Shadows of Love Boxset (Two Gothic Romance Novels in One)

Shadows of Love

Two Gothic Romance Novels in One

Boxset

by

Patricia Hagan

New York Times Bestselling Author

Published by ePublishing Works!

www.epublishingworks.com

ISBN: 978-1-61417-713-5

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Shadows of Love Boxset

Winds of Terror

Dark Journey Home

Winds of Terror

Shadows of Love

Book One

by

Patricia Hagan

New York Times Bestselling Author

Chapter 1

A curving dirt road, guarded on each side by billowing crepe myrtles, led up the slight hill. In the shade of a cluster of magnolia trees, the two-story white plantation house, with its tall columnar porch, stood much as it had in its prime, fifty years earlier. But time had taken its toll on Beecher House. Once the pillars had been swathed in bright green ivy climbing skywards—but now the ivy no longer grew, and its traces were evident in the ugly brown stains that scalded the cracked and chipped white paint.

Tired pecan trees prohibited a thick carpet of grass, but, here and there, patches of a once well-cared-for lawn appeared. No vestige remained of the treasured rose bushes that Bartley Beecher had nourished with the love of a father for his child.

Beecher House looked weary, as though its last bit of strength were being exhausted as it fought to hold itself together no matter what life had in store for it.

The '49 Studebaker coughed to a stop at what was left of the picket fence. A balding man got out and went around to open the door for his passenger.

Sure is a shame, he said as he looked about briefly. Place sure has run down since old Seth died. You know, people used to cut off the Birmingham highway, forty miles north of here, just to ride by and see this place. Seth took good care of Mr. Bartley's rose bushes and he saw to it that the yard was kept up.

The young woman stepped out of the car, and shading her eyes with her hand, she followed his gaze. She was a pretty girl, with long brown hair that curled under in a pageboy style. Her figure looked shapely in the two-piece tan suit, the skirt falling just below her calves. Narrow, spiked-heel shoes added three inches to her slight five-foot-three frame.

Jed Creech, who had driven her out from the bus station in Talladega, had known Melanie Bain from years before.

He remembered the days when her mother had brought her out to visit Addie Beecher, the mistress of the mansion. The townsfolk had thought Melanie was a beautiful child, and she had grown into a lovely young woman, but her soft brown eyes no longer sparkled with happiness and a zest for life. Instead, her eyes mirrored the grief of her soul and she seemed forlorn and crushed, as though her heart had forgotten its reason for beating. Melanie Bain had lost her husband, Robert, in Korea, on a hill known as Old Baldy.

Jed hadn't asked her about her loss or made any comment. He had heard, as had everyone else, and he could tell just by looking at her that she was still grief-laden. Now he brought a suitcase from the back seat and set it on the ground. Is this all your luggage, Miss Melanie? he asked politely.

She seemed to be thinking of something from years gone by, for she looked at Jed blankly before shaking her head and saying, Oh, Jed, I'm sorry... No, I had a trunk shipped earlier. It's probably already here.

She started walking up the brick-covered path with its splotches of grass in between the cracks. Jed picked up the suitcase and followed her, shaking his head in pity. The girl had had enough trouble, he reasoned, having lost her husband and being so young and all, without coming here to expose herself to Addie Beecher's hatred and bitterness. The whole town knew about Addie's having had that stroke and being sick, and they knew, too, that Hilda, her lifelong housekeeper, had just upped and quit. Still, it seemed to Jed that someone else could have been found to help out without calling on a young girl who was nursing a broken heart.

Melanie gently lifted the darkened brass knocker and let it fall. She reached into her purse and turned to Jed.

No, ma'am, he said as he tipped his straw hat and backed off the porch. It was my pleasure. I was glad to drive you out.

She started to protest, but just then, as Jed was hurrying down the path, the door creaked open. When Melanie turned back, she found herself looking into the saddened eyes of her cousin, Mark Beecher. Instinctively, she reached to embrace him, blinking back tears. Mark's heart bore scars of grief, too, and, for a moment, they stood close, attempting to soothe and to heal.

