Page 12 of Road to Rosalee

‘Lucy Harrison? Hmm.’ He scratched his head. ‘Doesn’t ring any bells.’

Oh god. She hadn’t expected this – he didn’t even remember her mum. Talk about throwing her in the deep end. The room fell very quiet and time seemed to slow, or maybe Melody just imagined it. Sarah looked to her husband, her expression one of confusion. It was as if nobody knew what to say. The arresting guy met her gaze, locking piercing blue eyes onto hers. And then, his smile, as sexy as sin, pinned her to the spot. His energy was a heady mixture of charming, and a little dangerous. Her breath caught. Her head spun. She didn’t know if she returned his smile or not.

‘Did I go to school with your mum?’ Matt’s voice drew her attention back to him.

‘No.’ She shook her head.

‘So how do I know her?’

Blinking as if startled, Melody suddenly felt trapped and her fight-or-flight instincts kicked into full force. ‘Oh, maybe I had it wrong.’ She shot to her feet, the chair tumbling behind her. She righted it then grabbed her handbag. ‘I’ll let myself out, sorry to bother you all.’ Before anyone replied, or could stop her, she ran past the fetching giant of a man, who was looking as speechless as she felt, and out the back door. Her feet couldn’t carry her to her hire car quick enough.

‘Melody, please. Wait …’ Someone called. Heavy footsteps raced after her, stopping her just before she got into the driver’s seat. Matt’s hand going to her wrist, he pulled her back to face him. ‘I think I do remember your mother, now I’ve had a minute to jog the cogs.’

‘You do?’ Hope filled her heart.

‘Yes. If my memory serves me right, she and I met at a B&S ball. I think I was about seventeen.’ He half chuckled. ‘And she was the best damn dancer this side of the equator.’

Her hands clasping, Melody smiled a little. ‘She did like to dance.’

Matt met her smile. ‘How is she?’

‘She, um …’ Melody looked down at the ground. ‘She passed away.’

‘Oh shit. I’m so sorry.’ Matt shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘Can I ask how?’

Melody dared to meet his gaze again. ‘Cancer. Melanoma.’

‘I’m real sad to hear that.’ He drew in a breath, and slowly blew it away. ‘Do you live around here?’

‘No, I’m up from Sydney.’

Confusion mixed with his look of genuine sympathy. ‘You came all this way to tell me about your mum’s passing?’

‘No. Yes. No, I, uhh …’ Her breathing became even more erratic and she suddenly felt like she was about to pass out.

Moments lengthened. The silence between them stretched.

‘How old are you, Melody?’

She gasped for a decent breath. ‘Twenty-three.’

As if putting two and two together, Matt’s expression shifted and his sharp eyes regarded her.

A wave of nausea gripped her tight and she fanned her face. ‘I’m sorry, but I feel like I’m about to be sick.’ She spun and raced to the nearest bushes, hurling half-digested lemon meringue pie into it. Vomiting always made her cry, and this time was no exception. She remained bent over, just in case there was more to come, and to also try to hide her tears.

Matt rushed to her side. ‘It’s okay. Just take some deep breaths.’ He placed a reassuring hand on her back. As she straightened, he led her over to a couple of camp chairs perched around a fire pit.

She slowly sat, taking deep breaths, trying to find the right words.

Matt thumbed over his shoulder. ‘I’m just going to run inside and grab you some water. I’ll be right back, okay?’

She nodded. The scent of past campfires lingered in the grey coals she transfixed her blurred gaze upon. Almost able to reach out and touch the kitchen window, she could hear muffled voices from inside but couldn’t make out what was being said. Matt quickly reappeared, passed her a glass of cold water, and then settled down beside her. She took a few small sips. Matt drummed his fingers against his bouncing leg. The ball of emotion lodged in her throat made it impossible to speak. They sat in silence until it became too uncomfortable.

‘You feeling a bit better now?’ he finally asked.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Good.’ Matt breathed in deep. ‘So, what is it that you really came to tell me, Melody?’