For three weeks Todd waited for some word and looked for some sign of Melody. He took his usual walk down the old dirt road. He searched for her at the pond. Some days he would drive to each of the tiny schools in the district looking for her car in the parking lot, or he would just randomly drive up and down the dirt and gravel roads crisscrossing the county.

He spent so much time searching for Melody that his poetry collection sat unfinished. On the day his fourth novel hit the shelves of bookstores, he found himself in Glink's sitting in one of the aging orange booths Alice had rescued from a defunct restaurant over in Gracemont. Carla, taking an impromptu break, sat across from him, two cups of coffee between them.

The rain outside had driven off most of the old timers, and the few hardy enough to brave the elements sat in the second booth behind Todd and Carla, discussing wheat futures and whether or not the Caldwell farm would make it another season.

Todd listened to their chatter for a few moments before turning his attention back to the woman in front of him.

"It's like she never existed," Todd told Carla, peering over the rim of his cup at his oldest friend.

"I have to admit, Todd, that I've never heard of her, but, well, if you say you met her, then she must be somewhere," Carla said. "Wait here a minute." She stood and walked to the counter where her mother stood reading a magazine. Todd watched her rustle under the counter for a few minutes before she came up with a notepad and pen. She sat back down across from him.

"Okay. Give me all the facts. We'll treat it just like any other problem."

"By making a list?" Todd asked.

"By listing what we know and making a coherent plan. Honestly Todd, you've been flailing around in the dark looking for this woman. If you really want to find her, you need a plan, and you need to implement the plan systematically." She peered at him over her delicate wire-framed glasses.

Todd blinked and smiled at his childhood friend. "How do I ever get anything done without you?"

"I don't know," she deadpanned. "Now start talking. Leave nothing out."

Todd took a deep drink of his coffee before starting. "Okay, her name is Melody Braun. She drives a 1934 Dodge--"

"Your dream girl drives a seventy year old Dodge? Really?" Carla seemed incredulous.

"Yes."

Carla put down her pen. "Todd, someone should have noticed a car that old being driven around. I know I've never seen it, and I've lived here all my life. I've also never heard of anyone driving a classic Dodge out here."

"I'm just giving you the facts," he scowled.

Carla held up her hand. "Okay, okay, what else?"

"Um, she lives with her mother, she's a widow, has an eight-year-old son, and works as a substitute teacher at the local schools. She said she was trying to get a full time job over in Binger."

"Well, we can start over at the high school." Carla said, chewing the end of her pen.

"Will the school release information about her?"

Carla smiled at him. "No, but if you know who to talk to, well, anything's possible."

Todd smiled back at her. "Work the local gossip mill, eh?"

"What else is there to do out here except take care of everyone else's business?" She put down her pen, her forehead scrunching up in thought. "In fact," she muttered, turning in her seat toward the three old men behind her. "Hey Dean, doesn't your granddaughter work over at the high school in Binger?"

The tallest of the old men turned and looked at Carla. "Yup. Penny's still teaching math over there."

"Could you do me a favor?" Carla said in a little sing-song voice while hitting the old man with her nicest smile.

"Sure," Dean answered, smiling back.

"We're trying to find some information on a woman who substitute teaches over there."

"I could ask Penny. Family's gettin' together for Sunday dinner. What's the woman's name?"

Carla looked at her notepad. "Melody Braun. She drives an old Dodge, a '34 sedan, so she�-"

"You mean Mrs. Braun?" Charles Ralston, a former deputy county sheriff, said quietly. He only spoke up rarely anymore, preferring to let his companions chatter on about the weather, grain prices, and other things of importance to old men.

"Yes," Todd said. "Melody Braun."

Charles smiled fondly, his leathery, sun-wrinkled face taking on a soft expression. "Well, I haven't thought of her in years. She taught English over there when I was in high school. Pretty woman, all of us boys had a crush on her. She married and moved up to Elk City in, oh, '53 or so I guess." Charles' face suddenly took on the look of a lifetime professional lawman. "Why do you want to know about Mrs. Braun?"

Todd sat stunned, too confused to speak. Suddenly several small things started to click into place.

"Research for his next book," Carla lied smoothly when she realized Todd might be mute for awhile.

Carla stood and took Todd by the arm, almost forcibly dragging him out of the booth. She nodded at her mother, who favored them with a knowing smile as Carla pulled Todd out of the store.

