“Mark’s point is, Abby may not always be able to be home. Why not move her now, get her a nice room, let her settle in?”
“Actually, I think that’s your point.”
“Enough.” Mark stood, paced the room. “Look, I want the best for Mom. Whatever that might be.”
“We all do, Mark.” Adam placed a hand on his shoulder, his features schooled into an expression of empathy and concern. “That’s why I think—”
“I’ll contact the home health-care agency Dr. McMath recommended and set up twenty-four-hour care for Abby.” Shane had given the idea plenty of thought during the night. He might not like the idea of strangers caring for Abby, but it was better than the alternative.
Mark nodded. “I think that’s best. Then she can be here and we can be sure she’s got proper care, even when you’re writing.”
“I think you’re making a mistake, Mark.”
“It’s the best decision I can make for now. We’ll see how things work out—”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were here.” Abby spoke from the doorway, a smile creasing her face, her caregiver hovering a few steps behind. “You’re just in time for ice cream.”
“Sounds great, Mom.” Mark led her to a chair, and Shane could see the love he had for his mother. Too bad that love didn’t translate itself into time and attention. There was a rift between the two, one Shane didn’t understand.
“So you’re finally done with the television and now it’s ice cream?” Adam kissed Abby on the cheek, his affection seeming less genuine than Mark’s.
“You know I love ice cream, Daniel. It’s my favorite.”
“I’m not Daniel. I’m Adam.”
“You shouldn’t have done it. We would have worked things out.” She grabbed his hand and he yanked it back, stepping away from her.
“Here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a box. “I brought you something.”
“How nice.” But she didn’t move to open the box.
Shane leaned in. “Need some help with that, Aunt Abby?”
“Lovely.”
He pulled the lid off the box and took out a silver necklace. “This’ll look great on you.”
“Yes. Remember the one Grandmother Meade had? It was very pretty. You gave it to Thea, didn’t you, Daniel?”
“I’m not Daniel.” He bit out the words and turned to the door. “I have to go.”
“I think she’s dead…unless it was a dream. I do have vivid dreams, you know.”
“Who’s dead, Mom?” Mark scooped ice cream into a bowl and slid it in front of Abby.
“She’s rambling again. I’m leaving. Goodbye, Aunt Abby.”
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
Adam stiffened at the name. “It’s Adam, Aunt Abby. Not Daniel. I need to go.”
Shane followed. “She can’t help it. Sometimes she’s living in the moment. Sometimes in the past.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier to be called by my father’s name.”
“From what I’ve heard, your father was a good man.”
“Good? Try coward.”
“He was sick. Not a coward. Depression—”
“He wasn’t depressed a day in his life. He made a mistake and didn’t want to face the consequences of it.”
“From what I heard—”
“Right. What you heard. You weren’t born yet. Have no idea what it was like. I was eighteen. Getting ready to go off to college. Excited about starting an independent life. Then my father kills himself and I’m suddenly the man of the family. If Mom hadn’t remarried, I’d still be living at home, taking care of things for her. Look, I don’t have time for this right now. I can’t be late. See ya.” And he was gone.
Which was good, as Shane had had about all he could take of the man.
The old grandfather clock chimed four as he headed back to the kitchen. He needed to get some writing done, but his day help was leaving and the night shift didn’t start until six. Maybe Mark could lend a hand.
Shane didn’t get a chance to ask. His cousin was already stepping into the hall. “I’ve got to get home. Laura asked me to pick something up for dinner.”
Shane held back the protest that threatened to spill out. “All right.”
“Let me know if you need any help with finances. I know full-time caregivers are expensive.”
“I’d rather have your time than your money.”
“We’ve been through this before, Shane. Mom doesn’t want me here. Doesn’t need me here. She’s always been more of a mother to you than to me.”
It was true and Shane didn’t deny it. “I just hope you don’t regret it one day.”
“Me, too. Call me and let me know what you line up for home health-care.” And then he was gone, as well.
“I’m leaving, Shane.” Sheila stepped into the hall and looked at the closed door. “Did Mark leave already?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I can stay another hour if it’ll help.”
“No way. You said you had plans for this evening.”
“They can be changed.”
“It’s your anniversary, right?”
“Dave won’t mind.”
“Sure he will, but he loves you too much to say so. Go home. I’m fine with Abby.”
She hesitated. “As long as you’re sure…”
“I am.”
“All right. Call me if you need someone to fill in again. You know I’ve always cared about Abby.”
“I know and I appreciate it. Now, go home and enjoy your anniversary.”
Abby was seated at the kitchen table when Shane walked back into the room, her gaze vague, the ice cream she’d wanted so much melting into a puddle at the bottom of the bowl. Shane put a hand on her shoulder, wishing he could give her more than time and patience.
“Come on, Aunt Abby. Let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice evening.”
“Yes, I’d like to visit Daniel.”
Shane let his hand drop away and leaned down closer to his aunt, not sure where her mind had taken her and how much she remembered about her brother. “Daniel doesn’t live around here anymore.”
“I want to go to Cemetery Hill.”