It's been a long time, Melanie, Mark said, as he lifted her suitcase. When was the last time you were here? I remember you were still in school...

Nineteen forty-six. The year before I graduated from high school, she answered. Aunt Addie insisted I spend some time with her after my mother died. Then I went back to Nashville to finish school, and so many things happened that I never got back...

Inside, nothing had changed. The curving stairway, with its hand-rubbed mahogany banister, still dominated the entranceway. The huge crystal chandelier that Uncle Bartley had had shipped from a famous nightclub in Paris hung from the high ceiling.

I would have come into town to pick you up, Melanie, but I didn't want to leave Auntie alone. Today has been one of her bad days, Mark said. He led her into the huge living room with its stone fireplace. Although it was early spring, in this big old high-ceilinged house the chill of winter remained. A fire, crackling in the fireplace, cast the only warmth the old house seemed to offer.

The living room had not changed, but the fringed rug from India was more worn; and the satin-covered French-provincial sofas and chairs were frayed.

Mark had disappeared and now returned with a silver tray, bearing a china teapot, two cups and saucers, and a plate of hastily made sandwiches. I thought you might like a bite to eat before I take you up to see her, he said, as he pushed aside some dusty bric-a-brac on the coffee table to make room for the tea service. I looked in on her a few moments before you arrived, and she was sleeping, thank goodness. She's done nothing all morning but complain.

I guess you think the place is a mess, he said with a note of apology. When Hilda quit, I just couldn't find anyone to replace her, and I'm afraid I'm not much of a housekeeper. It's hard to get Auntie to spend a dime on repairs, too, and the place is getting run-down, I'm afraid.

Melanie sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. The sandwiches looked unappetizing; she even spotted a piece of mold on a slice of bread. It was obvious that there was no woman about to shop for food and prepare it.

She sipped at her tea and watched Mark staring moodily into the fireplace. Once, she and her cousins had played all over the rich farmlands surrounding the plantation house. Christmas eves, they had gathered in front of this very fireplace to hang their stockings together and run off to bed to anxiously await the morning and what Santa had left them during the night. There were a lot of happy memories, but, as Melanie looked at Mark, she realized how much time changes people. He was a stranger to her now. It was almost as though they had never even met before this day, this hour.

She said, making her voice as gentle as possible, Tell me about it, Mark. Please tell me all of it.

He raised his eyes from the crackling fire only long enough to glance at her. All you know is what Dr. Ambrose wrote you?

That's right. He wrote to me and said that Todd, your twin brother, had committed suicide. And that when Aunt Addie found him, she suffered a stroke. After Hilda quit, there was no one to care for her, and Aunt Addie had asked him to get in touch with me. I would have been here sooner, but I was working at the time, and I had to give notice.

You shouldn't have come, he said, speaking more from his own distracted thoughts than to her. Aunt Addie always was a difficult person to be around, but she's been absolutely impossible since... the accident. His voice trailed off painfully.

Melanie set her cup down. She folded her hands in her lap, and taking a deep breath, said bluntly, I want to hear all about it, Mark. Exactly what happened? I can't believe that Todd would take his own life. He was always different from other people, so mischievous and rebellious, but it's hard to believe he would take his own life.

Well, he did it, Mark replied. Aunt Addie found him herself. I was out in the fields, overseeing the cotton planting, when someone heard her screaming and came and got me. She had already fainted when I got there. The doctor said later she'd suffered a stroke. She spent three weeks in the hospital. Dr. Ambrose says she has to take it easy from now on. At her age, another attack could be fatal.

Mark shook his head slowly from side to side, as though he found it difficult to believe it was all real. Todd hung himself in the barn. He tied a rope around his neck and jumped off of one of the haylofts, I guess. Anyway, he was hanging from a rafter when I cut him down. Then I saw he was already dead, so I hurried to town with Aunt Addie.

