The Man from Shadow Valley

by Regan Forest

  He knew the need for freedom from pain. Ellen had to find the freedom to be who she was born to be. She wouldn’t agree to a relationship with him because she couldn’t bear to be distracted from the dreams she lived for. Damn it to hell, he did understand. And he’d try to hold her anyway. He’d hold her any way he could.

  “I wouldn’t try to hold you here,” he said, realizing she knew it was a lie.

  “I’m sorry,” Ellen said haltingly. “The part of me that isn’t scared is really sorry. I like you, Cody....”

  “You like me too much.”

  “Yes...”

  “And that’s why we can’t get together again.”

  “Yes.”

  “Firm?”

  She nodded. “Please don’t make it any more difficult than it is.”

  He scowled from frustration, not anger. “If that’s how you want it.” He would think of some way to persuade her; he had to. Since the moment she walked into the hotel today, looking like she belonged anywhere but Shadow Valley, he had known he didn’t want to live his life without her.

  She bent down to the dog, who had not left Cody’s side. “Goodbye, Buster. You’ll take good care of my friend, won’t you?”

  From the edge of the park, Ellen turned around. The man and the dog had not moved from their spot on the slope. She raised her hand in a wave, grateful that Cody was too far away to see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Curse it! The voice in Cody’s head was so deafening it hurt through his whole body. Damn it! Why did I let go of her hand?

  * * *

  THAT NIGHT HE CAME to her again.

  Dressed in a tuxedo, he was smiling up at her from the elegant foyer of the Whitfield mansion, as she descended the curving stairway. She was wearing a white gown, and jewels in her hair. Her footsteps made no sound on the carpeted stairs. When she saw him, her heart began to beat fast, and her steps quickened.

  “Ellen,” he said. “Our table is ready.”

  The touch of his hand was warm and protective as she was led into a dining room swimming in crystal prisms. A massive arrangement of lilacs and pine branches adorned a table set with sparkling china and crystal and magnificent silver. There were two chairs only, but place settings for three. Three? Confused, Ellen gazed around the room until her eyes fixed on a shadow moving along a far wall. It formed the hint of a human form as it drifted, and a chill wafted in its wake. That thing again! That ghost...following them. Why? Was it evil? Did it want them out of here? Why a third setting with no chair at the table?

  They did not sit down. As the eerie chill coiled through the room, Cody led her nearer the stone hearth where a fire blazed with welcoming warmth. He proceeded to pour champagne into long-stemmed goblets. His voice echoed as if from stereo speakers when he spoke, handing her a goblet. “I will never quench my thirst, Ellen. And neither will you. Champagne, like life, is filled with bubbles that burst when they touch the lips—there are always more...and there will never be enough....”

  When she had sipped, with the bubbles tickling her throat, he took the drink from her and set both goblets on the mantel. Shadows of the fireplace flames moved across his face, and in the pale light his eyes were starry blue. The gnawing desires within her rose and filled her heart as she felt herself being pulled into his arms—strong, sheltering arms....

  His heart was beating in time with hers and his lips moved over hers and all the crystal prisms fell over them and danced around their heads, and she drew in the taste of his power and his magic and heard her own voice whispering, “Please, don’t go....”

  * * *

  PRISMS OF LACE-FILTERED sunlight twinkled over her face and the pink-and-white bedspread. Her thin curtain moved in the early-morning breeze, causing prisms to dance. As the sun forced the day upon her, Ellen sat up groggily. The room blurred through light and tears.

  My freedom has a higher price than I could ever have imagined, she sobbed into the memory of her dream. It hurts. It hurts so badly....

  5

  IN SPITE OF ALL HER trying and great efforts at denying, the hurt stuck stubbornly to her throughout the morning. It adhered to every stitch of thread and caused her to forget what she was sewing. Why would she have a dream about leaving a man she barely knew? And why would the dream fill her with such emptiness?

  How could things have changed so fast?

  Morning sunlight, golden beams,

  Show me riches, show me dreams.

