The Man from Shadow Valley Read online

  “And there’s no way I can stay. I’ve invested everything, too, in my future.”

  “An uncertain future.”

  Anger gripped her. “Not uncertain at all. The only thing I’m certain of is that I don’t belong here. If you knew this town better, you’d know why.”

  “I don’t care why.”

  They were climbing the steep slope toward the truck-stop café. The red light was blinking brightly under the dark sky. Ellen thought, Every moment with him is agony and every moment with him is magical. Like a magical dance in which they both knew the song and moved in its rhythm, while the words were being sung in a harsh and untranslatable foreign language. Words that didn’t belong as they waltzed in the fallout of sun dust. Danced in the shadows of “never.” She felt like crying.

  “Don’t do this to me,” she said.

  “Don’t do this to me,” he answered.

  Buster darted between them, chasing after a white butterfly that teased by dipping down and touching his black nose, then sailing off just out of his reach.

  The butterfly reminded her of the white, floating ghost. Ellen wanted to grab Cody’s arm and tell him about the misty figure of a woman that had enticed them with some eerie invitation to the mansion’s dining room, and followed them, pursued them. She wanted to ask him what it meant.

  But he wouldn’t know. He couldn’t. It was her dream, after all. Her message. Meredith might be right about the lure of the ghost, but even she couldn’t figure out why.

  Cody reached for her hand, which unnerved her because people passing by—people coming to and from the truck-stop café—would see them hand in hand. But she didn’t pull away. Like in the dreams, she was afraid, on some deep level, to pull away.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked as they walked.

  She turned. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  This took him by surprise. “Yeah.”

  “Do you? Why?”

  He shrugged. “Millions of people all over the world claim to have seen them. Who am I to judge them and say they didn’t? I think there is a spirit world around us and sometimes we get a glimpse of it.”

  “You haven’t seen one yourself?”

  “No. Why, Ellen? Are you still thinking about that dream you had?”

  “Yes. The mansion. I saw the ghost in the window three different times when I was a kid.”

  “What does that have to do with you and me?”

  “Nothing, I guess.”

  He cocked his head sideways to meet her eyes. “You dreamed about me and there was a ghost in the dream, and that concerns you. Why, Ellen?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with fear. The way you talk—about wanting me—frightens me a little.” It thrills me and frightens me at the same time.

  “I don’t want to frighten you. You must never be afraid of me.”

  “I’m afraid of your...determination.”

  “You don’t want me to want you?”

  “No. I don’t.” But I do! The voice inside her screamed. I’ve never wanted anything so much. I’ve never felt so much before...never thought about the woman inside me that trembles at your touch and wakens my senses into feeling what it’s like to fall in love....

  “You say no with tears in your voice, Ellen. Do you think I can’t feel you tremble when I touch you? Do you think your eyes can wear a mask?”

  * * *

  BY EIGHT O’CLOCK that evening her customers at the truck-stop café were coming in with windblown hair and comments about the weather. Clouds had been gathering across the sky since midafternoon and the wind was picking up. Gramps was going to have his storm.

  Ellen wasn’t winning the struggle to throw off the weight of her anguish. Trying to keep away thoughts of Cody was like trying not to breathe. The vision of him attached itself stubbornly to her waking moments as well as her sleeping ones, and wouldn’t let go.

  Meredith’s comments didn’t help. Her friend wasn’t about to let Ellen ignore the strange circumstances under which Cody walked into her life.

  At nine o’clock Cody’s incredibly resonant voice came on the radio with his nightly program of music and news. So even though he had not shown up at the café last night or tonight, Cody’s presence was here just the same. His voice was haunting. It echoed from the very walls and drowned out all the other sounds.

  There was just no way to forget yesterday’s lunch. No way to erase the memory of the surprise on his face when she told him there would be no relationship. No way to forget how his eyes turned blue in the reflection of hers. But she had to forget, somehow. After the perfect, easy hours together, it had to end with this soft, aching memory—nothing more. Their lives were destined to go in opposite directions.

