Secrets in the Sand by Carolyn Brown

            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 about to flip the light switch when she heard the scrunch of gravel as Clancy drove up.

            She heard his car door slam and turned to see Clancy walking up the flower-edged sidewalk to the porch. Her first thought was to pull that little revolver out of her purse and shoot him before he reached her porch; her second was to meet him halfway and drag him up to her bedroom.

            “This where you live?” he asked casually. Leave it to Clancy to act as if nothing important had ever happened between them.

            “No, this is where my boyfriend and I live together,” she retorted as hatefully as she could, and then wondered where that lie came from.

            “Oh, really?” He was beside her. “What’s his name?”

            “Nosy, aren’t you?” she said.

            “You still haven’t told me the story of your life,” he said calmly.

            Clancy sat down in the porch swing as if he owned the place.

            “I’m too tired and emotional to talk right now. If you really want to talk to me, then you can wait right here on the porch until I settle down. I need a few hours rest. I played a gig half the night, and I plan to work here all weekend. Looks like you’ve been up all night, too, but that’s your problem, Clancy. Good night or morning or whatever. We’ll talk when I wake up if you still want to hear anything about me,” Angel said, and closed the door.

            She bypassed the kitchen and went straight upstairs, took a quick shower and crawled into the four-poster bed. So now he knew where she lived and where she worked. She pulled a pillow over her eyes and willed her tired mind and body to go to sleep. She awoke in the middle of the afternoon. She could hear a lawn mower in the backyard, so evidently Jimmy was working back there. The noise of the vacuum cleaner in the living room let her know Hilda was busy.

            What would her granny have told her to do about a problem like Clancy ten years after that horrible night? Every word he’d said still rang in her ears. “Angela, you mean to say you aren’t on the pill? Hellfire and damnation, I never would’ve—” Clancy stopped and glared at her. “Well, it won’t work. I’m not going to marry you. Lord, I’d be the laughingstock of the whole damn town of Tishomingo.”

            “Did I ask you to marry me?” She looked up at him. “Go on to the Dairy Queen where all you popular kids hang out. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on being with Melissa and the rest of your friends. Forget all about us. About everything we did this summer. Go have a happy life,” she had said in a voice just barely above a whisper, hoarse with emotion.