Mark, in his greed to gain control and possession of the plantation, becoming as mean and cunning as his dead twin had been?
There were so many unanswered questions—and Mel-anie wanted the answers. Somehow, she knew her whole future—and Cale's—depended on the answers. Surely, it was much too soon to think about love and romance and marriage to another man, but one day the time would be right. And if things worked out, perhaps Cale would be the man in her life. She could feel herself falling in love with him, slowly but surely. Yet she did not want to rush into anything; she wanted things to fall into place naturally.
It wasn't too difficult getting Cale back into the car. He could help himself a lot when he wanted to, she realized. They rode back to Beecher House in silence. When they pulled up to the colunmar front porch, she said, "IH get someone to help get you out and up the steps.'*
Cale leaned across the seat and clutched her arm. "Mel-anie, I don't want you angry with me, and I can tell that
you are. I'm sorry I can't go into a lot* of details with you. It would just be best if you were to leave. Can't you trust me?"
She removed his hand gingerly from her arm and faced him, making her voice strong and sure and positive. "Get this straight, Cale, once and for all. I promised my mother I'd look after Aunt Addie if she ever needed me, so that's what I'm doing. It's a promise I made and one that I intend to keep, and neither you nor a houseful of ghosts and evil spirits is going to run me off Now can you understand that?"
He nodded and then asked quietly, "But what about us? Do you care for me at all? I have no right ro ask you for anything now, the way I am, but someday .,."
"Someday . . ." She smiled. "For now, I think we both have a job to do. When it's accomplished, we can think about our someday."
He watched her get out and walk around the car and disappear beyond the end of the house. She was pretty girl, a sweet and wholesome girl with whom he was falling in love. But why did she have to become a part of all this evil? Why did she have to fall right into the middle of it and refuse to get out while there was still time? It wasn't the way he had planned things—^no, it wasn't the way,he'd planned it at all. And now that it was time to act, he'd have to alter a few of his plans. He would have to do so quickly... before Melanie got hurt.
Chapter 9
Melanbe met Mark as he was walking across the rear yard, coining from the direction of the cotton fields. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, but his eyes were squinted against the late afternoon sun, and his arms were becoming darkly tanned. There were field hands to chop the choking weeds from the tender young cotton plants, but someone had to be around to make sure those hands worked steadily. Mark's job as overseer was not an easy one.
"Have fun?" he said in greeting, using a tone that implied he couldn't care less whether she had or hadn't Without waiting for an answer, he snapped, "I suppose Auntie has been ringing that bell of hers all afternoon, wondering where you were."
"I told her I was going on a picnic," Melanie replied with annoyance. She waved to one of the workers, and he started over towards her.
She turned back to Mark who was almost inside the back door now. "Mark, have you seen Butch? I couldn't find him when I left earlier."
He glared at her and shook his head. Then he went inside, slamming the door behind him. He wasn't the same person, she thought, staring after him; he wasn't the boy she had known and loved as a child.
She hurried towards the field hand approaching her and asked him to please help Cale into the house. He nodded obligingly, and she moved on to where the other workers were coming up out of the fields to head home. She wandered about, asking the workers if any of them had seen Butch. The evening before, he had been
seen running through the fields, but no one had seen Butch all day. An icy chill crawled up and down
There were so many unanswered questions—and Mel-anie wanted the answers. Somehow, she knew her whole future—and Cale's—depended on the answers. Surely, it was much too soon to think about love and romance and marriage to another man, but one day the time would be right. And if things worked out, perhaps Cale would be the man in her life. She could feel herself falling in love with him, slowly but surely. Yet she did not want to rush into anything; she wanted things to fall into place naturally.
It wasn't too difficult getting Cale back into the car. He could help himself a lot when he wanted to, she realized. They rode back to Beecher House in silence. When they pulled up to the colunmar front porch, she said, "IH get someone to help get you out and up the steps.'*
Cale leaned across the seat and clutched her arm. "Mel-anie, I don't want you angry with me, and I can tell that
you are. I'm sorry I can't go into a lot* of details with you. It would just be best if you were to leave. Can't you trust me?"
She removed his hand gingerly from her arm and faced him, making her voice strong and sure and positive. "Get this straight, Cale, once and for all. I promised my mother I'd look after Aunt Addie if she ever needed me, so that's what I'm doing. It's a promise I made and one that I intend to keep, and neither you nor a houseful of ghosts and evil spirits is going to run me off Now can you understand that?"
He nodded and then asked quietly, "But what about us? Do you care for me at all? I have no right ro ask you for anything now, the way I am, but someday .,."
"Someday . . ." She smiled. "For now, I think we both have a job to do. When it's accomplished, we can think about our someday."
He watched her get out and walk around the car and disappear beyond the end of the house. She was pretty girl, a sweet and wholesome girl with whom he was falling in love. But why did she have to become a part of all this evil? Why did she have to fall right into the middle of it and refuse to get out while there was still time? It wasn't the way he had planned things—^no, it wasn't the way,he'd planned it at all. And now that it was time to act, he'd have to alter a few of his plans. He would have to do so quickly... before Melanie got hurt.
Chapter 9
Melanbe met Mark as he was walking across the rear yard, coining from the direction of the cotton fields. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, but his eyes were squinted against the late afternoon sun, and his arms were becoming darkly tanned. There were field hands to chop the choking weeds from the tender young cotton plants, but someone had to be around to make sure those hands worked steadily. Mark's job as overseer was not an easy one.
"Have fun?" he said in greeting, using a tone that implied he couldn't care less whether she had or hadn't Without waiting for an answer, he snapped, "I suppose Auntie has been ringing that bell of hers all afternoon, wondering where you were."
"I told her I was going on a picnic," Melanie replied with annoyance. She waved to one of the workers, and he started over towards her.
She turned back to Mark who was almost inside the back door now. "Mark, have you seen Butch? I couldn't find him when I left earlier."
He glared at her and shook his head. Then he went inside, slamming the door behind him. He wasn't the same person, she thought, staring after him; he wasn't the boy she had known and loved as a child.
She hurried towards the field hand approaching her and asked him to please help Cale into the house. He nodded obligingly, and she moved on to where the other workers were coming up out of the fields to head home. She wandered about, asking the workers if any of them had seen Butch. The evening before, he had been
seen running through the fields, but no one had seen Butch all day. An icy chill crawled up and down
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