The Man from Shadow Valley

by Regan Forest

  The crowd quickly dispersed, at Jed Mortimer’s prompting, many of them returning inside to finish their meals. Soon Ellen was standing alone under the flickering light, watching Cody cross the parking lot toward her. His walk was unhurried. When he stood in front of her, he said nothing, merely held out his hand, and she reached back for his. They walked hand in hand down the hill, away from the Blue Spruce Truck Stop toward the sprinkle of lights of the town, and Ellen knew it was the last time. She would never go back to that place again.

  He was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked the familiar, tree-lined sidewalk.

  Ellen said, “I’m sorry, Cody.”

  He turned. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry that you got into that violent fight because of me.”

  “It wasn’t a fight. Harvey got in one mediocre lick when I stopped paying attention for a minute. One smack doesn’t constitute a fight.”

  “But it was because of me.”

  She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she could hear amusement in his voice. “Who else would it be because of?”

  “Oh, Cody...”

  He squeezed her hand tighter. “I’m glad I got there when I did. Ellen, has this bastard talked to you like that before?”

  “He’s always been a jerk with a smart mouth, but tonight was the worst. I know why, though. I never went out, never dated. Now that everybody knows you and I are close, he thought it gave him the right to razz me about...it.”

  “Gave him the right? The fool wants you for himself—anybody could see it.”

  “I know,” she said. “Which is why he always gave me such a hard time.”

  Cody sighed, still forcing back rage. “I guarantee it won’t ever happen again. Not Harvey nor anybody will want to take me on again. Nobody will talk to my lady with anything but respect. Ever.”

  Ellen walked at his side in wounded silence.

  They reached the deserted town center. By the light of a streetlamp Cody saw the shine of tears on her cheeks. He stopped. “I’m sorry. I know I behaved like a savage tonight, but there are some things that can’t be dealt with any other way. I couldn’t blame you for being ashamed of me.”

  “How could I ever be ashamed of you?” she asked. “You are everything a woman ever dreams of. I will never in my lifetime meet anyone else like you—a man who would protect me with his life. A man who has even shared dreams with me.”

  “A man who loves you,” he added. “Like I told you once before, finding you was like finding a lost part of myself.”

  “Oh, please don’t say that! Don’t!”

  His arm came around her shoulder. “Ellen, what’s the matter?”

  She began to sob. “Don’t you see? Tonight reminded me of a thousand other times...a thousand other jabs and remarks...a thousand stares and whispers behind my back. The only difference was that tonight you were there.”

  His voice was caring. “I’ll always be there.”

  “But that’s just the point. You can’t be. You can’t be behind my back every minute, listening to the sneers and whispers. And why should you have to be, anyhow? You have a life to build here. And you can because they don’t know who you are—and even if they did, they’re afraid of you now. And they respect you.” She wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I’m going to find respect, too, because I must. I have to. But I can’t do it here, and you know it. Tonight should prove it.”

  “It was just one guy,” he argued weakly.

  “It’s a whole town, you know that. To them I’m white trash. Harvey Altman just has a louder voice than the others.”

  He didn’t like the way she was talking. Obviously the Tarot cards hadn’t been enough to sway her. Meredith had phoned him in a panic soon after the reading, worried about the cards Ellen had drawn, mentioning the burning Tower and saying he had to stop her plans.

  Stop Ellen? Hell, he was trying, but how could he undo in a few weeks what Shadow Valley had done over years?

  They walked in silence until they reached Pebble Street with its gnarled darkness and its sediment of gloom. He knew Ellen felt the gloom as much as he did.

  Her porch light was the only one on. They walked into its dull yellow glow and up the paint-chipped steps. “I need a drink,” he said.

  “I thought you might.”

  A few minutes later when they were sitting at her kitchen table with glasses of gin and tonic, Ellen looked across at Cody’s eyes. They were gray tonight; the blue was gone. She took a long swallow of the drink, choking it down, as if that would make it any easier to hold back the pain.