  Sunlight, shine a path for me

  Toward the place I’m meant to be....

  ”Something is bothering you today,” Emory Montrose said, as he watched Ellen rinse their breakfast plates under the tap.

  “I’m just distracted, Gramps. Concentrating on my sewing.”

  “You will be getting your certification soon.”

  Pain wedged in her throat. He had always sensed her restlessness and it worried him to think of her having to stay on for his sake, when she didn’t want to be here. Ellen never spoke of leaving to her grandfather. But he knew.

  “I have an awful lot to do yet,” she lied. “Some special assignments and an exam.” And she changed the subject. “You slept late today, Gramps. Are you feeling okay?”

  “It’s the cool mornings.” The old man lit his pipe and sat back in front of the window, gazing out at the high mountain peaks. The look in his eyes was one Ellen recognized; he was remembering long-ago days when all of the family was here and the silver mine was in operation. He said, “I can feel winter coming on. My toes are getting stiff.”

  “It’s barely July,” she said gently. “But this morning was pretty cool.” Actually, it was a warm morning for the heights of Colorado. Gramps didn’t feel the warmth as he always had before. “I’ll get out another quilt for you before I go to work this afternoon.” Ellen quickly dried the plates and set the skillet upside down on the cracked tile countertop to dry.

  She turned and watched the old man stroke his beard as he puffed. “Are you going outside to the garden?” she asked. “The sun is shining.”

  “It won’t be for long. It’ll cloud up. There’s a storm heading in.”

  She glanced through the windowpanes at the bright sky above the mountains. Not all of Gramps’ predicted storms actually happened. Her grandmother had died during a summer storm, and sometimes these past months, Gramps saw darkness above him where there was none. Sometimes he shivered in sunlight.

  “I’m going to mend the hinge on the back door today,” the old man said. “Gotta keep the place up.”

  For what? she thought. It’s destined to become a corpse like all the others.... Once again, Ellen was reminded from where she’d acquired her unrelenting pride. His was now delusional.

  Was hers, too?

  Were the aspirations of a glorious career and recognition for her talents no more than desperate fantasies? No! Hadn’t the school instructors nominated her outstanding designs for an award? They had, and she was going to win it, too! Damn these spooky night dreams for kicking up doubts. She’d never had doubts before.

  “Kill doubts!” she muttered, climbing the stairs to her room and her sketches and her award-waiting clothes and her portfolio and her hopes for escape into the world of Success.

  * * *

  ON HER WAY TO WORK, Ellen was waylayed at the edge of the park by a mysterious figure wearing a yellow hooded slicker motioning to her from behind a line of high hedges.

  “Ellen! Over here!” the breathy voice called.

  She was used to Meredith’s drama antics, although this “disguise” on a day darkening with rain clouds was hardly outrageous. Meredith just liked the game, always had, since she first realized her association with Ellen was forbidden. High adventure in those days, now it amounted to little more than a private joke and a reminder of Meredith’s attempts at eccentricity.

  Smiling, Ellen ducked behind the trees, to be met by Meredith’s complaints. “You didn’t call! I had to come after you in broad daylight to find out what happened on
your lunch date yesterday. How could you leave me dangling in suspense like that?”

  “I did try calling once. You weren’t home and I wasn’t about to leave a message.”

  Meredith was squeezing her arm. “So? Tell me!”

  Ellen grinned. “I had too much wine to drink and made a fool of myself.”

  “You? Drinking in public? What kind of influence does this guy have? Did you get tipsy enough to confess to him about the dreams?”

  “Actually, yes. I told him I dreamed about him and the mansion, only I left out the part about the dream before I met him. I didn’t think he’d believe it and if he did, he might have made too much of it.”

  “Too much of it? Really? Of something that can’t happen?”

  Ellen felt the awful sting of unhappiness that had never been part of her life before—a feeling of something being terribly wrong. “It was bad enough as it was, Mere. He wants to see me again. And I want to see him. And I can’t. I don’t dare. I just don’t need the...confusion.”