  So they had said hello and they had said goodbye.

  And still it didn’t end. He returned in her dream. He showed up on the sidewalk to walk with her. His radio voice pervaded her world. Hard as it was to admit, Ellen watched the clock at work, anxious for his evening program to come on, when the vibrations of his beautiful voice overpowered her mind and took her back to the magic of her dreams. She couldn’t get away from him. Why did I have to meet you, Cody? Why do I have to want you?

  The sky blackened, threatening rain.

  “Looks like we might be in for a bad one,” one of the truckers drawled as he walked in from the parking lot holding on to his hat. A cool gust caught the door, forcing him to make a grab for the handle to pull it shut. There was a musty smell of rain in the wind.

  “Then I’m moving on out,” said another, digging into his pocket for his wallet. “I ain’t got time to get delayed up here.”

  Grumbles of agreement preceded an exodus from the café. The drivers had deadlines to meet. Few of them ever stayed overnight in Shadow Valley because the Blue Spruce was lacking in overnight facilities. Before long, only local customers were left, some of whom were expressing concern about windows left open in their houses.

  Ellen found herself worrying about her grandfather being home alone tonight. If he knew her uneasiness, he would scoff and remind her how many thousands of storms he had seen in his lifetime, and that in this part of the world, winter storms were the threat, not the summer rains of July. Still, he might worry that the upstairs windows were left open and try to navigate the stairs. His old body wasn’t able to get up and down the stairway anymore.

  Just before ten, the owner, Jed Mortimer, who was also the restaurant’s evening cook, came out of the kitchen to check the sky from the front windows. The wind was blowing a sign back and forth, making curious plays of light on his unshaven face. “Millie planned to come in after her church program,” he said. “But I phoned and left a message for her not to bother. Why don’t you call it a night, Ellen? I just heard on the radio that this storm is blowing in pretty big and you’ll want to get home before it starts to rain. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  If any locals had been in the café, she’d be offered a ride down the hill, at least as far as the center of town. But Ellen didn’t mind the walk. In fact, she didn’t mind storms. The wind could be exhilarating.

  Thunder began to rumble. “Thanks, I will go. I want to make sure Gramps is okay.” She untied her apron and folded it carefully.

  Jed Mortimer looked out at the sky again, but it was too dark to see anything. He said, “I’d have asked you to take off sooner, but back in the kitchen I didn’t realize what the weather was doing.”

  She smiled. “It’s just a nice summer storm, Jed. We need the rain. Gramps predicted it this morning. I should have listened to him and brought a scarf.” She opened the door against the wind. “See you tomorrow.”

  6

  IN HIS APARTMENT at the back of the radio station, Cody sat at his desk drinking a beer and sorting through bills. Or trying to. His head had begun to ache an hour ago, just after he’d signed off live with the storm warning. KUBS went off the air at ten every night, as it had for years, but he was developing programming that woul
d continue until at least midnight. That was just the beginning of the plan he had for Shadow Valley. What the place needed was new blood. Young blood, to liven up the consciousness of the town and get some new revenue generated. An active radio station could make a big difference; it was the voice of the people. One step at a time, though; he’d just gotten here.

  He tilted back in the chair, rocking recklessly. The dog raised his eyes as if to say, “Stop that. If you fall, the crash will disturb my rest.”

  “There’s a storm coming in, Buster,” Cody said. It amazed him that the dog didn’t show the slightest reaction to the sound of rumbling thunder. The old Buster always tried to hide under a bed during a storm.

  He threw down his pencil in frustration. “Damn, what’s causing this headache? Thinking about Ellen all day would do it. Hell! Rejected before I even have a chance to prove to her what a great catch I am.” The dog looked up quizzically. “I blew it, Buster. I let go of her.”

  Enraged, he got up to pour the rest of the beer down the sink. His chair crashed to the floor. He swore at it savagely and left it where it fell.

