Chapter Two

 

Melody was at the kitchen counter, mid-afternoon, when Logan walked into the kitchen after court. When he sneaked in earlier to change his clothes, Melody was in deep sleep. She didn't hear him rummaging around or when he showered. The room had still been decorated in his harem fantasy. He deserved to be in the doghouse now. She had put so much effort into the decoration, and he knew they would have had an unforgettable time.

So he was operating on the fumes of guilt and his wife's quiet hello and hunched shoulders were an indication that he should stay far away, but he kissed her on unyielding cheeks and sat in a chair where he could watch her every move.

"I didn't see the kids when I came in this morning,” Logan said, as a conversation opener. It wasn't much and he realized belatedly that they probably were not around because she had sent them away for the night. Their special night, which he had forgotten.

"I sent them to Carson and Alice yesterday," Melody said shortly.

Logan nodded. For a lawyer he was really obtuse today. He blamed the whole situation on Thaddeus Masters the third. The old man had messed up his own life and now he was dragging Logan down with him.

"How was court?" Melody looked around at him drying her hands on a towel.

Logan ran his fingers through his curls. "Hell." He sighed. "After an all-nighter. What should have been a straightforward preliminary hearing turned into a circus. The judge was determined that this case should go to trial. Apparently it is a juicy story when a prostitute moonlighting as a spa worker allegedly kills a soon-to-be top brass policeman, and the prosecutor had some serious evidence."

Melody was looking at him, intrigued. "Say what? That's not your typical case."

Logan breathed a sigh of relief when she dropped her defensive stance and looked at him with intrigue.

He could only share certain particulars of a case with Melody but she had always been fascinated with the 'juicy' ones. She sat across from him, her angst forgotten.

"Well, since this is in the general sphere, I guess I can tell you that Fluid, the spa on the beach does not do just spa services."

Melody grinned. "I heard about that." Then she frowned. "Why on earth do you have anything to do with them?"

"As a favor to the founding partner. He er... knows the girl who allegedly killed the man who died unexpectedly on her massage table."

Melody’s eyes sparkled. "I heard the story about the spa worker, Mahogany. Is that her real name? How does she know Thaddeus? Was he a customer?"

Logan grimaced. "Customer, oh no. Her name isn't really Mahogany; it’s actually Millicent Bayer. She is Thaddeus' daughter."

Melody gasped. "What?"

"Yup. DNA tests confirmed it. He hauled me out of Christmas dinner to confess and beg me to take the case." Logan drummed his fingers on the table. "And since he is adamant that we defend Millicent, I am sure Hilary is going to find out some time or the other. Thaddeus is mad if he thinks he can keep this a secret from his wife. The guy who died was one of the honest cops, an exemplary one, and the judge did not let me forget it this morning."

Melody snorted. "Exemplary! I would think not—and getting massages down at that spa with girls who look like they are barely legal. How old was Millicent, anyway?"

“Eighteen," Logan said with a sigh.

"I never expected Thaddeus to have an outside child. He is so proper. If you know what I mean."

"Thaddeus never knew that he had a child until this whole thing blew up," Logan said, shrugging. "Millicent's mother called him when she was jailed and demanded that he bail her out. That's when he found out, ordered the tests, and now here we are."

"He should get a criminal lawyer!" Melody said. "I mean, not that I don't think you are capable or anything, but he should get the best possible defense for her. You have other cases and you are barely home already."

"Thaddeus Masters is establishment, Mel. He is the best criminal lawyer in this country, or he was in his prime. Other lawyers mention his cases with reverence. Even judges, most of them, with whom he clashes have a reluctant respect for him. All the criminal lawyers in our firm are so booked they couldn't take this case if they wanted to and there is the big secret that Thaddeus wants to be kept under wraps. He is the father of a young woman who is accused of murder."

Logan shook his head. "These things have a way of being revealed. I always say to my clients that it doesn't make sense you hide stuff from your spouse. Communication is vital for any relationship to work successfully."

Melody fidgeted on her chair and looked down at her fingers guiltily. They were married now for eight years, together for ten, and whenever Logan gave his communication speech she felt a shaft of guilt.

She could point out to him that Thaddeus and Hilary were still together because he had the good sense to hide certain things from Hilary because she was not the kind of person who could deal with that kind of news. This telling your spouse everything was highly overrated. Some things you keep to yourself.

She looked up when Logan grabbed her hand. "Sorry for missing our anniversary last night."

Melody nodded. "I know you are sorry. I understand the dilemma you are in now with Thaddeus and this case. On the bright side, I took pictures. I had to, because I looked smoking hot."

Logan grinned. "Come here." He pulled back his chair and she got up and sat on his lap.

