Prodigal Daughter

Chapter Three

A long silence met Melissa’s declaration. She chanced a peek at Richard. She expected him to be stunned, but she was surprised to see that he looked…hurt and disappointed. The expression was fleeting. When he met her gaze, he smiled and said, “What kind of help can I give you?”

So far, so good. “I want to find out about adoption.”

“You want to place your baby for adoption?” He looked astounded.

She stared down at her handbag and began to open and close the clasp without noticing what she was doing. “I think it would be the best thing, don’t you?”

Click, click.

“Just because I’ve made a mess of my life is no reason to mess up my kid’s life. Right?”

Click, click.

“I mean, look at me. I’ve only got a job because my daddy owns the paper. I’m a college dropout. I don’t even have a place to live. I’m staying with Amy, but she only has one bedroom and her sofa isn’t that great to sleep on.”

She continued clicking her bag open and shut until Richard placed his large, warm hand over hers and held them still. “Melissa, are you sure about this?”

His touch was so gentle and comforting. She looked into his bright blue eyes filled with kindness and it was as if a dam broke inside her. Her words came out in a rush of emotion. “I’m not sure of anything. I have no idea what I should do. My father is always sure about everything. My mother is the same way. My brothers and my sisters, they all seem to know what they want in life. Even you! You knew you wanted to be a lawyer and that was that.

“What’s wrong with me that I can’t see my way? Why is my life such a fog when everyone around me sees things so clearly? Why am I so different? My family puts up with me because they love me, but I always disappoint them. I’m tired of forever making the wrong choices. I want to start making the right decisions. How do you do it?”

“I can’t answer that for you, Melissa. All I can say is that life isn’t about making one choice and then everything falls into place. I face tough choices all the time. I use my faith as a guide and I try to make the choices I believe God wants me to make. Sometimes I fail.”

“Then what do you do?”

“I try to take an honest look at why I made that decision. Then I try to fix what went wrong.”

“That’s what I want to do. I want to fix what I did wrong.”

“Have you discussed this with your parents?”

She raised her chin. “No. This has to be my decision.”

“That’s true, but this isn’t an easy task. It will require a strong commitment and you will need your family’s support. Have you been to see your father?”

“My sister, Amy, is helping me. I haven’t told anyone else. I’m certainly not ready to have Dad read me the riot act.”

“I think you’re misjudging him.”

“No, if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that Dad is going to be furious when he hears this. Oh, he won’t be surprised. He always said I’d come to no good if I didn’t mend my ways. I think that’s what I hate most about this. I ended up proving him right.”

“Nothing has to be decided today, Melissa. Here is what I want you to do. Sleep on this decision. If tomorrow you still feel this is what you want, call me and I’ll help find a suitable couple for the child.”

“But tomorrow is Saturday.”

“I have special hours for special clients. Call me. I’ll be here.”

“Amy mentioned that Dean has a right to the baby and that he could block the adoption.”

“That’s true. As the child’s father, he can.”

“Do we have to tell him about it? He told me to get rid of the baby. He doesn’t want anything to do with us.”

“Many people say things in the heat of the moment that they later regret. Either way, legally, we will need his consent. Do you know how to contact him?”

“I’ll give you the name of his band manager. He should be able to find Dean.”

“Good.” Richard stood and helped Melissa to her feet. Slipping his arm around her shoulder, he gave her a quick hug. “I’m not an adoption attorney, I do corporate law, but I have a good friend who runs an adoption clinic. With his help, I’ll take care of all the legal paperwork. Try not to worry. Everything will work out.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t the one who’s going to look like a hippo in three months.”

Chuckling, he placed a finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “Courage, Melissa.”

She took a deep breath. “If you insist, I’ll give it a try.”

After Melissa left his office, Richard sat in the black swivel chair behind his desk. Poor kid, she’d really done it this time. He, like most people, had considered her capricious and careless. To hear in her own words how lost and alone she felt pulled at his heartstrings.

She needed someone she could talk to. One of her own family members made the most sense, but he suspected the Hamilton family had just about all they could deal with at the moment. An idea began to form in the back of his mind.

He leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Margaret, please get my sister on the phone. She should still be at her office at the university.”

“Yes, sir.”

He leaned back and waited. Melissa needed a place to stay and he had an extra bedroom at his home. If Angela and Dave didn’t have any objections, maybe Melissa could stay with them.

Before he got too far into his plan, Margaret buzzed him to let him know his sister was on the phone. He picked up line one. “Hi, Angela. I’m sorry to interrupt you at work. Are you busy? This could wait.”

“I’m swamped, but now is as good a time as any. I was getting ready to call and let you know I’m going to be late again tonight. Do you think the girls will mind pizza?”

“They’ll survive. Do you know what Dave has planned?”

“He said this morning that he would be working late at the house. He’s getting the rest of the electrical lines run tonight so the drywallers can start putting up Sheet-rock tomorrow. What did you need?”

“Do you remember Melissa Hamilton?”

“Certainly. I had her in my English 101 class last year. She was a bright student, but she never seemed to have much focus. Once she turned in the most amazing paper on women writers from the South, but her next piece was terrible. It was as if she didn’t want to succeed. Why do you ask about her?”

“She’s in a bit of trouble and she’s looking for a place to live. If you didn’t mind, I thought I’d offer to let her stay with us while you and Dave are there.”

“It’s your home, of course, but why can’t she stay with her mother? The Hamilton house is bigger than yours.”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it, but she has her reasons. I only thought of it because you mentioned hiring someone to help with the kids until your workload lets up. I know that Dave is spending all his free time getting your house repaired. With Melissa living at our place, it might make things easier for you. It’s just an idea.”

“I did like her, and I certainly don’t mind helping someone out. I’ve received more than my fair share of help from friends and family since the fire. It would feel good to give back a little. You’re right, it might make things easier. I’ll talk it over with Dave and give you an answer in the morning.”

“Great. Thanks, sis.”

Richard hung up the phone. His sense of satisfaction was quickly followed by a niggling doubt. Was he helping or hurting Melissa by trying to make things easier for her?

Melissa let herself into Amy’s apartment. Tossing her handbag on the desk, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the sofa. Lassitude crept over her and she longed for a nap. A nap at one o’clock in the afternoon? Did being pregnant make everyone exhausted by the middle of the day? How had her mother managed to do this five times? Once with twins, no less!

A single glance at her puffy ankles was enough to convince Melissa she needed to put her feet up. It didn’t take much extra effort to pull the coverlet over her shoulders and settle her head on one of Amy’s bright green throw pillows. The next time she opened her eyes, the clock on the wall said two-thirty and she was starving. Again.

A handful of carrot and celery sticks pilfered from her sister’s refrigerator took the edge off her hunger pangs, but she wanted something more, something substantial. As she surveyed the contents of her sister’s cupboards, fridge and freezer, Melissa settled on a plan of action. Lasagna, garlic toast and a fresh salad would make a wonderful dinner. Never one to do much cooking, Melissa searched for and found a cookbook with full color photos of the finished product.

Her mother was fond of saying, “If you can read, you can cook.” Usually she had been talking to the boys at Sunday dinner when they started complaining about their bachelor existences and living off takeout. Well, there was no time like the present to test her mother’s theory. Wouldn’t Amy be surprised when she came home?

Setting to work with a sudden burst of energy, Melissa diced, chopped and simmered away the rest of the afternoon. By five-thirty the apartment was filled with the smells of tomato sauce, oregano, basil and baking bread. She was setting the table when she heard Amy’s key in the door.

Amy walked in and stopped short. “I must be in the wrong apartment. Something smells wonderful.”

“Surprise! I thought I would make dinner to say thanks for putting me up—and for putting up with me.”

“Melissa, I didn’t even know you could cook.”

“You’d better reserve judgment until after you taste it. The bread is sort of burned on the bottom and the tomato sauce didn’t thicken the way the recipe said it would.”

“I’m still impressed. Let me change and call Bryan first.”

Melissa’s pride in her accomplishment plummeted. “You have plans for tonight, don’t you? Of course you do. It’s Friday.”

