Cider Creek Plantation

By Sue Thornton

With the discovery of Civil War era quilts, Bridget Campbell unearths secrets buried deep in the history of Cider Creek Plantation. Will Galen Hadwyn be able to save his nephew and Brit from a heartless monster that wants the truth to remain hidden, or lose everything he's come to love?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wings ePress, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9781597054539

Book preview

Prologue

My dearest Bridget,

If you are reading this letter, then I am finally at peace and lying next to my beloved husband, Albert. I have longed for the day when I would be reunited with him and the children we lost to the diseases and wars that have ravaged our lands.

Please close your mouth, dear child. Yes, the house and lands are truly yours, as my attorney relayed to you at the reading of the will. Buddy and Dominic have hated the family property for years and are grateful to pass it on to someone who loves it as much as me.

I know you will take care of Cider Creek as I did, and my mother before me. Over the years, the rooms have become cluttered with family heirlooms and a variety of other keepsakes. The boys don’t want anything to do with them, but would be more than willing to help you get rid of anything. The town dump isn’t beyond their sight.

I’ve always been aware of your desire to own your own Bed and Breakfast, and I believe Cider Creek will offer you that opportunity if you choose. There is much to do to prepare you for the next stage of your adventurous life, and I hope I have been able to help you toward your heart’s path.

As a last request, I ask that you gather the family quilts to you and study them before you make the decision on whether to get rid of them or not. While you were growing up and learning to leave a tiny piece of your own history with fabric, needle and thread, you discovered the many stories surrounding each square and stitch.

You are now ready for the legacy of stories and the wealth of information buried at Cider Creek. I can only pray you use the endless curiosity you were blessed with and follow the journey of the Abbott family over the last hundred years or so.

I love you, Bridget. You were the daughter and grandchild I wasn’t meant to bear. Thank you for making the last twenty-five years pure bliss in your company.

Aunt Lolly

One

Tears of sorrow pushed past the dam blocking her throat, and escaped to roll down Brit’s cheeks. She hadn’t thought there could be another tear left to cry after she’d arrived late last week to sit with Aunt Lolly for the last time. With the death of the only person who seemed to truly love Brit, she’d done nothing but cry.

The ravages of cancer had whittled away at the once gregarious woman. As Brit had sat and held the work-worn hands, she couldn’t believe how fragile the elderly woman had become.

Now, sitting alone in the back parlor that had been turned into a sick room, she glanced around the large room. It was almost as if she were looking at it for the first time. Her gaze leapt to the dark burgundy paint and wide floral wallpaper border circling the top of the thirteen-foot walls. Oh, how she used to love this room.

When she was little, she’d come in here and play for hours in the middle of the burgundy floral carpet covering the dark, narrow planked oak flooring. Now the room felt oppressive, heavy with grief and the aroma of a long suffered illness. Even the soft, sweet scent of the roses that filled the blue cobalt vases, and the sharp citrus lemon and beeswax concoction Aunt Lolly insisted on using to polish the furniture, couldn’t hide the stench of disease and death.

Aunt Lolly had loved looking out at her gardens. When she’d become too ill to traverse up and down the stairs, Brit, Buddy and Father Dominic had moved Lolly’s bedroom to the main floor so she could look outside and gaze upon the flowers blooming through the various seasons.

With a swipe at the tears with the back of one hand, Brit rose, the letter left lying on the double wedding ring quilt covering the bed. Gently, as if it were a newborn babe, she ran her hand over the soft cotton fabric, fingering the quilted lines with love.

She walked to the large window that overlooked one of the rose beds. With a deep sigh, she lifted the lace covering the wavy, translucent glass and stared out at the variety of blooms gently nodding their heads in the slight breeze. The soft scent of roses swirled around her from the open windows and the side door that opened onto one of the numerous porches.

Brit, how you doing, honey? Buddy asked from the doorway.

After taking a deep breath, Brit turned and gazed at the short, slightly hunch-backed man leaning against the doorframe. The oak woodwork, darkened with age, hid the pocket doors leading from the parlor.