Melanie fought back the tears that scalded her eyes. But she had never liked Todd. As a child, he had deviled her and tormented her to tears. He hid her toys and once he even broke her favorite doll. But the worst thing of all happened when she was only ten. That summer, at Beecher House, she had brought along her dog, a white fluffy darling, named Snowball. As usual, Todd picked a fight with her, but, for once, his mother had punished him severely. Todd had screamed at Melanie, swearing that he would get even with her for tattling. The next morning, Snowball was found dead. No one ever openly blamed Todd, but Melanie knew it had been him. She knew from his insidious smile and his awful smirk, that Todd was responsible for the death of her beloved pet.

Still, in spite of her great dislike for her cousin, Melanie felt sorry that something had driven him to take his own life, especially at the young, hopeful age of twenty-three.

Why, Mark? Why did Todd do it? she whispered.

Mark glanced at her briefly, once again, as he took a deep breath. He was handsome, with soft, curling dark hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners.

Todd always had a way with the girls. Aunt Addie kept hoping he would find a nice one and settle down, but he was only interested in good times. He was running around with one of the Prather girls. Well, when Aunt Addie heard about that she had a fit. She tried to break it up, but, of course, no one could ever control Todd. Then one night Mr. Prather came and said that his daughter was pregnant and that Todd was the father, and that he wanted Todd to marry her. Even though Aunt Addie didn't like the idea, she said it was only right that he marry her, and she told Todd that if he didn't, she would disinherit him. That really shook Todd up. You know he flunked out of college, and he couldn't have made a living on his own if he'd had to. He was living strictly on what Aunt Addie gave him, because he sure didn't do any work around here. I did it all. I still do.

Mark got up and faced Melanie squarely for the first time. Todd got Aunt Addie to give him some money to get married on. But he lied. He forced the girl to have an abortion, and she died on the abortion table. The scandal was pretty rough, and it cost Auntie dearly to pay off the Prathers to quiet them down. Auntie rewrote her will and cut Todd out completely and ordered him to get off the plantation. He wouldn't leave, and they started having fights all the time—terrible fights.

He sighed and turned his back to her once more, holding his hands over the warmth radiating from the fireplace. As best as I can figure out, the morning Todd killed himself, Aunt Addie had threatened to call the sheriff to have him thrown off the place. Todd wrote a note blaming her for driving him to it. Then he went out to the barn and hanged himself.

Melanie shuddered. Mark, that's awful! Poor Todd—and poor Aunt Addie, feeling as though she drove him to it.

I know Todd had his faults, Mark said, his voice bitter, but I also know our dear aunt and how she can drive you crazy with her nagging. The people in town hate her. That's why no one could be found to come out here and help. Even the tenants' wives threatened to up and move if I ordered them to come work here. I don't know how Hilda took it as long as she did, except that she was fond of the rest of the family.

Melanie was not about to judge who was right or wrong. She had come to take care of her aunt as she had been asked to do, and she would keep her opinions to herself.

Mark suddenly whirled around. Why did you come, Melanie? I know you just lost your husband a few months ago. You've got to start a whole new life now, not lose yourself in this moldy old place. You're young. You can find happiness again. Why did you come here to expose yourself to a hate-filled, bitter old woman and her wrath?

There was much Melanie could have told her cousin, but how could she open her soul and impress upon him that her life had come to a standstill? When she had been told of Robert's death, a part of her had died with him. Someday, she would live a full life, but for now, life would have to pass her by until she found herself again.

There was another reason for her coming, and it was this reason that she hastened to explain to Mark. You remember that Aunt Addie was very good to my mother,

she said, her hands in her lap. And my mother was very good to me, Mark. She adopted me and gave me a home, and I grew up very grateful to her. Mom was sick a lot; she had a bad heart, and she couldn't hold down a steady job, and, as you know, Dad died while I was just a child. If it hadn't been for Aunt Addie's helping out financially, I don't know what we would have done during Mom's last illness. There was no one else for us to turn to. Aunt Addie never said a word—she just sent us money and kept welcoming us here into her home whenever we could come.

