Home Is Where The Heart Is



Melanie wakes in her room at 8:15 as she always does. The elaborately decorated bedroom is dark with the drapes pulled back, no light enters save for the stain glass window above the bed. Rainbow colours pooling on her bed as light streams through. The window is of her, Jarod made it many years ago as a gift of sorts. Then it had been incomplete, its heart missing, just as she’d been.

He gave her the heart on their wedding day. She knows she has no excuse not to feel as complete as the picture so she doesn’t ponder it anymore.

At 8:20 when the red light in her eyes becomes annoying, she gets up. Dressed in only a robe she pads down the stairs in search of coffee, maybe a bagel, and what passes for a newspaper.

Jarod has left her a fresh pot of coffee, (it their anniversary, the wine cabinet will be locked) the morning paper and a bagel. She sips the coffee while reading the paper, no longer interested in the bagel. Pictures from last nights charity affair plaster the front page. Why, Melanie doesn’t know, most of the town must have been there. She skims the rest with disinterest; briefly look at the latest break in, the winner of the small beauty contest (you never known when someone would mention them and it wouldn’t do not being informed), and finally the personals.

Her name catches her eye.

Melanie,

Will you once again make me the luckiest man alive by giving me your hand in a second wedding?

Happy anniversary.

All my love,

Jarod.

The phone rings breaking Melanie’s train of thought, she knows who it is.

“Hello.”

“Hi, have you read the paper yet?”

“Mmhmm,” she replies noncommittally.

“And the personals?” he asks.

“Them too,” she confirms.

“And?”

“The Cederman’s have lost a parrot.”

“Anything else?”

“They’ll pay $100 for its return.”

“Besides the parrot,” Jarod replies impatiently.

“I have the most wonderful husband in the world,” she says, and knows he’s now smiling.

“And I have the most wonderful wife, why don’t you think of a date and I’ll try and come home for lunch.”

“I will.”

She puts down the phone, now pondering a date, her dress, the guest list and the inevitability of Jarod’s family coming. Maybe she can invite Sydney and Angelo. No, Angelo had some sort of episode just before their marriage; he flat out refuses to go near them. Jarod had taken his childhood friends sickness very badly, more so when he found he couldn’t even try to help him. Angelo lives with Sydney on the west coast; Broots says he’s happy there.

Maybe she couldn’t invite Angelo, and Sydney might be hesitant to leave him, but Broots would come, so would Debbie. Maybe she could even be her bridesmaid.

It’s only been a few years since their last wedding, though the last six months have been especially trying and Jarod’s spent more time away at the hospital or on business trips, leaving her nothing to do.

Melanie heads upstairs to see what her wardrobe has to offer, in such a small town the only fancy dresses are those that people have made and Melanie will never be a seamstress. Some of the other ladies in town thought her a bit of a snob, just because when she went out of town she brought dresses with brands they’ve never heard of.

For a while she sits on the bed, pondering whereabouts she hid it. Either among the jumpers or the dry-cleaning bag of something Margaret had brought her, she finally decides. She starts with the jumpers, not wising to be reminded of the things her mother-in-law brought her. Searching is no small task, shopping is a passion her friend Jennie shares so most of the shopkeepers know them by name.

Jarod has had to enlarge the storage three times so far.

Near the bottom of the shelves Melanie finds something, for a second she thinks it’s the dress but whatever she’s found isn’t even remotely similar. It was though, vaguely familiar.

She lets out an audible gasp when she recognises her old gun. Jarod had insisted she get rid of it before they got married, it wasn’t a matter of him not trusting her, he’d said, it was her not trusting him.

She’d handed it over without ceremony or pausing. It was a matter of trust.

He’d kept it, all these years.

The safety catch flicks open and she removes the weapon with the ease of long practice.

He’d kept it all these years in good condition.

