Fabulous Five 015 - Melanie's Identity Crisis (4 page)

The old-fashioned handwriting was slanted and hard to read.
My
dearest Cordia,
it began.

I have been watching you during church
,
praying
that your eyes would meet mine and that you would smile at me the same way you
did that Sunday last month at the church picnic.

Melanie giggled. Gran was right. Cordia had been a flirt!

Your smile was so warm and sweet that I thought surely
you cared for me as much as I care for you. But now I fear that I was mistaken.
If you really do care
,
please meet me by the poplar tree behind the
church next Sunday morning before the service.

Your devoted admirer,

Ben

Melanie clasped the letter to her heart, trying to picture
Ben's face and deciding that he was probably very handsome. "I wonder if
she met him," she whispered out loud. "And I wonder if he was the one
she married."

Quickly Melanie turned to the next letter in the stack and
began to read it. It was from a young man named John. Melanie gasped. He was
the one in the picture who was ready to push her in the swing. And Cordia had
written
my very best beau
under the picture.

My beloved Cordia
,

I have been worried sick these last few days. It seems so
long a time since you favored me with a smile. Is something wrong? Have I
offended you?

I beg your humble pardon if I have. Please give me a sign
that you still care for me.

Yours forever
;

John

"'Yours forever,'" Melanie repeated just above a whisper.
She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, seeing Cordia twirling a lock of her
reddish-brown hair and smiling softly as she read this very letter from John
all those years ago. If he was her very best beau, surely they had gotten back
together. But what if they hadn't? She wished she could call to Cordia back
through the years and urge her to smile at John again and to smile at Ben,
also.
I
certainly would, she thought.

Slowly she picked up a third letter, from Charles, who was
equally infatuated with Cordia and who had also thought she liked him but was
having doubts when he wrote the letter. One after another, the letters sounded
similar. The one from Jacob, the one from Aaron, the one from Robert, all
swearing their devotion and begging her to care for them, too.

Melanie was deep in her reading when her grandmother called
up from downstairs. "Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, dear. Would
you like me to call your mother and see if it's all right for you to stay?"

"Eeek," squealed Melanie, pulling herself into the
present and looking around the room. She hadn't realized that it was so late. "Sorry,
Gran. I've got tons of homework so I'll have to go home. I'll be down in a
couple of minutes."

Melanie looked at the pile of letters in her lap. She wanted
to go on reading them. There was something almost magic in holding them in her
hands and knowing that they had been sent to someone very much like herself so
long ago. She could almost see Cordia's flirtatious smile as she bestowed it on
first one young man and then another, and feel her great-great-grandmother's
heart skip a beat when the smile was returned. "I know just how she felt,"
Melanie murmured, reluctantly putting the letter she held back on top of the
packet. I absolutely have to come back and read more of them tomorrow.

She retied the letters with the pink bow and started to put
them back into the trunk when she noticed another letter. It was addressed to
Gran Pennington, and her own mother's return address was in the corner. What
caught her eye was the postmark, only seven months before her own birth, and
Gran's notation on the envelope:
News that Kathy's going to have a baby.

Melanie stared at the letter for a moment. Kathy was her
mother's name, and her family had lived in another city from the time her
parents were married until they moved to their present home when Melanie
entered second grade at Mark Twain Elementary. It gave her a tingly feeling to
see the letter lying there and know that it was about her before she was even
born.

Should I read it, or shouldn't I? she wondered. Shaking her
head, she placed Cordia's love letters back in the trunk and started to close
the lid. Still, she reasoned, Gran said to look through the trunk as much as I
wanted to. She didn't say there were things I shouldn't see.

Slowly Melanie lifted the trunk lid again. She could see the
corner of her grandmother's letter peeking out from under the stack of letters
tied with the pink ribbon. Using two fingers like pincers, she slowly pulled
the letter out and held it up, reading the notation on the front one more time.
News that Kathy's going to have a baby.

"It's about
me,
" Melanie said aloud. "So
I'm going to read it."