  She began hesitantly, “Cody, I’ve told you how it’s been with me. Every day, every minute of my life since I can remember, my whole focus has been my plan to get out of here. I had to stay because of my grandfather, but in my mind and my heart, every daydream was the same. The thought of leaving you tears me apart, but my staying would eventually tear both of us apart because I will never accept being called white trash.”

  Sitting back in the old captain’s chair, he gazed at her and said nothing, only picked up his glass and took a long, slow drink.

  Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Please tell me you understand.”

  Damn! he thought. More drastic measures were called for. He’d have to resort to plan B: accepting an invitation from the mayor’s daughter, who had been after him since he first hit town. Maybe seeing him with another woman would jolt Ellen into realizing she didn’t want to lose him. What did he have to lose by trying?

  Ellen was bothered by the look in his eyes. “Cody?”

  “What I don’t understand,” he said finally, “is how you can leave me.” He scowled. “Which is the disguise, Ellen? The woman ruled by hate for the town, or the woman ruled by love for me?”

  His anger hurt. Ellen gazed at the faded blue-and-yellow wallpaper of the kitchen where she had spent so many hours of her life and remembered her grandmother here at this very table, smiling as she brought out a box of buttons and thread and colored ric-rac and a fifteen-cent blouse from a Goodwill store. We’ll disguise it—no one will know where it came from.... A spasm of fear hit hard. She remembered the Fool. And the nine of Swords. Will I be in disguise for the rest of my life?

  No! her wiser self protested. It is here I’m in disguise! I am not white trash!

  Cody was drinking steadily on a long day of work and an empty stomach. He had intended to eat after he picked up Ellen, before the damn fight ruined the evening. The liquor had gone straight to his brain, along with his anger, and had overpowered his built-in censors. He began to dwell on the gypsy’s prediction that Ellen would, indeed, leave him. Pouring himself another gin and tonic, he said recklessly, “Not many women could wave off the fact that we danced together in our dreams because a spirit was beckoning us both. How much proof do you need that you belong with me? The burning Tower is a message of disaster if you go. It can even indicate career failure. I looked it up.”

  Ellen stared at him. “The burning Tower?”

  The realization of what he’d said, stung like a swarm of wasps. “I’m speaking symbolically,” he offered weakly.

  Her stare penetrated. “You’ve talked to Meredith?”

  “About what?”

  “Meredith told you about the cards? Behind my back? I didn’t know you two had a confidential relationship. What the devil is going on?”

  “It was just a chance meeting at Mrs. Volken’s.” Cody wished he could think more clearly. He felt he was saying the wrong things.

  “You were at the gypsy’s? To have your fortune read?”

  “Yeah. And to ask about the ghost in my dreams. She even pulled up the name Iris, now that I recall, but Iris wouldn’t cooperate with her to give any more information. Mrs. Volken had a strong sense you shouldn’t be at the Whitfield mansion, though.”

  Ellen’s unease grew stronger by the second. “What else did she say about me?”

  “That you would leave me.”

  “Not
what you wanted to hear.”

  “Hell, no.” Cody poured another drink.

  “But the Tarot reading. That must have pleased you.”

  “It did.”

  “You knew ahead of time Meredith was going to read the cards, didn’t you? I’ll bet it was your idea.”

  “It was a good idea.” He knocked back half the glass. “Now you know what to expect.”

  Trembling, Ellen studied him. Cody’s eyes had gone very dark, which meant his thoughts were dark. Too dark. Her voice shook. “You’d do anything to stop me, wouldn’t you? Would you even seduce my best friend into betraying me?”

  “For your information, my sweet, Meredith wants you to stay as much as I do. If you weren’t so caught up in your own feelings, you’d have more appreciation for those who care for you.”

  “So it was a conspiracy—that Tarot reading. Meredith fell under your spell just like I did and let you talk her into...into making up those awful predictions.” Tears formed in Ellen’s eyes. Her heart felt as if it were tearing apart. “How could she do that to me? How could you both?”