The magazine slides easily into her hand, eleven bullets plus one in the barrel. She slots the magazine back in, the weight familiar and comforting in her hand. As much as she hates the gun and all it stood – still stands – for, the reminders it holds of times and things she’s tried not to think about for a long, long time, it remains comforting in her hand.

Power. That’s what the gun had represented.

Quietly, carefully, she replaces the gun where she found it.

In a dry cleaning bag with a lime green sweeter and an orange floral skirt she finds the dress.

“Honey, I’m home.”

She abandons the dress on the bed and goes to find her husband, a dozen questions blaring in her head. Accusations and betrayal blurring into one.

He meets her on the stairs with a dozen red roses, “Happy anniversary,” he says.

Melanie nearly resists when he kisses her, there has never been room for lies in their marriage.

“What’s wrong,” he asks, taking her hand and leading her downstairs to the dining room. On the table is yet more flowers and delicious looking food.

Jarod had always known what was best for her, maybe …

“Nothing,” she says.

He pauses for a moment before he picks a velvet box off the table and gives it to her. Inside is a diamond necklace with matching earrings. “I love you,” he tells her, absolute sincerity shining in her eyes. She looks at his smiling, open face, the table covered with her favourite foods and flowers, she thinks of the gun upstairs well kept and loaded.

“I love you too,” she tells him.

He smiles.

That afternoon after Jarod leaves, Melanie invites Jennie over, they sit in the dining room finishing off the food Jarod brought while Jennie does her best not to be jealous. “It’s so romantic!” she gushes, “I’ve been married to Ken for 15 years and he’s never given me a second wedding! You’re so lucky, Melanie.”

Melanie smiles brightly at her friend who has managed to make bridal magazines appear from nowhere, “obviously nothing too elaborate,” Jenny mumbles, “After all your second wedding - maybe something in pink or blue.”

The two women look at the picture of Jarod and Melanie on their wedding day that sits over the mantel. Melanie was wearing a beautifully designed, light-blue silk dress, Jarod was dressed in a black tuxedo and both of them were smiling happily.

“Mel, why ever didn’t you wear white on your wedding?”

Melanie frowns slightly, “It just didn’t seem right, we just had to much history for me to walk down the isle in virgin white. Not that he didn’t insist anyway, he’s such a traditionalist.”

Jennie giggles slightly at the thought of Jarod being a traditionalist,
“Anything in mind?”

Melanie takes another bite of cheesecake and nods, “I brought something a while ago.”

“Can I see?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“You’ll see later,” she teases, definitely not avoiding going up to their room.

“Fine, keep your secrets, what about the guest list? Any family?”

She hesitates, Jarod has always insisted that they don’t give anything but the barest of details, having a story such as yours, he said, is memorable and memorable is something we need to avoid.

Jarod – her husband – who promised her a new life and kept the worst parts of the old one.

“My mother died when I was young, my father before Jarod and I got married. I have a twin brother who I haven’t seen for several years and a half brother from my father’s second marriage, he lives with a family upstate.”

Jennie pauses, having not expected an answer. “Anyone else?”

“I had an adopted sister Faith who died of leukaemia and a half sister Annie who was murdered when she was a teenager; I also have a half brother, now in Europe.”

Jennie manages a “Big family,” to cover her surprise.

Melanie smiles, “You’ve no idea.”

The chubby, bored looking guard takes back his pen, checks the man’s name
against his ID at the door, and nods entrance to the suited man. Tommy Tanaka glances around the concrete room, divided into small booths, with obvious disdain. His eyes quickly find the man he’s looking for and he resists the urge to smile.

Lyle looks like shit.

Prison did nothing to support the expensive lifestyle to which he’d grown accustom. Removed from his Armani suits and designer shoes and dressed in inmate orange he looked almost comical, he’d let his hair grow out and he had a five O clock shadow. A still healing scar went from just under his left eye to his ear lobe.

He takes his time sitting on the metal chair (bolted to the floor) and picking up the phone.

“About time,” Lyle snaps.