“In that case, let me get you a sweater.”
They took the shortcut down to the lake and walked along the shoreline until they reached the steep slope that led to the Meade family graveyard. It had been years since Shane had taken the path up the hill. Brush and trees had reclaimed most of the once-cleared footpath and the way looked treacherous.
“I don’t know, Aunt Abby. The way isn’t clear and it might be difficult to get to the graveyard.”
“You stay here, dear. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“You worry too much. Let’s go.”
He might have argued, but something darted from between two trees, a small dark blur that raced toward them. Shane tugged Abby to the side, trying to get her out of the path of the animal, but it seemed intent on reaching them, its pointy nose and overlarge ears quivering with excitement as it skidded across leaf-strewn grass and toppled into a heap at his feet.
A crash of twigs and underbrush warned Shane that something was following. Something big.
Chapter Six
Shane stepped in front of Abby, shielding her from a threat he couldn’t yet see. Then he grinned as Raven raced through the trees, her hair flying in a cloud of ebony curls, a long dress billowing around her ankles.
Fear, then recognition flashed across her face as she saw Shane and tried to stop. Her shoes slid on earth and grass, her arms windmilling. Shane put a steadying hand on her waist and tightened his grip. He knew he should release his hold, step back and let Raven have the space she always seemed to need. Instead he moved in, his arm wrapping around her back, holding her still as he stared down into her face. She looked as surprised as he felt. Surprised and just a little afraid.
“It’s okay.” Shane spoke into the
tension, easing away from Raven.
“I’m sorry. My dog…” She glanced over and shook her head. “Merry, don’t you dare!”
But the animal was already moving, running and tumbling to Abby, who bent and held out her hand.
“Hello. Aren’t you an interesting-looking thing. What is she, Thea, a pharaoh hound?”
“I’m not sure. Just a mutt of some sort.”
Raven walked toward the older woman, and Shane was sure she was relieved to be away from him. She knelt beside the puppy, heedless of dirt and grass, and clipped a leash to Merry’s collar, then ran a hand along the puppy’s short fur.
Strong hands, Shane noted. Small boned, long fingered, but not fragile looking. Not like the rest of her. Shane had felt each vertebra when he touched Raven’s back, each rib when his hand grazed her side. She seemed small and insubstantial, incapable of lifting, moving and supporting patients. Yet Shane had seen Raven with Abby and knew she was capable of all those things and more. She was able to care. He’d seen it in her eyes, in the gentleness of her touch.
Would she be willing to help with Abby?
The thought gave him pause and he watched a bit longer as the two women bent over the puppy. For some reason Abby had bonded with Raven in a way she hadn’t bonded with any of the local help Shane had hired. That’s what Shane wanted for his aunt—a person she liked, that she trusted and felt comfortable with.
He moved toward the two women, ignoring Raven’s obvious tension as he bent to scratch the puppy behind its ears. “So this is a puppy.”
“What did you think she was?”
“When she came crashing out of the woods I thought she was a big rat.”
“She doesn’t look anything like a rat.” She glared at him, but there was humor in her eyes, and Shane smiled.
“Of course not.”
“Sam says she has potential and will be the perfect running companion when she gets bigger.”
“Sam Riley?”
“Yes, we met this morning.”
“And tonight you’re the proud owner of a very interesting-looking dog. Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Merry’s cute, not interesting.”
“Doesn’t every mother think her baby is the cutest?”
Shane had meant the question as a joke, but Raven stiffened and turned away.
“I need to get back. I hadn’t meant to come this far, but Merry took off before I could put her leash on.”
“Must you go, Thea? We’ve barely had time to visit,” Abby said.
“Abby, I—”
But Shane didn’t let her finish the excuse. He leaned in close, whispering against her ear. “Don’t run away yet. Abby’s been lonely for someone to talk to.”
“She has you.”
“I’m a man. It’s not the same.”
She shrugged, moved a step away. “Where are you heading, Abby?”
“To see the graves.”
“Graves?”
Raven looked at Shane and he was struck by the sadness in her eyes.
He nodded. “The Meade family graveyard is at the top of this hill. It’s a little steep, though, Abby. Maybe another day would be better.”
“No, now is best. Otherwise I might forget.”
“I can help.” Raven linked an arm through Abby’s. “Is this the Meades’ land?”
Abby didn’t respond and Shane answered for her. “Abby’s land. She’s a Meade. Or was until she married my uncle. This piece of land, around two hundred acres, was deeded to her when she married. Her brother owned the land west of here. Now it belongs to Abby’s nephew, Adam.” Shane spoke as he stepped forward supporting Abby from the other side as they maneuvered up the steep incline.
The information was interesting, but not quite as interesting as the man who’d offered it. Raven glanced in Shane’s direction, noting the rough, craggy face and stern expression. Even his voice had a hard edge. Yet his gentleness with Abby was obvious, his devotion to his aunt undeniable. He moved up the slope with barely contained energy, his long legs keeping a slow, steady pace that exactly matched his aunt’s. Thornbushes littered the path and he shoved branches aside, holding them away from Abby’s legs. A kind man, it seemed. Though Raven knew better than most how easily a person could hide his true nature.
