Thinking on it doesn't bring ideas to her mind.
The truth is, part of her feels like she is a sitting duck, waiting to be pounced on, and she really does not like that feeling of powerlessness. It’s all too suspicious: the strange girl showing up claiming to want to help her, the trip to the island, Nell speeding off…
Wait, she reconsiders in the moment, was Nell speeding off because she saw someone coming? Did she panic at the sign of danger and leave quickly, trying to protect herself? It seems a bit far-fetched, but Melody recognizes it could be a possibility. And if it is, then it would mean Nell was not working with whomever knocked her out. She has a hard time believing her own theory, especially not knowing Nell very well yet. It all just happened so fast, she thinks, regretfully.
Slowly, in an almost guided manner, her eyes wander from her nearly consumed cup of tea and plate of food on the table. They are delicious, but something is drawing her. She looks out of the arched window, thinking, “If I were my father, what would I do?”
Then her eyes land on the willow vines, painted along the wall. They are strategically weaved among paintings on the wall. Melody glides out of her chair, staring directly at a vine near one of the paintings.
The detail is slight, nearly inconspicuous, but Melody can tell it means something. As if the vine is speaking, Melody nods her head, following its message. The more she stares at the details in the vines, the more the message becomes clearer to her.
She picks up the painting. It’s of a whimsical girl, standing in front of a beach, looking longingly into the water like someone will walk out soon and run into her arms. But Melody is not interested in the painting. It’s the vines. The vines have her enthralled and she cannot look away. She picks up the painting, gently, with her hand, peeks under it, then with another hand she pulls something out.
It’s a note.
It reads: I shouldn’t have come here. -D
Melody’s eyes grow wide. My father was here? The revelation is both shocking and enlightening. She’s not even sure how to process it yet. She leans back against the armor. It’s his writing and it’s his signature, of this she is sure.
How did he end up here? Did he also run into a Nell or someone like her? She wonders. It makes sense to her now why Rob said her father didn’t leave by plane or travel on McCorrie’s boat, the Blue Elm, to the mainland; he came to this island.
Is he still here? Did he go back? She has questions about him and she needs answers.
While she asks, something fantastic is happening inside Melody – she is gaining her confident tenacity that reveals she will not give up. “I need more clues,” she utters, her eyes searching around the room.
She studies the vines again, to depict exactly how she found the last clue. The feathery branches all point and flow in the direction of the vine, except for one small section which uncharacteristically points its branches down towards the bottom left corner of the painting while the rest point up.
The detail is infinitesimal, easy for an untrained eye to miss, but Melody, knowing how her father would feed her clues on their adventures before, and with her archeology background, has learnt to catch such minor clues.
Like little feathers telling a story, the vines direct her where to look. She follows their intricate trail along the wall and there another painting sits. The trail says it’s the top of the painting, in the middle. She pulls down this painting without even checking what was painted on it. Her mind is focused, she can tell she is close. She was right to follow her gut and come here.
A little note is slipped between the slits of the painting, it reads: They followed me here. I’m in danger. If I stay, they’ll find me. -D
Melody clutches the note in her hands, trying to decipher what her father was trying to tell her. Who are they? And why was his life in danger? She questions.
It would be so much easier if her father just left all the details in one place, but that would be unlike him, so she must dig.
She lays the painting on the chest with blankets in it, then follows the trail. Even her Nancy Drew mysteries were not as thrilling as this to her soul. The sense of imminent danger and adventure all wrapped in one makes her blood rush. But now, there’s the added element of the mystery being about someone she personally knows and wants to find.
The next painting is not hanging on the wall, it’s leaning against the fireplace, next to some porcelain figurines and candles. She locates the oddly painted, feathery branches and searches for the note, but there is no note. She looks again, and nothing. Rechecking the branches, she knows she is looking in the right place, but the note is not there.
Melody steps back, looks around the fireplace, hoping the note didn’t fall among the logs, which she has been happily burning over the last couple of days.
She lifts each figurine and looks under it, then she sees it, rolled up tightly like the others, behind the base of a candlestick.
Anticipating what it will say next, Melody opens the note quickly. And it reads: I came to expose the truth and now, I must die for the truth. -D
Melody is beginning to