She paused, remembering with pain the loss of yet another loved one. When Mom was dying, she asked me to do whatever I could for Aunt Addie, should she ever need me, since she had been so good to us. I promised that I would. Mom didn't live to repay her and it's my job now. I can fulfill my promise to my mother, and maybe, somehow, Mom will know, and she'll see just how much I appreciate everything she did for me. She was a wonderful mother, Mark. I was adopted, but she always made me feel very special.

He nodded slowly. I guess I understand. This is your way of thanking your mother, Aunt Ruth, for giving you a home and loving you as though you were her own child.

Exactly, Melanie said. And I appreciate your choice of words in expressing your understanding, Mark. I always thought so much of you.

For the first time, he smiled. Thank you, cousin. But for your sake, I hope Aunt Addie doesn't live much longer, so you won't be imprisoned here like the rest of us.

Imprisoned? she asked, startled. Do you have to stay, Mark?

To be blunt about it, yes, he said with a wave of his hand. All of this, or the major portion of it, will be mine when she's gone. I've held the farms together ever since Dad passed away some years ago. I guess I have more right to it than anyone else. Oh, she left you a token inheritance, and she left a trust fund for Cale so that he will be looked after. But I will inherit the greater portion—and justifiably so.

Melanie nodded, but Mark sounded very cold and calculating about it all. Well, that was his business, not hers. Anything her aunt left her would be appreciated, but she did not feel entitled to anything. She was only a foster niece.

Then she thought of Cale, her exciting, dashing cousin, and her aunt's only grandchild. How is Cale? she asked.

Just then a distant bell began clanging, and Mark gave her a wry smile. Sorry, cousin, but your dear aunt is now awake and demands your presence. Take a deep breath and follow me to her web; the black widow spider herself awaits your entrance.

A cold chill passed through Melanie as she rose to follow Mark. She was grateful to her aunt, but she knew how unkind Aunt Addie could be. She had a feeling that her debt to her mother was going to be repaid with a good deal of interest.

Chapter 2

There was a small landing where the stairs curved upwards for the second time, and it was here that Melanie paused to look out the cathedral window at the slope behind the house. In the distance, she could make out the workers in the cotton fields. Scattered about in the woods, like large balls of crispy white popcorn, the dogwood trees proudly displayed their first blossoms.

It was a beautiful scene, and it was with a sigh that Melanie turned to follow Mark up the remaining steps. It was dark, but she could see that the double doors directly in front of them, which led to the sun room, were closed. It had been here, in the room with the large glass windows overlooking the veranda, that the children had played when they were small.

Melanie glanced to the right. There were four bedrooms down that way—two empty, two occupied. The first on one side had belonged to her Uncle Seth and his wife, Mark and Todd's parents; the second had been Todd's. Directly across from Todd's old room were the quarters Mark occupied now, and next to that was Cale's bedroom.

Mark turned to the left, and, as they walked down the hall, Melanie stifled the impulse to ask Mark if the first door they passed, on her right, was still locked and sealed. She could not stop from shivering. She had been only a child, but she could clearly remember accompanying her mother on the long, urgent, nighttime bus trip that had ended at Uncle Bartley's bedside.

They had arrived by midmorning. Her mother and Aunt Addie stayed in the room all day, while the children were made to play downstairs and be very quiet. People came and went, and there was a hushed atmosphere of gloom and apprehension hanging over the house.

Towards evening, Dr. Ambrose took off his coat as though he were preparing to stay for awhile. He went upstairs, carrying his worn black leather bag, and Hilda shooed the children from the downstairs hallway into the living room, where a big fire was roaring. Even the children were quiet and subdued.

At last, she was put into one of the bedrooms. It must have been about eleven o'clock, Melanie remembered, when her mother had come to that room to tell her that her uncle had died. Melanie heard weeping and wailing throughout the house, and she buried her face in her pillow, sobbing brokenly.