“Bryan had asked me out, but he’ll understand.”

Melissa plopped into one of the padded Windsor chairs that surrounded Amy’s table. “No, don’t change your plans for me.”

“I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste. Bryan and I can change our date to Saturday.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“No, don’t do that.” Dejected, she straightened the silverware beside one plate.

Amy came across the room and sat beside her. “Do you think you made enough to feed two more people?”

Melissa brightened, “I’ll have to throw together a little more salad, but sure.”

“Great. I’ll ask Bryan and Dylan to come over, then we can still catch a movie afterward.”

Mollified, but still unhappy that she hadn’t thought about asking her sister if she had plans, Melissa retreated to the kitchen while her sister went to change. Stacks of tomato-stained pans and bowls met her gaze. When had she made such a mess? Even the stovetop was splattered with burned sauce. She hurried to load the dishwasher and wipe up before her sister noticed the disaster in her normally immaculate kitchen.

Later, with Amy and Bryan heaping praise on her for the meal, Melissa began to feel that she hadn’t completely blown the couple’s evening. Dylan cleaned his plate in short order.

“You’d better hurry, Dad. We don’t want to miss the movie.”

Bryan smiled and rubbed his son’s unruly hair. “Take it easy, tiger. We won’t miss a thing. I’m sorry we have to eat and run, Melissa.”

She waved aside his concerns. “The next time I decide to whip up a feast, I’ll make sure no one has plans.”

Amy sent Bryan on to the car with Dylan, then she turned to Melissa and said, “I know you’ve been worried about how you were going to tell everyone about your pregnancy. I sort of took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve called everyone except Dad. I’ll let you tell him in your own time.”

Melissa’s hands clenched into fists at her side. She struggled to hide her sense of betrayal. “Amy, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“I understand that you wanted to tell the others yourself, but this way you don’t have to face everyone and rehash the story over and over. Now, it’s done and you won’t have to worry about it any longer.”

Her anger at her sister faded quickly. Amy was right. It was a relief knowing that everyone had been told. Melissa gave Amy a wry smile. “My big sister is still trying to find ways to make life easy for me.”

“Just this one last time. Then I’m done, honest.”

Melissa bit her bottom lip, then asked, “What did they say?”

“I’ll spare you the brotherly comments. Once everyone digested the news, they were willing to support you in any way they can.”

“And Mom?”

“Mom said she would call you.”

“That was it?”

“That was it.” Amy started for the door, but turned back, a look of indecision on her face. “Melissa, before you talk to Mom, there is one more thing I think you need to know.”

“What?”

“It’s about Dad. There’s a rumor being spread around that he had an affair and that it resulted in a love child.”

“What? I don’t believe it. Who would say such a thing?”

“I don’t believe it, either. The story came out in the Observer’s gossip column. It hinted that the woman was someone well-known in the community. As you can imagine, all of this has been hard on Mom.”

“I guess so. Poor Mom.”

After her sister left to catch the latest action-adventure flick, Melissa sank onto the sofa. The sudden quiet pressed in, making her feel lonely and tired. Tired but not sleepy. She tried watching TV but nothing on the ninety-three cable channels held her attention. Giving up after flipping through them twice, she shut the set off and silence ruled.

What would she say to her mother when she called? As much as she disliked Amy’s interference, Melissa had to admit she was glad the news was out to the family. It would make the next meeting with her siblings easier, if not the next meeting with her parents.

The harsh ring of the phone suddenly ripped into the quiet and Melissa jumped. Another shrill ring sent her scooting off the sofa to look at Amy’s caller ID—although she suspected who it was before she saw the number displayed. Of course it couldn’t be some telemarketer selling time-shares. No, it was her mom.

Melissa’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Oh, Melissa, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

The love and concern pouring through those few words was all it took to crumple Melissa’s defenses. She sank to the floor and began to weep. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she managed to get out between sobs.

“Don’t cry, honey. Please, you’re breaking my heart.”