“I’m busy man, Mr Lyle,” Tanaka replies, his voice deeply accented. “My family were surprised to hear from you; usually we deal with people who’re smart enough not to try their luck too often. How’s the thumb?”

Lyle ignores the comment. “I have information on something that interests both of us.”

Tanaka looked bored. “And what could possibly interest us, Mr Lyle?”

“My sister.”

“Parker?”

“I found her.”

Tanaka sits forward eagerly then tries to cover it by straitening his suit, “You found Parker? How?”

“I have sources,” Lyle replies mysteriously, then continues when Tanaka takes a meaningful glance at his thumb. “Knowing Jarod’s history of saving the little guy I have a team of people who search constantly for any trace of his do good-ing. They struck gold a couple weeks ago.”

Tanaka nods. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Then why ask for me?”

Lyle glances around – quite unnecessarily, the tapes of their conversation will mysteriously disappear, “She’s married to Jarod, living the American dream is some hick town she wouldn’t have given the time of day five years ago.”

Tanaka frowns, “Jarod. The one she was chasing. The one that stole the money?”

“The very same. You heard about her last boyfriend didn’t you. Bullet in his head lying on the front porch, he was going to take her away from The Centre. Daddy didn’t appreciate it.”

Tanaka nods, “I wouldn’t want history to repeat.”

A bell rings and the guard escorts Lyle away, he’s humming. Tanaka pauses for a moment before replacing the phone and leaving.

Melanie always imagined that a month would be enough time to plan a second
wedding. Margaret disagreed. Though Margaret would disagree if Melanie said the sky was blue.

It’s the day before the wedding, Broots and Debbie flew in yesterday, Sydney and Kurt arrived today (though Kurt only agreed after hearing that Debbie would be attending). Tomorrow the wedding would take place at the local botanical gardens at Melanie’s insistence.

Currently Margaret’s making a last ditch attempt to get her to wear white. Her desperation is probably to do with Emily’s “living in sin” and stance on marriage. That is, it happens to other people.

Melanie’s always liked Emily and Emily genuinely likes Melanie – a welcome change. What little clashes The Centre caused Emily accepts as Melanie just doing her job. Emily’s complete devotion to Ethan has also helped. Margaret ignores her husband’s pleas to leave the flowers alone and let Melanie choose her own dress as the two sisters in law hide out in the kitchen.

“And here we have why I never intend to marry David.”

Melanie laughs. “Elope. Run away and get married without telling anyone. I’m starting to wish I had.”

Emily shakes her head. “Mum would track us down and plan it anyway, she has this sense. Just be glad she hasn’t pestered you for grandchildren yet.”

They smile; both women were determined not to pass on their families curses,
something that upset Margaret greatly.

From the next room they hear Charles’ insistences that its time to go and Jarod’s half-hearted protests.

“Emily, you coming?” her father calls.

“Yeah. Just a second. Mel, you take care of yourself, ‘k?” At her nod, she hugs Melanie goodnight with uncharacteristic sobriety and leaves quietly.

In the lounge Sydney and Jarod are talking quietly, while Kurt listens to his MP3 player. She bids them goodnight, explaining that today has been especially trying and tomorrow will be even more so, Sydney hugs her and Jarod kisses her cheek, explaining he’d follow soon enough.

Melanie sleeps immediately.

She dreams.

A picnic in the park, a flannel rug all that separates her from the damp grass. Her mother sits across from her, smiling and unpacking the picnic, she doesn’t think her daughter knows, but she’s seen the box of Cracker Jacks, her favourite snack.

She’s 11 years old again and everything is right.

“Mama, do you think I’ll find someone to love. Like you found daddy?”

Her 11 year old self isn’t aware that ‘daddy’ had her mother impregnated with his brother’s sperm, stole her twin, beat his wife and would one day use her in a project that would kill her.

She’s 11 years old and has the perfect life.

“I think you will.”

The sound of a gunshot gars her from her slumber.


May be continued. May not. Don't get your hopes up.