the melanie chroni

7/29/2019 the melanie chroni

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THE MELANIE CHRONICLES

by Kim Golden


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Copyright 2012 Kim Golden,All rights reserved.

Published in eBook format by eBookIt.comhttp://www.eBookIt.com

SBN-13: 978-1-4566-0735-7

o part of this book may be reproduced in any form oby any electronic or mechanical means includin

nformation storage and retrieval systems, withoupermission in writing from the author. The onlexception is by a reviewer, who may quote shoexcerpts in a review.


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The Start of Something New


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n Edinburgh

"Miss...? Miss?"

Melanie started. The woman sitting beside hegrunted and muttered under her breath.

Hovering over her was the strawberry blonde flighattendant who'd griped at her for not being able to fher backpack into the overhead compartment. Now thwoman was flashing a smile so bright it was frightening

"A passenger in first class wonders if you'd like toin him."

"Him?" Melanie rubbed her eyes and tried to hide th

dopey smile spreading over her face. "Whicpassenger?" But she knew who it was."Mr. Ballantine, Ms. Jamison." Still the fligh

attendant wore the false smile of one always pleased terve. "The seat beside his is available."

"I can't afford to pay for the upgrade." She coulbarely afford the Economy ticket she held. It had co$600. "So you'll have to decline for me."

"Oh no, Ms. Jamison, he's already taken care o

hat."


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They hadn't seen one another since just after Fina

Week. That was the agreement: wait until they were iEdinburgh and away from everyone they knew, and se

how they felt. During those three months, Melanie haavoided every urge to call him and concentrated oworking and spending as much time as possible with hemother and her sister Susannah before for her yea

abroad.Though her mother supported Melanie's decision tgo to Edinburgh, she thought it was a long way to go tavoid an ex-boyfriend.

"Crossing the ocean isn't going to make Joh

disappear," Diane said the night before Melaniedeparture. "When you come back, you'll still have tdeal with him in one way or another."

"I need to be away from him. He's everywhere I turnAnd he's with someone else," Melanie reminded hemother as they packed the last of her suitcases. "I neeo be around people who don't know anything abouhim or me. Besides, this is a once in a lifetime chance.get to study in Scotland for a year and experience all o

he history and culture."


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But there was more to it than that.Damian was a secret she kept buried deep insid

her. He was the one who'd first put the idea of a yeaabroad in her mind. He'd already enrolled and was s

positive about a year in Scotland that he'd made ound like Nirvana compared to another year at th

University of Philadelphia. During one of their studessions in the Irish Reading Room, he'd handed her th

Year Abroad program's glossy brochure. It wapacked full of enticing photos of Edinburgh: the Castagainst a moody sky, charming Georgian townhousewith jewel-toned front doors and shiny brasdoorknobs, a mist gathering at the base of Arthur's Sea

and the Crags. The more she saw, the more she knewhe had to go. He must've seen the longing in her eyehe desire to escape to a place where she could banonymous for a while because he urged her to apply.

"You're an English major, you of all people should bn Edinburgh--think of all the great writers who've beenspired by it. You could be next!"

She didn't want to tell her best friend Maria abouDamian yet. The thought of telling Maria tied he

tomach in knots so tight and complicated she couldn


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leep. How did you tell one of your closest friends thahe person who caught your fall was the same persohe'd coveted for nearly two years? Even though Mari

was dating someone else now she still mused about th

day when Damian would come to his senses and asher out.

Neither of them had told anyone.Everything had happened so quickly: John droppe

he bomb that he didn't know if he loved her anymorand left for Greece with Chloe a few days later, she'een the notice in the school newspaper about peopl

dropping out of the international program, then Damiakissed her that night in the library and things ha

piraled from there."I need this, Mom," she'd said with such fierc

conviction that she even startled herself. "I don't knowhat I really want. I just know that I can't be here righnow."

"Fancy meeting you here," she said as she settled int

he comfortable seat beside Damian. "I thought yoweren't leaving until tomorrow."

"I didn't want to wait," he admitted with a sheepis


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mile. "Three months is long enough."He turned to the stewardess and said, "Thanks fo

delivering her safely to me.""Of course, Mr. Ballantine." She smiled brightly

hovering for a moment as if uncertain what to doWould you like more champagne?"

"D'you want champagne, Melanie?""Maybe later, thanks." She said it so easily, thoug

he'd never had real champagne in her entire life. Was o different from sparkling wine, she wondered? Buust then she was too busy masking her giddiness aeeing Damian again to muse over the suppose

benefits of champagne. Then he kissed her, lightly fir

as though he were testing the waters, then again anwith more verve.

Once the stewardess was gone, he shifted in his seaand grinned at Melanie. "I missed you--I even came bhat bookstore where you were working looking foyou one Saturday."

"You did?"He nodded. "But you weren't there. I asked one o

he girls at the Information desk if you were around, bu

hey said you had the entire weekend off."


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"That must have been the weekend I went to VirginiBeach with Karen."

"Ah, so I can blame her for depriving me of youcompany."

"We had a deal.""Mmm. Not a very good one. We should've jus

pent the summer together," Damian said and thetroked her hair. His touch sent a whirlwind o

electricity through her.Maybe he was right. Maybe if they'd spent thummer together the part of her brain still inhabited bohn would've been cleansed. And there would hav

been no need for subterfuge.