Why didn’t you tell me?

He shrugged one shoulder, and lifted a long slender hand to stroke his chin. Then he smiled. His eyes were filled with grief for the woman who’d given birth to him sixty odd years earlier. What do you think I should have told you?

He glanced around the room. As a kid, I couldn’t wait to get away from here. There isn’t any reason for me to change my mind now. I’m getting too old to take care of this monstrosity Mom called home. You don’t know how many times I tried to talk her into selling this place, but she knew in her heart who was to be the next mistress of Cider Creek.

Brit returned to the view from the window. How do you know I won’t up and sell this place? What happens if the house falls to ruin because I can’t keep it up? This is a big place. All the repairs and maintenance will take money I don’t think I’m equipped to handle.

Buddy walked across the aged, golden patina of the well-polished wood floor, and placed a heavily callused hand on her shoulder. You’ll manage, honey. Every woman who truly loved this place has found ways to keep it up. Besides, there is enough junk in here you could get rid of that would pay the bills for several years to come.

She glanced at the man who reminded her of the actor who portrayed Bilbo Baggins in the LORD OF THE RINGS movie. She’d gone to see the movie at least a dozen times before it came out on video.

He grinned at her and chuckled. I gather you haven’t looked in any of the upstairs rooms for a while have you?

With a slight shake of her head, she frowned at him. You know I’ve never been allowed in any of the rooms other than what Aunt Lolly told me I could go into.

He took her hand and tucked it through the crook of his arm. "After all this time you’re still obeying Mom’s rules? I can assure you, it’s been for your own safety. No one who has lived in this house has ever thrown anything away. It will take you at least the next twenty years to wade through this floor and the second floor. We won’t even talk about the third floor or the attics. You might run away and leave me and Dom with that horror."

Brit leaned forward and kissed Buddy’s forehead. At least six inches shorter than her five feet six inches, his hands and feet were completely out of proportion to his short stature. Tight salt and pepper curls covered his head.

When he looked up at her, his bright blue eyes gleamed with unshed tears. I know how much you love this place, honey. Dom and I hoped and prayed she would leave it to you. Ever since you set foot through the front door when you were nothing but a toddler, your eyes betrayed your feelings for Cider Creek. I can still remember your little fingers reaching out to gingerly touch a piece of bric-a-brac. You wouldn’t have broken anything if your life depended on it.

Her eyes misted over. There was always a story behind each and every collectible I saw. Aunt Lolly would pull me onto her lap and tell me all these wonderful, glorious stories. Little did I know she was teaching me history at the same time.

Buddy nodded and patted her hand. "I think she knew you would be able to use the things she told you. She was so proud of you, honey. I’m glad you didn’t take off for the big city and never come back. I’ve been meaning to tell you thank you for spending so much time with her these last few months. I know it couldn’t have been easy for you. It meant so much to Mom to have you close by. And it meant an awful lot to me and Dom."

A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. I wouldn’t have had it any other way, Buddy. Aunt Lolly was my mother, my friend, and my teacher. I don’t know what I’ll do without her. I feel empty, lost. Who will tell me stories now?

Father Dominic stopped outside the parlor door. There are plenty of stories around here. You just have to want to dig for them and discover the truth for yourself. Mom saw that in you. Take the time to study and learn, Brit. But now, you need to come and eat something. You’ve hardly eaten anything all week. We can’t have you coming down sick now, can we?

With a wonder that never stopped, Brit stared up at the tall, handsome, older man who looked nothing like his brother. Dominic stood over six feet tall, muscular, with black hair that was just beginning to turn gray at the sides. He stood straight, confidence prominent in his stature. His hands were strong, but soft, as if he never did any manual labor, even though Brit knew better.

He tugged her close to him and kissed the top of her forehead. "When I heard Mom call you her daughter all those years ago, I must say I cringed. I kept telling myself she couldn’t be serious. I was twenty years old. What did I need a sister for? I will never forget how Louie laughed at me when I called him and told him what Mom said.

