Chapter 6

“You like that train?” Melody asked, pulling her eyes away from Reid’s retreating form and focusing instead on the little boy looking longingly at the toy sticking up from the top of the cardboard box.

“Yes,” Michael nodded. “Could I take it out?”

Even though she knew the train was both very old and worth quite a bit of money, Melody didn’t hesitate to pull it out of the box. Made of tin and consisting of an engine, two cars, and a caboose, the black lacquer was a bit worn and one of the buckles that held two of the cars together stuck a bit, but other than that, it was in good shape.

Michael’s eyes lit up as he took the train out of her hands. “Wow—it’s so cool!”

“There isn’t much room to play with it up here, but would you like to go downstairs to the living room and play with it there?”

Before she was even through with the question, Michael was exclaiming, “Yes!” and making his way back down the stairs. She followed to make sure he found the right room and didn’t take a tumble down the steps.

“The wooden floors in here should make it easier to roll,” Melody explained as Michael sat the train on the living room floor and tore his coat off. He began to enthusiastically roll the train around on the parquet floor. Melody watched for a moment, marveling at his pure joy and absently wondering at what age that begins to fade.

A few moments later, Michael said, “You got a lot of Santas on your fireplace.”

“Oh, yeah,” Melody agreed. “And that’s not even half of my dad’s collection.”

“He sure musta liked Christmas,” the little boy replied before returning to the train.

Melody nodded. No one loved Christmas as much as her dad did.

Without even looking up at her, Michael asked, “Do you miss him?”

She was caught off guard by the simplicity and innocence in the question. Dropping down to the nearby window seat, she said, “Yes. Every day.”

Michael was still zooming the train around, but his voice sounded a bit different when he said, “I’m sorry. I miss my mom, too.”

Melody’s eyes widened, wondering what had happened to Michael’s mother, but before she could ask the question, Reid came back in the door, a small toolkit in his hand. Stepping into the room, he asked, “Whatcha got there, Mikey?”

“Oh, it’s a train!” Michael popped up and rushed over to his dad. “Look! Isn’t it cool!”

“Sure is,” Reid replied, “but it looks old. Be careful not to break it.”

“I know.” Michael hurried back over to his previous spot, and soon the train was rushing down the imaginary tracks again, some sort of bandits chasing behind.

Melody stood. “Did you get everything you need?”

“Yes. It should just take a few minutes.”

She nodded and followed him back toward the stairs, Michael’s comment and his question still lingering. She had just assumed Reid was married, and even though she had immediately found him quite attractive, having no idea what had become of Michael’s mother made her both curious and slightly nervous to be in the handsome man’s presence again, particularly now that Michael wasn’t with them as a distraction.

“How long have you lived in Charles Town?” she asked as he weaved his way back through the labyrinth to the attic door.

“About six months,” he replied, looking at the hole in the door with great scrutiny. “Have you always lived here?”

“No,” Melody answered very quickly, and when he glanced up at her, a question in his eyes, she realized not everyone felt the same way about the small town that she had grown up in as she did. “I mean… I was born here. And I graduated from Washington High School. But then I went to college in Chicago and just loved it. I worked there for a few years before I came back to help my mom out.”

He had the door knob lined up now and was using some tool Melody wasn’t sure she knew the name of to assemble the pieces from the kit she’d picked up at the store. “What did you do in Chicago?”

“Oh, I worked in marketing,” she replied. “Seems like a million years ago, even though I’ve only been back a couple of months.” He only nodded to acknowledge she was speaking, and she realized she might be oversharing. “Where did you and Michael move from?”

“Montana,” he said, using a screwdriver now to tighten the knob.

“What brought you to Charles Town?”

He shrugged, and Melody wondered if she was asking too many questions. “We’d heard it was a nice small town. Lots of old houses. We like that sort of thing.”

“I see,” she said, deciding not to pry any further.

“There you go, good as new,” he said, giving the door knob a final spin and opening and closing the door a few times.

“Thank you so much,” Melody said, delighted that the knob was fixed. It looked as if it was actually repaired, too, that it wouldn’t fall apart again any time soon. “I really appreciate your help. Will you let me pay you something?”

“No,” Reid answered quickly, scoffing at her request. “It only took a minute.”

“I know, but if you hadn’t volunteered to help, I would’ve ended up paying a handyman anyway. I may as well pay you instead.”

“It’s really no problem,” Reid insisted, packing his tools back into the toolbox.

“I mean, my mom’s friends are raving about this new handyman in town and how he can fix anything, and my mom really wanted me to give him a call, but things are kind of tight right now with the store and all, so I thought maybe I could do it myself and not have to bother calling someone who’d likely overcharge and then who knows if it would even stay put together, you know?”

When she finally stopped rambling long enough to look at him, she realized his expression was one of slight amusement coupled with a hint of offense. A few details from her mother’s conversations with Mrs. Gregory came flooding back to her, and Melody realized why Reid was looking at her so funny. “You’re the new handyman, aren’t you?”

