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Melody's Song

By Kathleen E. Friesen

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Whap! The old screen door slammed and echoed through the nearly empty farmhouse, startling Melody Jamison as she wiped the bottom shelf of the cavernous refrigerator.
Her daughter Faith rushed into the kitchen, a white-gold banner of blond hair streaming behind her.
“Mom? There you are! Sorry we’re late, but Jessica decided to nap an extra hour, and then she filled her diaper at the last minute, and … Mom, are you okay?”
Melody pushed herself upright and tossed her cleaning cloth into the sink, feeling much older than her forty-four years. She leaned back against the blue-tiled counter and rolled her aching shoulders.
“Yes, honey, I’m all right.” She sighed, shoulders dropping. “I knew this move would be hard … leaving this old farm … saying goodbye … but it’s even harder than I’d expected.”
Her eyes welled up and she wiped them with the frayed hem of Tom’s old denim shirt. “I just can’t help feeling as if I’ve failed your father. You know how he loved this place. And after four generations of Jamisons …”
Faith circled slowly, looking like a sad ballerina as her chin quivered at the barrenness of what used to be their home. Then she crossed the room and wrapped her mother in a quick hug. “Yeah, I know.”
Faith pulled back but didn’t let go. “But Mom, you are doing the right thing. I still wish you were moving to a better part of the city, but at least you’ll be in Saskatoon. I’ve been worried about you being out here all alone, working yourself into the ground. I couldn’t bear to lose you, too. And Dad would never expect you to run the farm by yourself.” She paused. “You do know that, right?”
She pressed her cheek to her mother’s. “And we prayed about this, remember?”
She stepped back, peering into her mother’s eyes. Melody looked away—too late. “You look exhausted. How long has it been since you’ve slept?”
That wasn’t a question Melody wanted to answer. Nightmares had haunted her days and devoured her nights ever since Tom’s death, but she wasn’t about to share that with her daughter. Melody leaned into the hug and rested her head on Faith’s slender shoulder.
“I’m so glad you and Jason are here. The movers left about fifteen minutes ago, but I was hoping you could take the houseplants in your van. My car is full of things from the freezer and fridge.”
The screen door slammed once more, and Melody’s eyes lit up. “Hello, Jason, and there’s my darling! Come here, Jessie, Grandma needs a hug.”
“Hey, Mom, I see we missed the movers. Sorry. Here, Jess fell asleep again on the way out, but now she’s raring to go.”
Melody eagerly took the baby in her arms, squeezing her so tightly Jessica whimpered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I guess Grandma’s a little emotional today. But you sure are good for my soul. Mm-mm, you smell good!”
The baby giggled as Melody nuzzled her soft neck.
“Ouch! Oh, you do like Grandma’s curls, don’t you, little one?” Melody eased the plump little fingers out of her short brown waves, grimacing at the number of hairs still clenched in the small fist.
Faith came back into the room with a white African violet and a small jade plant. Jason followed, carrying a large philodendron in a patterned blue pot.
“Did you still have plants upstairs, Mom? I found these in the study, and we’ll get the ones in the living and dining rooms. Are there any more?”
“Yes, there are a few in the bedrooms. I really appreciate your help. It’s a long way to come, and it means a lot to me.”
Her burly son-in-law grimaced. “Sorry we were so late. We’d meant to be here before the movers arrived, but you know babies. They sure can mess up a schedule.”
“That’s okay, Jason. I had everything ready, so it went fast. But I should get to the city so I can tell them where to put things. And you know how I feel about driving that highway. Do you mind?”
Faith shared a look with her husband before answering, “Of course, Mom. It won’t take long to get these plants loaded. Here, give me the baby. Jason, you take those pots out to the van. I’ll check upstairs, and we’ll be on our way. I can direct the movers until you get there. And Mom? It will be okay.”
A short time later, Melody wandered through the house for the last time. Life had been hard since Tom’s accident, especially since there’d been no time to sit and grieve. Farm work wouldn’t wait. Is exhaustion triggering those nightmares? If so, maybe this fresh start …
She looked out the dining room window toward the big old barn built by Tom’s great-grandfather. The animals had been the first to go. A neighboring farmer had made her a generous offer for Tom’s prized Jersey cows, and the chickens and various pets had made their ways to other farms in the last few months. Now the empty yard mocked her. She clasped her hands as though in prayer and brought them to her downturned lips. I tried, but I failed. I’m so sorry, Tom.
Even though she’d rented out the hay and grain fields, the four-acre yard and aging house were too much for one small woman. She’d done her best. For more than two years, she had struggled to keep the place operational, but five months ago she’d admitted defeat.
A crowd of neighbors from around Rosthern came to look for deals at the farm auction, but Melody had hidden indoors for the entire sale. Her old shyness had become a shield from nearly everyone since Tom had died. It was easier to stay home than face people and their pity—or their judgment.
Even the church she and Tom used to attend had become a place to avoid after overhearing some older members musing that “old George Jamison would roll over in his grave if he knew what that girl was doing to his homestead.” She missed going to church, but she just couldn’t face the whispers.
Melody sighed as she stepped into the living room. So much had changed since Tom’s death. Hopefully this move would be a good one. All I want is a pleasant, peaceful life. Is that too much to ask?
Melody touched the wall where her family photos had hung. The dents in the carpeting outlined the sturdy furniture she and Tom had bought through the years.
Turning her back on those memories, she climbed the stairs. The first room had been Will’s—walls hung with hockey posters and a perpetual mess on the floor. Snapshots of Will flitted through her mind: her bald, chubby baby, a bright-eyed little boy with blond curls she’d hated to cut, the shy pre-teen, and finally the tall, sullen stranger he had become just before he’d run away.
She whispered into the empty space, “Will, my son, what happened to you? Where are you?”
Pushing herself forward, she walked into Faith’s old bedroom. Melody’s eyes brightened at the memory of her tomboy daughter’s eclectic decorating: embroidered patchwork pillows and piles of rocks. Pride lifted the corners of her mouth. She’s grown to be a lovely young woman. We’ll get to spend more time together now, I hope. I’ve missed our mother-daughter times.
Her steps slowed as she neared the bedroom she’d shared with her husband. Dreams forcing her to relive his accident made it feel as though the room was cursed. But when she’d still had Tom, this room had been their haven. She stopped outside the doorway and leaned against the wall. Would this move be what she needed? Or would her troubles follow her?
Melody turned back toward the stairs. She paused again at each doorway as memories tugged at her. Stay, they cried. This is your home!
But it wasn’t any more. The sale was final, and it was time to leave. Melody straightened her shoulders, went back downstairs and out the back door. She turned the key in the deadbolt and shut the screen without a sound.

