Christmas Melody: a romance for the holidays Read online

  Contents

  Christmas Melody

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Author's Note

  Christmas Melody

  Christmas Melody

  A romance for the holidays

  by Alyssa Jefferson

  Copyright 2017, Alyssa Jefferson. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be duplicated or distributed without the publisher’s permission.

  All persons in this book are fictitious and not meant to be representative of any real persons.

  About the Author

  I am a literature scholar and hopeful romantic who firmly believes that love is love. After spending years absorbing the magnificent worlds of Jane Austen, Willa Cather, and other pioneering women who created a space in literature for all of us, I want to use my pen to bring a little bit more love into the world. I now like to escape from full-time adulting into whatever new world my pen can dream up.

  I live in the friendly Midwest with my husband, baby boy, and fur baby. I am thoroughly delighted and deeply grateful to any reader who does me the honor of reading what I have to say.

  If you like what you read, please consider leaving a review! And if you join my author mailing list, you’ll get an exclusive free novelette, Secret Santa, a short holiday romance. Enjoy!

  Prologue

  Every day was a good day for a miracle—especially for Melody Parish.

  When Mel was a little girl, she used to love going to the nursing home with her mom and sisters and singing carols. (The “old person’s home,” she called it.) They would dress in red and green dresses with white lace collars and tights, and all three girls would parade down the hallways singing “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” at the top of their lungs. Eliza, the oldest, usually sang harmonies, while Melody and Francine, the twins, sang the melody. Crowds would gather to see the cute little singers bustle by, corralled by a beaming young mother who accompanied them on a child-sized guitar. It was the stuff Norman Rockwell paintings were made of, the three little girls in their shining holiday best, singing to spread Christmas cheer.

  But one year, tragedy threatened to ruin their tradition forever. When the twins were nine years old, Francy got terribly sick. It was summer, and the children spent most of their time outdoors, hopping in puddles, collecting insects, and rolling in the muddy lawn after rain, so their parents assumed she was an allergy sufferer like her dad (never mind that her twin sister was not). But instead of getting better when the cool fall air came in and Gary’s runny nose cleared up, Francy’s symptoms got worse. She was always tired, and her skin began to look pale and sallow. Though she and Mel were identical twins, it became very easy to tell them apart. One was rosy and bright, the other skinny and lethargic.

  Annie took her daughter to the doctor the week before school began. Mel and Liz stayed home with their father, and when their mom and sister came home, they overheard whispered conversations in the kitchen. Francy had gone to bed for a nap, and the other sisters huddled together outside the kitchen door, where they could hear their parents’ mournful tones. It sounded like Annie was crying, and Gary was trying to calm her down.

  “We don’t know what’s wrong yet,” he said. “Let’s try not to overreact.”

  “The tests they’re sending her to—they aren’t for a stomach ache, Gary! Her white blood cell count, CT scans, MRIs…. They want to know if she has a disease! Diabetes, Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis—”

  “Maybe—”

  “—Cancer. She could have cancer, Gary. Our baby girl. And we waited all summer to take her to the doctor, thinking…” Annie burst into tears. The girls looked at each other, bewildered. Mom didn’t cry, ever.

  “Let’s just wait and see what the doctor says, Annie.”

  Waiting to see was bad enough, but when they did find out what was wrong, it was every bit as bad as Mel’s mother could have imagined. Her sister had cancer--Leukemia, to be specific. And since it had been months before they caught it, her treatment was aggressive and sudden. School started, but Francy didn’t go. She was admitted to the hospital, where she stayed for months. Mom spent all her time there, while Dad spent even more time at work. Mel and Liz, only 9 and 11 years old, were left to the care of a neighbor, Mrs. O’Dell, who lived across the street but had moved into the guest bedroom.

  It was strange. Mel loved Francy more than just about anybody in the world. They shared a special bond, but when Francy was sick, Mel felt distant from her. Mom only brought her to visit on the weekends, and when she came, Francy was usually too tired to play or talk. It made Mel’s heart hurt to see her sister so sad, and so without entertainment, purpose, or fun. She wanted to build forts together, to play tricks on the boys in their class, to cheat on homework together, to trick their teachers, who couldn’t tell them apart. She wanted it to be like it had always been before, but she could sense that these things were less important now.

  When December came, Gary and Annie sat down their two daughters at home for a talk. Liz and Mel had begun spending more time together, and they sat nervously beside each other, Liz’s hand on the back of Mel’s neck.

  “Girls,” Annie began, “as you know, your sister is very sick this Christmas. Your father and I are working as hard as we can to take care of her, and you, but being at the hospital so much costs a lot of money.”

  Annie’s eyes filled with tears, and she looked at Gary. “What your mother is saying,” he continued, “is that we may not be able to buy Christmas presents this year like we usually do.”

  The girls looked at each other. This was bad news. Liz smiled at her little sister, then, with a stiff upper lip, and said, “That’s okay, Dad. We don’t need presents.”

  “There will still be some presents,” Annie added, dabbing away her tears. “Of course, Santa Claus will visit!”

