"It's not what you think, Caroline."
Melanie held up her hands in a defensive gesture and cut her off mid-sentence as Caroline placed her hand on her hip, leaned forward, and pointed her index finger straight at Melanie. Angry, hurt, and ready to rumble.
The afternoon had turned cold and the walk back to the flat from the Pavilion had been silent. Unlike the soft carpet, the hard rap of her boots on the pavement had been an apt echo of Caroline's inner drumbeat of rising anger. By the time they were home, she'd worked up a scorching hot, self-righteous head of steam. One way or the other, Melanie had lied to her – and Caroline didn't do lies.
She rested both hands on her hips and stood straight as a gun barrel. She sniffed as she stared Melanie down.
"And just what do you presume I think it is? Because honestly I don't have a clue what to think. But I'll tell you that none of my thoughts are good ones. None of them." Tears stung her eyes and she hated that Melanie might think they were anything but angry – even if they were.
'It's not what you think, Caroline.' The same words that had come flying out of John's mouth when she'd confronted him about Judith, what seemed like a lifetime ago. The years between then and now evaporated as the very same emotions rushed forward to fill her with doubt and dread.
"I – I don't know what you think. But it - it was something to say. To stop you before you started. To give me a chance to explain." Melanie didn't usually stammer.
"To explain, or to buy time to think up an explanation?" She didn't intend to give an inch. Re-runs of scenes from the weekend played through her mind – the odd man following this woman Melanie knew, the police, a missing boy. Melanie's lies weren't just hurtful. They might even be dangerous.
"To – to explain. You're angry and scared Caroline, I can see that. And you should be. That's why I didn't tell you about Leann. That's her name. It's the one and only reason. Because I want you safe. Always. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Melanie's voice shook, but still there were no tears.
Caroline opened her mouth and realized she didn't have a sharp retort at the ready. She'd been waiting for a long-winded train of excuses from Melanie, and as they didn't materialize she came up short. Short on words – but still long on fury.
They stood facing each other, a lone sunbeam shining in through the plate-glass windows and outlining a box of white-yellow light between them on the burgundy rug.
Melanie pushed up at the corner of her glasses as she stared at the floor. She stared at the floor, but she held her shoulders back and high.
She's not ashamed, she's just waiting. Caroline threw her bag down on the couch and stripped off her jacket. She stalked Melanie, circling her, waiting for the right attack to come to mind or for Melanie to dig herself in deeper. The tails of her long beige cardigan swirled around her as she paced.
She came to a stop toe to toe with her quarry and cocked a hip to one side. She ran a hand up to her bangs and closed her eyes as she asked, blocking out Melanie's futile attempts to justify herself. "Who is she, Melanie, and why should I be afraid?"
Melanie nodded as she looked up at Caroline, clasping her hands at her waist. She wasn't crying, though Caroline was already a mess of tears, and that made her even angrier.
"Please, Caroline. Please give me a chance. Let me tell you the whole story."
Caroline covered both her eyes with her hands and steeled herself, willing the tears to ebb. They did, and she brought her hands back down and clapped them at her sides. Melanie kept watching her. Placid green eyes waiting to – to tell the truth, I think.
Caroline nodded curtly. "I think you'd better."
Melanie's brow furrowed and finally tears appeared. "What I mean to say is please listen with an open heart, while I tell you the whole story. Will you sit with me?" Melanie turned toward the couch and held out a hand to Caroline.
Caroline crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She glanced down at the waning sunlight coming through the window and then out to the crashing sea in the distance. She felt outside of herself. The silence in the flat amplified the sound of the waves.
Melanie dropped her arm. She sat alone and crossed her hands in her lap, everything about her projecting a waiting, wanting patience.
Caroline turned away from her to stare at the water and try to make sense of it all. Nothing was clear, but one thought did make its way forward. Maybe now you'll get that answer you've been wanting, when it comes to Melanie.
Then another thought. Maybe I will get the answer. But will it be one I want to hear?
Tears appeared again at the memory of John, finding out about his betrayal, and the loneliness he'd brought her. The awful feeling blossomed and spread as she stared over at Melanie. In an instant she'd been made to feel again as she had only a few years ago, after Kate. That persistent ache, pressing on her. The going on, and going on and going on from day to day. The crushing weight that was only ever lighter, but never lifted.
She hadn't even known how dead she'd felt inside. The empty space that used to hold Kate had become so smoothly walled-off she didn't even notice it any more. She'd been living in bland, grey ignorance until she'd laid eyes on Melanie Wysocki one November day, and finally realized how desperately lonely she'd really been.
Caroline mouthed the word "sorry" as she helped Flora off with her white fuzzy winter coat.
They were late to Mummy and Me and had come upon the low-walled reading corner in a rush. They did their best quiet-as-a-mouse impression as they settled in toward the back of the semi-circle surrounding Melanie, the children's librarian at Harrogate that Greg was so fond of. Caroline's skepticism at his fuss finally boiled over, and she'd decided to take an afternoon to come see for herself.
The woman flashed Caroline a sympathetic smile, and Caroline's mouth went dry.
It was the eyes. The lovely, clear, almond-shaped jade green eyes. They were as kind as you'd expect of someone who spent her day working with children, and as wise as you'd expect of anyone who'd made a career out of her love of books. And they were also bright, and curious, and open, and reflected all the light in the room right back at Caroline.
