Secrets in the Sand - Carolyn Brown Page 0,11
so badly, she nearly dropped her pearl-handled .22 pistol. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted to kill him…or kiss him.
“Maybe I don’t have any right to talk to you at all,” Clancy said. “I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want. I just wanted to satisfy my curiosity, I guess. I waited in the parking lot at that honky-tonk up in Davis and followed you. Do you work for that oil company or something?”
“It’s none of your damned business where I work or what I do, and that’s called stalking. Go home to your small town, Clancy. I’m not a naive little girl anymore. And I’m sure as hell not impressed with you. You want to talk, just follow me.” She slammed the door to his car and stomped back to her vehicle.
Clancy noticed a sign that said Muddy Creek Road when they turned right and suddenly his tires were crunching over gravel, but Angel didn’t slow down much. Just when he thought it was as bad as it could get, the road turned into little more than a pathway with tall weeds on either side towering over his vehicle. He’d need a machete to chop his way out of this mess if he ran out of gas. Grass grew at least knee-high in the middle of the two ruts, and he wondered if she was leading him out into the middle of someone’s farm pond to drown him.
Then she whipped the Jaguar into a cemetery. She parked and got out of her car, crossed over to a grave, and dropped down on her knees in the fenced enclosure at the far east side of the little cemetery. He got out of his vehicle and followed her.
“I didn’t want to come to a cemetery. I want to talk about what happened after that night after I left you at the creek,” he said. “Is this where your grandmother is buried?” He read the name on the center granite stone, DOROTHY JUNE CONRAD, then turned and read the one to her right, JOHN HERMAN CONRAD. Before he could look at the one to the left, Angel was standing in front of the tombstone, shielding it.
“You don’t deserve this,” she declared.
“What happened, Angel? Did you marry someone? Did you have our baby and give it away, or did you keep it? God, I thought you’d embarrass me and tell everyone in Tishomingo it was mine, but you didn’t. Then you were gone, and I was so relieved…but now—”
“But now what?” She tried to will the tears to dry up, but they dripped down her cheeks.
“I want to know what happened. Angel, give me some answers. What happened to our child?”
She stepped to one side and sat down on the park bench beside the third tombstone. “There is your answer,” she whispered.
And he read aloud, “Clancy Morgan Conrad.”
“Our son was stillborn. Eight pounds, and so beautiful he would take your breath away, but he couldn’t live—not any more than your love for me could live. Now you’ve got your answers, so go away, Clancy Morgan, and leave me alone,” she said through clenched teeth.
Chapter 4
Clancy’s gut clenched. Tears filled his eyes. No wonder she hated him. He should walk away but he couldn’t force his eyes away from his son’s name, birthday, and death date—which were the same.
“Did he live long?” he asked.
“He didn’t even take a breath. He was stillborn.” Tears dripped off her jaw. “I wanted him so badly, but I didn’t get to keep him. God punished me for being ashamed that I was pregnant. I’m going home. You can stay here as long as you want.”
“Can we please talk some more?” he pleaded. “I’ll leave you alone if you’ll just talk to me.”
“You can follow me home,” she said, “but then I don’t want to see you again after we talk.”
He hurried back to his vehicle and once again fell in behind her. Emotions ran through his heart like they were on a fast roller coaster. He had a son, but he didn’t, and Angel had named the baby after him after the way he’d treated her. She drove a mile to the north, and then took a road to the right and drove down a beautiful macadam lane with trees and flowers growing on both sides.
Angel didn’t stop to smell the roses or enjoy the morning glories as she stomped across the wooden porch to the front door of the farmhouse. She opened the door and was