"These seats fold out into beds. Did you know that?She shook her head no. This was her first time on a

overseas flight. She'd been saving money since heenior year of high school to afford a trip to Europe

She'd assumed she'd use the money next summer whehe'd planned on treating herself to a summer train

hiking across the Continent. Once she and John habegun dating, she'd always imagined him beside heWhere was he now? Was he still in Greece, or was h

n Philadelphia again moving back into his room at th


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fraternity house?Don't think about him, she reminded herself. He's th

past."What happens when we get to Edinburgh?" sh

asked.Damian shrugged. "What do you want to happen?

He was holding her hand, massaging her skin with thoft pad of his thumb.

"I don't know. I just want to be alone with you," shaid. Admitting this to him lightened her. All summer thfeelings she had for him had cohabited uneasily withose she still harbored for John. Thinking of onnevitably led to thoughts of the other.

"Are you still going to stay at that hostel the first fenights?"

She nodded. "I may as well. I don't have access tmy student rooms until next week."

"Stay with me then. I've got a room at thCaledonian until my flat is ready."

She grinned. "Are you sure?""'Course I am," he said with a perfect Scottis

brogue.

The lights dimmed. Melanie turned away and looke


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out the window. The sky was already inky blackSomewhere below them were land and the Atlanticand for a moment she wondered just where they were-off the coast of Newfoundland, over Greenland...? Sh

might've gone on wondering, but Damian interrupteher thoughts. He kissed her neck, ran his hand along thcurve of her waist and made her body come alive again

Damian enchanted the front desk clerk but this didnurprise Melanie. Nearly everyone who met him fell fohis easy smiles and the smooth way he had of puttineveryone at ease. He knew everyone who workehere, addressing the concierge by name and askin

after the man's family. Even the front desk clerk knewhim. Before they'd made their way to the desk, the stapresent all greeted him with, "Welcome back, MBallantine" and Melanie wondered briefly how oftehe'd come there and who with.

She looked around, taking in the immaculate marblfloor, the richly hued wood details and thick damascurtains. In a cabinet by the elevator were souvenirs ohe hotel's past: a black and white photograph of

debonair Sean Connery in his younger James Bon


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days, programs from an official visit by the King oorway, a personal note written by the Prince o

Wales. She nearly expected someone from the pages oTatlerto breeze past her, some statuesque titled beaut

with a name like Hermione Rhys-Jones that'd barenotice Melanie and would stalk over to Damian anplant lingering kisses on both cheeks. But so far the onother guests checking in were two elderly women, bot

n mud-colored tweed suits and sturdy looking pumpwith thick heels. One of the bellhops was loading theuggage onto a trolley. From the looks of it, they'planned a long stay. And the bellhop, a young man nolder than Melanie and Damian, already looke

exhausted by the weight of their bags.In the elevator, Damian handed her a plastic car

with their room number printed on it. She slid it into heeans pocket.

"How many times have you stayed here?" she askecasually.

He shrugged. "A few. Now that my dad has decideo rediscover his Scottish roots, we're here a few time

a year. We always stay here and then travel north t


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visit our cousins.""Am I the only girl you've brought here?""No. Is that a problem?""No, no. I sort of expected it," she said, but a part o

her was disappointed. She knew they'd sleep togethehere and she didn't want to be in the same bed with hihat he'd shared with other girls. She was tired of beinhaunted by the ghosts of ex-girlfriends. That had been

horn in her relationship with John: traces of his exewere always around them, no matter what."It's not the same room, if that's what you'r

hinking." He reached for her hand. "My parents alwayarrange suites. I didn't want that. We've got a nice roo

on the fourth floor."The elevator slid to a halt. The doors opened slowly

and they exited. Hand in hand, they walked along thcarpeted hallway, the floorboards squeaking beneatheir feet. There was something eerie about the halPerhaps it was the quiet. She almost felt as though thhotel were deserted for there were no sounds from thother rooms. Was anyone watching them through thpeepholes? The hush made her feel as though the hot

was holding its breath, waiting to catch them off guar


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and startle them with a haughty laugh or a whispereibe.

She gripped his hand a little tighter.

One night when she and Damian had been studyinfor their final onA Midsummer Night's Dream, haunched across the table and kissed her long and hardWhite flames shot through her like liquid fire, burnin

away the icy core that had formed in her. Maybe it wahe play's fairies and their shenanigans that had triggerewhat had blossomed into weeks of kisses stolen in thibrary stacks, of quickies on the tables of the libraryprivate study rooms. The subterfuge was exciting an

nerve-wracking. How could she want him so mucwhen she still loved John? She couldn't look at Johwithout feeling the sour burn of rejection coursinhrough her. But when Damian was around he made heforget John, at least for a while.

They'd been so furtive.After the first time they'd had sex, they'd agreed

was best to keep this to themselves."If we tell anyone," Damian had murmured in her ea

after that first time, "they'll just make you feel guilt


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about not waiting around for John and he'll give me grieabout being with you..."