***

Will strained to lift his head. It felt as if it weighed at least fifty pounds. What happened? Where am I? What time is it? Was I supposed to be somewhere?
He stuck out his arm and peered at his watch. Too blurry. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. He looked at the watch again. Five o’clock. A.m. or p.m.? He shook his head to clear it. Unh. Bad move.
Looking around, he saw that he was on a low-backed beige couch in a vaguely familiar apartment. But whose? And why did he feel like this, so stiff and groggy? Sure, he’d had a few drinks last night, but not enough to knock him out—or make him feel like a well-used punching bag. He looked down. His T-shirt was torn, and bruises were appearing on his hands and arms. Aw, that was my favorite shirt. He pulled up the torn hem and saw angry red marks on his abdomen. No wonder I hurt!
He was struggling to stand when a loud voice assaulted his aching head.
“Hey! Good afternoon to you, mister sunshine. I wondered when you would rejoin the land of the living.”
Oh, yeah, this is Quentin’s place. He’s been letting me stay here while I find another place. But why …?
Quentin’s voice rang with sarcasm. “Great party last night, eh? I liked that new club. Pretty girls, good service, and great music. Super night, in fact, until you mouthed off to those dudes outside.”
Why did Quentin have to be so loud?
Will’s host came over and stood in front of him. Hands clenching and unclenching, Quentin leaned in until the two were nearly nose to nose. Will blinked and tried to step back, but his legs hit the couch. Arms outstretched like a graceless tightrope walker, he barely managed to stay upright. Even with eyes still unfocused, he couldn’t help but notice the ugly bruises on his buddy’s face.
“I’ve tried to be a good friend to you, Will, but you’re a mean drunk. And I can’t afford to keep bailing you out of trouble. You’re gonna have to find a new place to crash and someone else to lean on.
“Get your act together, man, before you get yourself—or someone else—killed!”

***

Hours later, Melody sank onto the big brown tweed couch in her new home and sighed at the chaos surrounding her. The movers and Jason had set up the furniture, and Faith had helped her get the kitchen functional, but boxes still covered nearly every visible surface.
Well, Tom, what do you think? Can this be home? Oh, how I wish you were here! Her face twisted. But then I wouldn’t have had to move, would I?
Between Tom’s life insurance and the sale of the farm, she had enough savings to live on, as long as she was careful. But she was used to being frugal. And she would get used to this new house. But could she ever get used to being alone? Melody shook off the depressing thoughts.
She pushed her exhausted frame off the couch and prepared for bed. She was thankful her son-in-law had taken the time to set up the oak sleigh bed before he and Faith took little Jessica home. They’re such good kids. And it will be wonderful to spend more time with that adorable baby.
She slid between the sheets, the silky percale soothing her aching body. Just before closing her eyes, Melody admired the way the pale blue walls matched her favorite quilt and contrasted with the dark furniture. The surroundings were new, but the bed was comfortable and familiar. Melody hugged Tom’s pillow and fell into a deep sleep.
But without warning the familiar dream began. She was standing at the kitchen sink, checking the time. Where’s Tom? He should have been in an hour ago, and he always phones when he’s delayed. Of course, if that old baler acted up again, he’d forget about the time, just wanting to get it running and the field baled. He said he wanted to get the north quarter finished today.
He’s not answering his cell. Come on, Tom, answer it! Well, I guess I’d better make sure everything is all right. Otherwise I’ll just keep worrying over nothing.
Okay, there’s the tractor, but it’s not moving. Now what’s wrong with that baler? It looks so strange. What’s that horrible red thing hanging from it? Looks like Tom’s work boots. All that red … is that blood? Is that TOM? No, no, it can’t be!
As always, the redness gathered itself into a haze that swirled and swam in front of Melody’s face. She felt herself being pulled down into an abyss of blackness.
No, God, no!
Her own moans woke her. She sat up in bed, her whole body trembling, dry eyes wide with horror. She rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the images burned into her memory. When would the nightmares end? Was she doomed to relive that horror night after night?
Shaking still, Melody got out of bed. Where is it? She rummaged through the boxes until she found the right one, pulled out Tom’s plaid flannel robe, and wrapped herself in it. She padded softly to the living room, switching on lights as she went. Tom’s brown leather rocker beckoned her, and she sat with her feet tucked under her, waiting for daylight.
As the first rays of sunshine hit the windows, Melody’s eyes opened. Good, I dozed off for a while after all. She stretched her legs out, stood up, stumbled, and caught herself of the edge of the coffee table. Needle-like sensations shot up her legs as her feet regained circulation. That’ll teach me to scrunch up on the chair. Oh well, at least my feet got some sleep. Might as well make some coffee; it’s going to be another long day.