“I don’t know why I do these things. I know they’ll hurt you, but I can’t seem to stop myself. I know you’re worried about Daddy, and I didn’t want to burden you with this, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s all right. You did the right thing. With God’s help, we’ll deal with this, too.”

“Don’t tell Daddy. Please don’t tell him,” Melissa begged.

“Honey, he’s going to find out sooner or later.”

“I know. I’ll tell him—but just not yet.”

“This is so difficult over the phone. Why don’t you come home, sweetheart?”

“Because I got myself into the mess and I’m going to deal with it without adding to your troubles, Mom. If I come home you’ll try and fix it like you always do. This I have to take care of by myself.”

“I respect that, Melissa, I do, but I think you should reconsider.”

“Tell me about Daddy. How is he, really?”

The pause on the other end of the line let Melissa know her mother wasn’t ready to change the subject. After a deep sigh, Nora said, “I think you would be shocked to see the way this has aged him, but his spirit is still as strong as ever. Sometimes, I think he is in complete denial. It’s been hard on everyone to see him laid low, but you know your father. When someone says he can’t do something, he had to prove them wrong. Honestly, I think his stubborn streak works better than any of the drugs they give him.”

“When you see him, will you tell him that I love him. Tell him that I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment.”

“You aren’t a disappointment, honey.”

“Right, and Elvis isn’t dead. He lives over on Main Street in Hickory Mills.”

“If your father wasn’t expecting me at the hospital, I’d come over to Amy’s now. I can call him and tell him I’ve changed my plans.”

Sorry for her flippant attitude, Melissa said, “No, don’t do that.”

“If you won’t come home, at least meet me somewhere where we can talk.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Please, Melissa.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“Why don’t we meet for lunch tomorrow at Betty’s Bakeshoppe? We can have tea and catch up on things, and cry on each other’s shoulders. I’ve been where you are, honey. I understand what you’re going through.”

“Betty’s will be fine.”

“Good. Tomorrow at two?”

“I’ll be there.”

“You won’t run off again, will you, Melissa? I’m so worried about you.”

“No, Mom. I’m back in town to stay.” As Melissa made the promise she wondered if she was brave enough to keep it.

After talking to her mother, Melissa lay down on the sofa and curled onto her side. A deep sadness settled in her heart. She had caused everyone so much pain. Her hand moved to the swell of her stomach. She poked the bulge softly with one finger. “You do realize that you’re the cause of this. Besides breaking my mother’s heart, you’ve made it hard to button my jeans.”

A strange, tiny flutter deep inside Melissa caught her by surprise. She pressed her hand tightly against the feeling.

There it was again!

A sense of wonder replaced the sadness she had been feeling. “You moved! I think you kicked me!”

Melissa sat up and waited to see if she had imagined it. No, it was definitely a thump. Oh, why wasn’t Amy home? Melissa wanted to share this moment with someone. Richard’s face flashed into her mind. He would understand what a thrill this was. Would Dean feel the same way if she gave him the chance? She cupped both hands around her tummy.

“Are you knocking? Do you want out? Don’t be in a hurry to get here, kid. Life isn’t all that grand. Your daddy’s run off. Your mother is a fool—and these could be the lyrics to a country-western song.”

A bubble of giddiness rose in Melissa and erupted into a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m talking to my stomach.”

Another faint thump, thump left no doubt. Her baby had moved. The thought was closely followed by the knowledge that he, or she, would soon be someone else’s baby.

Melissa’s merriment faded. Conflicting emotions tumbled through her heart. Longing and misery, amazement and sorrow. She would give her child away as soon as it arrived in the world.

“I hope you know this is the best thing for both of us. I’m not the kind of person who would make a good mother. Someday maybe you’ll understand that,” she whispered. “Maybe someday you’ll forgive me.”

Melissa tipped her head back and sighed. One more giant heartache loomed on her horizon. Where would she find the strength she needed to do the right thing?

Chapter Four

It was almost ten o’clock the next morning before Melissa worked up the nerve to call Richard McNeil. The level of candy in the clear glass bowl Amy always kept on hand had dropped significantly and a pile of discarded foil wrappers littered the desktop.

