"Hullo Greg. And hullo Flora!"

Melanie didn't hug many of her library patrons, but for these two she made an exception. Three months ago she'd returned from Brighton alone, and she'd been alone ever since. Friends like Janet from the library stuck by her. People were too polite and too loving to not to.

But everything in her life now felt as though she were observing it through a pane of plate glass. She heard people. She saw colors. She lived. She felt – but she felt less. Of everything. She lived separated from everyone else. Human connection, real connection, was rare. Her connection to Greg and Flora was still real and true and she drank it like a dying woman drank from an evaporating puddle in the dry savanna.

"How's things?" Greg and Flora came early to story-time every week. They stopped in more often than ever. Meant to be kind, it was almost a cruel thing as it poked at the tender places in her heart when they left. But there was always this moment too. When Flora's face lit and her mouth jumped into a smile at the sight of Mel. Even now – at the sight of this new and terrifying Mel.

Her scar was imposing and she felt it menacing. It ran from her eyebrow to her chin. Fresh and bright and segmenting her face and her life. The pretty before side and the diminished after. She'd only recently returned to the library. The pain, the inflammation, the bruising, the ugly healing after the surgeries had kept her isolated and exhausted.

So had her legal obligations. Face covered in gauze, then later plastered with gel sheets, she'd given deposition after deposition to police and lawyers. She worked almost daily with her own solicitor and still prayed that the arrangements she'd made to avoid her own prosecution remained in place.

Between all the bills she was paying, the money she was sending to Dave to fulfill her promise to him if he helped keep her interests safe, she was just getting by. She'd sold most everything in her apartment. Save the sofa, which served as bed, dining chair, and couch, and a coffee table which served as dining table, desk, and end table.

She wasn't ready to come back and face the world. But she couldn't stay out of it. Days spent on the couch surrounded by piles of her books couldn't last much longer, because if they did she wouldn't. She desperately wanted to return home to Kerala. She desperately wanted to be surrounded by safety and family. But getting on a plane to India wouldn't fix her problems. More than likely she'd end up in jail for fleeing the jurisdiction during an ongoing investigation. And she wanted to testify. She wanted to put things right.

Her life summed up in an equation with one answer. It was return to work now or give up her job and probably her life. She wasn't ready for that.

Melanie didn't answer him. Greg shifted his weight and cleared his throat. They both made a point of examining Flora's examination of the shelves nearby them.

"She's zooming through the stacks these days, isn't she?" Melanie's new smile, her wan smile that felt right for a world of plate-glass feelings, appeared.

"Sure enough. No more on the repetition. It's new, new, new nowadays. Still got her old favorites, but mostly it's one and done."

"A voracious appetite for what feeds her imagination. Of course." Melanie crossed her arms and her smile grew a shade brighter.

"Speaking of appetites. You think more about my offer? Maybe you and Flora and I could all have tea next week?"

"I have and I don't think it's the right thing to do. I don't think – " Melanie brushed her dark hair back from her face. She didn't mind the curtain obscuring her disfigurement, but the wound was still fresh and her thick hair scratched at it. She still wasn't able to wear her glasses and between the itch of the scar and the discomfort of contacts lenses she'd never wanted, her face was a persistent drain on her psyche.

"I don't bloody care what Caroline thinks." Greg's eyes were wide as though he'd shocked himself with the statement. "She's my daughter as well. You make Flora happy and you make her smile, Melanie. I'm not holding some original sin over your head and I'm not pretending we haven't all done something or other we need a little compassion for."

Greg stood with his hands on his hips as he finished his tirade, but as curious eyes wandered over him from other parts of the library he dropped them to his side and lowered his voice. "Good lesson for Flora, actually, if you ask me."

Melanie pursed her lips and put the screws to her own will power. Doing what felt good and what stopped her feeling so lonely had been what started this mess with Caroline in the first place.

Her eyes moved from Flora, to Greg's shoes, then up to his encouraging grin.

