FOREVER LOVE

PROLOGUE

Bon Temps, Late November 1870

The day had dawned wet and cold, much colder than normal for late November in Northern Louisiana. It was the day after Thanksgiving, and cold rain was pouring down in icy sheets. It had rained almost every day for two weeks. The lead gray skies gave no promise of respite, and wind gusts up to ninety miles an hour made the icy rain cut through a body like frozen needles. The creeks and rivers had long over-flown their banks. The roads and fields were a muddy mess. Anyone unfortunate enough to be stuck out on the roads today was either a fool or on a man on a mission.

In the big house next to the Tall Pines Cemetery, Carolyn Compton nervously looked out the parlor window as she paced back and forth; her normally lovely face was riddled with anxiety and exhaustion. The small, blonde woman was worried about her husband, Bill. He had left to go to Shreveport on business ten days ago, but he hadn't returned. Even in this weather, he should have been back days ago as he had promised.

Caroline was in a state of panic; except for the war, it was not like Bill to stay away so long. In all the years she had known him, he had never broken a promise. She knew something was wrong. Cold terror gnawed at the pit of her stomach for days, and the feeling had grown stronger and stronger until she wanted to scream. She just wanted Bill home, warm and safe in her arms.

Her children, Thomas and Sarah, had been stuck in the house for days. Bored with waiting for their father's return, they quarreled loudly with each other until she thought she would go out of her mind. "Stop!" she yelled at them and sent them both to their rooms. The silence in the room on now did not comfort her; she felt more terrified than before.

Before he left, her husband had told her he planned to start back on Saturday and should have been home by Sunday night. "Where is he?" she asked for the hundredth time as she turned to her mother in law who was standing a few feet behind her, the older woman's face was lined with worry; she was fatigued from crying and lack of sleep, but she didn't speak. She couldn't.

When Bill didn't return by Monday, the woman became concerned, By Tuesday, she was worried and by Wednesday morning she was frantic. Later that day, she hitched up the farm wagon and rode over to Seth Holliday's house to ask her cousin for help. Bill and her cousin were close friends; he had told her many times that she could always rely on Seth if she was ever in trouble and he wasn't there.

Seth got a group of local men together to form a search party. They set out towards Shreveport early Thanksgiving morning. She had not heard a word from any of them in over twenty four house, and the lack of information was killing her. She hadn't eaten or slept in days and wondered if she ever would again. She felt disconnected and insubstantial like a ghost floating around the house.

Later that afternoon, Seth Holliday came to the front door. She opened the door and stepped aside as the big, bearded man silently entered the parlor. Without saying a word, she led him down the hall into the kitchen to warm up in front of the fireplace. Her mother in law, remembering her duties as matron of the house, offered him a hot copy of coffee and a biscuit. The woman stared blankly at the man dripping water and mud on the kitchen floor; his face was and grim and gray. She saw pity in his eyes and she began to scream. "Where is my husband, Seth?"

"I am sorry, Caroline." Her cousin said. "Bill's gone! "He was last seen Saturday morning as he prepared for his journey home. We searched the roads and the woods all the way back to Shreveport, but we found no trace of him. Everyone in Shreveport advised him to wait a few days until the weather cleared, but he was in a hurry to get home to get home to you. We found his horse and saddlebags by a river a few miles back. He must have tried to cross the river at high water and was carried away. I don't know if we will ever find him" Seth sat the saddlebags down on the kitchen table and slumped into a chair.

"No!" she screamed. "Bill is not a foolish man. He wouldn't take chances like that, no matter how much he wanted to get home." She sobbed silently and sank to her knees as her body was overcome with exhaustion. Grabbing the table to stop herself from falling further, she knelt there for a few minutes, her tears flooding down her face and her chest heaving with sorrow. The big man sat and looked at her in silence; pity filled his big heart. Finally he arose and lifted Caroline up, walked into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. He covered her with a quilt made by her mother-in-law, and left.

Caroline quickly fell into an exhausted sleep. When she awoke hours later, her two children were lying on the bed on either side of her, sleeping quietly. She looked over at her husband's saddlebags which had been brought into the bedroom and placed on a chair near the bed. Moving as quietly and as gently as she could, Caroline arose and opened the bags eagerly looking for some clue to her husband's whereabouts. There were no clues, only some paperwork and a small felt box wrapped in a blue ribbon.