There wasn’t any reason for me to be jealous of you or Brandon. Mom never loved us any less. He set Brit away from him and turned toward the kitchen then paused, his words falling over his shoulder to drift back to her and Buddy. I confess the thought never did cross my mind, though Louie would probably disagree with me. I was busy at the seminary, and I wasn’t here any longer. I didn’t know you or the real circumstances surrounding her attachment to you. But Louie did. He fell in love with you the first time he laid eyes on you. He hoped someday he would be lucky enough to have a little girl just like you.

Once again, tears pooled in Brit’s eyes. Aunt Lolly never completely got over Louie’s death. I was so young when he left, I can barely remember him, but there are times when I think I can hear his laugh.

Buddy sighed. If only they had waited to send him over there. Two more weeks would have saved his life.

Dom turned partially toward them, until only his silhouette shadowed the wall. If onlys won’t bring him back. Louie was proud of his decision to fight for our country, Dominic stated sadly. You’re right though, Mom never did get over losing him, anymore than she did when they lost Kathleen to polio, or Gerald to influenza. Mom loved hard and long.

Brit nodded and followed them down the dark hallway behind the grand staircase and through the entrance into the kitchen. She sank onto the straight back ladder chair Buddy held for her. Oh yes, Lolly Abbott Pritchard Campbell loved long and hard. If Aunt Lolly hadn’t, Brit didn’t know what would have happened to her.

Two

Before Dom and Buddy left Cider Creek at the end of the weekend, they helped move Lolly’s furniture to the upstairs bedroom. Dominic returned to his Chicago parish and Buddy drove the short distance to his acreage where he built hand-crafted log beds.

Brit finished tucking in clean sheets around the mattress and flipped the Double Wedding ring quilt over the top. With satisfaction, she gazed around the room that Lolly and Albert had used throughout their married life. Cabbage Rose wallpaper covered the walls. Floral drapes were tied back on the oak woodwork framing the windows. The dark blue Aubusson carpet had been cleaned before the heavy Edwardian bed frame was returned to the room. With a quick glance back at the full size quilt, Brit marveled at Aunt Lolly’s ability to match the colors of fabric to the wallpaper.

She’d never known Uncle Albert, he’d died long before she’d come to live at Cider Creek, but the love Aunt Lolly and Uncle Albert shared for more than thirty years still filled the room.

Over the years, the rooms the boys had used while growing up had become even more cluttered with an accumulation of antiques, books, magazines, and a variety of other treasures Aunt Lolly couldn’t bear to throw away. Each item had memories attached that needed to be remembered and recorded. Memories Aunt Lolly held dear to her heart. Someday, she’d hoped they’d be dear to someone else’s as well.

There were two guestrooms on the second floor along with the room Brit used when she stayed, and Aunt Lolly’s rooms. One of the other rooms was reserved for Dom whenever he could manage to come home for a visit. With a small smile, Brit patted Lolly’s bed and walked out into the hallway. She stared down the length of the wall and counted the closed doors. Where should she start first? The main level, or up here? Buddy hadn’t been wrong when he said the rooms were overflowing with ‘things’.

With a sigh, she moved toward the elegantly carved staircase. As with everything else she did, she might as well start at the bottom and work her way up to the top. Determined to get as much accomplished as possible before she had to return to her job at the Victorian Inn, she bounced down the stairs and made her way to the rooms off the kitchen.

When Aunt Lolly became the new mistress of Cider Creek, she’d remodeled those small rooms into one large suite and used it as her sewing room. At one point, one of Lolly’s ancestors had built a sunroom onto the back of the house. Lolly had removed windows and added French doors so she could access the sunroom from each of the main back rooms. With the addition of a wood-burning stove, Lolly and Brit had spent many happy hours in the sunroom quilting around a large frame that permanently sat right outside the door.