***

Across the street another woman woke up moaning. “Danny,” she whispered, “will you please get me another pill?”
The man sprawled in the chair beside her snapped awake and automatically checked the pulse of the frail woman on the bed. It was faint but steady. The digital clock on the night table read five-thirty a.m.
“Hey, Mama.” He leaned over and smoothed the wisps of white hair off her pale, lined face. “You must have slept a bit. That’s good. I can’t give you any more painkillers, though. I’m sorry; I wish I could. Valerie will be here soon and I’ll tell her you need something stronger. Here, have a sip of water. I put a slice of lemon in it, just the way you like it.” Her head moved against the pillow. “No? Okay, it’s here if you want it.”
Daniel Martens returned the glass to the nightstand and stood up. Another rough night. How many more would Mama—and he—have to endure? If God was as good as she always said, he would never allow such suffering. How could she keep on believing?
Yesterday afternoon while she’d rested on the couch, Rose Martens had asked Daniel to read Psalm 91 to her. He’d barely been able to choke out the words past his clenched teeth, but they’d seemed to soothe her. The pain-etched lines on her face had relaxed as he’d read:
“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble …”
Empty promises! Bitterness nearly choked him, but he would do almost anything for his mother. And she knew it. But did she know how hard this was for him?
For a few minutes Daniel watched as his mother slipped back into the restless sleep of suffering. His rugged face softened as he leaned over and kissed her sunken, wrinkled cheek. Straightening again, he went to the kitchen to make coffee, his eyes squinting as he left the dim bedroom. It was going to take more than one pot of the stuff to get him through the day.
When the day nurse arrived at six o’clock, he took his coffee mug out onto the porch. The willow twig chair he’d built for his mother so many years ago welcomed his weary body as he sat. When the sun hit his face, he winced. He grabbed his extra-dark sunglasses out of his shirt pocket and covered his eyes with them. Another reminder of all he’d lost. He used to relish being out in the sunshine, but now he couldn’t bear the brightness. If it weren’t for these glasses … As though to emphasize the point, the back of his head started to throb, pulsing a dull ache in time to his heartbeat. He swore under his breath. The willow chair creaked as he shoved it back into the shadows of the porch.
Daniel looked over at the yellow house where the moving van had been parked most of yesterday afternoon. He hoped whoever had moved in would be nice and quiet, not like those people down the street. He frowned as he glanced toward the gray house with black trim. His mother liked to have the windows open when a nice breeze was blowing, but when those people started yelling, the sound carried all too well. She didn’t understand what was going on, but the noise agitated her. Next time, I’m phoning the police.
Looking back at the yellow house, Daniel noticed the living room curtains open. Another early riser. Thought the hard work of moving would keep a body in bed a little longer. Not that it’s any of my business. But his eyes lingered on the little house.
As he watched, the front door opened and a petite woman stepped out. She sat down on her front step and raised her heart-shaped face to the rising sun. Her short, curly hair lifted in the breeze like a fluffy brown halo. Then she looked around as though she felt his eyes on her, like a doe about to bolt.
Timid little thing. What’s her problem?
Daniel stood to go back inside. His sudden action was echoed by the woman across the street as she jumped to her feet. When she saw him, she half-smiled and her hand started to rise, then stopped. She turned, hurried into the house, and closed the door.
When Daniel checked on his mother, she was still dozing, but her breathing was ragged. He found the nurse at the kitchen table recording Rose’s blood pressure and other details.
“Valerie, is there any way she can get more painkillers? She hasn’t slept well the last couple nights.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel so helpless when she’s in pain.”
“I can’t give her more pills, Daniel,” the gray-haired nurse said. “She’s already getting the maximum dose, but I can ask her doctor about an IV drip.” She pursed her lips. “We’ll do whatever we can to keep her comfortable. I’m sorry. I know this is hard.”
Daniel just nodded and turned away. Good thing he had plenty of work these days. He would go crazy if he had to sit here the entire day watching his mother fade away. Yeah, life is hard.

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