She held the box in her hand for a moment or two before she opened it. Inside was a beautiful gold filigree locket on a delicate golden chain. She opened the locket and saw her picture on one side and Bill's on the other. She turned the locket over and on the back was the inscription, "To Caroline, Forever Love, Bill."

Tears spilled from her eyes as she raised his picture to her lips and kissed it tenderly. This locket was the last gift she would ever receive from her beloved Bill. She placed the locket around her neck, closed her eyes and wept some more. Finally when her exhausted body could take no more, she slept again.

A day later standing at the graveside, Caroline's beautiful face was pale and haggard; her eyes were red and puffy. She had lost weight and looked like she would easily blow away in the sharp November wind. The black dress and veil she wore only emphasized her paleness. She clutched at the gold locket around her neck as if holding on for dear life. As the preacher spoke, her body sagged. She was held erect by her son and mother-in-law even though Mother Compton looked as bad as she did. Barely thirty, Caroline felt ancient, empty and alone.

The service seemed to drag on forever, but she didn't hear the words the minister said. She didn't hear the soft murmurs of condolence expressed by her many friends and neighbors. The people here had all been friends of her husband and they truly mourned his death. But she was not thinking of that: her mind was in another place and another time. After the ceremony, she stood silently under a large black umbrella for hours after the others had left. She thought of the past and the man she loved.

Before the war, Caroline Isabelle Holliday was considered the most beautiful and eligible girl in the parish. Her life had been an endless round of parties and balls and shopping. She was beautiful, quick witted and lively with a sweet and kind nature. Most girls would have given anything to be her, but she hated the shallowness of her life. Young women of her social station were expected to only to look pretty, to have fine manners and to be concerned only with getting married and raising a family. But she knew there was more to life than that; there just had to be.

Her hand was sought after by the most eligible bachelors in the parish. She had actually turned several proposals down, and her parents were beginning to worry about her. She despised the vacuous dandies who primped and preened for her. They thought only of balls and gambling and how to spend their fathers' money; they never lifted a finger in hard work. In fact, when they were not chasing after a rich bride, many of them spent most of their time in the local bordellos.

What she really hated most of all was that she could not hold a good conversation with any of them. Like most males in her circle, they thought no woman was capable of deep, intellectual thought. When she wanted to discuss philosophy or literature, or God forbid, politics, they wanted her to talk only about party dresses and balls and gossip about everyone. If she had tried to talk farming or animal husbandry, she would have caused a scandal. The few men who seemed to be intelligent enough to carry on a decent conversation looked down at her in disapproval if she ever mentioned anything other than "womanly things" God, she was so bored!

She met Bill Compton at a dance while she was visiting her cousin in Bon Temps. He was so different from the other men she knew. He was strong and tall, rugged and tanned from working long days in the sun. He was quiet and reserved, but he was also confident of himself without being arrogant. He didn't need her to make small talk or ramble on and on like other young men did. They both felt comfortable talking or just sitting side by side in complete silence.

At first she was intrigued with Bill. Within days she was head over heels in love. She couldn't believe it when he finally proposed to her; she was so happy! They married a few months later. Their first child, a boy, was born within a year and a little girl two years later. They were on top of the world. They were so happy!

Her friends wondered why she had fallen for Bill; he was he the last person they ever expected her to marry. Oh, he was handsome enough they thought. He had those gorgeous blue eyes, sensuous mouth and dark brown hair that fell across his forehead just so. While his family wasn't rich, they didn't want for money either, but he was too serious; he just was not one of them.

Her friends thought he was too quiet and dull. He didn't have the flair or panache that most of her beaus had displayed. He didn't need to show off. He was well mannered and courteous, but he didn't engage in titillating gossip or in small talk like the others. They scornfully commented to each other that Bill Compton would rather work in the fields like a slave than engage in edifying conversation with someone in his own social class or attend a ball. They were convinced, he was not good enough for her or that she could be happy with him.

But, oh they were so wrong! They just didn't know how much she loved his quiet steadiness. They didn't know how kind and gentle he was, or how good she felt when she looked at him. They didn't understand how the sound of his soft, deep voice could make her skin tingle. They didn't know how his eyes glowed with tenderness and love when he looked at her. They didn't know how his simple touch could make her shiver with desire even after years of marriage and two children.