"You are getting off easy," Melody said, snuggling in his neck.

"I know." Logan rubbed her back. "Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve you. You are the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean, seriously, how did my life ever go on without you?"

Melody giggled. "I have no idea. The curtains are still up. The harem is still alive."

Logan stifled a yawn. "Can I act like a bored king and sit in the middle of the bed while you tantalize me?"

Melody jumped up. "Yes. You can. Are you sure? You look sleepy. You haven't slept since day before yesterday."

"Are you crazy, woman? Not even sleep can prevent me from ravishing the harem girl,” Logan said, getting up.

Melody giggled and ran up the stairs and then ran back down, grabbing a bottle of champagne.

"I am going back into the office this evening," Logan said, a warning tone in his voice.

"Non-alcoholic." Melody grinned. "What would Pastor Greenwald say if he knew you were having alcohol... tut... tut Sultan Moore."

Logan grinned. "So I am a Sultan, huh? I like that. What would he say if he knew you were playing my harem girl?"

Melody laughed, throwing back her head in a carefree move that had him staring at her, captivated. He still couldn't get used to that laugh and the way she seemed to abandon herself to any moment. It was intoxicating and he followed behind her, thanking God for this blessing of a wife.

 

*****

 

Melody looked at her calendar as soon as Logan left for the office. After their totally fantastic harem fantasy, which left her feeling completely satisfied and a little stoked, she realized that she had a million and one things left on her schedule for the day. She hated when she didn't get things done as exactly as she had planned, because she had herself on a tight schedule, which she could not afford to mess up. She was a tad obsessive-compulsive when it came to her schedules.

It was evening now and she would have to pick up the children from prep school in a few a minutes and drop Lauren to Spanish classes and Zack to piano. Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday was extracurricular day. She had thought it was excessive to be sending them to extra classes at such a young age but Logan's mother, Dr. Camille Moore, tenured professor at the University of the West Indies and head of the Physics department, had insisted.

"Start them early," she had said in that self-assured way of hers. "I did and look what happened."

Melody could see what happened. Logan was a lawyer who spoke four languages fluently; his twin sister Lola was a chemical engineer. And because she was married into such an overachieving family, she hadn't wanted to taint the Moore track record by letting Zack and Lauren watch television in the evenings when they could be learning languages or music or something to enhance their development, or their careers when they were older.

Logan's father, the laid-back and sports-mad Dr. Thorn Moore, was a sports doctor who was currently at some exotic locale watching cricket from the sidelines with the West Indies team.

He was the opposite of his wife. He thought that she needed to loosen up a little and not be so organized. His wife would shake her head vigorously in denial.

Melody knew who to listen to in order to be the ideal daughter-in-law and she hadn't done badly through the years. She had even heard Camille saying to one of her colleagues at a function, "Melody is not be career oriented, which is a shame because I think she would be very good at it; she is the most organized person on this planet."

High praise from Camille who had once asked her with genuine puzzlement if she had any ambition at all. Camille found volunteering as she did for church and civic associations a waste of her time and her degree.

"You could do anything and yet you are a housewife!" Camille had exclaimed in bewilderment. "Arranging flowers and visiting the sick—who do you think you are, Mother Theresa?"

Her mother-in-law was not far wrong. She had vowed to herself years ago, after her turbulent teen years, that she would reinvent herself into the perfect Christian.

Her upbringing had been very indulgent. Her parents were very popular theatre actors who had hardly been at home. They loved her dearly but they worked all over the globe and after Melody reached two years old they left her in her grandmother's care, only dropping by between adventures. Her grandmother had been the one to pick up the slack in her childhood years.

Her late teens and early twenties were a reconditioning of the bad Melody years. So she became the perfect child for her parents, the perfect wife when she got married and now the perfect volunteer to the community at large.

She worked hard to forget that one year when her life had taken a turn for the worse, and it was working. She barely brought to memory that year anymore.

Her parents never brought it up. Like her, they wished to forget that time, and she didn't allow herself to think about it.

Melody glanced at her watch and made sure that she had everything in her cavernous handbag. As a regular do-gooder she always came prepared for anything.

She ran through the list in her head: pick up children first, consult with Let’s Party about a Valentine treat she was putting on for the senior citizens home where she volunteered and then deliver a care package to old Mr. Somers, a shut-in from church. She could accomplish some things today after all.

 

 

"How do you do it?" Cynth asked her, frowning. Melody was sitting in the Let’s Party office after dropping her children off at their extracurricular activities and discussing with enthusiasm the Valentine’s party for the senior citizens. She hadn't realized that Cynth and Farrah were watching her with their mouths hanging open as she elaborated on what she had thought of as a simple plan for the seniors.