  Agitation forced him to lie on the bed and close his eyes. The sounds of the electric storm roaring into Shadow Valley assailed his ears, making the pain worse. Wind screamed through the tops of pines. Giant bellows of thunder shook the house. Lightning slashed across the sky. Fog-drenched pictures tried to come through. Pictures from his childhood. Faint impressions of the house on Pebble Street. Apprehension. A sense of fear that wouldn’t quite come clear. The storm was triggering images of a storm from his childhood, a certain storm. The memory was shrouded in confusion; he couldn’t get it back. But the emotions were returning and threatening to make him sick.

  As the storm gathered force outside, Cody’s frustration grew. Lying down only made it worse. He sat up, impatiently shoving aside the guitar he had been playing earlier. His head dropped into his hands and he tried to hold it against the spinning.

  A concerned Buster jumped up onto the bed and nuzzled against his friend’s legs, lending support. Something was wrong and they both knew it.

  Until now, it had been all right, returning home. A triumph, in fact. It felt great to conquer the past. But this storm was torching something deep inside him...reluming some smoldering ashes of the past. A thing unresolved was trying to surface, like the storm blowing up from some unknown source, with a need to express its own wild nature in the dark of night. Threatening danger. The storm had something to say to him. He had to listen to it. To feel it. To meet it. He had to meet it head-on, because the storm was danger!

  “I have to go, Buster.” He pushed the dog aside gently, and reached for his boots.

  Lightning flashed outside the window seconds before a loud crack of thunder jarred the building. Buster’s ears went back; he looked questioningly at the man.

  Cody answered the dog’s silent question. “I don’t know why. I just know I have to go....”

  It wasn’t making any sense, being pulled by the force of an unseen memory. When he stood, the throbbing in his head got worse. The dog ran to stand by the door. Cody pulled on his waterproof windbreaker, saying as he zipped it, “Not this time, pal. You stay in where it’s dry. I won’t be out long.” He pulled his rain hood up over his head.

  By now the summer storm was in full force. Trees were swaying wildly and the bending branches seemed to be reaching down to grab him, as if in an attempt to shake him into awareness. In the howling of the wind he could hear voices, familiar voices from the past, but over the shrieking, he could recognize none of them. It was like living inside a hideous dream.

  The nightmare! The storm was his nightmare! The one he had tried so hard to forget. As the storm’s first raindrops hit his face, Cody headed blindly in the direction of the town center. He was following something, not knowing what. Streetlights, shining hoary and rain-blurred, served to guide the way through familiar darkness. Every step forward was like taking two steps backward, further and further into his past.

  Desperately, he had wanted to forget the dream. Why was it so important now to remember it? What urgency was forcing him along the deserted main street, rushing him back in time through a raging storm?

  Half a block away a silhouette appeared in the weak beam of a streetlamp, and at once he thought of Ellen. It couldn’t be, and yet...and yet Ellen walked along this block every night on her way home from work. The small figure was hurrying, leaning into the wind and slashing rain. Cody’s heart quavered, then lurched into panic.

  He had been here before! She had been here before, in a storm....

  Suddenly he remembered the danger of the wind! There wasn’t much time!

  Cody began to run. Tree branches whipped and swayed overhead, crashing and dancing together in rhythm with the wild wind—a loud and boisterous dance. Running, Cody glanced up at the tangled, lashing limbs of the huge trees, and he remembered.

  “Ellen!” he shouted. “Get off the sidewalk!”

  His voice was swallowed by the storm. He knew she could neither hear nor see him.

  Lightning flashed, silvering the howling trees and rain-wet street for seconds and then the night went black again. In that flash he had seen the white of her blouse—just like before. Panic kicked in fully. He had to reach her in time! This time!

  “Ellen!” Cody yelled again. But again his voice was lost against the howls of the forces of nature. Hurrying along the tree-lined sidewalk, Ellen didn’t turn around.

  A savage gust of wind nearly threw him off-balance. Cody could see her struggle against the wind, too, just as the terrible cracking sounded overhead. Recognizing the noise of a giant branch breaking, Cody, gasping for enough breath, reached Ellen in time to push her out of the path of the falling limb.