She felt a glow of anticipation as she pulled the pages out
of the envelope. It was going to be exciting to read about how she was going to
be born.
Dear Mom
, the letter began.

I know you've been wondering why I haven't written in
such a long time and that you always say that no news is good news
,
but
the truth is
, I haven't been sure if the news I'm going to tell you is
good news or not.

Melanie gasped softly. What had her mother meant? This
certainly wasn't what she had expected to read. The letter went on:

Larry and I had planned to wait awhile to have a baby.
You know how I've worked for years to become a concert pianist and have given
up a lot to achieve my dream. But accidents happen
,
I guess, and now
I'll have to forget that dream.

The words blurred before Melanie's eyes as their meaning
slowly sunk in. "An
accident!
" she whispered. "They didn't
plan for me to be born. They didn't even
want
me!"

With trembling fingers, she folded the letter and put it
back into the envelope, stuffing it under an old photograph album. She didn't
want to read the second page. She already knew what the letter said,
and it
was awful.

Melanie sat in the growing shadows of the old-fashioned
bedroom, staring at the crumbling photo album in the trunk and thinking about
the letter underneath it. Her mother had said she wanted to be a concert
pianist, but now she couldn't. She couldn't because she was going to have a
baby. "And that baby turned out to be me," Melanie whispered.

It took all the acting skill that she possessed to go
downstairs and face her grandmother without letting the emotions she was
feeling show. She kissed Gran Pennington on the cheek as she clutched the album
containing Cordia's pictures and headed for home.

When she reached her own house a few minutes later, she
hesitated an instant before going inside. How was she going to face her parents
knowing what she knew now? All these years they had pretended to love her when
all the time they were only faking. How could they love her? she reasoned, when
she had spoiled her mother's chances for a wonderful career. Without me, she
would probably be famous right now, thought Melanie, and rich!

Melanie tiptoed through the kitchen, hoping her mother would
not look up from the pot she was stirring on the stove, but of course she did.

"Hi, honey," she said brightly. "Did you get
all the information you need from your gran?"

A lump jumped into Melanie's throat, and when she tried to
say yes, only a squeak came out, so she nodded and hurried to her room. She was
in a fog all through dinner, and later she couldn't remember what she had
eaten. She stayed in her room until bedtime pretending to work on homework, but
instead the words of the letter burned in her mind.
You know how I've worked
for years to become a concert pianist and have given up a lot to achieve my
dream. But accidents happen
. . .

Melanie thought about the piano downstairs in the living
room. She knew her mother played extremely well. Sometimes she even played for
weddings or special programs at church. But why hadn't she ever mentioned to
Melanie that she had wanted to be a concert pianist? Why? she asked over and
over again. Then she shuddered. Maybe it was because she wanted to be a concert
pianist so much that it hurt to talk about it.

Next her thoughts turned to her own attempts at piano
lessons when she was in third grade. It had been fun for a while, but then she
got tired of practicing and gave it up. Melanie sighed sadly at the memory.
Just one more way I've disappointed her, she thought.

Her mind was still on her mother when she got to school the
next morning, and she was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't hear
Funny come running up to her.

"Melanie! Guess what?" Funny chirped. "I
talked to my parents last night just the way you said I should, and do you know
what they told me?"

Melanie pulled herself out of the fog she was in and looked
at her smiling friend.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "What did
they say?"

"They said I really am a Hawthorne because all the
traditions and attitudes that have been passed down through the generations
have shaped our family and helped make me the kind of person I am. That's kind
of complicated, but I think I understand. It means that the things they've
taught me ever since I was a baby came partly from our ancestors."

Funny paused to catch her breath, and Melanie tried to
answer, but the words stuck in her throat.

"And that's not all," gushed Funny. "They
said I'm extraspecial because I'm adopted. They wanted a baby so badly and then
they picked
me
out, and that makes me a
chosen
child. Isn't that
super? And all the time I thought I was a nobody."

