Home Is Where The Heart Is



It is a Tuesday and 10 am. The house is alive with talk and gossip. The voices can be traced back to the breakfast nook where the light is playing through the stain glass windows and casting multicoloured shadows on the trays of food. Melanie sits at the head of the table, surveying her friends. Around her the talk flows freely, they are too used to her to care she's not contributing - so rarely she does anyway. Those more alert in the group may notice the lack of wine glass in her hand and perhaps those more observant the bags carefully, and almost completely, covered by makeup. None do, they're all talking about Mrs Walker who lives a street away and her newest addition.

An hour passes and the women gather up their purses and jackets and leave, happy with the gossip they've learnt for another week. A few hug Melanie goodbye, most just thank her with a smile.

Lassie the dog barks at their departure and brushes herself up against Melanie for comfort, she pats his head impatiently as she searches for something to do.

The wine cupboard will be locked. Jarod has arranged a family gathering this afternoon and he likes her to be sober and alert when he does so. The cupboard was locked yesterday also; experience has long taught Jarod that Melanie with a hangover is almost as bad as Melanie after a couple of glasses of wine.

The book Melanie has been reading lies spine up on the bedside table where she left it; Jarod disapproves of her taste in books - not that he says anything about it. Jarod disapproves of quite a few things Melanie does, but he takes them in his stride and never comments. He loves her. She knows that. She's always known that.

Melanie reads the book until lunchtime, nearly finished it. Jarod arrives at the regular time and calls "Honey, I'm home." His voice travels all the way upstairs and into the fantasy world of romance and intrigue Melanie inhabits.

Jarod has brought lunch with him from the small bakery on the way - a crème bun for himself and a slice of cheese cake for her. The abuse to her body leave Melanie with no appetite though she eats at his request; he says the sugar will help and he's a doctor and knows what's best for her. He's always known what was best for her. He gave her truth, freedom, Tommy and now a life. She likes to think this is the life that her mother always imagined for her.

This afternoon they're going to Jarod's parents, they live a half hours drive from home: close enough for Jarod to visit whenever he feels like, but not too close as to encourage the strange silence that grows between them when they're around each other for to long.

When Jarod first introduced them Miss Parker was freely welcomed, they called her by her first name and told her all about her mother and how she tried to help them. Miss Parker had sat more politely than she ever had, listening and smiling, and for their part they sat and told her happy tales and welcomed her into the family. No one was remembering when Miss Parker scared of Emily and Margaret. No one was remembering when she captured and nearly killed Major Charles. Not one person remembered that she was Jarod's huntress and that she was there when Kyle died. They treated her as she imagined they treated Zoe, polite distance from the blank slate they made her.

Ms. Melanie Kate Parker was born there, Mrs. Melanie K. Charles came ten months later when Sydney gave her away and Jarod's clone - also known as Kurt - got drunk and hit on Debbie. Debbie smacked him in the mouth when he tried to check the hem of her skirt (as he later explained).

Its all different now, family visits are a weekly thing; Jarod has been known to rearrange entire hospital schedules so they can be, and Melanie is always locked out of the drinks cupboard for a day prior. Sometimes, like today she feels bitter that her life is so easily controlled.

The feeling takes her back to the last Christmas Debbie came to visit; she gave Melanie a snow globe with a house inside. "The house looks just like yours,' Debbie explained happily. Jarod thought it was lovely and put it on the mantel piece. Melanie played with it for days, tipping the snow around and around, imagining the happy family just like hers inside. Then she wondered if inside the ball of glass a woman just like her was trapped, her life being tipped up and down by the whims of others. The thought grew and grew until she smashed the globe on the tiles, freeing the non-existent woman. When Jarod came home he swept up the shards, he never mentioned the snow globe again and neither did she.

After lunch they climb into Jarod's car and drive for 30 minutes to another house that looks like it walked out of a snow globe. Margaret - or mum as she insists Melanie call her - is waiting on the porch with glasses of lemonade and a condescending expression.

'Mum,' Jarod greets her, 'how are you?'

Margaret hugs and smiles at her first born and answers as she always does, that she's fine as is his father, then she enquires as to Jarod and how his life is. Finally she turns to Melanie with a stern expression, 'You're looking after him aren't you?'

Melanie chuckles a bit, though there is no joke, and nods. Yes she is looking after Jarod, just like she was the last time she asked, and the time before that.

The house is quiet, only Margaret and Major Charles live here, Emily lives a block or two away with her partner of a year, Kurt is away at college, Ethan is travelling the country and Baby Parker lives with a foster family in the State he was born.

The chit chat is nothing new or interesting, Jarod does most of the talking, telling once again the funny story about the boy with the broken arm and all the other things he's done since the last visit. Melanie smothers a yawn with a laugh; she's tired more often these days, just not at night. At night she lays still with eyes closed, ignoring the screaming in her mind. Jarod says he can give her something to make her sleep only if she stops drinking the wine.

Hours pass like days but eventually Jarod stands to leave. He kisses his mother on the cheek, hugs his father and takes Melanie by the waist to the car. Melanie only gives verbal goodbyes; neither side has wishes for physical contact no matter how many times they may insist they love her.

In the car Melanie turns on the radio rather than listen to him parrot what has just been said. He does anyway but she just tunes him out and nods accordingly.

When they get home Melanie extends her hand to Jarod for the key to the cabinet, but like Melanie did with the radio, today he breaks routine. 'I'd rather you didn't,' he says and takes her inside to the kitchen. Once there he investigates the medicine stock and pulls ends up with three small blue pills.

'Take them later,' he advises. 'With water,' he adds as an after thought.

They watch television for a while and Melanie quickly gets bored and finishes her book. She's picking another from her extensive romance novel collection when Jarod suggests she might like to take the pills. She does so happily - anything to get a good night sleep. Jarod long figured out her tactic of taking medicine to make her drowsy and removed all such pills from the house.

Less than half an hour later she's asleep, a truly peaceful smile adorning her face - one that try as she might she cannot fake in her waking hours.

Jarod brushes his finger down her cheek and wonders not for the first time about his motives. Going downstairs for his own sleeping pills the thought is quickly pushed aside. He loves her; she's happy, well cared for and not in federal prison. That's all that matters.

Four blue pills are washed down with water as Jarod carefully avoids thinking about his dreams the pills might or might not stop. Dreams of Tommy's accusing, damning eyes, his head shaking as he pleads with Jarod to let her go. Without that thought in mind, Jarod travels the staircase and takes his rightful place beside Melanie in bed.