  Or at least he hoped he had. The mass of wet leaves closing over him prevented him from seeing whether or not she was clear of the impact. A strike of searing pain hit him—the impact of the heavy limb across his back. He was aware of the weight, and then he was aware of nothing at all.

  Ellen, startled by a forceful shove from behind, had let out a cry as she was sent tumbling toward the curb. A rush of terror gripped her, followed split seconds later by the crack of a branch breaking from a large old tree. Hard wet pavement rose up and smacked her painfully. She felt cold water soaking her blouse. Rivulets were running along the curb beneath her, and tentacles of dripping leaves—reaching from the fallen limb—trembled over her back.

  Rain pelting her skin, Ellen picked herself up with difficulty. The dim streetlight outlined what she thought was the silhouette of a man lying facedown in the exact spot where she had been walking moments ago. The limb had fallen across his body! He was not moving. Gasping, she groped around in the dim light to separate branches in order to get closer to him.

  Her eyes traveled up from the broad shoulders to his face, in profile, half hidden by leaves. Her heart lurched. Cody! Cody was the angel who had appeared out of the darkness to push her to safety and he’d been unable to get out of the way himself! How could this be? Why was he here, at this place, at this moment? And why wasn’t he stirring?

  Ellen cried out his name. She made a frantic attempt to lift the limb and couldn’t budge it. Tears of panic welled up and spilled out, mixing with the rain on her face. Surely he couldn’t be dead!

  On hands and knees she clawed at the leafy branch, trying to reach him. Finally, she could touch his face. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be breathing. Ellen tried to calm herself, tried to think. Precious time was being wasted! She had to get help!

  The police station! Brushing her hair from her eyes, she could see light in the window of the red brick building half a block away on the opposite side of the street.

  The storm was raging by now, rain pounding down and the wind screaming. Ellen struggled to disentangle herself from the horizontal arms of leaves. She felt as if she was moving in slow motion.

  Finally free, she looked back desperately. How could she leave him lying there
alone? Damn it, she had no choice! Sobs of fear assailed her as she took off running. The light in the window seemed to get smaller instead of larger. Her head throbbed with the panic. Why wasn’t Cody moving? Was he just knocked out because the branch had hit his head? Could it have broken his back? Could he die, lying there alone? Someone had to get him out, and fast!

  The rain-swept streets were slick. Twice she lost her balance trying to run at full speed against the relentless wind.

  Her feet slipped again on the steps of the building. A sharp stab of pain went through her wrist when she caught herself. Her shin slammed into the cement step. Finally she was opening the door and rushing into the musty, brightly-lit lobby. No one sat at the desk, but, to her relief, two uniformed officers were standing in the back of the room smoking and discussing some papers on a clipboard. She knew them both—Mark Dickens and Joe Garry. They looked up in alarm to see Ellen standing in the doorway soaked to the skin, her hair in her eyes, and panic on her face.

  “There’s been an accident!” she exclaimed. “A man is trapped under a fallen tree and he’s unconscious!”

  Joe Garry smothered his cigarette in an ashtray. “Where?”

  She waved her hand. “On Main Street, outside the furniture store. It might take two men to lift that tree. I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. Hurry!”

  The taller man, Mark Dickens, grabbed rain slickers from hooks near the door. He was already half into one while he handed another to his partner and a third to Ellen. “Here. You need this.”

  “I’ll be right behind you,” Joe said. “I’ll put through a call for an ambulance.”

  Ellen was already out the door and running. Mark caught up with her easily, and was soon well ahead. He had been a track star in school, she recalled; he could outrun anybody in town. She had covered only half the distance when she saw that Mark had reached the scene of the accident. By that time, Joe Garry was right behind her.

  In the whipping wind, the two young men lifted the heavy branch. An ambulance arrived from the hospital only three blocks away. Ellen stepped back into the shadows and watched as paramedics in yellow rain slickers bent over Cody’s motionless form. They didn’t turn him over. In driving rain, they lifted him into the ambulance.