  “Something happened, didn’t it?”

  “I don’t know what happened. I look into his eyes and I don’t know what to think. I don’t dare think. There’s something about him that bothers me—a man who doesn’t dream himself but shows up in mine. I’m uncomfortable with it.”

  “I would be, too,” Meredith said. “What do you mean, he doesn’t dream?”

  “He says he doesn’t.”

  “How can that be true? Maybe he’s some kind of warlock putting a spell on you. Warlocks don’t dream; they control other people’s dreams by getting inside them. Did you mention the ghost?”

  “Yes. He barely blinked, as if that was nothing.” She frowned at the suggestion Cody might be a warlock. Why did Meredith always have to get so carried away with the bizarre? Even so...in spite of that, her input on unexplainable matters was welcome, even sought. Ellen continued, “Last night I dreamed again of us in the mansion and the table was set for three instead of two, and the ghost was there, following us, as if it were her house and we were dinner guests, but we didn’t feel welcome.”

  “I think the ghost is luring you to the mansion. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you don’t go around there much anymore. She’s trying to entice you back and using this guy to do it,” Meredith said.

  “But that’s crazy. The ghost never knew me.”

  “She must have. Otherwise she wouldn’t be invading your dreams.”

  Ellen stared at Meredith’s face behind the slicker hood. “It’s creepy and I don’t like it. But I like Cody. He’s fascinating and sophisticated and worldly. Nothing like Shadow Valley men.”

  Pushing a strand of hair from her eyes, Meredith said, “If you want my opinion, the Whitfield ghost knows him, too. I wonder if he knows anything about the mansion.”

  “How could he? He’s new here.”

  “Just the same...there has to be some connection somewhere. Is the guy interested in you? He is, isn’t he, Ellen?”

  She flushed, unwittingly flattered beyond measure. “He is—more than makes sense. He was not a bit happy when I told him I was leaving. Did you ask Jeff what he knew about him?”

  “I brought up the subject of the new radio-station owner but Jeff had nothing to volunteer except that the guy has big ideas about changes. I don’t think he knows anything about his personal life, or at least he wasn’t saying anything, and you know how Jeff loves to talk.” Meredith shifted her eyes to see if anyone was lurking in the park, watching them. “Something is mighty damn strange. When are you going to see him again?”

  “I’m not. I can’t. I just can’t. It could threaten my sanity. I’m going to forget about him.”

  At that moment Ellen heard a yelp and felt something brush against her leg. Startled, she looked down. “Buster! What are you doing here?” She whirled around in time to meet the penetrating blue eyes of Cody Laird.

  He was already upon them, having approached from the far end of the park, just across from the radio station. It was too late for Meredith to duck away. The young man looked at her quizzically before he turned his gaze back to Ellen.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Did he know she would be passing through here on her way to work, or was he just out walking with old Buster after lunch? Chances were, it was the former. Ellen’s heart began thudding just at the sight of him. No man had a right to do this to her; to make her feel so giddy and unsure of herself....

  “Hello,” she replied.

  He glanced again at the figure in yellow plastic, a tiny, red-haired woman who was staring at him with such intensity he felt uneasy. “I haven’t had the pleasure,” he said.

  So they had been discovered in one of their rare public meetings. “Uh...Cody Laird, this is Meredith...” Ellen said haltingly.

  “Calhoun,” Meredith said, extending her hand. The slicker crackled with the movement. “I’m glad to meet the new voice of Shadow Valley in person.” Her eyes scanned the sky. “Looks like a storm coming,” she said. “I never take chances. I’m deathly allergic to rain. Have to keep dry.”

  “That ensemble should do it.” He smiled. “Calhoun. Any relation to Jeff?”

  “Spouse of Jeff. Part-time veterinary assistant. Sometime accountant.”