Melanie gulped hard, stunned by these last words, and stared
at Funny as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Melanie raced for the girls' bathroom as the bell rang for
morning classes to begin. She couldn't face her friends or her teachers or anyone
right now. Not until she had sorted things out.

The bathroom was empty and she hurried to a sink and
splashed cold water onto her face. Her nose was red and her eyes watery, and
she fished around in her purse for a tissue.

How could things have turned around so completely? she
wondered as she blew her nose loudly. Yesterday she had felt so secure and
loved by her own family and had been trying to convince Funny Hawthorne not to
think of herself as a nobody because she was adopted. But today everything was
different. Everything was
wrong.
It was Funny who felt secure and loved
because her parents had said she was
wanted
and
chosen.

"But I'm just an accident," she whispered to
herself in the mirror. "Nobody wanted me. I just wrecked everything for my
parents."

Melanie slumped against the wall beside the sink and looked
at the door. The school was quiet. Classes had started. She would have to stay
in the girls' bathroom until her face was no longer red and then go to the
office for a tardy slip. What excuse could she give?

"I've been in the bathroom crying because my parents
didn't really want me," she mumbled. "Sure. I can hear it all now,"
she added sarcastically.

Melanie thought back over the past few days. Her mother had
yelled at her for putting her books on the kitchen table and forgetting to take
them up to her room. She was always yelling at Melanie for things like that,
but Jeffy got away with everything. And there was the business about keeping
her room picked up. Her mother was an absolute broken record about that. But
did she ever fuss at Jeffy to pick up his room? Of course not. She did it
herself. If that wasn't proof that her mother didn't love her, what was? And
what about all those times when she was younger when she had real,
honest-to-goodness,
genuine
stomachaches, but her mother hadn't believed
her and made her go to school anyway? Then there was the pet situation. Melanie
had begged and pleaded most of her life for a pet, but what had her parents
always said? No. It wasn't until they saw Rainbow at the animal shelter and
fell in love with the little dog themselves that they gave in. Now that she
thought about it, there were at least a million times that her parents had
rejected her, but she had been too blind to see it then.

Melanie chewed her lower lip and thought the situation over.
What she really wanted to do was go home. Her mother would be there, taking
care of Jeffy before she drove him to his afternoon kindergarten class. Maybe
if she watched her mother closely, she would find more proof that she was
really just a burden to the family. She had to admit that it was different with
Jeffy. Her mother's career had already been wrecked by the time he came along.
They had adjusted. Made the best of a bad situation. They were ready for him.
But still, it didn't make her feel any better. And it didn't make her want to
stay at school and face everyone either.

"But what if I pretend I'm sick?" she whispered.
She liked that idea. All she would have to do was convince the school nurse. So
what if her mother never believed her? She would have to believe a real nurse.
Glancing into the mirror, she pinched her nose to bring the redness back and
then slipped into the hall.

The nurse's office was just around the corner, and Melanie
was glad to see that no other students were there. She would never be able to
lie to the nurse if she had an audience, especially if that audience was anyone
she knew.

The nurse, Miss Byars, looked up from her paperwork when
Melanie walked in. "Good morning. What can I do for you?"

Melanie took a deep breath. "I'm not feeling well,"
she said in a small voice. "My stomach hurts, and I think I might throw
up."

"Oh, dear," said Miss Byars. She tucked a strand
of dark hair behind her ear and looked at Melanie with solemn brown eyes. "You
do look a little flushed. Perhaps you'd better sit down."

Melanie nodded and sank into the chair beside the desk. It
felt awful to lie, but right now it seemed like the only thing to do. Besides,
Miss Byars hadn't given her the third degree to see if she was lying about the
stomachache. Miss Byars had believed her, not like
some
people she could
name.

"Is someone at home who can come for you?" Miss
Byars asked. "I'd be glad to call for you."

"My mom's there," Melanie said flatly. She gave
the nurse her phone number and watched out of the corner of her eye as Miss
Byars punched in the numbers. Several seconds passed but nothing happened. "It's
ringing," Miss Byars said cheerfully.