Reid chuckled. “Actually, my degree is in architecture, but yes, since we moved to town, that’s what I’ve been doing. To pay the bills. And to get to know the area before I start any sort of restoration business.”

“I am so sorry!” Melody could feel the heat rising in her face. “I didn’t mean to say anything offensive. I’m sure you don’t overcharge or do shoddy repairs.”

“It’s okay,” he said, a grin on his face. “I understand the sentiment.”

“You’ve got to let me pay you though,” Melody insisted. “This is your job.”

“It’s really no problem.” He had his toolkit in hand now and looked down the hallway like he was about to head for the stairs.

Before she realized what she was doing, Melody put her hand on his arm. “Please?” she asked. Then, looking at her hand as if she’d never seen it before, she pulled it away and folded her hands in front of her, but not before those tingly sensations began to course up her arm again.

“Melody, really, it was an easy fix. I won’t take any money from you. Consider it a favor from a friend—a new friend.”

Reluctantly, Melody smiled and said, “Okay. Thank you.” He smiled back at her and gave her a slight nod. Just then, Melody realized she was hearing a sound she hadn’t heard in almost two years, and even though it was nothing like the perfectly constructed songs her father played, the sound jarred her.

“Michael,” Reid said, shaking his head and heading for the stairs.

Melody wanted to push him aside and sprint down the stairwell to stop the little boy, though she rationalized he had no idea what he was doing, and she could hardly be rude to the man and his son who had just fixed her door knob for free. Still, as they reached the more open expanse of the stairs, Melody went flying around Reid, hurrying into the parlor to the piano.

Taking a deep breath, she put her hand on top of the two tiny ones that were banging on the keys. “Michael,” she said calmly. “This was my father’s piano, honey.” Michael stopped and looked up at her, his eyes wide. “We don’t… we don’t play it anymore.”

Reid caught up to her then, and placing his hand on her back for a moment, he said, “I apologize. Michael, you were supposed to stay in the other room. Tell Miss Melody you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Michael said as his father scooped him up off of the piano bench.

“No, it’s okay,” Melody said, forcing a smile, the rush of adrenaline from running down the stairs and the lingering feeling of Reid’s hand on her back causing her voice to tremble. “You didn’t know.”

“Still, we shouldn’t go into other people’s homes where we are not invited,” Reid said, eyeing his son with a look only a seasoned parent could muster.

“Please don’t be mad at me, Miss Melody,” Michael said, and tears began to form in his eyes.

“Oh, honey, I’m not mad at you,” Melody said, feeling her heartstrings tugged nearly out of her chest. “Don’t cry.”

“He’s fine,” Reid assured her with a slight shake of his head. Then, to Michael, he said, “Go get your coat, and find Miss Melody’s train.” He set Michael down on the floor, and with a sniffle, the little boy shot toward the living room on the other side of the stairs.

“He has a way of making a person feel guilty for any sort of correction to his behavior whatsoever,” Reid explained, stepping over to where Michael had just disappeared.

Melody carefully put the lid back over the keys on her father’s grand piano and lovingly patted the top before she scooted the seat in. With a deep breath, she said, “I overreacted. I just… hadn’t heard that sound in a while.”

“I’m really sorry,” Reid said, and turning to face him, Melody saw genuine concern in his eyes.

“No, I should’ve told him not to come in here, or something….” Melody forced a smile and walked over to where he was standing. Out in the hall, they saw Michael running toward them, coat on, train in hand. Melody went out to meet him, Reid behind her.

“Here you go, Miss Melody,” Michael said, lifting the train up to her.

“You know what, why don’t you keep it?” she said, watching Michael’s face light up.

“Oh, Melody, we can’t do that.” Reid was shaking his head at his son, whose face began to fall.

“No, I insist.” Then, looking at Reid, she said, “From one new friend to another.”

There really wasn’t anything Reid could say to argue with that, so with a smile, he said, “Thank you, Melody,” and she felt her heart flutter for a moment before Michael’s bear hug enveloped her.

“Thank you, Miss Melody,” he said, squeezing as tightly as he could without dropping the train or embedding it in her knee. “You’re the nicest lady I ever met.”

Giggling, she patted his head and said, “You’re welcome, Michael. Thank you for helping fix my door knob.”

“You’re welcome.” He finally let go of her legs and reached for his father’s extended hand.

Melody followed them to the door. It was completely dark now, so she flipped the porch light on as Reid opened the door. “Thank you again,” she said, leaning on the door as they made their way onto the porch.

“No problem,” he said with a smile. “It was nice meeting you, Melody.”

“You, too.” Melody smiled and waved goodbye, and even though she wanted to watch them walk across the yard and continue to watch as they drove down the road, she forced herself to close the door. Leaning her back against the sturdy solid oak, she thought, “Is this the Christmas magic Dad was always talking about? Or am I just setting myself up for a little Christmas heartache?”