"Give me your keys," Carla said as they walked out into the steady downpour. Todd handed them over mutely. Carla opened the passenger side door, and gave Todd a little push to make him to climb inside. She moved to the driver's side, and after four attempts, managed to start the battered Ford.

Carla pointed the truck toward the Cochrane farm. They rode in silence. Carla, who did not drive often, focused on the road while Todd continued to try to process what Charles Ralston had told him.

Carla worked the truck up the muddy driveway to Todd's house and parked by the kitchen door. As soon as she turned the engine off, Todd exited the truck and slowly walked to his house in a daze. Carla rushed ahead of him and opened the door. Todd walked into the kitchen and sat at the long wooden table. He put his head down on his arms.

When it became clear to her Todd would not be doing anything more than sitting anytime soon, Carla rummaged around in the kitchen, looking for coffee. She made a pot and set a cup in front of Todd. Carla reached out and touched him on the shoulder.

"Hey, do you want to talk about it?"

Todd looked up at her. "What's to talk about? My current girlfriend apparently lived fifty years ago."

"That's preposterous. It must be another woman with the same name. Or it could be her granddaughter, or something more reasonable."

Todd gave Carla a weak smile. "No. I don't think so. I can see now it really was her. The out-of-date clothes, the old car, other little clues in conversation I overlooked."

"Come on, Todd," Carla said, sitting next to him. "You can't really believe you've been seeing a woman from the past? That kind of thing only happens--"

"In stories?" Todd finished.

"Well, yeah," Carla said. "Look, I have an idea."

"Go on," Todd mumbled miserably.

"We'll drive over to the high school in Binger and ask to go through old yearbooks. If, in fact, your mystery woman is this Melody Braun from fifty years ago, her photo would be in the book."

Todd agreed. "Okay, we can do that." He looked squarely at Carla. "And if it is her?"

Carla shrugged. "I don't know Todd. It all seems a bit unreal. If it is her, you'll find a way to deal with it. If not, we keep looking. Okay?"

Todd nodded his agreement. "Okay."

"Good, it's settled," Carla said with a tone of finality. "So, we'll drive to Binger and look. Now finish your coffee. We can eat lunch at Kelly's before we stop by the school."

Todd gulped down his coffee. "I'll tell them it's research for a book or something."

Carla smiled at him, placing one friendly hand over one of his. "It will be fine."

"I don't think so, but thanks for saying it anyway."

Todd stood and gathered his keys and Carla followed him out to his truck. The windshield wipers kept a steady, calming rhythm and neither spoke until they turned off the dirt road onto the paved county road toward Binger.

"Weren't you supposed to be in Oklahoma City for your book release today?" Carla asked.

Todd nodded his head. "Yes, but I canceled and scheduled a signing for the end of the month instead. I doubt anyone cares anyway."

Carla gave him a hard look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Todd chuckled under his breath. "When the first book came out it was a big deal to people who knew me, so I did a little signing at the bookstore up in Weatherford. By the second book, the science fiction and fantasy community was ready to come out and support the local guy. But after four books I suspect it�s all routine. Anyone who cares enough to come out for the release will come out for the signing instead."

"I think you underestimate your fan base."

"I'll make sure and do something nice for them by way of apology."

The rest of the drive to Binger proceeded in silence. Todd followed the paved road while Carla sat quietly next to him. Occasionally she would look over to make sure Todd really was paying attention to the road. When Todd drove past the restaurant and on toward the school, Carla said nothing.

Todd pulled the old Ford into the school parking lot. He exited the truck and turned, looking at the building. He stood there, unsure whether he really wanted to walk through those doors and find his answers.

Carla stepped up and touched his arm. "You don't have to do this," she said.

"Yeah, I think I do. Come with me?"

"Of course."

They walked into the building and, after a moment of hesitation, found their way to the office. Carla walked through the door first and greeted the woman behind the desk.

"Hi, I'm Carla Glink, and this is my friend, Todd Cochrane. Todd's writing a novel set in Caddo County, and we wondered if there was anyway we could go through some old yearbooks in the library?" Carla tried to smile winningly.

The woman blinked at them from behind her desk. Dolores Gordon was use to dealing with unruly students, handling irate parents, and directing visiting officials. All these things were well within her experience. Having two strange adults show up wanting to use the school's tiny library was another matter. The woman blinked again as she slowly came to the only reasonable decision she felt she could without guidance.

"The school library is for students and staff only."

Carla refused to be dismissed easily. "Oh, surely it wouldn't hurt to let us use the library for local research for an hour? Really, what would be the harm?"