Damian was right, of course he was. The more shried to move on, the less her friends seemed t

understand.Though John was already with his new girlfrien

Chloe, he'd still reacted whenever he'd seen Melaniwith someone else. And Melanie couldn't stop herse

from watching him and forcing herself to stare each timChloe bent in for a kiss. Sometimes she'd caught hersebiting her lip so hard she'd drawn blood. Then she'ooked away, silently berating herself for being so weahat she needed to see him at all.

It felt like she'd never get over John. She'd lie in beand feel his touch on her skin, the slow drag of his palmoving from her shoulder, over the curves of hebreasts--his strong fingers rolling her nipples hard--thquick dip of his mouth grazing her skin and the moiheat between her legs. She still dreamt about him, hearhis voice in her head saying all the things she wanted thear. She'd wake in the morning with his name on heips and a dull ache inside her.

She was upfront with Damian, not wanting to hu


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him with lies and half-truths. And she told him that shdidn't know what she felt for him but he made her fealive again. She'd expected him to be annoyeddisappointed even that she couldn't just shelve he

feelings for John, but he'd shrugged it off and saidMaybe I'm just your rebound guy."

"What if we are together and I'm still not over John?he'd countered.

"If we stay together long enough, you'll forget abouohn."She hoped he was right.With its thick velvety carpeting, silk damas

draperies and imposing view of Edinburgh Castle, thoom caught Melanie unawares. She paused at th

door, taking in the ornate furniture and the rich fittingand bit her lip. Damian had already tipped the bellboand thanked him for his help. Now he slid off his shoeand settled into one of the armchairs by the window.

"Everything all right?" he asked. He stretched his lonwimmer's body.

She nodded yes and closed the door. Her backpac

was still on her shoulders and she shrugged it of


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placing it carefully on the floor by the bed. Before shcould speak, the telephone rang. Damian answered iat first sounding irritated by its intrusion but his voicoon warmed and Melanie knew he was talking to th

couple whose apartment he'd arranged to sublet durinhis stay in Edinburgh. She'd seen the photographhey'd sent Damian in an e-mail: it was the sort oprawling loft apartment she'd read about in the upscal

nteriors magazines her mother always bought andreamed over. Subletting an apartment like that cost fortune; Damian had already griped about the price bualso admitted that its location and comfort were worthe money. He'd already done a semester abroad i

Scotland during his freshman year and lived in thtudent rooms, some of which he claimed were grottiehan the dorms at University of Philadelphia.

He wanted her to stay with him at the apartment, buhe opted for sharing a set of rooms with a Scottish gi

named Gillian from Aberdeen who would be back iEdinburgh a few days before the term started.

"It's better this way," she'd told him. "If we decide tgo our separate ways, we're not tormenting each other

He'd accepted her decision, but she knew he thought


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was silly. She'd seen it in the slight raise of his leeyebrow and the tight smile he'd given her. But he didnry to push the issue. "If that's what you want..." was ahe'd said.

While he took care of the details with his neandlord, she went into the bathroom, figuring she couluse the time to shower. The bathroom was as luxuriouas the bedroom, with its shiny marble countertops an

basket full of expensive-looking bath products, oldfashioned fixtures and gilt mirror. There were eveburgundy damask curtains and blinds hanging at thbathroom window.

A shiver ran through her. All of the fixtures were so

perfect and shiny she was afraid to touch anything--was like being in a museum: look but don't touch. DiDamian ever feel this way? She doubted it. He alwayeemed so at ease wherever he was. And he'd grow

up in this world; he didn't need to feel out of sorts in iShe stole a peek at her reflection in the mirror abovhe sink. Her hair, which she'd tried so hard to tame inttraightness, had gone wild and disheveled again, an

her tired eyes showed obvious signs of jet lag. Sh

grimaced and stuck her tongue out at her reflection.


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After undressing quickly, she turned on the showeand waited for the water to heat up. It had taken a feeconds to figure out how to turn on the shower ther

were so many handles but she soon got the knick of i

Once in the shower, she let the warm water run oveher, washing away the tiredness settling in her muscleShe'd tried to sleep during the flight but it was difficulEvery foreign noise startled her, and then she thought o

all the air catastrophe films she'd ever seen--froAirport to Fearless. Even mouthing a few Our Fatherhadn't calmed her. Damian, though, had slept a whileunfettered by the jolts and pings and thuds ourbulence. When he woke, he reached for her han

and squeezed it reassuringly. "It'll be okay. You'll soonget the hang of it."

She hoped so. She didn't want to feel like bumpkin, wide-eyed and terrified of every neexperience. Maybe that was why John was drawn tChloe--Chloe wasn't afraid of anything, and she'd danything just for a thrill.

Don't think about them, she told herself and dippeher head under the shower's hot stream of water.


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When she emerged from the bathroom, Damian watill on the phone. He smiled at her and said, "I'

ordering lunch for us. Are you hungry?"She nodded. Her stomach had growled fierce

during her shower. "Could we have some coffee too?"He added a pot of coffee and steamed milk to th

order then hung up. "Lunch'll be up in twenty minuteshe told her and pulled her over to him. She sat on h

ap carefully and leaned against him. "You smell goodMaybe I should shower as well.""I had to get that airplane smell off me," she admitted

Sitting with him like this was nice. She curled into himfeeling safe and desired. She could feel his han

troking her neck, his fingers brushing her damp haiShe kissed him and tried not to think of John.

