her close for each photo. In one, he even
turned his head at the last minute and kissed her as the shutter
clicked.

In Willowbrook he was
simply Henry Travis, Jr. His worldwide celebrity status didn’t mean
a thing to the people of his hometown.
Who
he was eclipsed
what
he was in their
estimation. Some offered congratulations on his latest Platinum
album or the Grammy the band had recently won. Plenty commented on
both, sometimes referring to some childhood peccadillo or other,
letting him know, at the heart of it all, he was one of them. Hank
accepted the praise and the teasing with good humor, as if his
youthful escapades were equally as important as the career
accolades.

They rested the late afternoon away at
Henry’s house and retreated to the air-conditioned living room to
eat pie and down giant glasses of sweet tea. Hank’s dad dozed in
his easy chair, so they moved to the kitchen where they could talk
without disturbing him.

“Are you having a good time?” he
asked.

“Yes, very much so. I know the
Willowbrook celebration is corny by big city standards, but I love
it. The whole town is involved from the smallest ballerinas at the
dance studio, to the little old ladies selling pies for a good
cause. It’s wonderful.”

He smiled. “I love it, too. I’ve been
to many places around the world since I left for college. I’ve seen
lots of cities, big and small. I keep coming back here, though.
Willowbrook is home. It’s where I want to be, even when I’m not
here, if that makes any sense. Not everyone can say as much about
the place they grew up.”

She envied him. “I know what you mean.
The people here may be short on sophistication, but they’re long on
caring. They care about their town, and they care about each
other.” She swirled her tea glass, watching the expanding damp
circle on the tabletop. “They care about you.”

“I suppose they do. I care about them.
I’ve known these people my entire life. I’ve shopped in their
stores, been in their classrooms, played with them, and dated a few
of them.” He chuckled. “Maybe more than a few. I’ve even mowed
lawns and raked leaves for a bunch of them.”

“They treat you like you’re just
another member of the community. Your celebrity status doesn’t seem
to impress them much.”

“I guess if I was overly impressed
with my status, things would be different, but I’m not. When I’m
home, I’m just Hank, the kid who did chores for them or who rode
his bike through their flowerbed. My job is a little different from
most folks in town, but it’s what I do, not what I am. They accept
it.”

A band of longing tightened around her
heart. “I don’t fit into your world, Hank. As much as I want to, I
don’t. If they all knew who I was, they’d look at me differently.
People always do.”

He covered her hand with his and
waited until she turned her gaze up at him. “Mel, your Uncle
Jonathan has been in town for over a month. You don’t honestly
think no one has noticed, do you? He’s hard to miss, even though
he’s spent most of his time at the farm.” He released her hand,
sitting back in his chair. “These people may be small town folk,
but they aren’t stupid. Most of them have probably figured it out
on their own.”

Dear God!
She gasped for breath as panic threatened to take
her under.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching for her
hand again. “Think about it. Did anyone treat you differently
today? Did anyone ask you uncomfortable questions?”

His touch calmed her. “No. No one said
anything.” She wanted him to be right. She wanted what he had, to
be accepted for the person she was, not because of her name. “Well,
a few ladies at the pie booth did ask about Uncle
Jonathan.”

“See, I told you so.” He
smiled. “Half the town knows where he went and who went with him.
You can’t hide anything in a town this size. It’s the price you pay
for all the
caring
you were going on about. Everyone knows everything about you,
and worse, they think they have the right to know it.” He paused
and rolled his shoulders. “You get used to it.”

When the sun dipped low in the western
sky, taking the temperature and humidity down with it, Hank asked,
“Ready to try the carnival?”

“Oh yeah,” Mel said.

He kept her close to his side the
whole evening. She noticed a few envious looks, some from small
children admiring the prize, others from teenage girls, and a few
grown women who openly admired her date. Hank won a giant purple
teddy bear by landing dimes on upturned goblets. Mel hugged the
bear close while Hank explained his winning secret to the gathered
crowd.

“It’s all in the wrist.” He
demonstrated the action. “It’s just like playing the
drums.”

She tried her hand at a few games, but
couldn’t come close to duplicating Hank’s success. She consoled
herself by feasting on the usual carnival delicacies, cotton candy,
snow cones, and greasy burgers with fries. Hank steered her to the
Ferris wheel and discreetly bribed the ride operator to stop them
at the top when the fireworks started. She loved picking out
landmarks among the glimmering lights across town and laughed when
the ride spun in a lazy circle leaving her stomach behind. The
fireworks exploded in the sky, showering the town in red, white,
and blue glitter. The wheel inched to a stop. Dangling on the cusp,
their seat rocked a few times and stilled. Mel took in the
unprecedented view.