  Again, the girls exchanged a knowing look. They didn’t believe in Santa, but it seemed so important to their mom that they did, that they all agreed to pretend. Even Dad was in on it.

  “We also would like to talk to Mel alone, Lizzie. Would you go play in your bedroom?”

  While Liz disappeared off the couch and down the hall, Mel felt her absence in the cool air. She wasn’t used to having no sisters beside her. She looked with melancholy at the place in the corner where, by now, the Christmas tree should have stood, and felt impossibly lonely.

  After they heard the sound of the door click, her father began again. “Mel, you know that your sister Francy is very sick.”

  “I know,” she murmured.

  “The doctors are doing their very best to give her all the medicine she needs, but there are some things that medicine can’t do.” Her parents looked at each other before Gary took a big breath and continued. “They want to give Francy a bone marrow transplant. And to do that, they need a bone marrow donation from a donor. Because you girls are twins, you’re the perfect match.”

  “You want me to give her my bones?”

  Annie smiled and tucked Mel’s hair behind her ear. “No, sweetie. Just a bone marrow donation. They would give you something to make you sleep, then use a needle to draw out some bone marrow. Then you wake up and feel good as new.”

  “Oh. Okay. When do we do it?”

  Annie half-laughed, half-sobbed, while Gary put his arm around her. “Let
’s see…. We’ll talk to the doctors and probably do it this week,” he said. “You’ll need to take a day or two off school.”

  Mel’s face lit up. “Okay! And then…can Francy come back to school with me?”

  “We hope she’ll be able to come back soon,” Gary answered. “If she responds well to the treatment, that is.”

  “She will!” Mel smiled at her parents. “I know she will. We’re twins!” Mel felt a little giddy at being together with both her parents again. It felt like she never saw them anymore. If Francy got better, everything would go back to normal.

  The procedure was later that week, on a Thursday. It happened just like Mom and Dad had said it would. Mel was only in the hospital for a day, and she got to see Francy afterwards. Other than feeling tired, giving the bone marrow was no big deal at all! She wasn’t awake for the procedure, and afterward they gave her some medicine so it didn’t even hurt. She got to eat food from the hospital kitchen and watch Christmas movies on the big, flat screen TV. Best of all, she shared a room with her sister for the night. The nurses had pulled some strings to make this happen; they said that all Francy’s vital signs improved when Mel was with her, and the doctor had given Mel a clean bill of health, so she wasn’t posing any threat to Francy’s immune system by staying. On the contrary, she seemed to be beneficial to her sister’s health. It made Mel proud and happy.

  But when she went back home that weekend, it seemed that Francy was still just as sick. The doctor explained that these donations don’t always work, but if it did, Francy should be responding by Christmas time. This didn’t meant she would feel better right away, but if her body accepted the donation, they’d know. The weeks passed, and no news did not seem to be good news. Mom and Dad were not home often, but when they were, their hushed voices made the hair on the back of Mel’s neck stand up. Things weren’t better.

  The Sunday before Christmas, Mel and Liz went with their dad to the hospital, where their mom was already sitting on the recliner in Francy’s room. She’d been there even more than usual this month, and Mel missed her. She gave her mom a hug and said hello to her sister, but Francy was asleep. Gary and Liz went to the cafeteria to get a snack, but Mel stayed in the room. It made her heart ache to know that her mother was sad, and her sister was hurting. She wished desperately that there was something she could do.

  “Mom? Is Francy going to wake up?”

  Annie looked at her with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

  Mel stared at her sister’s bed, the fluffy blankets layered over her feet.

  “I want to sing a carol to her. Can I?” Mel asked.

  Annie smiled at her. “I’m sure she’ll like that, Melody.”

  Mel stood at the foot of Francy’s bed and thought of a Christmas carol to sing. “Away in a Manger” was always Francy’s favorite. She tried to sing to her sister, but it felt like the words were going into a void. Francy was asleep; she couldn’t hear her. So as she sang, she looked at her mother. She studied her long, auburn hair; her sad brown eyes; her soft, kind hands. She sang for her mother, to give her whatever comfort she could.

  And that’s when the miracle happened.

  It didn’t happen all at once. First, Francy woke up, just as Mel was finishing “…and take us to heaven, to live with thee there.” She seemed to feel much better than normal, which made their mother laugh giddily and call a nurse. Mel and Francy talked about Benjy Harper, a boy they both had a crush on from school whose Aunt in New Zealand had sent an exotic fruit basket for him to share with the class.

  It was the kind of day that seemed too good to be true. But it was, in fact, the beginning of many very good days; things just got better and better. Francy began to accept the bone marrow transplant, after all. The doctors couldn’t explain the sudden change, except that sometimes bodies take a long time to adjust to such treatment. She recovered slowly but surely, and by Easter, she was able to move back home. Mel was overjoyed. The whole family was, but Mel in particular felt the stomach-bubbling thrill that comes from a secret knowledge of her own significance. The bone marrow transplant hadn’t been working. Nothing had worked, until she sang her carol. While she wouldn’t have said so out loud, she began to wonder whether something magical had happened, something she caused when she sang. With the wonder only a child can produce, she asked: Did her voice have healing powers?