"Are you happy you came?" he asked."I am. It was the right thing to do.""You needed a break from everything," he said. "Fo

months you were like the walking wounded. And asked myself what was the best thing I could suggehat might help you..."

But she didn't want to talk anymore. She kissed hi

again and drank in the taste of Damian's mouth.


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There didn't seem to be anything more left to say."I'm meeting the Lachlans in a few minutes at th

Lobby Bar for drinks and to get the keys to their fla

Do you want to join us?"She nodded absently. She was sitting at the vanit

able, wrapped in one of the hotel's fluffy guest robeand brushing her hair. Damian was behind her buttonin

he cuffs of his shirt. After they'd made love, he'howered and his damp hair curled at his neck."Have you met them before?""The Lachlans? Yes, a few times. The wife went to

chool with my sister."

"Are they... what are they like?"Damian grinned at her in the mirror. "Don't worr

about them. They're fine."After the introductions, the Lachlans launched into

flurry of questions about Damian's family and themutual acquaintances. Neither the husband nor the wifpaid much attention to Melanie other than a few politnquiries into how she was enjoying her stay in Scotlan

and if it was her first time there.


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Damian wasn't oblivious to this. He wrapped his araround Melanie's shoulder and drew her closemurmured in her ear that it would all be over once thehad the keys.

"We'll have dinner at the Witchery," he said as hihand slid up and down her arm, "then we'll take a walaround the city."

She nodded, but even being close to him didn

diminish how invisible she felt. Looking down at thimple peasant blouse and new Gap jeans she worehe wished she'd chosen something more stylish

Clodagh Lachlan was wearing a breezy silk shirt anchocolaty suede pants that Melanie recognized from th

pages of Vogue while Angus Lachlan wore whaeemed to be the European version of the Rich Man

Uniform: a pale blue checked shirt and immaculatepressed trousers. They both wore the pampered lookof the Idle Rich.

"We didn't know you'd have a flatmate, DamianClodagh said. She was smiling at Melanie but her eyewere cold and unwelcoming.

"He won't," Melanie retorted quickly. "I've got m

own rooms at the university."


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"Would that have caused a problem?" Damian watroking Melanie's nape under her hair. His voice haost its usual mellowness and sounded tight in Melanieears.

"No, no, of course not," Angus answered with mile but Melanie could see that they were ju

backtracking. They didn't want to anger the brother oheir friend, especially when he would be lining the

pockets for the next year while they were in AntiguaOf course your friend could stay there with you."And you'd be counting your silverware the momen

you came home, Melanie thought with a glare. She sat ittle straighter and returned their smiles. Angus nodde

at her, but Clodagh focused on Damian distracting hiwith a barrage of questions about what he'd be studyinfor the next year. The subject of Melanie possibly livinn their apartment wasn't broached again.

By the time Angus Lachlan handed over the keyMelanie was glad she'd insisted on her own roomThey didn't want her in their apartment.

She wasn't one of them.And she was glad for that.


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Starting Over


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Until She Comes

They didn't speak during the drive from the airpor

ohn was all fingers and thumbs, afraid that anything haid would be wrong and that she'd turn and glare a

him with eyes as hard and shiny as polished ebony annap her fingers and disappear. Melanie looked to

exhausted to attempt a conversation of any sort. Bueven with the fog of jet lag cocooning her, she waovely and knowing that she'd called him and not Maror Karen or even her mother filled him with a ridiculougiddiness that embarrassed him and revealed itself in th

illy grin plastered on his face. Did he look as lovesicas he felt?

The late afternoon rush hour had begun an hour agoand the cars on the Schuylkill Expressway inched alonat a snail's pace, punctuated by the irritated tooting o

horns and the occasional curse. And John was brewinwith impatience. He wanted to be in his apartment witMelanie, to just feel that she was near instead of million miles away. He longed to be away fro

everyone else so that they could talk. He should'v


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guessed that the Expressway would be congested annerve-wrackingly slow, but he hadn't been thinkintraight since last night when she called and told him sh

was coming home. The midsummer sun glared down o

hem. A thin layer of sweat shone on John's foreheadMelanie fanned her face with a faded and dog-earepostcard she'd found on the dashboard. Not even thair-conditioning helped. It hummed loudly but the a

being pushed out was clammy and warm.Even though her flight landed at 3:20PM, it had takeMelanie more than an hour to get through customs anetrieve her luggage. John had paced the floor of thnternational Arrivals Hall, sworn under his breath eac

ime the doors whirred opened to present yet anothepassenger who wasn't the one he wanted. He wacared, and he hated it. Doubt ate away at him an

burned in his stomach. He needed to know that she waust on the other side of the wall. What if she'd changeher mind by the time she landed at Heathrow anebooked her final ticket so that she returned t

Stockholm to give Alex another chance? Whahappened then? He'd bitten his thumb until he taste

blood, then cursed at his own stupidity and balled h


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hands into shaking fists.By the time Melanie finally appeared, weighed dow

with three suitcases and a shoulder bag that kept slidindown her arm and looking a bit dazed, John had near

worked himself into a frenzy. His hair stood in darkuneven tufts on his head from raking his fingers througt too many times, the frayed sleeve of his sweater waeven more frayed from pulling at loose strings. He'

hugged her a little too long, but he couldn't help himselAnd she'd held on to him just as tightly, had kissed hicheek and left a smudge of dark red lipstick that he sthadn't wiped away. A year had passed since the lasime they'd been together, and now she looked s

fragile he wanted scoop her up and keep her safe. Annow that she was sitting just a few inches away, hcouldn't stop glancing at her or reaching over to toucher hand or stroking her hair.

