Prodigal Daughter

Richard hung up the phone. His sense of satisfaction was quickly followed by a niggling doubt. Was he helping or hurting Melissa by trying to make things easier for her?

Melissa let herself into Amy’s apartment. Tossing her handbag on the desk, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the sofa. Lassitude crept over her and she longed for a nap. A nap at one o’clock in the afternoon? Did being pregnant make everyone exhausted by the middle of the day? How had her mother managed to do this five times? Once with twins, no less!

A single glance at her puffy ankles was enough to convince Melissa she needed to put her feet up. It didn’t take much extra effort to pull the coverlet over her shoulders and settle her head on one of Amy’s bright green throw pillows. The next time she opened her eyes, the clock on the wall said two-thirty and she was starving. Again.

A handful of carrot and celery sticks pilfered from her sister’s refrigerator took the edge off her hunger pangs, but she wanted something more, something substantial. As she surveyed the contents of her sister’s cupboards, fridge and freezer, Melissa settled on a plan of action. Lasagna, garlic toast and a fresh salad would make a wonderful dinner. Never one to do much cooking, Melissa searched for and found a cookbook with full color photos of the finished product.

Her mother was fond of saying, “If you can read, you can cook.” Usually she had been talking to the boys at Sunday dinner when they started complaining about their bachelor existences and living off takeout. Well, there was no time like the present to test her mother’s theory. Wouldn’t Amy be surprised when she came home?

Setting to work with a sudden burst of energy, Melissa diced, chopped and simmered away the rest of the afternoon. By five-thirty the apartment was filled with the smells of tomato sauce, oregano, basil and baking bread. She was setting the table when she heard Amy’s key in the door.

Amy walked in and stopped short. “I must be in the wrong apartment. Something smells wonderful.”

“Surprise! I thought I would make dinner to say thanks for putting me up—and for putting up with me.”

“Melissa, I didn’t even know you could cook.”

“You’d better reserve judgment until after you taste it. The bread is sort of burned on the bottom and the tomato sauce didn’t thicken the way the recipe said it would.”

“I’m still impressed. Let me change and call Bryan first.”

Melissa’s pride in her accomplishment plummeted. “You have plans for tonight, don’t you? Of course you do. It’s Friday.”

“Bryan had asked me out, but he’ll understand.”

Melissa plopped into one of the padded Windsor chairs that surrounded Amy’s table. “No, don’t change your plans for me.”

“I don’t want all your hard work to go to waste. Bryan and I can change our date to Saturday.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“No, don’t do that.” Dejected, she straightened the silverware beside one plate.

Amy came across the room and sat beside her. “Do you think you made enough to feed two more people?”

Melissa brightened, “I’ll have to throw together a little more salad, but sure.”

“Great. I’ll ask Bryan and Dylan to come over, then we can still catch a movie afterward.”

Mollified, but still unhappy that she hadn’t thought about asking her sister if she had plans, Melissa retreated to the kitchen while her sister went to change. Stacks of tomato-stained pans and bowls met her gaze. When had she made such a mess? Even the stovetop was splattered with burned sauce. She hurried to load the dishwasher and wipe up before her sister noticed the disaster in her normally immaculate kitchen.

Later, with Amy and Bryan heaping praise on her for the meal, Melissa began to feel that she hadn’t completely blown the couple’s evening. Dylan cleaned his plate in short order.

“You’d better hurry, Dad. We don’t want to miss the movie.”

Bryan smiled and rubbed his son’s unruly hair. “Take it easy, tiger. We won’t miss a thing. I’m sorry we have to eat and run, Melissa.”

She waved aside his concerns. “The next time I decide to whip up a feast, I’ll make sure no one has plans.”

Amy sent Bryan on to the car with Dylan, then she turned to Melissa and said, “I know you’ve been worried about how you were going to tell everyone about your pregnancy. I sort of took matters into my own hands.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve called everyone except Dad. I’ll let you tell him in your own time.”

Melissa’s hands clenched into fists at her side. She struggled to hide her sense of betrayal. “Amy, I wish you hadn’t done that.”

“I understand that you wanted to tell the others yourself, but this way you don’t have to face everyone and rehash the story over and over. Now, it’s done and you won’t have to worry about it any longer.”

Her anger at her sister faded quickly. Amy was right. It was a relief knowing that everyone had been told. Melissa gave Amy a wry smile. “My big sister is still trying to find ways to make life easy for me.”

“Just this one last time. Then I’m done, honest.”

Melissa bit her bottom lip, then asked, “What did they say?”

“I’ll spare you the brotherly comments. Once everyone digested the news, they were willing to support you in any way they can.”

“And Mom?”

“Mom said she would call you.”

“That was it?”

“That was it.” Amy started for the door, but turned back, a look of indecision on her face. “Melissa, before you talk to Mom, there is one more thing I think you need to know.”

“What?”

“It’s about Dad. There’s a rumor being spread around that he had an affair and that it resulted in a love child.”

“What? I don’t believe it. Who would say such a thing?”

“I don’t believe it, either. The story came out in the Observer’s gossip column. It hinted that the woman was someone well-known in the community. As you can imagine, all of this has been hard on Mom.”

“I guess so. Poor Mom.”

After her sister left to catch the latest action-adventure flick, Melissa sank onto the sofa. The sudden quiet pressed in, making her feel lonely and tired. Tired but not sleepy. She tried watching TV but nothing on the ninety-three cable channels held her attention. Giving up after flipping through them twice, she shut the set off and silence ruled.

What would she say to her mother when she called? As much as she disliked Amy’s interference, Melissa had to admit she was glad the news was out to the family. It would make the next meeting with her siblings easier, if not the next meeting with her parents.

The harsh ring of the phone suddenly ripped into the quiet and Melissa jumped. Another shrill ring sent her scooting off the sofa to look at Amy’s caller ID—although she suspected who it was before she saw the number displayed. Of course it couldn’t be some telemarketer selling time-shares. No, it was her mom.

Melissa’s fingers trembled slightly as she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”

“Oh, Melissa, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

The love and concern pouring through those few words was all it took to crumple Melissa’s defenses. She sank to the floor and began to weep. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” she managed to get out between sobs.