"I'm sorry Greg. I just don't think it's a good idea."

His grin disappeared. "It's holidays, Mel. It's not a time to say no to friends."

She put a hand on his arm. "I know."

"You spending Christmas here in Harrogate? With your friend Janet?"

Mel looked back over to Flora and thought about how very hard it would be to keep saying no to Greg's invitations if he persisted.

So she lied. "Yes. Full house over at her place. Lots of good cheer to fill the day." Janet's house would be empty, because her co-worker was headed home to Kilarney next week to stay until the New Year.

Greg's smile returned. "Right. Good then."

The kid's nook was filling with more parents. Only an occasional furtive glance toward Melanie and eyes darting from her scar to Greg's smile. Most kids asked her outright what had happened, and she'd told them that bad man had done it, but that the police had grabbed him right off. She telegraphed "we're all so safe, don't worry," into each blurred out detail.

"You two had better find seats." She smiled at Greg and he nodded. She turned her back and made her rounds to the rest of the families filing it.

"You said no such thing, mum. At all." Caroline shoved the serving bowl of spaghetti at Celia and met her haughty blue eyes with sharp blue ones. She finished off her second glass of red wine, one she'd poured just as she, Celia, Alan and Flora had sat down to dinner.

"I did too. Said she seemed too good to be true. Too bright to be working as a children's librarian." Celia's lips thinned and she tilted her head side to side. She looked to Alan, who didn't seem to be handing out agreement. "In Harrogate." She muttered the name of the town like a dirty word.

"I'm head of school – in Harrogate." Caroline stabbed a fork at an uncooperative tomato on her salad plate. "Do you have something to say about that too? Perhaps Manchester or Leeds, or maybe just London might better meet your standards, mum?" Caroline twirled pasta around her fork and stared right through Celia.

"But this is your home, love. And you've done well by yourself. Not that you haven't picked up a few bad habits, here and there."

Caroline bit her tongue against a hot remark about Celia's lingering stare at her empty wine glass. She'd no doubt her mum wasn't just referencing wine. Celia had been finding a million and one reasons to pick Melanie apart since Caroline had returned from Brighton sans relationship weeks ago.

The days between then and now had been lonesome, grey, and unending. But it was just another thing to get through. The hurt and confusion would pass, and Caroline had a life to restore. The ill-fated weekend seemed surreal now - the only reminder of the truth of it being Melanie's persistent absence from Caroline's life.

She had stayed one more day in Brighton before returning home. She'd rushed to Melanie right off when the Brighton police brought her in to casualty. She – and Caroline - had both been in total shock, but Melanie had stabilized with treatment quickly.

Of course they'd done all they could for Mel right off. But her chances of a robust recovery, a shot at a face that would draw discreet glances, rather than outright stares, weren't high. They weren't low either. For a while Mel clung to her eternal optimism.

But her last morning in Brighton, the last time Caroline had seen Mel, it had been after a long, uncomfortable and sleepless night for Mel. Caroline assured and comforted her as well as she could despite any misgivings she might have.

Mel had seen through her. She'd been so unusually quiet that morning. And while Caroline prattled on through the constant mechanical beeping and the antiseptic smell in the room, Melanie had turned the good side of her face to the window. She'd landed in a non-critical care ward on an upper floor. In the distance the English Channel sparkled in autumn sun that had turned brittle.

"I don't care much, Caroline. About what's happened to me. I suppose maybe it all feels like balance, in some way. It's not that I'm angry. It's just - right now - it's the kids."

"Balance – no such – " Caroline had stopped mid-platitude. "What do you mean the kids?"

"I'm a children's librarian Caroline."

Mel turned her big green shining eyes back to Caroline. "It's the kids. Some of them will be fine, they'll be wonderful, actually. But not all of them."

"Children are cruel Melanie. You and I both know that. It's their nature. But as you mentioned it's their nature to be quite kind as well."

"I don't worry about the jests. That's in the open, no one permits that. It's the quiet discomfort they'll feel. The averted eyes and the kids who will stop coming when I return. Or the ones that will never return after their first visit."

