Winds of terror (9 page)

"Fine, except for the nightmare. Only it wasn't a nightmare, but you wouldn't believe me, anyway, so I won't even tell you about it."

Cale chuckled. "You mean Todd paid you another visit, and you're sure it was real?"

She glared at him. "You think you're so smart, don't you? I know what I know, and someday, everyone here will see that I was right. Todd was no good, and his kind doesn't stop pestering people just because he's dead! But he isn't going to take me with Mm, not if I can help it!" She waved her fork threateningly in the air.

Cale chuckled again and dug into his scrambled eggs. Mark watched his aunt in silence for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, "Aunt Addie, I wish you wouldn't talk like that about my brother. Let the dead rest in peace."

"I'd be glad to," she snorted, "if he could. I didn't invite him to come back and haunt me. Goodness knows, he tried to worry me to death when he was alive; it should be expected that he'd keep on after he was dead. He was worthless and no good, and you should know that better than anyone else, the way he always deviled you and kept you in trouble.

"And another thing," she said, shaking her fork at Mark this time. "You needn't think you're going to start acting like that no-good troublemaker, either. I heard

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about you kicking Melanie's dog yesterday, and I'd better not hear of antics such as that again!"

"He was trying to get into Uncle Hartley's room," Mark said with a whine.

"No cause to mistreat the animal." Addie faced him squarely and narrowed her eyes to angry little slits. "You get something straight, boy. You don't own this plantation yet, and maybe you never will. So you toe the line and remember that I've got the upper hand around here.'*

"And you never let anyone forget it, do you?" Mark snapped, getting up from the table, his chair scraping the floor. "I do all the work, but I'm no more than a servantl You think Melanie can do no wrong! Well, ask her what she plans to do to your precious shrine to Uncle Bartleyl Ask her what she told me at three a.m. this morning when I caught her and that infernal dog of hers prowling about the upstairs hallway!"

Addie looked up at him. "Sit down, boy. I didn't excuse you," she said, her voice cracking like a whip.

Meekly, Mark obeyed, eyeing his plate like a naughty child scolded over a temper tantrum.

Melanie sat rigidly, waiting for Addie to turn on her. She did not have long to wait. "Now what's he talking about, Melanie? And don't play games with me. You never were good at getting around the truth."

How well she remembered that. As a child, she could make excuses to her mother and perhaps get around her, but not Aunt Addie. Oh, no, with those cold blue eyes that seemed to look right into your soul, Addie had a way of making you blurt out the truth. Now, years later, the effect was the same. Melanie looked at her.

"Aunt Addie, I do think the room should be opened and cleaned out. Butch is having a fit to get in there, and I'm afraid there might be rats nesting in there or something. It wouldn't hurt anything for me to just go in and clean up. I'd leave everything just as it is, only I'd clean up. It would be done anyway, sooner or later . . ." Her voice trailed off, because she'd never seen the old woman look quite so furious.

"That room will be sealed for the life of this house,** Addie said, and her whole body seemed to tremble. "I will not have you even thinking about such a desecration. My son was conceived in that room, and he was

bom in that room. His father was born there also, and he died there. It will not be entered again!"

Cale had been listening with interest. Mark sat in sullen reserve, and Melanie looked hurt as she sipped at her juice. Cale noticed tears sparkling in her eyes. Suddenly, he cleared his throat and said, "Well, I agree with Melanie. I think the room should be entered and cleaned. It's odd, living this way with a sealed room, sort of like Bluebeard's castle."

"Just like your father," Addie cried, slamming her glass down so hard on the table that juice sloshed all over. "Always wanting to go against the wishes of your elders. You enter that room, Cale Beecher, and I'll cut off your trust fund. You'll be sitting on a street comer with a tin cup in your hand! That's probably where you belong anyway. I doubt that you appreciate me taking you in. No one has ever appreciated anything I did except Ruth and Melanie!"

Melanie watched as Cale's face turned livid with rage. He reached around awkwardly and stmggled for his wheelchair, pulling it up beside him. He began hoisting himself into it.

"You stay in that chair and eat your breakfast," Addie ordered him. "I'll not have you excusing yourself from my table."