He was like a deep, cool well that succored her and filled her with love. He could make her laugh with his private little jokes meant only for her. He read poetry to her by candlelight in the evenings. His calm, steady voice soothed away the cares of the day. His warm embrace made her feel safe when the world was going crazy. He was faithful and true, and he was hers, only hers.

Although they had lived a comfortable life when they were first married, the war had changed all that. The war had ravaged the south leaving poverty, drudgery and hunger in its wake. Like many small towns, Bon Temps knew the harshest brutality of the war: the town had lost so many good men who were close friends, family or neighbors.

The years after he came home were only a little better, but Caroline didn't complain. When Bill returned home safe, she was overjoyed and thanked God. Soon they had her third child: a boy, Baby Lee, soon after. They both worked hard to make their lives better, sometimes, too hard. But she knew they were doing it for their family.

Baby Lee was only a year old when he died of pneumonia. Caroline thought her heart would break. She was never the same. The years of loneliness while he was away at war, the drudgery of farm work, the poverty and hunger and finally the loss of her son sometimes made her feel like she was going mad. Sometimes she would cry out and quarrel with Bill for no reason, but he was always there for her, holding her, comforting her. He was her rock. He was a part of her as she was part of him.

She remembered the morning he left. She had quarreled with him once again. She couldn't remember why really; it was some silly little thing of no consequence.. He held her patiently while she told him she hated their hard life. He kissed her softly on the cheek and said "It will be all right sweetheart, it will be all right, you'll see." He turned and walked out the door. He was going to Shreveport to obtain a loan from a friend.

While he was gone, she thought often about the quarrel and knew she was wrong. She planned to make it up to him when he returned, but now he was gone, and she would never get that chance. She hated herself because her last words to him were so harsh. She knew he didn't deserve it. She felt guilty and bereft; a sense of shame and loss overwhelmed her once more.

As the years passed, Caroline received several proposals, but she never remarried. Her face took on an almost ethereal quality, and then slowly her beauty began to fade. She continued to wear her black mourning dress and the locket he gave her.

She visited his grave frequently at dusk after the day's work was done. She loved the solitude of the cemetery at that time of day. As she knelt before his gravestone, she tenderly ran her fingers over his name: William Thomas Compton. Born April 9, 1840; Died November 25, 1870.

She knew his body wasn't actually in the grave; the stone was just a memorial to him, just some proof that a man named William Thomas Compton once lived. She frequently talked to him about their children telling him the simple little details of their lives. Some of the neighbors talked behind her back and said she was crazy, but she didn't care. She always felt close him when she was here.

From time to time, Caroline stood up and looked over her shoulder as if she sensed someone standing behind her. She'd call out. "I know someone is here. Who are you? Talk to me, please; let me see you.", but there was never an answer. She wasn't frightened; a warm sensation enveloped her, and she began to feel peace and comfort. She didn't know who it was; she only knew whomever or whatever it was, it was there to help her. She never told anyone, but she began to look forward to sensing her invisible companion, and when she poured her heart out to Bill, she knew she was talking to her companion as well. .

As she knelt back down, she thought to herself that she would never love anyone again the way she loved Bill. She was right; she was a widow until the day she died. Years later on her deathbed, the only words her family heard her say was "Bill! Bill!"

CHAPTER 2

Clarice, Louisiana, Present Day.

Carolyn Donovan jolted awake and cried out, "Don't go in Bill! Don't go in! Run! Please, run!" Pure terror paralyzed her for a few seconds and in her panic she didn't know where she was. Her heart beat so fast she thought her chest would burst as she cast her eyes wildly about. Still shaking with fright, but fighting hard to gain control, she managed to sit up in bed and took several deep breaths to slow down her rapidly beating heart. She looked at the clock on her nightstand; the time read 11:45pm.

She looked around the room and then over at the figure on the bed beside her. Chris, her husband of six months, was sleeping peacefully his ruggedly handsome face relaxed and shining softly in the moonlight. On an impulse she reached over and lovingly touched his face and ran her hand across his head. Chris sighed softly in his sleep; his sandy hair recently cut military style tickled her hand. "How can such a big brawny man look like such an innocent baby when he sleeps?" she said to herself with a smile.