  He glanced away to hide the fear that was building in his gut. Something in the cards had horrified Meredith. Maybe she hadn’t faked all of the warning. The scheme had backfired and he’d cost Meredith her cherished friendship. He had cost himself even more. Damn it. Why didn’t Ellen stop looking at him that way?

  “And the leak about my making Doreen’s gown? You were the only one who knew, the only one who could have told. Did you figure I might stay if I had a chance to make dresses for the local snobs?”

  “There’s no point in my denying it, I guess. What’s one more nail in my coffin?”

  Her tears were flowing freely now. The death of trust was agonizing. “I had no idea you were so underhanded.”

  “I said I’d do anything to keep you. Some women would be flattered.” He knew he was still doing it—saying the wrong thing because there wasn’t any right thing to say.

  “Flattered at being tricked and lied to?”

  “You might give me a chance to explain.”

  “Is there anything to explain that I don’t already know?”

  He thought about it, his head whirling, hating the pain of her tears. “I can’t think of anything,” he replied miserably.

  “Then there is nothing more to say, is there?”

  “Nothing I haven’t already said.” He rose, none too steadily. “I can understand why you’re overcome with hurt right now. But I’m not sorry we tried to stop you. Someday you’ll look back and realize how wrong you were to give me up. You’ll never find what I could have given you.”

  Trust would have been nice, Ellen wanted to shout, but the words would have come out as sobs. Her dreams—her precious dreams—she had to hang on to them...didn’t she? Who could she really trust except herself?

  Cody slammed the door behind him. Numb with pain, Ellen ran upstairs and took solace, as she had always done, in her work. The last two gowns were nearly completed. She couldn’t even confront Meredith because the Calhouns were at the Seattle conference. Maybe it was just as well that they wouldn’t have another scene of tears to remember.

  * * *

  AS THE BUS PULLED OUT of Shadow Valley, Ellen sat numbly, gazing at the familiar streets, surprised at how hard it had been to walk out of the house for the last time and just close the door. Some of the furniture had sold, the rest she left, as others had left behind part of their lives on Pebble Street. In a matter of hours she would be on the plane from Denver to New York. The thrill of a lifetime. It was supposed to feel better than this.

  Cody didn’t know she was leaving this soon. He would have wanted to say goodbye, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know how.

  The bus passed the Whitfield mansion, silent and despondent in the summer sun.

  16

  THE IMPORT APPAREL warehouse was noisy and congested. Ellen worked with three other young women on the ground floor where crates, trucked in daily from the docks, were unloaded. Her job was unpacking boxes and hanging the garments on conveyers that took them to sorters on the upper floor. The clothes were made on assembly lines in countries far away. On the job, she wore jeans and a tank top because the warehouse was hot.

  Ellen’s beautiful wardrobe hung in her half of a narrow closet of a walk-up flat in Hell’s Kitchen, shared with one of her fellow workers. The chic suits, worn for interviews when she first came, were in their plastic garment bags.

  New York was nothing like she’d imagined, but surely things would get better when she got a foothold. It had taken four weeks to find a job. After applying at fashion houses and retail stores where the wages weren’t enough to live on, she had grabbed the import-house offer in desperation. Rents were so high she was afraid of exhausting her savings. Luckily a co-worker, Jennifer, was looking for someone to share her small apartment—a forty-minute subway ride from work. It was cramped and the walls were full of cracks, but the beds were comfortable.

  Sometimes she went with Jennifer to a bar full of young people, but felt so out of her element it was impossible to relax and act like everybody else. This wasn’t what she’d so carefully groomed herself for.

  The two young women lounged in their living room one Saturday morning, drinking coffee, while Ellen looked through the Help Wanted ads in the paper—still hopeful.

  “What are you looking for?” Jennifer asked. “You won’t likely find anything that pays better than what we’ve got—with no impressive experience under your belt.”

  “I was naive enough to believe I could be hired on to work as an assistant designer.”

  Jennifer dipped her finger into her thick, milky coffee, stirred, and licked the finger thoughtfully. “Why not try out for the Broadway stage? You got just about the same chance. I wonder how many thousands of girls like you come to the city with big dreams about the fashion world.”