He ignored her, and once he was in the chair, he began pushing himself furiously towards the elevator. Addie shrieked, "I'm warning you, boy ..."

He backed himself into the elevator. "I may be crippled in body. Grandmother," he said angrily, his face contorted with emotion, "but not in mind, like you are. I won't sit here and listen to your hateful tongue any longer. I'd rather sit on a street comer with a tin cup!"

He jabbed at the button. The door slid shut and the elevator began whining upwards.

Suddenly, Addie's face crumpled. "Take me to my room, Melanie," she said shakily. "I know when I'm not wanted in my own home."

"Oh, Aunt Addie, don't carry on like this." Melanie was out of her chair and scooting around to the old woman's side. "Sit here and finish your breakfast, please. Then I'll get the chair from Cale, and I'll take you for a spin outside in the sunshine."

"Take me upstairs now, or I'll walk . . .** Addie began getting to her feet, her legs trembling.

Melanie looked at Mark, sending him a silent plea for help. He sighed, got up and walked over, and with one quick movement had the frail old lady in his arms, holding her like a baby. He turned and left to carry her upstairs.

Melanie felt like crying. Why did things have to be so unpleasant? She decided to check on Cale; Addie had hurt him pretty badly. She heard Mark coming downstairs, but he walked through the kitchen and out the door without speaking.

She followed and called to him. "Is Addie all right, Mark? Do I need to call Dr. Ambrose?"

He whipped his head around and said, "She's fine. That old woman will live to be a hundred and fifty. She's too mean to die. She'll put us all in our grave—^just as she put Todd in hisl" He turned and walked rapidly towards the barn.

Melanie sighed and went upstairs. She knocked softly on Cale's door, and it was a few seconds before she heard him mumble, "Go away. I don't feel like talking."

She turned the doorknob and went inside. He was sitting in his chair, staring out the window at the sloping fields of cotton plants. It was a beautiful day, the red clay brilliant against a cloudless blue sky. Cale did not look around or acknowledge her presence.

"Cale, she didn't mean those things," Melanie began, walking over to place her hand on his shoulder. "Addie isn't all that mean and gruff. She just wants people to think she is. It's a front I've known her a lot longer than you have."

He snorted. "Lucky me. Maybe you understand her, but all I know is that she's about the meanest woman I've ever known. I can sure understand why Dad left home. He was probably so grateful to get away from Grandmother that being disinherited didn't bother him at all."

"I wouldn't know about that," she said softly. "All I know is that I don't want you to let her get under your skin." She liked Cale, more than she cared to admit. He was a free spirit, despite the limitations his injuries placed on him.

She offered, making her voice bright: "What do you say I help you into the car, and we'll go on a picnic?

I'll straighten up downstairs, fix us a lunch, and, after I help Addie with her bath and get her settled, we can have the rest of the day all to ourselves."

He didn't say anything.

"Come on, Cale," she coaxed, leaning over so that he could see the smile she was offering him. "How long since you've been for a drive?"

**Since I came here," he mumbled.

Melanie's heart constricted at the thought of his spending all that time here in the gloomy house, most of it in this very room. "Then it's settled. You're going with me. ril be ready in about an hour." She started towards the door. "We can even take Butch. He'll love a picnic."

Cale had to smile. It was hard not to smile at such a pretty face, so excited and happy.

"I'll be ready," he said. She started to leave, but he called to her. "And Melanie, thanks."

She winked and closed the door behind her. It was going to be a beautiful day, she resolved with a smile as she hurried downstairs. The whole world was going to be beautiful—for everyone at Beecher House if she had anything to do with it! There would be no ghosts, no haunt-ings, nothing to dim the bright glow she felt at that very moment.

But everything changes . . . Melanie was too busy trying to convince herself she was happy to think about that just then.

Chapter 8

Cale was waiting in his wheelchair on the front porch when Melanie came out carrying a lunch basket. Her chestnut hair was pulled back and tied in a pert pony tail that bounced as she walked. She was wearing a fuU skirt, and a white oflf-the-shoulder peasant blouse. Cale could not help but compare the smiling, wholesome young woman with the tall, seductive Sylvia who had once possessed his heart: two different women, from two different worlds. Suddenly he realized that he preferred Melanie and her honest wholesomeness.