  The following Christmas, all three girls went again with their mother to the old person’s home, and they walked the halls and sang. Melody kept her eyes peeled for old crippled ladies leaping from their wheelchairs or slouching gentlemen straightening up and winking their eyes at her, but no such event transpired.

  Mel had gotten a science kit for her birthday that year, and she sometimes fancied herself a scientist. It was in this spirit that she decided to do a small experiment. Perhaps it was the solitude of her song to her sister that had healed her. Melody waited until the others were eating pie and cocoa in the dining room, then slipped away under the auspices of needing the restroom. Then she found a friendly nurse.

  “Excuse me,” she said, “but is there anyone here who isn’t well enough to come out to the hallway and hear our carols, but might like to be sung to?”

  The nurse smiled and bent down to talk to Mel. “That is so sweet. You know, there is a man down the hall who has been very lonely this Christmas, and I’m sure your singing would cheer him up. He’s just down here on the right, second from the drinking fountain. His name is Mr. Del Monte.”

  Mel thanked her and walked down to the room, where she knocked and let herself inside. The man was surprised to have a visitor, but seemed pleased all the same. Mel explained what she was doing there and asked for his favorite carol. He said that he liked “Joy to the World.” So Mel sat down beside his bed, held his hand, and began to sing.

  Mr. Del Monte smiled. His eyes became teary, and his face was very peaceful. It was as though all his cares were gone. As he listened to Mel, he began to close his eyes, and his grip on her hand loosened. His breathing was so slow and quiet that Mel did not notice when it stopped. His final sigh was cloaked in the comfort of her soft hand, sweet voice, and generous spirit.

  When Mel finished the carol, she removed her hand from Mr. Del Monte’s. “I hope you have a Merry Christmas,” she said. He seemed so still. Too still. Mel was still piecing together these troubling discoveries when the nurse hurried into the room. She stood back while she checked his pulse, then turned to face Mel.

  Melody’s mouth went dry. How was this possible? Had her singing saved her sister, but killed Mr. Del Monte? Or was it all a coincidence?

  But the nurse pulled Mel into a warm hug. “Now, sweetheart. Don’t be sad. I want you to know what a wonderful thing you did for this old man. He lost his wife a month ago, and they were married for 63 years. He doesn’t have any family left, and all he wanted in the world was to go and be with his wife. Now you came and sang to him, and made his last moments happy. You were like an angel to him. And now he’s in a better place. So don’t you worry a single bit.”

  The nurse, who introduced herself then as Marla, called an orderly into the room so she could walk Mel back to her family. She explained what had happened to Annie, who was very concerned. But Mel didn’t feel scared or upset; instead, she felt intense curiosity, combined with a deep sense of peace. What had happened was meant to happen. Perhaps the gift of her singing was even more complex than she had realized. But it was indeed a gift, and it helped her give important gifts to others at Christmas time.

  This initiated a series of experiments, each leading to new knowledge of what Mel came to call, simply, “her gift.” First, she discovered that it was only Christmas carols that did any good; other songs may have been popular, but only songs at Christmas and for Christmas had any power. She couldn’t have guessed the reason why, but she suspected it was people’s increased openness to miracles, their hope, and their simple faith that was strongest at Christmastime.

  Next, she le
arned that her musical power could be diluted. The more people who heard her, the less power the song would hold. It was only singing to individual people, one on one, that had any immediate result. Perhaps she could help two people partly, at once, but add a third and she may as well not be singing at all.

  And finally, most importantly, she learned the power itself. It was the power to grant a person’s deepest wish at Christmastime. She had gleaned this information from a variety of experiments. First, she knew that she had given the old man, who had otherwise been doing okay, exactly what he wanted. Next, she knew that, though her power was diluted when she sang to her mother and sister, they were both wishing for the same thing. So the power, split 50/50, still delivered the single wish. She had also helped her neighbor, Maggie, find her lost puppy when she came over on Christmas Eve and sang “Go Tell It On The Mountain.” The puppy had run up the front steps before she’d even finished the song!

  And less pleasant things had happened, too. She had sung once to her favorite teacher, who was in a decades-long feud with his older brother. The brother was an important businessman in town who lost his job that very week in a very public scandal. Another time, she had sung a special solo for church, and while practicing alone in the sanctuary, a woman struggling with a gambling addiction came in and heard her, then bought a winning lottery ticket. It was awful! Over the New Year, she gambled away everything she had won and more.

  Mel began to see her gift as a responsibility, one that she took very seriously. She should not sing to just anybody; she thought long and hard before using her gift, and only when her instincts told her that she should sing would she do it. But she always loved to do it, when those special moments happened. It was very fun and exciting to be able to give someone what they wanted most, especially when she could do it without anybody knowing. It was the season of miracles, and Christmas was her very favorite day.