"Where do you want to go?"They were creeping along I-76, closing in on th

University City exit. John turned down the radio anearched for a station playing something other tha

overly sentimental ballads and pounding hip-hop

either seemed the right soundtrack for their reunion


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He wished he'd remembered his REM compact discMelanie always liked them, and he was alwaympressed when she knew the lyrics to every song owhichever cd he played.

"Can I go to your place?" She sounded hesitant; shooked a little stunned to even be sitting there. "I haveneven called my mother yet. And I don't want to jushow up like that . . ."

"You can stay with me as long as you want," Johaid and eased into the far right lane.She nodded. Paul Young's raspy voice slithered from

he radio speakers, imploring his lover to stay for goohis time. Melanie leaned forward and turned up th

volume, murmured along with Paul Young and kept heeyes on the road. Being with John again, sitting so closo him and stealing glances from time to time, felt sight. Even with the awkwardness, she was glad to bhere with him.

When I was in the hospital...after the miscarriage,made a list on a napkin of the people I wanted to sefirst, she said suddenly. And you headed the list. Iost Alexs baby but you were the only person I wante

o talk to.


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John kept his eyes on the road. He wanted to tell hehow sorry he was for everything hed ever done thahad pushed her away. Hed tried to so many times angot it wrong. Even when hed gone to Stockhol

hinking he could change her mind, hed screwed it up.Hed flown there expecting her to fall into his arm

ee the error of her ways but Melanie was still besotteenough with Alex to ignore the fragility of the

elationship. Alex was too smooth, too aware of thaffect he had on women to appreciate Melanie. Eveduring the awkward dinner party hed arranged wheohn showed up, it was obvious that Melanie was

nice accessory for Alex--the exotic African America

girlfriend--but she was never going to be a permanenfixture in his life. The other guests, all lithScandinavians with names like Jens, Astrid, Andreaand Villem and clad in expensive clothes that were jua little too perfect. They spoke a mixture of Swedisand English out of deference to John and Melanie. Heat across the table from them, watching how casual

Alex slung his arm around Melanies shoulder, how shurned to smile up at him but his eyes trained on anothe

woman.


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Months later, when his cousin Maria told hiMelanie was pregnant hed given up on believing sheever come back to him. Too many things and peoplhad got in the way. But then she called him late on

night and whispered from across the ocean that she anAlex were over. The baby was the only thing holdinhem together and now she was gone...a miscarriagAny attempts at salvaging their relationship would b

futile. All I keep thinking about is you, she saihrough the distance. I keep thinking about you and thbaby we never had.

John had listened as she told him how she wanted tcome home. She was an alien in Stockholm. Sh

couldnt find her footing, she couldnt see any point anonger in staying. When I hang up, Im going to buy icket back to Philadelphia.

She didnt say she was coming home to him but hehoped she was. Even with all the regrets they had, hcould not picture his life with someone else. she'fantasized about John being the father. The baby sheand regretted aborting the child they'd conceiveogether.


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And now she was sitting beside him again and hwas giving her sidelong glances while an uncertainboyish grin lit up his tanned face. She'd missed hentativeness, how he rarely assumed that he wa

wanted. Alex had been too smooth, too aware of hiown beauty to have the shy boyishness that John neveost, even when he'd seen the effect he had on people.

"I missed you so much," she murmured withou

ealizing that the words had actually been said. But shdidn't regret saying them, it felt right."I missed you too." He smiled at her then focused o

he road again.They were driving along Spruce Street now, passin

heir old stomping grounds of Penn's campus. The treeining the street were lush with dark green foliage pite of the heavy heat that weighed at their branche

This was where it had all started. Where she'd first mehim and known from the very beginning that he was thone she'd always want to be with.

His apartment still looked the same, even though he'

ried to brighten it up with a crimson sofa and a rust an

affron-colored rug in the living room. Somehow, th


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fact that everything was nearly the same comforteMelanie. She'd been afraid that there would still braces of Chloe, but John had managed to hold on the simple charm he preferred. Chloe may have tried t

ive there, but she hadn't left her mark anywhere thaMelanie could see. While John took her suitcases to thbedroom, she looked around, hoping not to seanything that would remind her of Chloe, no forgotte

perfume bottles or silk scarves. She glanced in his officat the Wall of Days with its photos of their college dayhe was still there, still sitting in that Adirondack chair

holding John's squirming Jack Russell on her thighs anbeaming for the camera. Melanie smiled and covere

her mouth. Then she followed John into the bedrooand watched as he put her bags in the walk-in closet.

She purposefully didn't look at the bed. Perhaps hwouldn't want to rush into a sexual relationship againMaybe for him, this was all a platonic arrangement he'offer to any friend in need. Then again, the spacbetween them burned with unspoken, unanswerequestions. Each time he glanced over his shoulder aher, she saw those questions clouding his brow, the

he'd grin at her and they'd vanish for a little while.