Her smile faded as she said worriedly, "Cale, I can't find Butch anywhere. I've called and whistled and searched the backyard, but I can't find him!"

Cale laughed. "Old Butch is a country dog now, Melanie, and I imagine he's out in one of the fields chasing rabbits. He'll show up for supper."

"You're probably right," she murmured, skipping down the steps to the car she'd parked in the drive earlier. She opened the door on the passenger side, and after placing the lunch basket in the back, she turned and looked at Cale. "I don't think I can get you in the car by myself," she said apologetically.

Cale told her she was not to try. He told her to summon one of the field hands, which she did, and soon they were on their way.

At the end of the driveway was the sloping dirt road. About a mile further on, there was a paved road that led to Linville in one direction and Talladega in the other. Melanie drove straight across this highway, con-

tinuing on down the dirt road in a cloud of thick red dust.

"And just where are we going?" Cale laughed as the car bumped along. I feel like I'm back on a dirt race track again!"

"I practically grew up in these parts, remember?" she said, enjoying the mystery she was creating. "I know all kinds of secret places. Mark and I used to go exploring all the time."

"What about Todd? Didn't he go along?" Cale wanted to know.

She frowned. 'Todd wasn't any fun to play with. He was always doing something mean, then making it look like it was someone else's fault. Frankly, I didn't like him, because I never got along with him. Mark and I would sneak away when he wasn't looking. He'd usually get even with us later, though." •

She pulled to the side of the road and stopped. "I'm glad the wheelchair is folded in the trunk, because you're going to need it."

He looked at her, puzzled. "If you couldn't get me in the car by yourself, how do you think you're going to get me out now and then back in again?"

"Oh, no," she moaned, slapping her forehead and feeling the impuse to cry in her disappointment. "Cale, there's a beautiful little secret lake just beyond those plum bushes. I wanted us to have our picnic on the bank. It's so beautiful there."

He hated to see her so disappointed, and, in truth, he was pretty good at hoisting himself about when he wanted to. "Okay. You help me as much as you can, and we'll see if we can manage. If not, well..." he shrugged.

Melanie unfolded the chair, placed it as close to the car as possible, and held it steady while Cale hoisted himself over and dragged his paralyzed legs into place. It took maybe five minutes, and he showed signs of exhaustion, but the feat was accomplished.

Melanie was so happy she leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I knew you could do it, Cale, just like I know one day you're going to walk again! I promise you will!"

It wasn't far, and the ground was not rough. Melanie pushed him through the little cluster of plum bushes for about twenty feet, and then the sparkling little lake greeted them in all its serene beauty and solitude.

"Melly, it is beautiful," Cale whispered. "I'd forgotten places like this exist."

Graceful weeping willow trees draped the moss-covered banks. A gentle breeze blew, and the branches danced as though welcoming the visitors to paradise. Honeysuckle was abundant, filling the air with a thick, sweet fragrance. In the middle of the lake, a catfish jumped, flip-flopping back into the water with a loud splash. Birds called back and forth across the glistening waters, warning the others that intruders had appeared.

Melanie spread a tablecloth on a mossy spot beneath the swaying weeping willows. She set out plates of fried chicken, crisp and golden the way Hilda had taught her to make it; thick, fried ham sandwiches; creamy deviled eggs; and slices of chocolate cake.

"A feast for a king," Cale said happily. "I'm so glad you suggested this, Melanie. The fresh air, the breeze, everything is just beautiful."

There was a thermos of frosty lemonade, and Melanie poured cups for Cale and herself. They both ate heartily, and she was delighted to see Cale enjoy himself.

Afterwards, he leaned back in his chair and scolded her good-naturedly for trying to fatten him up. "I have to watch what I eat, you know. Sitting like I do in this thing all the time makes for a lot of boredom. It would be easy to nibble all the time just for lack of anything else to do. With no exercise, I'd turn into a real butter-ball."

Melanie chewed her lower lip, wondering if she should say what was on her mind. She gave in to temptation as usual, for she tended to be an outspoken person. "Cale, why don't you exercise more and try harder to walk again? All I've seen you do since I got here is sit in that room and work on those model cars! You're too exciting a person to have to spend the rest of your life like that."