Thinking about putting her baby up for adoption was one thing. Actually making the call to tell Richard to start the process was a whole different story. Her mind said this was the right thing to do, but her heart seemed bent on arguing.

“One small step at a time, girl,” she murmured as she grasped the receiver and held it to her ear. With her free hand, she punched in the numbers she had memorized, then she wadded the silver wrappers into a ball and tossed them into the trash can.

When she told Richard about her decision, would he think she was throwing her baby away?

His secretary answered on the second ring and put Melissa through to him.

“Richard McNeil speaking.” His voice came across sounding curt and professional. Her courage wavered.

“Richard, this is Melissa Hamilton.”

“Melissa, how are you today?”

“Honestly? I’m frightened, confused, nervous and about to expire from an overdose of chocolate kisses,” she said in a rush. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Would it make you feel better to know that is how most people feel when they have to call an attorney?”

She heard his amusement and she relaxed a little. “At least I’m not calling from jail.”

“Always a good sign in my books.”

“I wanted to let you know that I’ve made up my mind.”

“And?”

“I want you to help me find this child a good home.” She winced inwardly at her choice of words. This wasn’t like finding someone to take in a stray puppy.

“Melissa, are you sure about this?”

“Yes. Tell me what I need to do.” If only she could feel as sure as she sounded.

“I’ll get the paperwork started. Have you thought about what type of adoption you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want an open adoption, where you choose and meet the adoptive parents and remain in limited contact with the child? Or would you rather not know anything about the family?”

“Open sounds better, doesn’t it?”

“That’s up to you.”

“I guess I’ll have to think about that. What else do I need to know?”

“As I told you, I have a friend who is an adoption attorney. I’ll have him put together some information for you and then we can go over it after you’ve had a chance to read it and think about it. After that, we’ll form an adoption plan. If you want to meet the prospective parents, I’ll set up some interviews.”

“That sounds good.” With Richard to help her, maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

“I’ll draft a letter to Dean to let him know what you’re planning. He won’t be able to relinquish his rights until after the baby is born. You understand that you can’t, either. Nothing will be final until the baby arrives.”

“I understand that.”

“Good. There is something else I’d like to discuss. You mentioned that you don’t want to move back home. Do you still feel that way?”

“Absolutely. I’ve talked to my mother and she understands how I feel.”

“In that case, I have an offer for you to consider. My sister and her family recently had a fire at their home. While their house is being renovated, they’re staying with me. To make a long story short, Angela is working a lot of overtime and Dave is spending his free time trying to get their house repaired. That leaves the girls with me or on their own. My sister has been thinking about hiring someone to help with the housework and entertain the girls when she can’t get home. Would you be interested in the job? She can’t pay much, but you would get free room and board. You would have a bedroom and a bath to yourself. Are you interested?”

“You’re offering me a job?”

“Let’s call it a temporary solution to several problems. My sister needs help and you need a place to stay. It won’t be for more than five or six weeks, but that should give you time to find a place of your own.”

“That’s very kind of you, Richard.”

“This isn’t kindness. It’s a business offer. Unless, of course, you really like sleeping on Amy’s couch. In that case, I’m sure Angela can find someone else to help.”

Melissa gave the cream-colored divan a sour glance. It was pretty, but as a bed, it didn’t quite make the grade. “If you’re sure this is a job and not charity, I accept your offer. When do I start?”

“I could help you move in tomorrow. Would that be too soon?”

“Not at all. Tomorrow will be fine.”

“Good. I think you’ll like the girls. Samantha is twelve and Lauren is eight. They’re old enough that they don’t need a lot of supervision, but they’re still too young to leave alone for any length of time.”

Something in his voice made her question him further. “I get the feeling there is something you aren’t telling me.”

“The girls have had some trouble adjusting since the fire, especially Samantha. Usually she is as happy as a lark, but since the fire, she has been unhappy and withdrawn. I’m hoping that having someone new in the house will help take her mind off of things.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along. I come from a big family, remember?”

“I remember. I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. What time works for you?”

“I think I can have my duffel bag packed by four.”