Another sigh escaped Brit as she stepped into the sewing room. The aroma of freshly laundered fabric that was ready to be cut into quilt pieces enticed her and she inhaled deeply. As she scanned the enormous work area, her heart ached with the wonderful memories created in this room. Baskets overflowed with sewing thread and various other sewing implements, and dozens of books were stacked in the bookcases built along the walls. Piles of fabric lined the floor along the bases of several bookcases. Lolly’s sewing machine held a place of prominence along one short wall. A blazing star quilt in vibrant yellows, oranges, reds and blues hung on a quilt rack that Buddy had made for Lolly one Christmas. A rocking chair and an overstuffed armchair resided closest to the French doors where the unfiltered natural light flowed.

Lolly hadn’t been able to sew or quilt for the last year, but she’d still purchased fabric from the many quilting catalogs she received in the mail. On the few outings she’d been able to endure, Lolly had returned with fabric she just couldn’t resist. When Brit had questioned her about the purchases, Lolly just shrugged and smiled. Eventually the material would get used. If not by her, then by someone else.

Brit started gathering the piles of fabric and carried them into the kitchen where she stacked them on the round oak table sitting in the eating nook. She moved back and forth from the kitchen to the sewing room until all the fabric was off the floor and the books were piled in neat stacks on the large butcher-block table Aunt Lolly used for cutting fabric.

Armed with a basket of cleaning supplies, Brit dusted and scrubbed the room. The windows gleamed and sparkled in the late morning sun. She emptied every shelf and cleaned it thoroughly, intent on organizing the room to serve her better. She alphabetized the many quilting books as she returned them to the shelves, dividing the pattern books from quilt history books. She paused briefly as she absorbed the number of books regarding quilts from the Civil War Era. Aunt Lolly’s latest passion.

Once the books were in place, she neatly placed fabrics in color-coded piles in clear plastic boxes on the empty shelves. Now maybe it would be easier to find something she’d seen at an earlier time. She’d just finished rearranging the numerous quilt tops that needed to be quilted in one of the armoires when the front bell buzzed. Wiping her hands on the extra large tea towel tied around her waist, she hurried toward the front door.

Her best friend stood on the wide front verandah. He grinned when she opened the door. Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?

Brit gazed past him to the three trucks parked in the driveway. Hey, Brandon, what’s going on? She frowned. I think that furniture looks an awful lot like mine. Where’d you get it?

He chuckled. It’s yours. Jackie thought maybe you would feel more comfortable if you had your own belongings around you.

Determined not to say something that would offend her friend, she bit down on her bottom lip. That’s nice, but why?

Brandon’s shoulders slumped forward. Please don’t tell me you aren’t going to be living out here. Jackie didn’t think you’d want to stay at the apartment any longer, now that you’ve got yourself this big old house to rumble around in. He lifted a muscular shoulder, then let it drop. Besides, she thought maybe she could find another renter.

I planned on moving out here, but right now, I don’t have a clue as to where I’ll be putting anything. She paused. We did clean out the back parlor, where Aunt Lolly... lived. I haven’t had a chance to move the original furniture back into the room. I think it’s clean enough to put my supplies in there. Maybe that will help.

She gazed out at the trucks once again. "Did you pack all of my stuff?"

Brandon grinned. Everything.

She bit her bottom lip again before she replied to the extremely handsome young man. Gee, thanks. I’m sure your friends enjoyed going through my belongings.

With a slight shrug, he turned and waved at his buddies. His grin widened when he looked back at her, then winked. They didn’t seem to mind at all.

SORE AND TIRED FROM the cleaning she’d done the previous day, muscles she didn’t realize she had screamed in protest at the long, arduous workout through which she’d put them. After unloading the trucks and stacking her belongings in the parlor, she unpacked her quilting supplies and put them away. After much debate she relinquished the ridiculous idea to continue working and had sat down for a late dinner before collapsing in bed.

The alarm buzzed loudly at its usual time. She groaned. Four o’clock. What was she thinking? Slowly she dragged her aching body from her nice comfortable bed to the bathroom, where she stood under the hot spray of the shower until the water ran cold. She cleaned her room, unpacked her clothes and put away her personal belongings before treading downstairs to begin the next project.