"Do what?" Melody asked in the midst of handing Ruby the list of requirements for the party.

"This whole caring for people thing." Cynth was shaking her head. "I can barely keep up the caring thing for my family and few friends and yet you manage so well. It's scary—makes the rest of us look like we are not trying."

"Seriously," Farrah piped in, "I can hardly find the time to juggle my schedule and yet here you are arranging a Valentine's party for a group of people that you don't know. You make the function sound so good I might even pop in with Xavier."

"You don't even know these people,” Cynth said. "Maybe my question should be why do you do it?"

"But I know them," Melody said, looking at Ruby, Cynth, and Farrah. "Most of the sixty persons in that nursing home have a story. I do it because I care. Some of them have nobody to look out for them. Besides, Logan will be working on Valentine’s Day. Unfortunately the world does not stop for lovers or lawyers with pressing cases."

"You are overcompensating for something," Cynth said cynically. "Nobody is as saintly as you."

"Don't pay her any mind, Melody. Cynth is once more broken-hearted because her knight in shining armor turned out to be a pig. Hence no Valentine’s celebration for her and anybody who looks like they are living half a life is suspect."

Melody nodded sympathetically. "I am so sorry to hear that, Cynth. I know how much you desire a life partner."

Cynth grunted. "I always choose the worst men. When I hooked up with Tucker I thought I had found somebody who was similar to what you girls have, a businessman who plays music on the side, but I picked the worst. I mean the worst guy in the world to pin my romantic hopes on.

"And imagine, I had the opportunity to bag one of the New Song band guys and I missed my chance. I am pathetic, but that doesn't mean I am going to take back what I said. You are too unworldly and sweet. Why? What's the story?"

"She's perfect,” Ruby said smiling, "and I love her to bits. Keep on doing what you do, Melody, and she doesn't have a story." Ruby offered in defense of Melody, "She is just used to volunteering. Her parents are rich, you know. Rich people know how to volunteer."

"Yes," Farrah said, "but we usually just throw money at an organization. Melody cares for old people and children and animals. I think that is laudable. I am coming to your house for Mommy lessons." She rubbed her slight bump.

Cynth was still staring at Melody speculatively. "And you do all of this volunteering with perfect hair and nails?"

"Oh." Melody looked down at her nails and her ears turned crimson. "This is just a leftover from a... er... fantasy session."

Cynth’s eyes widened. "You have fantasy sessions with Logan too. I give up. Do you cook?"

"Like a top chef," Ruby said, grinning, deliberately rubbing salt into Cynth's wounds. "When you taste Melody's leg of lamb you think you are in nirvana."

"Well, I did take lessons," Melody said demurely. "With Chef Jacques Gilbaud, one summer, years ago."

"Oh, and he's just the top French chef in New York," Farrah added, laughing.

Cynth slapped her hand on her forehead and put her head on the desk dramatically.

Melody grinned. She really enjoyed Cynth's dramatics. "So can I get an ice sculpture for the centerpiece?"

"Yes," Ruby looked down at her list. "Sure."

"And if we can't get one you could do it yourself I bet." Cynth murmured.

"Oh Cynth," Melody got up. "Jealousy does not look good on you."

"I can't help it," Cynth moaned. "I just envy people who are living my fantasy life. You have a handsome husband, two kids, and you are living in a mansion; your parents are rich, famous and supportive. Your husband loves you and he's faithful; you both have fantasy sessions." She looked up in the air. "Lord, why couldn't I be Melody?"

Ruby and Farrah laughed. Cynth regularly said the same thing about them. Melody just smiled. She had worked hard to be this Melody; it didn't happen overnight. She had deliberately and meticulously chosen who she was now. She had given herself a personality transplant, step by step changing her habits, and faking it until she couldn't tell the difference between fake and real.

Some days, maybe on an off day when she indulged herself about thoughts of her past life, she wondered who she really was now. Had she really changed or was she like some of those Christians who thought that because she did good deeds she could buy her way into heaven?

She always wondered about her motives for being this helpful. Being helpful kept her busy and prevented her from examining herself too closely, and of course there was always the niggling question: Had God forgiven her for what she did in her not-to-be mentioned past, when she had been less than perfect?

All her charity work and caring for people wouldn't change what she had done. Cynth wouldn't want to be her if she knew how much hard work it took for her to appear perfect to the world.

For years she had so carefully hidden behind her perfect facade and ensured that there wasn’t even a crack in her armor that even her husband, who she loved dearly, could see. No one was allowed to see beyond her perfect veil.

When she bid the ladies goodbye she sat in her car feeling unexpectedly heavy. Why did Cynth have to ask if she was overcompensating for something? It was a loaded question and Cynth, in her inimitable fashion, didn't even know it.