“So, I won’t need to rent a moving van?”

“No, not this time.”

“Great. My back was aching at the thought.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She chuckled as she hung up the phone. In spite of her current situation, Richard always seemed to make her smile. But then, he always had been able to make her laugh.

Melissa pulled open the glass door to Betty’s Bakeshoppe a few minutes before two that afternoon and was instantly surrounded by the mouthwatering smells of cinnamon rolls, aromatic coffee and baked apples. The shop was more than a coffee house. Over the past twenty years Betty and her daughters had expanded the bakery into a restaurant area and had added a small used bookstore at one end. Betty’s Bakeshoppe now took up three connecting shops along the downtown street. But it was Betty’s excellent cooking and the convenient location across from the Hamilton Media building that made it a prime meeting place for employees and downtown business people.

Looking around, Melissa saw several faces she recognized from the paper. The Saturday-afternoon lunch crowd was long gone, but there were still a few customers lingering over their desserts. She spied her mother seated at a table by the window in the corner, where shelves made a partial wall between the eatery and the bookstore.

A petite woman, Nora Hamilton might have been mistaken for one of her own children if not for the strands of silver in her shoulder-length blond hair. She was dressed simply in a belted red dress with a wide white collar and white trim on the short sleeves.

Nora’s face brightened when she caught sight of her daughter, but not before Melissa noticed how tired her mother looked. Guilt gnawed at Melissa’s conscience. She was responsible for adding to her mother’s already heavy worries.

Threading her way between the tables, Melissa watched her mother rise. An instant later she found herself gathered in a warm embrace, one she returned fiercely as a tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She had missed her family more than she realized.

Nora was the first to draw back. “I’m so glad you came. Let me look at you.”

“Mom, I’m fine.” Melissa wiped the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand and submitted to her mother’s scrutiny.

“I believe it now that I see you with my own eyes. You had us all worried.”

They took their seats and Melissa glanced around the room to avoid looking at her mother. Embarrassment made the sudden silence painful. Instead of talking about herself, she sought a neutral subject. “I’ve always liked coming to the Bakeshoppe.”

“I remember how you would beg your father to meet us here for lunch when you were little.”

“I thought it was the coolest place. I’d never been to any other store where the drapes were painted on the windows. I see they still have that rug painted on the old wood floor in front of the cash register.”

“Remember how you used to stand on it and hop on and off? You told me you could make it fly.”

“Mom, I think I must have been four then.”

Nora smiled softly as she looked back in time. “It always made your father chuckle. Time goes by too fast.”

“Then I grew up and made Dad mad all the time.”

“Not all the time, dear.”

“More times than not.”

“You went through a very difficult time after Jennifer died. We knew that but we couldn’t seem to help you.”

Talking about Jennifer was the last thing Melissa wanted to do. Fortunately, Justine, Betty’s daughter, came up to the table with her order pad in hand. “Mrs. Hamilton, it’s nice to see you. How is Mr. Hamilton? We’ve been keeping him in our prayers.”

“He’s doing better, Justine. Thank you for asking.” Nora glanced toward the kitchen. “Is your mother here?”

“No, she had to leave early today. Melissa, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I’ve been out of town, but I’m back now.”

“What can I get for you ladies? Our special today is apple pie.”

After ordering a slice of pie and a cup of tea, Melissa waited until Justine served them and then moved away. Before she could decide how to bring up the subject that hung in the air between them like an elephant in the middle of the room, her mother reached across the table and laid a hand on Melissa’s arm.

“I want you to know that I understand what you’re feeling, Melissa. I faced the same thing when I was pregnant with Jeremy.”

“I couldn’t believe it when Amy told me Jeremy wasn’t Dad’s son. How? I mean, who was his father?”

“His name was Paul Anderson and we were engaged to be married. We were young and careless. We were in love, and we thought nothing else mattered. Then he died in a motorcycle accident. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. A few months later, I met your father.”

“Did he know?”

“Not at first. It took a lot of courage to tell him, but I knew it was the right thing to do.”

Melissa wanted to ask her mother another question, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. She picked up her spoon and