She was grateful that she hadn't woken him. Tomorrow night Chris' army reserve unit was leaving for Iraq, and she wanted to make sure he got a good night's sleep his last night at home. She also did not want anything to spoil the last few hours they had left together. Since he received his orders to deploy, Carolyn had tried hard to hide her constant fear that he would be hurt or killed. She didn't want him to know how worried she was. This was the first time Chris would be away from her for any length of time since they had met a year ago. "He's a doctor; he won't actually be in battle." she tried assured to herself, but it never helped.

Still troubled by the intensity of the dream, Carolyn made herself take a few more deep breaths and felt her pulse slowing. Counting to five as she breathed slowly in and out she felt her body begin to relax. She looked around her bedroom again and was comforted by the familiarity of the room. "Everything is all right. I am here with Chris; I am right where I am supposed to be." She thought.

As she lay back down, she splayed her hands over her still flat stomach; she was almost ten weeks pregnant. Chris was elated the night she told him she was pregnant even though they had both planned to wait a few years before starting a family. Chris just started his residency at Clarice General Hospital three months ago while she managed her aunt's bookstore; money was a little scarce at this time. Any concern she had about telling him the news was quickly dissipated by his heartfelt jubilation. If possible, she loved him more than ever that night.

Although it was physically impossible, she imagined she felt the baby move. A feeling of love engulfed her chasing all the fear away. She felt warm and happy. She whispered to her child, "It's okay little one. All is well!"

She looked out the open window and saw the full moon high in the night sky. A balmy, summer night breeze gently blew the curtains back and forth making a soft rhythmic sound. Trying hard to go back to sleep, she thought of the dream that had caused her such a fright. Like so many times before, she had dreamt of a beautiful blonde woman named Caroline Compton who had lost her husband sometime after the Civil War.

The dream first occurred the night of her thirteenth birthday and stopped about a year ago after she met her husband, Chris. Through the years the dream had expanded until she came to know more and more about the intimate details of Caroline and Bill's daily lives. At first the intensity of the dream disturbed her, but for some reason, didn't frighten her. Eventually she began to look forward to the dream. She began feel as if she were connected to Carolyn and Bill in unexplainable way. She knew that her presence in the dream somehow gave Carolyn the support she needed to deal with her grief over losing Bill. In time, she realized that by seeing Bill through Caroline's eyes, she was falling in love with him too. She told herself that was perfectly ridiculous; how could any woman fall in love with a man who had been dead nearly for 150 years?

That birthday so many years ago was one she would never forget: earlier in the day while sitting at the breakfast table, her Aunt Maggie had given her an antique gold locket as a present. Carolyn always looked forward to her aunt's presents; Aunt Maggie always had a way of finding just the right thing that her niece would treasure forever. The locket was old and worn and she could make out a faint cursive inscription on the back, "To Caroline, Forever Love, Bill." Inside the locket she found two faded pictures of a dark haired man and a beautiful blonde woman. The woman seemed familiar to her somehow,

Aunt Maggie had found the locket in an antique store earlier that year. When she saw the beautiful old piece, she immediately thought of Carolyn. Carolyn sat at the table and turned the locket over and over; she wondered about the two people pictured there: were they sweethearts or married, perhaps. She wished she knew more about them.

As she held the locket lightly in her cupped in hands, a warm and comfortable tingling sensation suffused her body as her mind pictured the young couple on the day that the pictures were taken; she knew that whoever they were, they had loved each other. Carolyn often received odd sensations and images in her mind of people, places and things she did not know when she touched certain objects, especially if they were antique. It was if the object was trying to tell her a story.

Sometimes she got just a glimpse or two of a person who lived long ago. Sometimes a whole story with a beginning and end played out in her mind like a novel. Usually the images and feelings were pleasant, but occasionally they were a little scary, but Carolyn was never truly afraid. This morning what she felt was definitely a good sensation and she knew the couple she saw meant her no harm.