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But for the time being, small talk sufficed."Did they give you any hassles at passport control?"She shook her head no. "It's wasn't so bad.""Did Alex take you to the airport?"

"Yeah, it was a little weird, though. It was like wdidn't even know each other anymore. But I guess thatwhat happens when you leave someone and you knot's for good."

John closed the closet door and walked over to her."It would've happened sooner or later," he said anhoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. Hhrugged then smiled shyly.

For a moment, she tightened inside. A part of he

was still afraid that he would tell her that tomorrow hwas leaving her again, or that Chloe was on her waand that Melanie would have to go away again. But shteeled herself and smiled up at him. Then she did whahe'd wanted to do since she saw him in the airport: shlid her arms around his waist and kissed him on th

mouth. She pressed her lips to his and felt his open anhis tongue trace her lower lip. A little moan escapedShe felt his hands cup her face, the roughness of h

fingers on her cheeks and sliding into her hair. He pulle


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back and stared hard at her with eyes that she kneheld some of the questions she couldn't answer yet.

Her breath caught in her throat as she began tundress him. John reached forward and undid her bel

hen fumbled with the tiny buttons on her sweater. Theboth laughed nervously. She wondered if this was whaall reunited lovers felt when they knew that the lovhey'd felt was too great to restrain. The rush of warmt

and the lightheadedness, the strange ache to be kisseand touched even when you knew you should take low.

By the time they were both naked and she couldrink him in, Melanie was prickly hot with the desir

he'd always felt for him. There'd been nights when shand Alex were together and all she saw beneath hewas John. She pulled him to the bed and pushed hidown. Before he could grab at her, she climbed on toof him and slid him inside of her and rode him until hbucked beneath her and she'd tired herself out. She'needed to be on top, wanted to look down at hbeautiful face and see that the dark blue eyes staring uat her weren't the cold pale of Alex's, that the honey

hued arm that reached out its hand to squeeze he


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breast still had her name tattooed on it in small slanteetters. Each time she leaned forward to kiss him ouck on his lower lip, he held her so tight and so closhe thought she'd melt into him. Even though she coul

feel the jet lag closing in on her and wrapping itseound her like tendrils of wet heavy seaweed, sh

wouldn't give in. She wanted more. Then she let hiake over.

He didn't expect it. He wanted it, but he didnexpect it. They made love and then fell asleep curlearound each other. Now the sun had gone down anhis bedroom was dark. He wanted to see her, but didn

want to wake her by turning on the bedside lamp so hraced his fingers softly over her face. She murmured her sleep, kissed his fingertips without waking. Hpulled the covers up around her and settled down againWhen they'd first started dating, they took napogether in the middle of the afternoon and he'd alwaywake to find her watching him and smiling. At first it hamade him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, but nohe understood why she'd liked it: watching someon

you love sleep and imagining what they dream


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emembering the things you've done with that persoand the silly smile it brings you.

In the year that they'd been apart, he'd missed heerribly and regretted that he'd let Chloe come betwee

hem. Most of all, he regretted that he'd been so blino how deeply he'd hurt her and that she'd ever gonaway. Maria had been right all along when she'd callehim a coward for letting Melanie go. He'd known fro

he very first time he kissed her in the dark stairwell oher dormitory that Melanie was the one he'd alwaywant.

"Do you want to call your mother and let her knoyou're back?" John was sitting Indian-style on the be

facing Melanie who was still lying down; her dark hafanned out on the pillow in silky ringlets.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I don't want to seanyone else right now. You haven't told Maria that I'mback, have you?"

"No," he said and stretched out his legs. "I didnhink you wanted her to know yet."

"I like it the way it is," Melanie sat up and crawleover to John. She kissed the tip of his nose. "I almo

wish we didn't have to tell anyone where I was."


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"We could go away together for awhile. Nobody's ahe summer house."

"No, I just want to stay here with you.""How long will you stay with me?"

Melanie settled onto his lap and buried her face in thcrook of his neck. She'd always liked that spot, always smelled warm and natural.

"I don't know. Until you get tired of me or I get tire

of you."He grinned and tightened his arms around her.It was late enough in the evening that the street lamp

were lit and glowing orange against the black summeky. Through the open bedroom window came th

ounds of the street below: a woman's soft, resonanvoice singing a song about the color of the sky; strainof vibrant calypso music, bursts of staccato laughter.

John nearly forgot there was a world outside.


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Getting It Right


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Lily

It's almost nine-thirty, and Lily and I are sitting in th

backseat of a taxi speeding along the ExpresswayWe're on our way to meet her grandmother, NaCavannaugh, at the preschool Nan has hand-selectedt's a tony sort of place in Chestnut Hill that calls itself

country day school though it's hardly in the countrysidOf course the name and location give it panache, whicexplains the two year-plus waiting list. My husbandgodmother is on the board of governors for the schoo

an cooed this to me on the phone when she told m

Lily had been accepted."Of course Ellie Ballantine pulled a few strings sinc

t's John's daughter being considered and not just anchild," she'd said and I imagined her chest puffing uwith pride like some bird ready to preen and strut as

part of its mating ritual.Afterwards, all I remembered was how sh

enunciated John's daughter. And the exclusion of mname unnerved me a little.