She lifted the mug of hot coffee, inhaling the rich hazelnut aroma and sipped again, before glancing down at the small dish of cottage cheese and peaches. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she mentally began a grocery list.

A sigh of irritation escaped when the door buzzer sounded. Slowly, she pushed up from the chair and winced. At the painful twinge in one of her back muscles, she reminded herself she needed to work out more than her usual hour a day. Impatiently the buzzer rang a second then a third time. She pushed aside her aches and hurried through the kitchen into the massive foyer.

At the sight of her friend through the colored, stained glass windows adjacent to the door, she frowned and opened one of the heavy double doors. What brings you all the way out here, Detective? I don’t recall finding any dead bodies, that is, if you don’t count all the insect shells I’ve swept up and thrown away.

Brandon chuckled and swept her into a hug. You mean to tell me there isn’t even one little old mouse skeleton in a closet?

With a weary sigh and a slap on his shoulder, she smiled. When I manage to find a non-existent closet, I’ll let you know. Put me down. She placed a kiss on his cheek to soften her demand. She could never stay angry with Brandon for long. What can I do for you?

After complying with her gentle request, he peered into her face. I have a big favor to ask of you, Brit. He held up his hands to ward off anything she might have to say. Hear me out first.

She knew that look and those words. Brandon could ask the world of her and she would do everything in her power to give it to him. She always had. Brandon was the big brother other girls talked about, the protector every girl dreamed of, and the best friend anyone could ever want. And he was all of the above and more to her.

He jerked his thumb over one shoulder towards the driveway. Brit tried to sneak a peek around his broad, muscular chest, but he shifted so she couldn’t see. I’ve got a couple of fellas here who need a place to live. I thought maybe you could put them up for a while.

Where am I supposed to put them? she gasped. Why don’t you ask Jackie if they can’t live in my old apartment? I’m sure we could find enough spare furniture to fill the rooms, since Aunt Lolly never threw anything away.

Brandon shifted and stared down at his feet. You’ve got nine bedrooms here, Brit. The guys could help with the yard work and heavy lifting, plus they’ll pay you rent.

Wouldn’t they rather live in town? The apartment isn’t huge, but... she protested.

The apartment house burned to the ground last night, he replied somberly.

Shocked, Brit lifted her gaze and stared at him. Then her breath caught and she choked on her words. Burned...? Hamlet...? Oh dear Lord.

Brandon turned slightly and gestured to someone behind him. He turned back in time to see Brit collapse against the doorframe.

Tears pooled in her eyes. Hamlet, that poor...

A teenage boy stepped up on the porch and held out an animal carrier. Brit cried out when she caught sight of the seal point’s beautiful blue eyes staring out at her. Hamlet... how?

Brandon shook his head. When all of the excitement died down, one of the neighbors called to tell me your cat appeared on her doorstep this morning, hungry and dirty. He took the cage from the boy and set it down on the porch.

Squatting down, Brit unhooked the latch and scooped Hamlet into her arms. As she rose, her cheeks brushed against the scruffy tan fur. The faint odor of smoke and being outdoors drifted up at her. How had Hamlet survived? He’d never been outside the apartment before.

How did he get out without being hurt? Have you notified my neighbor? He must be worried about his cat... his belongings. Her eyes widened. Everything’s lost?

Brandon ran his fingers through his hair. I don’t know... no... and yes.

Once more she rubbed her cheek against the tangled fur; the dirt and ash transferred to her face to mingle with her tears. She wanted to brush the cat until he was his usual elegant, pristine self again. Poor baby. How did it happen, do you know yet?

It looks like arson, but I’m waiting for the lab results. Brandon moved to one side. Brit, about the guys, will you help me out here?

Brit gazed at her friend, momentarily confused, then focused on the teenage boy and the man standing at the foot of the steps. Both looked clean and well kept. The boy needed a haircut, and wore one of the unhappiest looks she’d ever seen.

Well, I...

