Page 106 of The Spare
"I know, baby."
"I'm hurting, Melody."
A little line appears between his brow, causing my heart to tug painfully.
Oh God.
I press my lips to the top of his head while he cries into my chest.
We stay there so long until my legs go numb, and he's staring off to the side because he's so exhausted. But I keep stroking my fingers through his hair, rocking him gently side to side. Eventually I convince him to stand up. I wash his face and put the covers over him, waitinguntil he's fast asleep to do the one thing that soothes me during times like this.
I reach into my nightstand for my diary.
Dear Diary,
There's too much pain in this family. Someone's got to do something. Maybe it should be me. I have no clue if I'll succeed, but I'll never live with myself if I don't at least try.
M. King
The next morning I wait until Mason is at work and ask for Stephen to drive me to King Compound. Doubting myself the entire way. By the time we pull up on the pea gravel, I'm suddenly worried that despite my best efforts to do my part to repair their relationship, I'll make a monumental mistake and cause it to become worse.
I hand my jacket to Jefferies to hang up, following him not to Richard's office but instead to a rather lovely den with a roaring fireplace and the most beautiful view of a perfectly manicured lawn. Pausing in the threshold, I glance around at the tasteful dark maroon walls and taxidermy deer heads mounted on the wall with swords and medieval axes, and fight the overpowering feeling of nervousness as Richard's eyes pin on mine.
"Mel, how are you, sweetheart? Maribel's not here right now; she's out for the evening. Some women's charity thing she heads that she couldn't get out of."
"Oh, I'm not here to see Maribel. I'm here to see you. I wanted to check on you, make sure you're okay." I journey deeper into the room as his eyes, though sad, flicker with a spark of warmth. He sits in a leather chair, with an old photo album open on the table in front of him alongside a letter. His eyes slide back to it.
Forcing myself to sound assertive, I clear my throat, bending to give him a kiss on the cheek before sitting in the chair closest to him and curling my legs under me.
"I-I'm sorry to come by unannounced-again," I wince, "but may I speak with you, please? It's really, really important." I pull a throw blanket over my lap, showing him that I intend to stay for a while.
"Sure, honey." Richard turns tired eyes to me. "I'm sorry for losing my temper last night, Melody. I hate for you to see me like that. It wasn't my finest moment."
Sympathy arises in me at how haggard he looks. Aside from probably not having much sleep last night, he doesn't look mentally well right now. I reach a hand out to him, placing it over his and stroking my thumb across his fingers.
"Can I…" Averting my gaze I hesitate once more; however, the look of pain that was in Mason's eyes last night drives me on and brings my eyes back to his. "Can I talk to you frankly? Not just as the Melody that you know right now, but… but as a little girl who's lost her father?"
Richard's eyes widen and he leans in, his fingers wrap around mine. "Of course, you can, Melody. You know that."
I swallow hard, deciding it's now or never. "You're going to lose him, papa," I whisper, feeling a tear trail down my cheek. His lips tighten, and he takes a deep breath. "And I don't want to see Mason live a life that I have to live. Not having a father. The only difference is I don't have a choice. My father is dead. You aren't."
Richard's eyes flicker from mine to land on the photo album, and as I look over, I see an old photo of what looks to be Richard's parents, Richard as a teenager with his unmistakable brow, a younger William who looks a bit like Hendrix, and a beautiful blond girl roughly sixteen or seventeen who has to be Stephanie. I squeeze his hand again.
"She's beautiful," I whisper. "Your sister."
"Thank you," Richard says roughly, clearing his throat. "I haven't brought out these photos in almost three decades."
Rolling my lips, I put my other hand over where ours are joined. "Richard, I'm the one who found that letter. Not Mason." His eyes cut to mine, but I stand my ground. "He lied and said he's the one who found it because he was worried you'd be angry with me-"
Richard shakes his head. "No, Melody, I wouldn't have-"
"He doesn't think you love him." I say in a rush. not wanting to lose my nerve. Richard goes very still, recoiling his head slightly and furrowing his brow. "He cried all night last night, and I've never seen him cry like that before."
Richard swallows hard. Glancing away. "I love him. Very much. But…"
There's a long pause as he takes a minute to find the words.
"But?" I press.
