Winds of terror Read Free Page A

the left

    Mark knocked, and a waspish voice called out, ''Yes, yes, come in! I've been waiting. Didn't you hear my bell? I could die before anyone came to me when I called.''
    Mark opened the door and stood back as Melanie entered. Her aunt, looking old and gray, lay propped up on stacks of pillows in the center of a hand-carved mahogany canopied bed. Melanie took a seat after obediently kissing her aunt on the cheek.
    "So you came,** the old woman said with satisfaction. •'Good! At least Ruth taught you to be appreciative, which is more than I can say for my other relatives." She turned, casting a meaningful glance at Mark. "You have been told about what has happened here?"
    "Yes, I have." Melanie looked about the room once more. The furniture, though valuable, was old and ugly. The organdy curtains at the long windows hung limp and dusty. The remnants of a fire smoldered in the brick fireplace. The carpet beneath her feet was worn and dirty. Once things had been so lovely here, she remembered, and again she realized that time changes almost everything.
    Aunt Addie waved Mark out of the room. "Bring me my lunch. I want hot broth and tea." He left quickly, as though anxious to be gone from the old woman's presence.
    'Todd went and killed himself," Addie sighed. Her eyes closed momentarily as though she were reliving the horrible time. "I had to be the one to find him. I read the note he left, blaming me. But it wasn't my fault, child. The boy was evil, no good. He put his father in his grave, and his mother was probably glad to go to hers. He only stayed around here for my money. I let him know he wouldn't get any of it, and so he killed himself . . . like the weak, spineless person he really was."
    "I'm not sorry," she continued in a voice so snappish that Melanie sat straight up in her chair. 'T'm not sorry a bit. A boy like that is better off dead than alive making people miserable. He was responsible for the death of a young girl, but I suppose Mark told you all about that.. . ."*
    Melanie nodded. "He told me. I'm sorry it all happened, I—"
    Addie cut her off abruptly. "Well, I'm not, and I won't listen to anyone say they're sorry, either. I just hate that I let the shock get to me like it did. Dr. Ambrose says my heart won't stand another blow like that. I have to be careful. That's why I asked for you to come. I can't get

    anyone around here to help out, and you can see how Mark has let this place go. He's just waiting for me to die so he can bum the house to the ground and use my money to build something new and fancy." She snorted as though such a thing could not possibly happen.
    "But rU fool everybody. I'll live to be a hundred, and once I'm on my feet again, I'll enjoy my money myself so there won't be so much left behind to be squandered foolishly."
    Melanie fought the impulse to smile. "That's your privilege, Aunt Addie. It's your money."
    "Dam right," the old woman said with a nod. "Glad somebody agrees with me on something. All anybody ever wanted me for was my money—except for your mother. I think Ruth did care for me."
    "Yes, she did," Melanie said in a quiet, reverent voice.
    Addie nodded once more. "That's why I helped her. She needed my help. She wasn't trying to use me. She genuinely needed me."
    There was silence as Mark came into the room with a tray. Addie stuck her finger into the soup bowl and shoved the tray back at Mark so abruptly that some of the broth spilled over.
    'That's cold. What's the matter with you, boy? Are you trying to finish the job your no-good brother started? You going to kill me by starving me to death instead of worrying me to death?"
    Melanie watched as Mark's face clouded. She knew he was exerting every effort not to blow up at the old lady. He tumed quickly and left the room, mumbling that he would reheat the broth.
    "See what I mean?" Addie said as the door slammed shut. "I haven't had a decent bite to eat since I came home from the hospital."
    Melanie told her she