Brandon latched on to her indecisive pause. Brit, this is Sean Hadwyn and his uncle, Galen. Galen’s the new history professor at the college in Willow Bend.

Oh. Brit blinked when the man stepped onto the porch. Galen had hair the color of sun ripened wheat and appeared as different from his nephew as day from night. Sean’s black mood blended with his appearance. Along with hair the color of black shoe polish, he completed his costume with a black tee, black jeans and black tennis shoes. When she peered into his face, she jerked back, startled to discover intensely blue eyes glaring back at her.

Her gaze wandered back to the uncle. Galen’s height dwarfed Brandon’s six feet one inch by four or five inches. The same intense blue eyes graced the handsome face of the uncle, just as they did the teenager. She’d only seen that color of blue in the ocean from the photographs Michele brought back from Puerto Rico.

We promise not to be any trouble, Miss Campbell. We haven’t really decided where we want to settle down and I didn’t want to sign any leases until we do. Brandon was kind enough to suggest we might be able to rent a couple of rooms from you for a while.

She looked from Galen to Sean, then Brandon before she turned back to face the new teacher for the college in the next town. "I didn’t mean to imply that you or your nephew would be any trouble. It’s just that... well..."

We’re complete strangers, Galen acknowledged, his tone completely understanding. Unfortunately, that will be the same wherever we go. I’ve got letters of recommendations from the administrator of the last school where I taught, one from my former landlord, and a couple of others. He hefted his book bag toward the floor.

No, no. She glanced at Brandon. I’m sure my friend at the local law enforcement agency did some checking on you. She stepped to the side. Please come in.

Hamlet curled in her arms, his purr loud against her chest. Brit rubbed her fingers through the matted, smoky smelling fur. Her heart broke when she felt a small cut on his side.

Sean walked past her and rolled his eyes. All that over a stupid cat?

Galen paused before glancing sheepishly at Brit. I’m sorry, Sean can be a little...

Teenagerish? she suggested, with a cocked eyebrow and a smile.

A look of relief touched Galen’s face. Yeah, you could say that. Thanks.

Brandon leaned forward and kissed Brit’s cheek. Thanks, squirt, I really appreciate your help. See you later.

Where do you think you’re going? she demanded and grabbed for his arm.

He easily danced away from her. I’ve got big plans for the day, sweetheart. Are we still on for dinner tomorrow?

She sighed. We’re still on, but you better bring double of whatever you were planning to bring.

The smile Brandon bestowed on her turned his boyish charm into heart stopping good looks. I owe you one, he called over his shoulder as he sauntered toward his pickup.

You owe me a lot more than one, buster. One of these days you’re going to get called on to pay up. She laughed and waved. Come on Hamlet. I’ll show you your new home, at least your home until your owner returns.

Three

Brit placed the soup tureen, filled to the brim with hot beef stew, on the kitchen table. The enticing aroma of the thick beef and vegetables caused her stomach to growl. Warily, she gazed at the clock. She’d informed the Hadwyns that dinner would be on the table at six. If they weren’t on time, she planned to eat without them. She’d kept busy cleaning the kitchen, taking stock of the freezers, and the canned goods in the pantry. She didn’t have any idea how her new boarders had spent their day after she’d shown them to their rooms.

Galen was very happy with Father Dom’s old room and Sean barely glanced at the guestroom where she’d put him. Without a word, the boy had quickly closed the door in her face.

She returned to the wall-mounted oven. When she opened the door to remove the cookie sheet of biscuits, a warm, buttery smell burst into the room. She inhaled one of the scents that always made her think of home.

Something smells good, Galen announced as he stepped into the room. Can I help you with anything?

Brit glanced at his freshly scrubbed face and hands, the spicy aroma of the soap he used wafted toward her. If you wouldn’t mind getting everyone something to drink. There’s milk, iced tea, water and soda. If you prefer something else, tell me and I’ll put it on my grocery list. I can stop at the store on my way home from work tomorrow.

Where do you work? Galen asked as he poured milk in two