The receptionist straightened in her chair. "I'm sorry miss, but those are the rules."

Todd spoke for the first time. "I'd like to speak with the principal or superintendent."

"I'm sorry, but you'll need an appointment."

"I'd like to make one," Todd said, gritting his teeth.

The woman opened an appointment book. "Principal Munson could see you for twenty minutes next Friday." Dolores looked up with an unfriendly face. "Would you like to schedule an appointment?"

"Principal Munson? As in Mr. Munson who taught history over at Oney? Coach Derrick Munson?" Carla asked.

"Well, yes, Principal Munson once coached over at Oney Schools before the districts merged."

"Oh, well, I'm sure he'd love to see us," Carla said. She grabbed Todd by the hand and stepped past the receptionist's desk and into the principal's office before the woman could protest.

The door opened to reveal Principal Derrick Munson sitting at his desk, head bent over a pile of papers and a ballpoint clutched in his hand. His head rose as the door opened.

"Mr. Munson? Hi, it's Carla Glink from over at Oney."

Derrick Munson smiled, obviously pleased at any diversion from the routine of the day. "Of course. What can I do for you?"

Carla stepped into the office, pulling Todd with her.

Dolores followed them closely. "I'm sorry sir, I told them you were busy and they would need an appointment, but--"

"It's okay, Dolores," he said with a wave and a smile. "I'll see them."

Dolores' frown deepened, and she looked at Todd and Carla with deep suspicion. "Of course sir. Should I hold your calls?"

"Please do."

Dolores nodded sharply and closed the door.

Derrick Munson leaned back in his chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit?"

"We need to use the school library," Carla spoke up.

"Specifically," Todd added, "I wanted to look through yearbooks from the 1950's."

"Research for a book?" Munson asked.

Todd blinked in surprise. "Yes. How did you know?"

Munson waved a hand dismissively and chuckled. "I'm a school administrator, I know everything."

"So would it be all right?" Todd asked.

"Of course. I'll walk you down to the library."

Derrick Munson led the two former students out of his office and down the hall, past lockers and classrooms with closed doors, until finally they reached the school library. A girl, obviously a student, stood behind the checkout desk.

"Miss Butler, where do you keep the old yearbooks?" the principal asked.

The girl looked around for a moment, then turned back to the adults, "What year?"

"1950 to 1957," Todd supplied.

"I'll need to pull them from storage."

"That will be fine, Miss Butler," the principal said. "Please give them to my friends, and provide any other help they need."

The girl smiled. "Of course," she said, setting off in search of the requested books.

Principal Munson turned to his former students. "Well, I'll just leave you two to your research. It was good to see you both."

"Thank you, it was good to see you as well," Todd said.

Todd and Carla sat at one of the study tables, waiting for the girl to return with the materials. Todd kept fidgeting in the plastic chair. Carla picked up a of copy National Geographic someone had left lying out, and began to flip through it. After fifteen minutes, the student librarian appeared carrying the yearbooks.

"Here you go. If you need help with anything else let me know. When you finished, you can leave these at the counter."

"Thanks," Carla said.

Todd pulled the 1951 edition of the Binger Schools Yearbook from the stack. He ran his hand over the red and white book nervously.

Carla reached out to him. "It's okay." She scooted her chair next to his. "Go ahead, open it."

Todd opened the book. He turned the pages until he came to the one with the pictures of the faculty members. Todd exhaled and bit his lower lip. He looked at Carla before putting his finger down on the text next to the picture. Carla leaned over his arm to look. It was a black and white photo of pretty woman, with shoulder length brown hair. The caption underneath read "Melody Braun, English."

"Is it really her?" Carla whispered.

Todd nodded his head. "Yeah, it's her."

The drive back to Todd's home was oppressively silent. Carla sat behind the wheel of Todd's truck while Todd leaned his head against passenger side window and watched the countryside go by.

Once back at the Cochrane farm, Todd walked silently into the house and lay on the couch.

"You can take the truck home if you want," Todd mumbled from the couch.

"That's okay, I'll stick around."

"You don't have to."

"No, I don't. But I'm going to."

Todd turned and looked at her. "I'm afraid I'm not in shape to be much of a host at the moment."

"That's okay," Carla said.

"The TV and computer both run on satellite if you need something to do."

"I'll be fine."

Todd turned away, facing the back of the couch. He felt Carla stand next to him for a few minutes before she walked into the kitchen. Todd allowed himself to doze off.