Her mother had sat beside her, patting her gently, but after awhile, she had returned to Addie. Melanie had lain silently for a few moments; then she had gotten up, put on her robe and slippers, and padded from the bedroom out into the darkened hall. She had stood in the shadows as old Luke Walker arrived with his long, handwoven basket, and she had watched him come out of the room, a few moments later, carrying a sheet-draped mound in the same basket.

She had been standing there, in the gloomy hall, when Aunt Addie came out of the room and announced: I want this room locked and sealed for the remainder of the life of this house. Her aunt's voice rang out clear and unwavering. No one shall enter this room again.

Melanie had strained as her mother and her Aunt Claire gently tried to persuade Addie to let them clean the room first. The bed was still unmade, and Uncle Bartley's scarcely touched meal grew cold on the bedside table.

No, she had heard Addie say, firmly. No one shall enter here again.

Now, close to fifteen years later, Melanie stood outside the door and wondered if the room were, indeed, just as it had been the night her uncle had died.

Mark sensed her thoughts as she stood rigidly outside the closed door. It has never been opened, Melanie, he said, quietly. It's the way Aunt Addie wanted it. She has never even been in there herself.

The bell clanged again, even more impatiently. Mark touched her arm. We had better go to her now.

They walked on down the hall to a door on the left.

Mark knocked, and a waspish voice called out, Yes, yes, come in! I've been waiting. Didn't you hear my bell? I could die before anyone came to me when I called.

Mark opened the door and stood back as Melanie entered. Her aunt, looking old and gray, lay propped up on stacks of pillows in the center of a hand-carved mahogany canopied bed. Melanie took a seat after obediently kissing her aunt on the cheek.

So you came, the old woman said with satisfaction. Good! At least Ruth taught you to be appreciative, which is more than I can say for my other relatives. She turned, casting a meaningful glance at Mark. You have been told about what has happened here?

Yes, I have. Melanie looked about the room once more. The furniture, though valuable, was old and ugly. The organdy curtains at the long windows hung limp and dusty. The remnants of a fire smoldered in the brick fireplace. The carpet beneath her feet was worn and dirty. Once things had been so lovely here, she remembered, and again she realized that time changes almost everything.

Aunt Addie waved Mark out of the room. Bring me my lunch. I want hot broth and tea. He left quickly, as though anxious to be gone from the old woman's presence.

Todd went and killed himself, Addie sighed. Her eyes closed momentarily as though she were reliving the horrible time. I had to be the one to find him. I read the note he left, blaming me. But it wasn't my fault, child. The boy was evil, no good. He put his father in his grave, and his mother was probably glad to go to hers. He only stayed around here for my money. I let him know he wouldn't get any of it, and so he killed himself... like the weak, spineless person he really was.

I'm not sorry, she continued in a voice so snappish that Melanie sat straight up in her chair. I'm not sorry a bit. A boy like that is better off dead than alive making people miserable. He was responsible for the death of a young girl, but I suppose Mark told you all about that....

Melanie nodded. He told me. I'm sorry it all happened. I—

Addie cut her off abruptly. Well, I'm not, and I won't listen to anyone say they're sorry, either. I just hate that I let the shock get to me like it did. Dr. Ambrose says my heart won't stand another blow like that. I have to be careful. That's why I asked for you to come. I can't get anyone around here to help out, and you can see how Mark has let this place go. He's just waiting for me to die so he can burn the house to the ground and use my money to build something new and fancy. She snorted as though such a thing could not possibly happen.

But I'll fool everybody. I'll live to be a hundred, and once I'm on my feet again, I'll enjoy my money myself so there won't be so much left behind to be squandered foolishly.

Melanie fought the impulse to smile. That's your privilege, Aunt Addie. It's your money.

Darn right, the old woman said with a nod. Glad somebody agrees with me on something. All anybody ever wanted me for was my money—except for your mother. I think Ruth did care for me.

Yes, she did, Melanie said in a quiet, reverent voice.

Addie nodded once more. That's why I helped her. She needed my help. She wasn't trying to use me. She genuinely needed me.