“Here we are.” The slope of the ground eased, and Raven caught her breath at what lay before them—a fenced area contained dozens of gravestones. Some big. Some small. A few towered over the others, immense and beautifully carved with angels and saints.
“This is all one family?”
Shane nodded. “A couple of centuries’ worth. It’s only been in the past few decades that Meades haven’t been buried here.”
“Daniel’s here.” Abby spoke as she opened the wrought-iron gate. “I used to bring flowers every week. Always on Sunday after church. Never missed a week. Even in the snow and rain. I don’t remember when I stopped.” There was sadness in the words. Knowledge of time passing, of things lost forever.
Raven blinked back the gray edge of melancholy and tried to smile. “This is a beautiful spot. Your ancestors chose well.”
“There was a chapel here long ago. Over there—” Abby gestured, frowned. “At least I think it was there. If you look you’ll see the foundation stones. And on the other side of the fence, through that back gate, that’s where the slaves were buried.”
“Slaves?”
“Oh, yes. This was a plantation, after all.” Abby walked to a small gravestone. “Look here. See that? A child. Three years old. Never even had a chance at life.”
“Aunt Abby, you’re being morbid tonight. Let’s go home.”
“You go. I want to see Daniel. It’s been too long.” There was an edge to Abby’s voice, a fierce expression on her face.
In contrast, Shane’s expression was one of tired acceptance. “All right. But then we need to get home.”
Raven stayed back as the two wound their way through crumbling stones, allowing Shane and Abby to walk together, sharing whatever memories had brought them here. All around were reminders of life and of death, the people buried here long forgotten, whatever legacy they’d left lost to time and forgetfulness. Raven turned away from the cemetery, choosing instead to look out at the distant gleam of Smith Mountain Lake.
“Where is Daniel’s marker? I thought it was under the oak.”
Abby spoke loudly, breaking the silence and drawing Raven’s attention to the center of the graveyard where Shane and his aunt stood.
Frustration tightened Shane’s face, and his features hardened even more. Yet his voice was gentle when he spoke. “There are lots of oak trees around, Aunt Abby.”
“The one near the center of the graveyard. Right here. I’m sure of it. Someone’s taken the marker down.”
Raven tugged at Merry’s leash and hurried toward them. “Why don’t we look around a little, Abby?”
“No. I’m tired. I just want to see Daniel’s gravestone.”
“Tell you what, Aunt Abby. You and Raven wait here and I’ll look around and see if I can find the right marker. You’re sure it was under an oak?”
“Yes. Right near Mother and Daddy.”
Shane nodded and turned to Raven. “Do you mind waiting with her? There’s a little bench over there.”
“No problem. Come on, Abby, let’s go sit down.”
The wrought-iron bench wasn’t made for comfort, but Abby didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze was fixed on some distant point, her expression just a little vague.
“Daniel killed himself, you know.” The pronouncement was stark, bold, without emotion.
“No. I didn’t.”
“It was so sad. So terrible. He left four children and his wife behind. And me, of course. We were the last of the Meades. Our children will inherit this land, but I don’t think they’ll love it like we have.”
“How many children do you have?”
“One. Mark.”
“Are you close?”
Abby
didn’t respond. Raven leaned back against the hard bench, her gaze wandering the rows of grave markers, then settling on Shane. He seemed intent on his task, moving quickly from one oak tree to the next, reading the markers, then moving on again.
It should be Abby’s son here with her. Not Shane. Raven allowed herself to wonder at the variances of Abby’s relationships; that her nephew should be so devoted to her, and her son so much less so seemed odd. But then, Raven knew nothing of the family dynamics that had led them to this place.
A branch snapped behind her and Raven turned. She saw nothing but thickening shadows and tall trees. Still she felt watched, as if someone stood just out of sight, staring hard. Merry seemed to sense the same, her small body tensing, a low growl sounding deep in her throat.
Raven’s heart began a hard, erratic beat. Her body stiffened with anxiety. She peered into the shadows, waiting. For what, she didn’t know.
“You okay?”
She jumped and whirled around, her pulse subsiding as she spotted Shane. “You startled me.”
“Sorry. I was going to call out, but Abby’s fallen asleep. I thought I’d let her rest a few minutes.”
“Did you find the marker?”
“Yes. Close to the back gate. Near that huge old tree.”
“She was right about that, then.”
“Not that it’ll matter to her. When she wakes up she probably won’t remember why we’re here. Is there room on that bench?”
Not much. At least not for someone Shane’s size. But Raven scooted over anyway.
“Thanks. I’m beat.”
“Long day?”
“Not too bad. I’ve just had a lot of late nights.”
“Did you finish writing your book?”
The force of Shane’s laughter shook the bench. “Hardly. I’ve got the Princes of Truth backed into a corner and can’t figure out how to get them out of it.”
“Princes of Truth? You’re Montgomery Wayne?”
“Not if I can’t get my characters out of the trouble they’re in.”
Die Before Nightfall Page 6