Without missing a beat, Melanie continued on with her reading, doing different voices for the different characters, pausing at times to ask the kids questions to keep them engaged.
Now Caroline felt nauseously self-conscious. She felt a pull from Melanie and to Melanie, as though she were under scrutiny every second of the dramatic reading of The Gruffalo.
She tried her best to focus on Flora, but it felt more as though she were making a show of it. She tried to catch the librarian's eyes at every pause, but avoided holding her gaze. When she did for any more than a second she felt a charge. A rush of a challenge accepted and won, as though she'd proven something to herself – and to the other woman.
After the reading ended the group broke apart to work on art projects at tiny plastic tables scattered throughout the room. Caroline folded herself into a creaking miniature chair and tried to look attractive as she did so. She tugged at the back of her sweater, terrified her jeans were riding too low and showing god knows what to god knows who.
Melanie made her way around the small tables, stopping to give each child encouragement. When she came to Flora, she introduced herself with a firm handshake and a smile that filled Caroline with sunshine. It almost compelled her to spontaneously list off every generous thing she'd done for anyone in the past week.
"No Greg today? I love the energy he brings to our art projects. Tell him he was missed." Melanie laid a hand on Caroline's shoulder as she leaned in close to examine Flora's drawing.
Caroline reminded herself to breathe normally as the full, soft cotton of the other woman's bright orange sweater and her thick dark hair hovered just inches away from her face.
She didn't look up, didn't move at all as she responded, afraid that if she did there'd be – awkward – contact and she'd drown right there in a sea of embarrassed, ecstatic agony.
"I asked Greg if he minded my coming for a change as Flora raves about how much fun she has with you. I've been hearing all about this Mother Goose on the Loose program. It's very clever. And you're a natural with the children." She was, and it piled on to the favorable assumptions Caroline was already making about this woman's character and intelligence.
She felt as though the words were pouring out of her, unattached to each other and sounding less coherent as they did. Shut your mouth, Caroline.
She fixed her attention firmly on her daughter. Flora pushed her tongue out a little and bit as she concentrated on her coloring, griping the brown crayon tightly in her fist while putting a bushy tail on her horse. Caroline assumed it was a horse - it had four legs, a long neck and what might pass as a mane.
Just as Caroline recovered herself enough to savor the weight of Melanie's hand resting on her shoulder, it was gone. Melanie and Flora exchanged happy glances and giggles and the librarian moved on to the next table.
After Flora finished her drawing, they went to pick out books for the week. Three was the established maximum, though Flora always tried to sneak a fourth. Caroline scanned the children's section before they checked out and was disappointed she didn't see Melanie to say goodbye.
She wanted a chance to look in those eyes just one more time. She wanted a chance to ask the woman out, but heaved a huge sigh of relief that she wouldn't actually have to do so today. Gay, straight, or in between, this woman was worth taking the chance. Caroline wasn't afraid of much, and falling on her face asking for a date wasn't part of the 'much.' Getting rid of the fatigue of her loneliness was certainly worth the temporary pain of putting herself out there. People took risks because on occasion they offered reward.
But she also wanted to regroup. She wasn't self-consciously mute, she wasn't the silly school girl she'd just felt, but a single mum, a serious academic and a formidable professional who'd earned everything she had - the hard way. She wanted the chance to not act like a bloody teenager all over her new crush.
Now, as Caroline evaluated Melanie in the cool Brighton afternoon, her eyes were still as wise and kind as they'd been the first time she'd ever seen her. But they were also guarded and afraid. An expression Caroline had never seen on the woman before, and one she didn't particularly want to see on her now - or ever again.
Her memories had turned back the clock on some of her anger. Fought back against the spreading net of fear neurons running rampant across her mind and trying to block out any weakness. If she let herself feel it, knowing that this woman she loved was hurting made her want to wrap her up and tell her that whatever it was, it would be OK. Seeing the effervescent Melanie Wysocki wounded and scared felt wrong and out of place. A juxtaposition that elicited an instinct to fix it. She felt as though she were watching an orchid wilt right before her eyes in time lapse. Turn limp and brown in a second, in an unnatural way that threatened what was good about the order of things. Being hard with Melanie made Caroline feel small.
Fine. She could listen. Melanie would still have to accept and deal with the consequences of her actions. But Caroline could, perhaps, be generous as she did so, rather than harsh.
She finally came to sit on the couch next to her. "Alright. Start at the beginning. Tell me everything, Melanie." 'This is your one and only chance' was clear in her tone.
Melanie took in a deep breath and closed her eyes. Gratitude passed across her face, but quickly it was gone. In its place came that same show of resolve from that awful moment of realization on the sidewalk.
She took Caroline's hands in hers and held them tight. As the final expression Melanie would wear before her story began covered her face, it made Caroline start to feel just a bit foolish for her anger and her quick temper.
Apparently Melanie had accepted both Caroline's fiery rage and her icy chill of contempt. She'd taken them in and tempered them. Her fledgling smile offered them back as a compassionate acceptance for the maelstrom born of pricking at Caroline's tender vulnerability.
"There are so many things I never tried to hide from you, Caroline. You just haven't managed to see them, have you?"