One day long ago, Carolyn told her aunt about these strange episodes and asked her what they meant. Aunt Maggie, who believed that the human mind was capable of much more than anyone could imagine, hugged her and told her that she was blessed with a special gift, and that she should never be afraid of it. She said she didn't understand how or why, but the images Carolyn saw when she touched these antiques were probably events that actually happened in the past, and that the people who had owned the objects wanted Carolyn to know their stories. Then Aunt Maggie said something strange: she theorized that sometimes the people that Carolyn saw in these images needed her help in some way, but then she had no idea how Carolyn could actually help them. Carolyn never forgot that statement.

This morning her dreams were as detailed and vivid as usual. So vivid that she felt Caroline's emotions of fear, loneliness and sorrow so intensely it was if they were her own. She felt as if she was there with standing with Caroline as she mourned Bill. But these feelings were nothing new, she always felt that way when she woke up.

But tonight something was different and terrifying. This time after seeing Caroline kneeling at Bill's grave after the funeral, the scene suddenly shifted: she saw Bill struggling through the dense brush on foot during what was clearly a late season hurricane. Bill was seeking shelter, his face and hands were scratched and bloodied by branches as he moved haltingly through the woods. He tripped frequently, but he always managed to pull himself to his feet. She could see a sense of fear on Bill's face as he wondered if he would ever make it home.

Suddenly, a rundown cabin appeared as if out of nowhere in a small clearing by the river. Bill stumbled toward it calling out "Is anyone there? I need help! Is anyone there?" He banged on the door for what seemed like hours, but could only have been only a second or two. The door slowly creaked opened showing only blackness as deep as the night inside. It reminded Carolyn of the yawning maw of some terrible giant beast.

A wave of terror engulfed Carolyn so intense it must have come from some primitive place deep within her. Whatever was inside that cabin was malignant and evil; it was death! In her dream, Carolyn called out: "Don't go in Bill, don't go in! Run! Please, run!" Bill hesitated for a moment, looked over his shoulder as if he heard someone call out his name in warning. Then he turned forward and stepped into the cabin. The moment he crossed the threshold and stepped into the inky blackness, Carolyn woke up screaming.

By now fully awake and unable to go back to sleep, Carolyn groaned to herself as she remembered her parents, Bradley and Ramona Davis, were flying in today from Boston. Her father, who was campaigning once again for re-election to his senate seat, had many contacts in Louisiana and was trying to drum up additional political contributions. Her father was well known in Boston's political circles. Publically dedicated to most liberal causes, her father often behaved like a bigot in private. Carolyn hated her father's hypocrisy, but the national polls showed he had a good chance of winning re-election.

Her mother, Ramona, had wanted to visit the newlyweds for few hours that morning; it would be their first official visit after the wedding. After first demurring, her father had finally consented. Carolyn sarcastically thought to herself that a picture of Bradley James Davis with his son-in-law, Captain Christopher Donovan, in his army uniform on his way to Iraq would be a great photo-op for his campaign.

Carolyn had wanted to spend the morning alone with Chris before he left to join his unit. She had actually considered asking her parents to re-schedule the visit, but Chris wouldn't hear of it. Always the peacemaker, Chris had hoped this visit would help heal the deep rift that had developed between Carolyn and her parents. Fat chance!"Carolyn thought."He doesn't know my dad." Chris was close to his own parents and would never understand the distant relationship his wife had with hers.

The visit actually turned out to be very pleasant, and that surprised Carolyn. She made brunch and her parents really made an effort to get to know Chris a lot better while they ate. Her father and Chris had quite a few interests in common, and they chatted comfortably. The two men had a long talk as they went for a walk around the neighborhood while she and her mother cleaned up the kitchen.

For the first time in her life, her parents seemed to enjoy her company and treated her as a competent adult. There were no cameras, no photographers and no tension. Carolyn relaxed and felt slightly ashamed of her thoughts earlier in the morning. After two hours, her parents hugged them both and left for New Orleans to attend a scheduled fund raiser.

That afternoon, Carolyn and Chris ate a light dinner then slowly made love on the old sofa in their living room. Since Chris did not want Carolyn to accompany him to the base, he kissed tenderly her at the door. The young couple waved goodbye to each other as Chris' army buddies waited in the car.

Feeling blue and missing Chris already, Carolyn visited her Aunt Maggie and Uncle Jake later that evening. Within fifteen minutes, the couple and their twin boys had Carolyn laughing and in better spirits. Still, when she went back to their apartment that night, the rooms felt so empty without Chris; she ended up crying herself to sleep.

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