The smell of fresh coffee awoke him. He sat up and looked around the dimly lit room. Todd realized he had overslept. Rising from the couch, he quietly walked toward the kitchen. He found Carla sitting in front of his laptop, talking on his cell phone.

"Yes, mom. A few days, maybe more." There was a long pause. "Yes, I suppose I am overdue for a bit of vacation." Another pause. "I'm not sure what you're implying, mother," Carla chuckled into the telephone. "Yes, well, I'll let you know. Yeah, love you too, 'bye." Carla turned off the cell phone and looked up at him. "Hey," she said.

"Hey yourself," Todd answered, walking to the coffeepot and pouring himself a cup. "So you're going on vacation?"

"Sort of. I've decided to help you sort through this mess," she informed him.

"Look, Carla, there's really nothing to sort through. I've been seeing a woman who lived here fifty years ago."

"Yes, well, about that," Carla turned the laptop toward Todd. She had apparently spent the time he was asleep trying to dig up information on Melody Braun over the internet. There was information from genealogy pages, the official Binger-Oney School website, and the homepage of a young couple over in Elk City.

Todd read all of Carla's findings while she puttered around his kitchen, putting together something for dinner. By the time he finished his second cup of coffee and read over her findings the fourth time, Carla had set a homemade patty melt in front of him. He looked up as she placed their plates on the table.

"So this woman in Elk City is her granddaughter?"

Carla nodded. "Yeah. Tiffany Siekert. Twenty-seven years old, married with two kids. Works as a secretary in a dentist's office." Carla saw the look in Todd's eyes. "You're thinking about going over there, aren't you?"

Todd blinked at her and bit off another piece of his sandwich.

"Todd," Carla said evenly, "I think that would be a very bad idea."

"I need to know."

"Know what?"

"If she's alive. If she ever told them about me."

Carla reached over and placed a hand on his arm. "Todd, even if she's alive, she be what? About eighty years old?"

"I have to know."

Carla gave him a sad look. "Fine, we'll drive over tomorrow."

"You don't have to--" Todd began, but Carla cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I'm on vacation, I can do whatever I please. Now finish your food. Once you've done you're going to drive me home. I'll pack a few things and follow you back in my car."

"Yes ma'am. There's a nice bed in the master bedroom you can use."

Carla shot him a look. "And where do you sleep?"

"In my old room."

They finished their meal and Todd drove them back to Oney. It took Carla about twenty minutes to pack a medium-size bag, which she threw into her little Honda.

They exchanged few words once back at the Cochrane Farm. Todd showed her the room she would be using and, after he pulled fresh linens from the closet for her, they agreed to be up by eight in the morning. Todd excused himself and went to bed. He thought after his long nap he would be too tired and too wired to sleep, but he lay down and drifted of almost immediately.

The sound of movement downstairs woke Todd. He looked at his alarm clock--four twenty-six in the morning. He slipped out of bed and cautiously started downstairs. He saw a light on in the living room, which he suspected was the lamp between the couch and chair. He stepped down the rest of the stairs and entered the living room.

Carla sat on the couch, a glass of milk in her hand. She wore a frayed T-shirt and a pair of old shorts. She looked up as Todd entered the room.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you," she said. "It's just, you know, strange bed and all."

Todd shrugged, walked over, and settled down beside her. "It's okay, I wasn't sleeping very well anyway."

"Nervous about tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Todd said while nodding his head.

Carla set her glass of milk down and leaned against his shoulder, just like in school.

"I'm glad you left," she said, catching Todd by surprise. "I'm glad you escaped; I'm glad you managed to make it in the real world."

"What happened Carla?" Todd asked, leaning his head against her's where it lay on his shoulder. "You were supposed to make it out with me. Remember? That was the plan."

"I'm sorry, Todd. I was too frightened."

"Of what?"

"The whole big scary world. I meant to go to college, but I was too afraid I'd be all alone, and what if I couldn't do it. Sure, I was one of the smart kids in high school, but there were what, ten of us in the whole class? Fifty or so in the whole high school?" She sniffed. "So I just stayed home, nice and safe, and kept working for mom and dad. The next thing I knew, fifteen years had gone by." Carla sat up and wiped her eyes on the heel of her hand. "You must think I'm the most pathetic person alive."

"No. Pathetic is falling in love with a ghost."

"That's very nice of you to say," Carla smiled through the slow falling tears.

"No really, you made the choices you thought best," Todd said.

"I would have believed you fifteen years ago Todd, but I'm nearly forty."

