Only Fools Walk Free - Sandra R Neeley Page 0,9

heard that he contracted horrible illnesses. I’d heard that his fingers and toes, even the flesh of his face was dying and falling from his body. I’d hoped it was you, and I hoped that he knew it was you. I wanted him to suffer,” Clarice confided.

“He knew. And he suffered a great deal of pain and fear. I made sure he saw me each time he rested on his veranda, masked and veiled as he used to be to try to hide the disfigurement that grew unhindered. I’d stand in his line of sight and repeat all the curses I’d already brought down on him as I smiled wickedly at him. Each time he’d become frightened and ring that blasted bell for his servants to come bring him back inside.”

“He deserved it,” Clarice whispered.

‘Vangeline opened her arms, her own tears starting to flow. “Though it may have been deserved, it brought me no peace. I am so lonely without my Samuel. I am as devastated as you are,” she said quietly, tears streaming down her face.

Clarice rushed into her arms and together they cried, holding onto one another until neither had tears left.

“Are you happy here, child?” ‘Vangeline finally asked her.

“I’m at ease here. There is no happiness for me. But I’m left to my own devices here. And the prayers give me a chance to pray for Samuel always.”

‘Vangeline nodded. ‘I understand that,” she said. I’ve not known happiness since that day myself.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. ‘Vangeline. It’s all my fault,” Clarice said, beginning to sniffle again.

“Nonsense, child. You gave my son the most happiness he’s ever had. None of this was your fault.”

“My father…” Clarice started.

“Is not you,” ‘Vangeline finished with a firm tone.

Clarice nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Good. Now, I have something for you.” ‘Vangeline said, holding out her hand with the cameo resting in her palm. Clarice picked it up and looked questioningly at ‘Vangeline.

“It’s for you. Samuel bought it for you. It was to be your wedding ring. He wasn’t able to buy it before you married, but he was planning to give it to you when you joined him the night…”

Clarice clasped the ring to her chest. “The night my father had him killed,” she rushed out.

“Yes,” ‘Vangeline confirmed.

Clarice held the precious ring out to admire again, then slipped the cameo on her forefinger. “I will never take it off. The other sisters will not like it, but I don’t care. My father’s estate — my estate, makes regular payments to the church specifically earmarked for this convent and its upkeep. They’ll not make too much of a fuss. I’ll wear it always.”

‘Vangeline smiled. “I like seeing it where it belongs.”

“I do, too. I feel closer to him with it on. It’s almost like I can feel him,” Clarice said, clutching her closed fist with the ring on her forefinger to her breast.

“Will you come with me to visit him?” ‘Vangeline asked.

“You know where he is?!” Clarice asked, surprised that ‘Vangeline knew where his body was. She’d not heard anything of a funeral, and she’d waited a long time before she finally gave up and decided that her father must have hidden Samuel away to hide any evidence of his involvement.

“He’s in your family crypt.”

Clarice looked off out of the window, her eyes unseeing as her mind worked. “That’s why no one could find his body when I reported his death to the police. My father buried him in our crypt knowing no one would look there.”

‘Vangeline shook her head. “No, he didn’t.”

Clarice’s gaze returned to ‘Vangeline. “I don’t understand.”

‘Vangeline tried to smile, but it wouldn’t come. She shook her head then answered Clarice’s question. “Your father dumped Samuel’s still live, beaten, broken body in the crypt to die alone.”

Clarice’s tears started again. It was several moments before she was able to get control of herself once more. Then she nodded. “Yes. I’ll go to him. I only wish I could have gone to him when he was alive. I wish there was some way to let him know I still love him, that I was coming to meet him when my father intercepted me.”

“You know of me, Clarice?”

Clarice looked down at her hands, then up into the soft brown face and gentle eyes of one of the most powerful women in New Orleans. “Yes, ma’am. Samuel told me there was nothing to fear. So I never have. I trust you.”

“This may be hard for you to understand, but you