Chapter 2: A Visitor

Weeks passed by like the slow crawl of snails at Foxworth Hall. No matter how busy I kept myself with work, the days and weeks felt like I was moving in slow motion. I even worked out in Mother's garden with a hope to salvage it. But I wasn't very good with anything, nothing but money and keeping people off my back. It brought back memories of my childhood, when I hadn't even been able to construct a paper airplane right. Jory had always done EVERYTHING right and I'd done everything WRONG.

I was in my study late one evening when Trevor knocked at the door, telling me I had company. My eyebrows raised. Company? Who ever came to see me? Unless it was Jory and Toni... I went downstairs, and froze.

There, standing in the middle of the room, was Melodie. I had almost forgotten about her. She still looked as lovely as ever, but I didn't want a thing to do with her. She had hurt me and shattered my heart into a million or more pieces. She'd also hurt Jory. Sure, I had chased and lusted after her, but she hadn't protested. It was as much her fault as it had been mine. Sneering, I slowly took my time going down the stairs.

"What do YOU want?" I snapped. I saw her wince. I smiled, glad I had some power over her. She appeared meek, while I was strong. That was the way it was supposed to be.

"Please Bart. Please don't be angry with me for coming here," she said. Amused, I folded my arms over my chest and looked at her, smirking.

"Why my dear Melodie, why in the world would you, of all people, think I were mad at you?" I asked sarcastically.

Tears formed in her blue eyes but it was too late for her to charm me at all. I remained as cold as stone.

"I thought you'd be happy to see me," she blurted. I raised my eyebrows curiously.

"Why would you think of such a thing...Melodie?" I asked coldly. She deeply sighed and let her shoulders droop.

"I thought that maybe...maybe..."

"Maybe what?" I snapped impatiently.

"That maybe you still loved me." I just stared at her, then I broke out into laughter.

"Now why would I love someone like you?" I asked coldly. Tears were heavily streaking down her face.

"Have some compassion, Bart!" she blurted I stared at her coldly, watching as tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Why should I? You're no better than my grandmother, Corrine Foxworth," I spat. I closed my eyes briefly. I had loved her, but she was as weak as Melodie was. Weak all the time, not able to do anything for themselves. I hated weak women like that!

"What about your mother?" Melodie asked. I turned my hot coal eyes on her.

"What about her?" I growled.

"Am I like her too?" I nearly laughed out loud, but restrained myself.

"No, my dear. There is only one Cathy Dahl Sheffield in this world, and she's six feet under. And you could never be what she was. She didn't let people see her weaknesses. She was strong, she kept Jory alive. And what did you do? You didn't even have the nerve to go see him," I said.

"But..but you told Cathy off for being so hard on me!" I let out a low growl of frustration.

"I wanted you!"

"You can still have me!" I stared at her.

"I don't think so. I'm not getting hurt again." She looked like she'd crack if I said one more thing.

"Please, Bart. Please...you can't say that you don't feel anything for me!" she cried out, childish.

"That's exactly what I am saying. I don't feel anything for you," I said. She looked like she'd given up. I wondered....I wondered what she wanted. I knew I was having my leg pulled. She didn't love me. She'd never love me. She'd hated me since we'd met.

Slowly and silently she walked over to me. I took a step back, but she moved closer. She looked into my eyes.

"While I was gone...I realized what a fool I had been for turning away from you...and I want you, Bart. I want you..." She moved her hand down my chest and to my crotch. I scowled at her and removed her hand swiftly.

"Come off it Melodie! You don't love me or need me, and your love is always going to be the kind of love that demands a price!" I snarled. She sagged like a deflated balloon.

"What is it that you really want...Melodie? I know to hell that it's not me. So what is it?" She looked up, squarely met my dark eyes, her chin trembling.

"I want to stay here," she said. I smirked.

"Melodie, you do realize that Jory no longer lives here? And that he is happily married?"

"He's married, really?" she asked, looking both curious and sad.

"Yes," I said. She sagged some more.

"Oh." I knew it! She'd been hoping not to win ME back, but her precious JORY! Who she claimed she loved and would never hurt!

"Well...do you think...?"

"What?" I asked impatiently as her scared, weak eyes met mine.

"Could I stay here for a while?" I stared at her.

"You must be kidding."

"But Bart! You have all these rooms! Please! I have no where else to go!" I saw that she was humiliated, and I smiled.

"Okay..." I breathed, then I reached and pulled her to me. I leaned towards her ear, my hot breath rushing against her earlobe as I spoke.

"But don't doubt that I will be watching you...my dearie. You better get a job and earn some money so you can get a house, get an apartment, something! And I expect you to repay me for letting you stay here." She wilted.

"But Bart-"

I tightened my grip on her and nipped sharply at her earlobe. She gasped in surprise.

"No buts. You go get a job. I won't have you sitting around, wasting all that I've worked for. Then to repay...I want you to help Trevor clean the house." She wrinkled her nose in disgust and I merely glared at her.

"Do you understand? I also want you to cook the meals in this house, wash dishes and clothes. Got it?" She pulled away, but I pulled her back against me.

"Got it?" I asked through clenched teeth. She looked up at me defiantly.

"Yes I get it!" she spat, pulling away from me. I looked as Trevor brought in her suitcases. I thanked him and told him to show her to the room where she had been in when she was here with Jory... I didn't want her thinking she'd outdone me. No, she'd get the room she'd loved at first and then hated as she wallowed in her depression.

As she started up the stairs, I sharply told her to wait a minute. She turned to me, disgust for me clearly written all over her face.

"What?"

"You should thank me for letting you stay here," I said. She rolled her eyes and I frowned.

"Thank you for your compassion, Bart," she said sarcastically before she disappeared.