"We're both thirty-five. Forty is still a few years off," Todd pointed out.

"Yes," Carla agreed, raising her head to look him in the eyes. "The difference is, you've done something with your life."

"So you do something. Go back to school. Leave Oney if you're miserable."

Carla sat silent for a moment. "I've thought about it. I've a ton of savings, you know."

"Because what do you have to spend it on out here?"

"Exactly. But I'm still afraid."

"Of?"

"Of being lonely. Everything I know is here. It's a scary idea, moving away from all you've ever known. I'm afraid it might be too late for me."

"It's never too late if you want it badly enough. You could move up to Oklahoma City; you have at least one friend there."

"I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"I'd love the company. All I ever do is stay home and stare at the computer. Most of my human contact comes when I'm out here."

Carla chuckled. "When you come to town, it's the high point of my entire year."

"Really?" Todd asked, raising his head to look down at her.

"Todd, having you in town is like having the circus come through. Everything seems brighter and better, then you leave and everything goes grey and boring and normal again."

"Oh sweetie, you need to get out of here."

"I don't know. We'll see. I'd like to try something else,"

Carla said, snuggling back down against Todd and closing her eyes.

Todd placed an arm around her. "If you want to, I'll help."

"I think I'd like that."

Todd drove to Elk City, figuring he might not be in any condition to drive back, depending on how everything went. Carla tried to help him by keeping up a light and spirited banter, mostly giving her impressions of his finished work and comparing it to other authors who wrote in a similar vein.

Todd's nerves were on fire by the time they reached Elk City, so they decided to stop and eat.

When he finally found the address, he sat in Carla's little car and looked at the front door for nearly twenty minutes before he gathered up his courage and approached the house. Carla walked behind him, but kept a respectful distance. He rang the doorbell.

He wasn't ready for the woman who answered the door. She looked almost exactly like Melody, the same hair color, the same eyes, they were even similar in height.

"May I help you?" she said, peering around the door.

"I--I'm--as strange as this may sound, a friend of your grandmother's."

The woman's eyes narrowed at him. "I hardly think that possible. Nama Mel passed away two years ago. I don't ever remember seeing you before. You definitely weren't at the funeral."

"Honey, who's at the door?" a male voice called.

As the woman started to close the door, Todd said the only thing he could think of. "My name's Todd Cochrane."

The woman hesitated. "Todd Cochrane?"

"Yes."

She licked her lips. "Wait here."

She shut the door softly. Todd could hear muffled voices from inside, the sounds of a man and woman having words. After almost five minutes the door opened again. The woman who looked like his Melody stood with a small box in her hands; a tall, broad shouldered man stood behind her. The woman offered him the box. Todd took it, giving her a curious look.

"Nama Mel said you might come someday. She said to give you this box if you did."

"Thank you," Todd said.

"I think you should go now, Mr. Cochrane. I think you should leave and never come back."

Todd nodded and turned away.

He let Carla drive home. She walked him to the door of his farmhouse. When she offered to stay the night with him, he told her he needed some time alone. She smiled sadly and squeezed him on the arm, telling him if he needed a friend she was a telephone call away, before climbing into her car and driving into the night.

Todd sat at the kitchen table, the box in front of him. With a growing sense of dread, he took out his pocketknife and cut the tape.

Reaching in, he pulled out the copy of his book he had given her. The dust jacket was missing, the cover battered and the spine cracked. He reached in again and pulled out the copy of Frost poems, as well as his thermos, cracked and missing its lid, and a set of old car keys.

He thumbed the Frost and a small piece of paper fell out. Todd picked it and unfolded it.

Hello Todd,

These things belong to you, except the car keys, of course. The old Dodge is long gone, but I kept them in remembrance. I found the books and thermos in the car the next morning. When I looked inside the books and found the dates, well, I did not want to believe. But what choice did I have?

I forgot you, Todd, and lived my life. When your first book came out, I remembered you again. I cared about you; I still do, even now. So please, if the little time we spent together meant anything to you, do me one final favor.

Do not live in the past.

Melody

Todd set the piece of paper down on the table. He smiled sadly to himself and picked the keys up off the table. He turned them slowly over and over in his hand. He read the last line of Melody's letter again.

Todd picked up his cell phone and dialed the number. When her voice came on the other end of the line, Todd spoke into the telephone.

"Hey, I was wrong. I've already spent too much time alone. Would you like to come over? I'll make coffee."

Todd smiled at the reply.