More seconds passed but still nothing happened. Melanie
frowned. Where is she? Why doesn't she answer the phone?

"Maybe I rang the wrong number," the nurse
offered. "I'll try again."

But nobody answered this time either. "She's probably
gone out for a few minutes," said Melanie.

"Would you like to lie down for now, and then I could
try again later?" asked the nurse.

Melanie looked at the small metal cot jutting out from the
wall. It was in plain view of anyone who might happen to come into the nurse's
office. She would die if she had to lie down there and
double
die if
anyone she knew came in and saw her. "No," she said hurriedly. "I'd
just like to go home."

Miss Byars nodded and then opened a small file box sitting
on her desk, thumbed through, and pulled out a card.

"It says here to contact Mrs. Clare Miller if your
mother isn't home."

"That's our next-door neighbor," said Melanie.

"Then I'll be glad to phone her for you," said the
nurse. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to lie down?"

Melanie shook her head and watched apprehensively as Miss
Byars keyed in Mrs. Miller's number. What if her mother was out for the day,
shopping or something? What good would it do to go home if there was no one
there to spy on? Maybe she should say that she was feeling better and go back
to class. But what was really bothering her was why her mother hadn't answered
the phone. It doesn't matter that I'm sick and need to come home, she thought.
She and Jeffy are probably out somewhere having a great time. They probably
went ice skating at the rink at the mall. Or maybe Mom took Jeffy to story hour
at the library.

"Hello, Mrs. Miller?" she heard Miss Byars say. "This
is the school nurse at Wakeman Junior High. I'm calling for Melanie Edwards.
She isn't feeling well, but her mother doesn't answer the phone. Oh, she is?
That's wonderful. May I speak with her, please?"

Melanie jumped to attention as Miss Byars gave her a
reassuring smile and waited for Mrs. Edwards to come to the phone. So what if
she was only at Mrs. Miller's, Melanie thought grumpily. She still wasn't home
when I needed her.

Her mother was at school within fifteen minutes, and even
Melanie had to admit that she looked worried. "What's wrong, honey?"

"My stomach's a little upset. That's all," she
murmured.

"Well, let's take you home," she said, putting an
arm around Melanie. Turning to Miss Byars, she said, "I'm sorry I wasn't
home when you called. Jeffy and I ran next door to borrow an egg from Mrs.
Miller. We stayed longer than we meant to because she wanted to show us how she's
taught her little dog, Jo-Jo, to roll over and shake hands."

"Of course, Mrs. Edwards," Miss Byars reassured
her. "You couldn't have known that Melanie was going to get sick this
morning."

Mrs. Edwards thanked the nurse again and led Melanie out to
the car where Jeffy was waiting. As she trudged toward the car, Melanie realized
that she did actually feel a little sick. There was a dull ache in her head and
her stomach was starting to gurgle. Maybe I wasn't lying after all, she told
herself.

The smell of brownies hit Melanie as soon as she stepped in
the front door of her house. She drifted into the kitchen and put her books
down on the kitchen counter. There were the brownies, her mother's specialty,
on a platter. Nearby the other bowls and utensils sat where her mother had left
them when she went next door to borrow an egg.

"I wish you'd told me you weren't feeling well before
you went out in the cold this morning," said Mrs. Edwards, coming up
behind Melanie and feeling her forehead with the back of her hand. "You
don't seem to have any fever, but maybe you'd better scoot on up to your room
and jump into bed. The rest will do you good. Jeffy and I'll try to be extra
quiet in case you want to sleep, won't we, Jeffy?"

Jeffy nodded and jumped up to his usual place at the
counter, grabbing a mixing bowl and cleaning it with his finger, and her mother
gave Melanie a sympathetic smile before walking over and tousling his hair.

Fears filled Melanie's eyes as she watched the two of them.
They seemed so happy, so natural together, and she felt suddenly apart from
them. It was as if a cold, invisible curtain had been pulled in between them
and her. She wiped the back of her hand across her eyes, turned on her heel,
and left the room.