“I’ve never seen anything more
beautiful in my life,” she said.

“Neither have I,” Hank replied,
draping his arm over her shoulder and pulling her close.

* * *

At his touch, she came into his arms.
She smelled of sunshine and fresh air, her lips were as sweet as
cotton candy under his. He framed her face in his hands and drew
his thumbs softly across her pink tinged cheeks. Exploding
fireworks reflected in her bluebonnet eyes captivated him. Love for
the woman in his arms filled him. For the first time in ages, he
was happy. He liked a parade as much as the next guy, but with
Melody by his side, he'd had more fun than he could ever
remember.

Standing on the sidewalk earlier, her
head tucked under his chin and his hands resting on her hips while
she laughed and waved at the passing floats had been one of the
best moments. She fit in his arms and his life. She fit in the
recording studio. She fit with the band members and their wives.
She fit with his friends in Willowbrook. Everywhere they were
together, she fit right in.

He could see a future with Melody. She
would be by his side in his career as well as here in his home.
Maybe one day they'd watch their kids in the Fourth of July parade.
He could see it happening with Melody, and only Melody.

He hadn’t planned anything beyond a
few minutes alone with her to watch the fireworks, but he couldn't
stop the words flowing from his heart.

“I love you. I want to spend the rest
of my life with you. Will you marry me, Melody
Ravenswood?”

So, this is how it ends.
Here, on top of the world, Hank's world, after the best day of my
life.

Her heart skipped a beat. She’d
thought they would have more time together.

His hands framed her face, and
sincerity gleamed in his eyes. The truth of his words were written
across his face and carried in the depth of feeling in his
voice.

They could have a lifetime. It was up
to her. The single, affirmative syllable trembled on her
lips.

But she couldn't say it, couldn't
sentence herself and Hank to the kind of life awaiting them. He was
a dreamer, but she had given up on her dreams long ago. The life he
envisioned just couldn’t be. Not for people like them.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes,
brushed away by a tender swipe of his callused thumbs across her
cheeks. The shiver began in her hands, loosening her grip on his
forearms. It continued across her chest and down her spine until it
erupted into an uncontrollable quaking. She forced the air from her
lungs, across her vocal cords. “I love you, too, Hank, but I can’t
marry you.”

The moment the words left her lips she
wished she could take them back. But she couldn't. It was the right
thing to do. The only thing she could do. For Hank. For
herself.

He held her for the space of a
heartbeat then he dropped his hands from her face and turned in his
seat. She hugged the purple bear to her chest, squeezing as tight
as she could to still her shaking. Even in the warm night air, a
bone-deep chill crept over her.

Where his proposal had been as smooth
and warm as silk, his voice was now as cold and sharp as chipped
ice. “Can’t or won’t, Mel? Which is it?”

The one thing she could give him was
honesty. “Won’t. Hank, don’t you see? If we were to marry,
everything you see here would change.” She swept her arm across the
sky showered in gold glitter, to encompass Willowbrook which
sprawled like a blanket of twinkle lights below them. “I can’t stay
here. Eventually, the tabloids will figure out I’m here. Add you
into the mix and it will be nothing short of a disaster. I can’t do
it. I won’t do it to you, to us, or to this town.”

“You’re wrong. But if that’s the only
reason you can think of, we’ll live somewhere else. You’re making
excuses, Melody.”

Fear gripped her, and pain shot
through her heart, a knife twisting for good measure. “You have no
idea what it's like living a shadow life, hiding who you are. I do,
Hank. I've done it all my life. Living with an alias. Never telling
people your real name or talking about your family. Avoiding places
where other celebrities will be on the off chance someone might
recognize you. It's the way I grew up. My mother constantly drilled
it into me, ‘Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself or the
paparazzi will find you.’ Marrying you, you marrying me? It would
break every rule of self-preservation I know.” She clutched the
bear impossibly tighter. “You know as well as I do it wouldn’t
work.”

Fireworks exploded overhead.
Multi-colored sparks fizzled and died, raining down like shattered
dreams. The seat trembled, and he glanced at Mel. Tears streamed
down her cheeks, and she looked as frightened as a child on the
deck of a sinking ship, watching in horror as the icy water crept
closer and closer.

His anger vanished. He folded her into
his arms. His broken heart was nothing compared to the demons she
fought every day. He wrapped an arm around her back and cradled her
head against his shoulder with his other hand.