Beside me, Lily squirms. "It smells funny in here," sh


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grumbles as she picks at the dusty rose corduroy dresa gift from her aunt Maria.

Lily doesn't like wearing dresses but she knowoday is important so she's suffered through having he

unruly dark hair combed and pulled back into twelatively tamed ponytails. She's even relented t

wearing socks and shoes. At home, she refuses to weaocks no matter how cold it is. She says she likes ho

he hardwood floors scratch her bare feet. She'll onwear socks if John does so. Lily is a tomboy at hearLeft to her own devices, she'll dig holes in our backyarn search of worms and slugs. John has taken her tenough baseball games that she knows the entir

tarting lineup of the Phillies and makes up songs abouher favorite players. Now that football season will soocommence she's keen to sit in the stands with her fathebundled up in an Eagles sweatshirt and scarf, drinkinhot chocolate and cheering for the home team.

"Where are we going?" she asks as Boathouse Rodisappears from view. She kicks the back of thdriver's seat. The cabdriver, a young Jamaican mawho hasn't spoken more than two words to us since h

picked us up, glares at us in the rearview mirror.


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I tap her chubby legs and whisper, "Don't do thaweetie."

"Are we going to visit Nana?""After we've been at school, yes."

"I don't want to go to school," she announces in voice that sounds imperious coming out of a four-yearold body. "Daddy already taught me how to count anhow to say my ABCs."

"This will be fun though, Lily," I assure her. "You'lmeet new friends there--""I don't want new friends, I want to go to school wit

Corey and Moesha." These are Lily's best friends. Theive on Saint Mark's Square and go to a preschool ju

a block away from where we live, the preschool Johand I had agreed Lily would also attend.

But Nan wouldn't hear of her great-granddaughteattending a school that wasn't in the top ten oPhiladelphia Magazine's Best Schools in the City lisShe told me we had to start early in making sure Limet the right sort of people: the right sort of peoplbeing these moneyed friends of Nan's and theoffspring's offspring. Nan has convinced herself that th

dea of Lily going to any other school would hinder he


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chances of an Ivy League education. John laughed at hgrandmother's worries and reminded her that Lily waonly four. But that just led to a long rant on the manpre-pre-school programs we should have enrolled Li

n from the day she was born."Children should be well-rounded," was Nan's fin

point on the matter. And our Lily, who neither attendFrench-immersion play dates nor dance lessons at th

Pennsylvania Ballet's children's school, is apparentwoefully behind when compared to the rest of Nanfriends' grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

"If you don't like it there, then you can go to schoowith Corey and Moesha," I say, hoping this will be

elf-fulfilling prophecy.The brochure from the country day school still make

me cringe. The glossy pictures of preternaturally happand perfect children, all blonde and blue-eyed like somber-youth propaganda, in their expensive-lookinclothing in classrooms so pristine they were more likfilm sets didn't thrill me. When I first opened it canned the photographs for a brown face, hoping Li

wouldn't be the token black there. Thankfully, ther

were two--but they were so perfect I wondered wher


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my Lily who didn't like playing with dolls and whpreferred digging in dirt and finding worms would fit in.

Our arrival at the school is fortuitously at the sam

ime when the other preschoolers are outdoors foecess. Familiar nursery songs like "One-Two Buckl

My Shoe" and "Miss Mary Mack" drift to us over thwish of passing cars on Germantown Avenue. The off

une clang of a trolley bell plants this gothic-lookinedifice firmly in reality. Like most buildings in ChestnuHill this school looks slightly out of place. Maybe itbecause it pretends to be something it isn't--old anooted in the city's history. From the cornerstone I se

he school has only been in existence ten years, but thbuilding with its mottled stone faade and stained glaswindows would have you believe it was brought ovebrick-by-brick from the Old Country. And the pretensforces me to smile.

John isn't there yet. I didn't think he would be, thoug'd hoped his meeting with his agent would end early

He handles these situations much better than me. Hgrew up with all the trappings of his family's position a

a given. For me, it's a burden that I gladly ignore


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either of us enjoys the times when we have taccompany his grandmother to social functions but wdo it because we have to. I beg off when I can. Todahere was no way of weaseling out of it.

Lily peers around, her small hand gripping mine sightly I want to turn tail and run down the street as faas I can with her in my arms. Maybe she's thinking thame thing because she whispers, "Can't we go back t

he street with the ice cream parlor instead?""It won't take long, sweetie," I promise. "We'll juook around and meet the head teacher, and then wcan meet Nana for lunch."

Lily mutters a barely audible "okay". Her reluctanc

gladdens me just a teensy bit.An officious looking woman in her late thirties clip

her way toward us. She's wearing a sharp-lapeled dresuit the color of charcoal and black leather pump

more boardroom than lunchroom. Her wavy brown hahas been cut in an unflattering bob at odds with thharp angles of her face. She's giving us a thoroug

once-over, which annoys me. When she is close enoughe introduces herself as Ms. Lowenstein and says t

Lily, "You must be our new pupil."


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"I'm just visiting," Lily states. "Then I'm having luncwith Nana and Daddy and Mama."

Ms. Lowenstein titters and pats Lily's shoulder withe tips of her fingers. "Of course you are." Then sh

focuses on me and asks, "Are Lily's parents cominater for the tour?"