There was silence as Mark came into the room with a tray. Addie stuck her finger into the soup bowl and shoved the tray back at Mark so abruptly that some of the broth spilled over.

That's cold. What's the matter with you, boy? Are you trying to finish the job your no-good brother started? You going to kill me by starving me to death instead of worrying me to death?

Melanie watched as Mark's face clouded. She knew he was exerting every effort not to blow up at the old lady. He turned quickly and left the room, mumbling that he would reheat the broth.

See what I mean? Addie said as the door slammed shut. I haven't had a decent bite to eat since I came home from the hospital.

Melanie told her she would have Mark drive her into town that afternoon to do some marketing, so that she could start preparing hot, nourishing meals for everyone.

Addie smiled, and Melanie thought how much the old lady looked like a gremlin. Once, with her turned-up nose and saucy eyes, she probably had been pixie-like, but time had reduced her to a shriveled-up old being, angry and full of vengeance.

If I hadn't been put in the hospital, that boy would never have been buried in the family mausoleum, Addie said.

Melanie stared at her, remembering Uncle Bartley lying in the long pine box in the parlor before being taken to his final resting place in the family crypt.

I mean it! Her voice was angry. You think I want the likes of him buried alongside my husband, my ancestors? Land sakes, no! I'd have paid for a lot in the cemetery in town, but by the time I was aware enough to remember all that had happened, it was too late. Mark had that crazy old Luke Walker come out and get him, and the two of them buried him. There wasn't even a funeral. Who would come? Everybody hated Todd! And he has no business being in the family mausoleum!

Melanie sensed that her aunt was becoming too excited. It doesn't matter, Auntie, she said, trying to soothe her. Todd is dead, after all. You shouldn't even think about it. You need to rest and get well. I'm here to help you do that, if you will just let me.

Addie looked at her, miffed for a moment that she was being contradicted. Then her face mellowed and she smiled at the young girl before her, the girl with eyes that reflected heartache and a loss too great to express.

My dear, I was so sorry to hear of your loss. I know you loved your Robert very much. I wish I could do or say something to make you feel better, but...

Melanie looked down. Talking about Robert only made things worse. What she had felt for him was too precious to try to share, and even her grief was too strong for another to try to understand or participate in.

Please, I know I have your sympathy, but as I tried to say before, the past is the past. We have to dwell on the present and the future. I find I just don't want to talk about Robert.

Addie Beecher wasn't used to being cut short. How long were you two married? she said quickly, as though she had not heard the girl's plea.

Melanie's answer of a year was whispered so low that Addie asked her to repeat it.

A year, she said again. The words came out in a rush as tears erupted and ran down her cheeks. We had four months together before he was shipped to Korea. And then I got the telegram saying he had been killed. I took his body to Arlington, which is what he had asked me to do if anything ever happened to him. That's why I couldn't come when I first got the telegram about Todd's death... I'm tired, Aunt Addie. I'd like to rest. She was crying unashamedly now, her shoulders convulsed in sobs.

Everything will work out for you, my dear, Addie said, trying to console her. You can rest here and plan a new life.

The door opened, and Mark walked in carrying a tray with the now-steaming broth. He looked from Melanie, tears streaming down her face, to Addie, whose eyes glared at him, daring him to speak.

Aunt Addie, what have you been saying to Melanie? You know she has her own grief to bear. He set down the tray and went to put his arm around Melanie.

I'm all right, really. She brushed the tears away with the back of her hands. We were just talking, and I lost control. I have to start forgetting sometime. I'm sorry. She nodded politely to her aunt and hurried from the room.

Mark caught up with her before she reached the room that would be hers. He took her by her shoulders, spun her around, and gave her a gentle shake.

Melanie gulped as she apologized for letting herself go. I'm just tired from the trip, Mark. I'd like to take a nap. Then I would like for you to drive me into town so that I can do some marketing and prepare a nice dinner tonight.

I will take you into town, he said, his eyes gazing deeply into hers, "but please let me take you to the bus station. I want