  Ellen closed the want-ad section. “I admit I’m green. But I’ll learn my way around. I’m not the kind to give up.”

  On the floor with her back propped against a worn couch, Jennifer helped herself to the last sweet roll in the bakery sack. She was a pretty, dark-eyed woman, just twenty-one, who wore her dark hair in a long braid. Chewing, she said, “Waffle, my first roommate, gave up her actress dreams after six months. She went back to the little town in West Virginia where she came from and married her high-school sweetheart who worked in his father’s appliance store.”

  “With a name like Waffle, what could she expect?”

  “She had a big wedding in the church where she was baptized and says she wants three kids.” Jennifer wiped sticky hands on her jeans. “It’s not a bad thing, you know,”

  “What isn’t?”

  “Marriage and kids. As opposed to the frustrating search for Mr. Right. Did you have a guy back in Colorado?”

  Ellen’s heart tugged. “Yes. But I wouldn’t do a Waffle and go crawling back. I’ve severed all ties.”

  “Me, too, but I’m not so far from home—Atlantic Beach. You know, Long Island. I didn’t get along with my mom and stepdad, so I moved out.” She spread out her arms and tossed back her head. “So here we are! Living the good life!”

  Marriage and kids, Ellen thought. Would Cody be a father someday? Of course, he would. He wanted the best life had to offer. And she...? Marriage had never been in the dream. But Cody would be a father someday.

  Jennifer straightened. “Hey! Are you crying? You are! You’re homesick!”

  “I could never be homesick.”

  “Don’t tell me. I know all the symptoms. Come on, admit it. Just now, you were thinking about your house—”

  “My house isn’t there anymore,” Ellen said defensively. Jennifer was working up to a “diversion.” It was Saturday and she wanted to go to a singles club to meet men. “Better than sitting here homesick,” Jennifer was about to argue.

  “What do you mean, your house isn’t there anymore? Did somebody buy it?”

  “Yes. But not to
live in. To convert to a hotel.”

  “Whoa! It must be a helluva big house!”

  Ellen nodded. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t lost it.”

  Her roommate was on her feet by now. “I know just the remedy for homesick blues. How about coming with me to Errol’s Dock? It’s a good crowd over there on Saturday.”

  Ellen threw aside the paper, calling up her reserve of optimism. “Okay, sure.” This was New York, after all. And she had a few friends and a place to live and a job. It was just a matter of time before the magic started happening....

  * * *

  ELLEN HAD BELIEVED the dreams had stopped, but that night Ellen dreamed about the mansion and Cody.

  The house was no longer splendid; it was dark and full of cobwebs. Cody sat in the dining room. She could see him through the French doors and he looked beautiful. She wanted in, but the doors were latched. At the sound of her knocking on the glass, he turned and looked at her with strange eyes and he would not get up to open the doors.

  The crystal chandeliers rattled. Ellen looked up. The crystals were made of cobwebs. The house was no longer welcoming. A moment later Cody was gone and the ghost, no longer friendly, hovered near the ceiling.

  Perspiration drenched Ellen when she awoke. The flat was stuffy and hot, but it was the dream that caused her discomfort. She and Cody shared that dream, she was certain, as they had shared the others—but this time, in the gloom and dust of discarded hopes. Had he wakened at the same instant? Was he lying in his room this very moment, thinking of that awful dream and of her?

  She sat up, brushing her hair from her eyes. Noise came from the living room—the music and voices of partying. No one had been here when she went to bed. Jen had stayed on at the club after Ellen left; friends must have come home with her.

  Sitting in the darkened room, Ellen cursed the ghost. “Leave me alone, Iris,” she whispered. “There is nothing I can do and there never was. So please just leave me alone.”

  But memories of Cody wouldn’t leave. He had written a letter after she’d sent her address to Jed Mortimer for her tax return, apologizing for trying to trick her. Meredith had written, too, devastated, saying there had been a terrible misunderstanding. Ellen had answered both letters impersonally and politely, not letting on that New York was a disappointment.