"I am Lily's mother," I say in an even voice."I'm sorry--I didn't mean anything--"

"Her father's coming a bit later," I cut her off beforhe trips over any more words.But she glances from me to Lily, and I know wha

he is thinking. It isn't the first time someone haassumed that I am the nanny though I think my daughte

and I are so alike that everyone should never questioour relationship. Lily has my dark eyes, my nose anmouth. She even has my wild hair. From John she hanherited his honey skin and the cadre of her voice. Hemile is quick and charming, liker her father's. Sh

breaks into silly dances whenever the mood strikes heand bites the tip of her tongue when she's thinking. Shs so much our child that John often muses he cannoemember when she wasn't in our lives. And yet there i

always someone who cannot believe she is ours.


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"You have a lovely child," Ms. Lowenstein says. Shpulls her lips into a tight smile.

I nod. "Thank you.""Ellie Ballantine speaks highly over her."

How long will this take, I wonder. Lilly shifts froone foot to the other and shimmies. Does she need thoilet? Sometimes she does this when she's bored, is pontaneous dance coming? Not everyone appreciate

her bursts of dancing. Nan always tries to persuade Lio sit still"Shall we start the tour then?" Ms. Lowenstein ask

now that she's recovered from her momentary lapse ofoot-in-mouth. She clears her throat and gestures wit

her right arm like a game show hostess presentincoveted prizes.

She leads us through the main building, pointing ouhe various classrooms for the older children as well ahe lunchroom (which she calls a 'dining hall') ancloakroom. Everything is pristine, just like in thbrochure. It is almost too surreal just how perfect thchool is with its shiny floors and paneled corridor

The lemony smell of furniture polish hangs in the air. Sh

chirps on, her raspy voice swelling each time sh


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mentions the Biddles or the Greenfields and thegenerosity as she informs me of the school's varioupatrons and how my daughter will fit in. Is shwondering how generous the Cavannaughs will be

Does she assume we'll endow a new set of playgrounequipment, like the Rowlings, or pay for the renovatioof the preschool reading room, which Nan has alreadmentioned?

Lily lets go of my hand and skips ahead. My thumubs the spot where her hand has been, still warm andamp. I dread the day when she'll no longer want to bhugged or called "sweetie" or hold her arms out and asfor a kiss. My daughter stops and, over her shoulde

ells me, "They have rabbits here!""That's right, Lily," says Ms. Lowenstein in tha

oothing voice teachers around the world must usand we have guinea pigs and fish too."

For a moment, my daughter looks so much like hefather. She tilts her head to one side as if considerinhe possibility of having rabbits and guinea pigs and fisn one place. The momentary glow of bliss spreads oveher face and she bites her lower lip. Has it happene

now? Is she so enchanted with this school she


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forgotten about Corey and Moesha? Then Lily shrugand says, "It's lunchtime soon. Can we go to Nananow?"

"Soon, sweetie, we'll just finish the tour and then we

be on our way."Ms. Lowenstein clears her throat again and asks m

f Lily has learned to read yet."She's making progress," I say. Lily already know

how to read but I don't want to share this informationat least not with this woman. Every night we take turneading pages from her favorite book,Ferdinand thull. She thinks Ferdinand is a little like her father, sinc

he also prefers sitting in the shade of trees sleeping an

niffing flowers.We walk along a path to the building housing th

preschool classes. The young teachers and their chargeare in the play area. I am introduced to the teachers, aof whom are younger than me, with names like Megaand Poppy and Cassie. They are slender and pretty, alAmerican girls clad in hip-hugging cropped chinos anpastel sweaters reminiscent of a J.Crew catalog. The

gush over Lily but she sticks close to me. She peers a


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he other children running around the schoolyard. Shgrimaces then whispers to me, "There's nobody herwho looks like Moesha."

By the time John turns up the tour is nearly over. Hmeets us just as we've arrived at the classroom that wbe Lily's if we decide to send her here. Ms. Lowenstehakes his hand and gives John an appraising look

which he ignores as he comes to my side. We kiss, quick kiss that promises more later, and then John sayWhere's my sweet Lily?"

Lily abandons the Lego set she's been playing witwhen she hears her father's voice. She runs over to hi

and attaches herself to his leg. He picks her up ankisses her nose.

"Do you want to go to school here?" he asks her.She shakes her head no."Then it's settled, let's go to lunch," John says with

grin."I can assure you Lily would receive a top-notc

education here," Ms. Lowenstein says, training heattention on John. "We believe in a multicultural learnin

environment."


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"I haven't seen much evidence of that," I reply. Frohe large picture window we can see out to the groundn the preschool group, there are no black children, no

are there any Hispanics. There is one Asian child. Non

of the staff appear to be from another ethnic group oculture. How multicultural can they be?

No matter what Nan or Ms. Lowenstein thinkChestnut Hill Country Day School is not where I wan

my child. That John feels the same gladdens me. Wclimb into our Mini and drive to Nan's house. Lily hopup and down in the backseat, singing along with John ahe maneuvers the car along Bridle Path Lane.

This is how it should be, I tell myself, and then I jo

n the song.


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Title PageThe Start of Something New: In EdinburghStarting Over: Until She ComesGetting It Right: Lily

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