"Oh Melanie I'm sure – "

Melanie cut her off. "You might be sure Caroline, but I'm not."

Caroline sat back in the wooden chair she'd pulled up next to the hospital bed. Melanie never cut her off.

Melanie continued to stare at the window. "I'm not sure of anything right now. And I need to be. So if you're not sure about us, and I don't think you are, I'd prefer it if you leave. I know you want to get back home, and you should. I'm in good hands, what can be done will be done. Neither you nor I will make a difference in that."

"But Mel there's no one – I'd hate to – "

Mel cut in again. "I've told you Caroline, I'm much stronger than you've ever given me credit. I can see why, especially now, you'd doubt me. But I don't doubt myself. I'm sorry. That's the way it is though."

"Melanie – " This time Caroline interrupted herself, her thoughts at odds. Melanie looked back toward the window. Caroline looked down and picked at the fringe of her sky blue scarf. "I do love you, Mel."

"I know. And Caroline I love you so much – " Melanie tapered off. She still wasn't looking at Caroline. "I couldn't stop myself from loving you. I tried, really I did. But this is what's happened, despite my falling in love with you over and over again every day. It's stayed that way, at least for my part. But we don't know if that's enough, do we?"

"I suppose not."

Flora dropped her fork on the hardwood floor and the clang brought Caroline back to the here and now. As it turned out, love had not been enough for her and Melanie. Caroline had called and left messages with Mel twice, wishing her well but her tone distant and halting. They had not seen each other and they had not spoken.

At least Flora had stopped asking when Mel was going to come back for a sleepover. Caroline turned her frustration back at Celia.

"You just – mum. How do you do it? Whatever it is I happen to be suffering you can't help but twist the knife, can you?" Caroline poked her fork at her mother. "Can't you for once find it in yourself to offer just an ounce of comfort to someone when they need it?"

Celia huffed and sat back. "It's not just my job to offer comfort, Caroline. It's my job to keep you safe, and smart about the choices you make, you know."

"I'm fifty-two years old mother. I'm comfortable taking responsibility for my own choices, thank you very much."

"Mmmmmm. Well that's just fine love. Seems though that this's been one of your worst, hasn't it? I mean, you sent John packing with not so much as a second chance, and here you are mooning over a woman who lead you right down the primrose path." Celia didn't look up at Caroline. "Told you a whopper, didn't she? And you're thinking about forgiving her. I can see it written all over your face."

Caroline sat back in her own chair as angry, frustrated tears surfaced. She pulled at her napkin and looked off toward the garden. Winter had set in and the trees were bare and the skies were grey.

Celia pushed her food around her plate and opened her mouth again. This time Alan laid a hand on her wrist and shook his head, a wordless gesture that echoed kindness against the off-beat thumping walls of Caroline's heart.

His own blue eyes were watery, but with age. They shone misty and brilliant against the cranberry red of his cardigan. Caroline remembered again how he was a blessing in her life – and her mum's. He'd dulled the edges of anger for both of them.

She looked back over to Flora. Humming and eating her peas one by one, eyes traveling back and forth as the adults played out a dinner table drama of familiar pacing.

There weren't easy answers to her many, many questions. Melanie had become an emotional and moral morass. Full of what felt like choices to Caroline. What she could accept and what she couldn't. Was it acceptable that Melanie chose not to work with the police so many years ago? To take matters with Richie into her own hands? All the years Nigel spent profiting from ruined lives. How much responsibility for that rested on Melanie? And if Caroline accepted her back into her life, how much then rested on her?

Celia and Caroline's stony silence filled the house. Flora laid off the humming, but she and Alan had begun making faces at each other. Celia's neck bent and attention on her dinner, Caroline's studied the top of her mum's head. So many years ago she'd been inspired by Celia's newfound happiness. Inspired to chase and find and accept love in ways she'd never dreamed.

Today she resented it. Today, she resented everything.