  Self-styled sometime psychic and reader of fortunes, Ellen wanted to add, and might have, had she not been remembering the huddle Cody and Jeff were in at the café booth, discussing what seemed to be important business. He no doubt was already thinking that Dr. Calhoun’s wife was a bit eccentric. Which wouldn’t bother Meredith in the least; she considered her “studied eccentricity” a trademark.

  “Well,” Meredith said, studying the man intensely, without shame. “Ellen Montrose and I were just casually passing by each other and stopped to comment on the sky. I’ll be on my way.” She turned, then turned back. “Hey. Play ‘Rainy Day People’ for me next program, will you, Cody? That song always puts me in a sunny mood.” She pulled the hood down over her eyes as if it were raining.

  “Sure thing.” He smiled again.

  They watched the shiny yellow figure disappear, not down the sidewalk, but through the trees in the park.

  “I never heard of anyone being allergic to rain,” Cody mused. “Especially when it isn’t raining.”

  Ellen shrugged. More than once she had suggested to Meredith that the game of so many years ought to stop, but Meredith liked the fun. There wasn’t enough to laugh about in Shadow Valley, she always said. After today, being caught like this, Ellen would again suggest putting an end to the spy game, but such an incident would only spur Meredith on. Getting “caught” was probably the greatest fun of all.

  “On your way to work?” Cody asked.

  She nodded.

  “We’ll walk with you, Buster and I.”

  He fell into step beside her while the dog ran ahead, sniffing at shrubs along the way. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since yesterday,” he said.

  “Thinking what?” Should I have asked that? the voice inside her head screamed as soon as the words were out. The truth was, every syllable from her mouth sounded like a musical discord, a wrong note. She who had prided herself on her self-assured image didn’t know what to say to Cody Laird. She feared her own voice and what he read or didn’t read into each fumbled word. What was happening to her?

  “Thinking how beautiful you are,” he replied. “Thinking how much I liked being with you and wishing I could see you every day. Knowing it frustrates you when I say that. Ellen, what you say to me and what I see in your eyes don’t match—it’s like hearing the wrong words to the right music.”

  Wrong notes. How did he know she was thinking about wrong notes? Were their minds that much alike? Or could he read her mind? Her head was all but spinning. She wanted to tell him about their tryst last night in her sleep and the lurking ghost and the table set for three. She wanted to ask him what he thought about it. But of course, she couldn’t. What point was there in her relating her dreams of him and
encouraging him all the more?

  “You’re a persistent guy,” she said.

  “I didn’t get where I am in this world by being meek. A man has to know what he wants.”

  “And you’re used to getting what you want.”

  “I’ve learned to get what I want, yeah.”

  “So have I,” she said. “Or rather, I’m learning. One can’t waver from one’s goal or one will never accomplish it.”

  Cody kicked a stone from the sidewalk. “I can’t argue there.” He looked over at her. “Are we at an impasse, Ellen?”

  “We knew yesterday that we were. We knew it right off.”

  A rumble came from his throat. His eyes squinted. “I can’t settle for an impasse. Nope. I won’t.”

  The thudding in Ellen’s heart had started to ease; now it began again. His words frightened her. They also thrilled her in a way she didn’t want to be thrilled. Never before had she felt so much like a woman—a desirable woman. And to be desired by a man like this...

  Her voice came, weak and cracking. “Just what do you expect then, Cody, if you won’t accept things as they are?”

  “I want you to stay in Shadow Valley.”

  Silence fell in step with them, a long silence, until she responded, “I see.”

  “I’m not a game-player, Ellen. I’m being honest. I have found you and I want to keep you. I want you to stay.”

  She cleared her throat. “Keep me?”

  He winced. “Bad choice of words. What I really mean is, I just want us to have a chance. That’s all. A chance.”

  “There is no chance,” she whispered.

  “It’s a choice, damn it. You could stay.”

  “And you could leave...with me. Isn’t that also within the realm of choices?”

  His head jerked up. “New York? Good God. Don’t even...” He paused. “How could I leave? I’ve invested everything I have here. There’s no way I could leave Shadow Valley.”