“I know that.” She met his gaze.
“Well, damn it all, Anna. She ain’t softened up one bit with someone to love her, after all.” Red grinned. “See you at work tomorrow, Clancy.”
***
They left town in the Bronco, Clancy behind the wheel, his knuckles getting whiter as they got closer to the Hendrix Bridge. His jaw was set in determination and he turned on the radio to distract himself, but he didn’t talk to her. He would drive fifty extra miles a day not to have to look that far down at the Red River flowing under the bridge, but if she wanted to go this way, then by damn, this was the way they would go.
“Clancy, turn this car around and go the other way,” Angel said when they were about a mile from the bridge. “Or else move over and let me drive.”
“Hell no!” he practically shouted. “I’m driving, and I’m driving across that bridge. A smart lady told me one time that I need to face my fears.”
“Like I told you before, the old one was a lot scarier than this one,” she told him.
“If that was the case, then I definitely would have let you drive and would have closed my eyes the whole way across it.”
His heart did double time when he saw the bridge ahead. Two kids riding bicycles were crossing, coming toward them, so he had to slow down. He gripped the steering wheel as tightly as he had the first time his father had let him drive at the age of eleven, and took a deep breath. When they were right in the middle of the bridge, he stopped the vehicle.
“Come here,” Clancy said. Angel popped the console up and moved over next to him.
“I need to feel you next to me, Angel. I’ve been thinking ever since we left the hospital. I’m scared of this new change, and I’m damned scared of this stupid bridge. But I can overcome anything with you beside me.”
“That’s right, Clancy, you can.” Angel snuggled against him. “We’ve crossed worse bridges than that one back there, you know. In the past month, we’ve crossed a lot of bridges. I’ve met you in the middle of some of them, and you’ve had to meet me in the middle of some that were higher than this. We can make it together, honey. Let’s go home.”
“Before we do, I want to ask you right here on top of this hellacious bridge if you’ll marry me, Angel. I still don’t deserve you after what I did all those years ago, but I’m hopelessly in love with you.” He kissed her and forgot about where they were.
“Okay,” she said. “Whenever and wherever you say. When you’re ready, call the tune, and I’ll dance to it. But, darlin’, there’s a police car pulling in behind us with the lights flashing.”
The policeman got out of the car and walked up to the door. “Y’all havin’ car trouble?” he asked. “Oh, I see that it’s you, Miz Angela. Are you all right?”
“I’m great,” she said.
“She said she’d marry me!” Clancy told the policeman. “I just proposed and she said yes.”
“I could think of more romantic places than this”—the policeman grinned—“but congratulations!”
***
Hilda opened the farmhouse door for them with a frown on her face.
“I’m engaged!” Angel said.
“Well, hot damn! It’s about time both of you woke up.” Hilda’s frown turned into a wide smile, and she rushed over to hug Angel. “I was just about to leave. Supper is on the stove. Does Jimmy know yet? Can I tell him when he gets to work tomorrow?”
“Of course you can,” Angel said.
“Just stack the dishes on the counter when you’re finished.” Hilda removed her apron and hung it on the back of a bench in the foyer. “I’ll put them in the dishwasher tomorrow morning, but I won’t be here until after you leave for work. My great-granddaughter has a dance recital tomorrow, and I promised her I’d be there.” She stopped and pointed her finger at Clancy’s nose. “If you ever make Angel cry again, you’ll have to deal with me. And when I finish, the buzzards get the leftovers. Now have a good supper.”
“Whew!” Clancy wiped sweat from his forehead. “Did I pass inspection at last? I can’t tell by the way she talks.”
“Yes, of course.” Angel smiled. “Now, will you hold me one more time and tell me what you said on that bridge? That you’re not scared when I’m with you. Was I dreaming or did you propose?”
He dropped down on one knee and took her hand in his. “I’ll do it right this time. Will you marry me, Angel, next Friday night?”
“Yes, Clancy, I’ll marry you, but why next Friday night?” she asked.
“You’ll see.” He stood up and gathered her into his arms for a kiss that sealed their promises and their hearts together forever and ever.
Epilogue
“What am I doing?” Angel looked in the mirror the very next Friday night. The same woman with the same kinky hair that she saw every morning looked back at her, but she didn’t have the answers to the questions in Angel’s heart. “Well, it’s time,” she said to her reflection. “Feels kind of crazy, but hey, I said whenever and wherever. If this is what Clancy wants, I’m willing to do it.”
Angela got into her shiny Jaguar and drove down Main Street in Tishomingo. The city rolled up the sidewalks at five o’clock and only one red light worked after ten, even if it was Friday night. She passed a few cars full of kids out for a drive, but mostly the little town was quiet. She made a sharp right turn across the Pennington Creek Bridge and carefully drove her car to the sandbar where a few people waited in folding chairs.
Red met her at the car. He wore his best western-cut suit with a carnation on the lapel. “You’re beautiful, and I’m glad for this honor.” He tucked her arm into his.
Fiddle music began off to one side. Then she heard Mindy on the keyboard, playing a few soft chords. Clancy had said there would be a few people and the girls, but that their wedding would be small, and now the band was set up to one side, playing as Red led her down the aisle between the two rows of chairs.
“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?” Dillon asked, but his voice didn’t boom like it did in the church.
“Her friends and I do,” Red said as he handed Angel’s hand to Clancy.
Dillon continued. “We are gathered here because this is the time of night that Clancy first met Angel, and this is the time of night, I’m told, that they parted company exactly ten years ago this day. Clancy says this is what he should have done that night. And now we’re doing something not everyone gets to do in their lifetime. We’re getting to go back in time.”
“Angel, I’ve got something to tell you,” Clancy said loud and clear. “I remember the words I spoke to you ten years ago, and I’m sorry, but like you’ve said, we are stronger now, and I for one am glad for this second chance.”
Angel reached out and took his hands in hers. She had chosen her dream wedding dress, white satin with a short train. Instead of a veil, she wore white baby roses braided into a crown on top of her unruly hair that she’d worn down just for Clancy. “I’ve got something to tell you, Clancy,” Angel said. “I’m glad that Fate, or Destiny, or God—whoever or whatever—has given us a second chance, and I do not intend to waste a moment of it.”
Clancy looked down into her eyes, and suddenly, Angel felt as if they were alone on the creek bank, just like they had been ten years ago.
He cleared his throat and said, “I love you with my whole heart, Angel. It’s been branded with your name for the past ten years, and I want to stay with you forever, through this lifetime and eternity.”
Angel noticed that her friends were brushing away tears, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could say anything.
“Clancy, I took one look at you when we were still in kindergarten, and I wanted to stay with you forever. And now I will, through this lifetime and eternity too.”
The minister spoke again.
“Angela Conrad and Clancy Morgan have mad
e their vows. These solemn promises are binding in the sight of God and these witnesses, and we come to the giving and receiving of rings,” he said and went on with the traditional ceremony, up to and including a very passionate kiss.
“And now I’ve got something to do,” Clancy said.
Dillon handed him a stick.
Clancy drew two entwining hearts in the sand and wrote FOREVER in the space where they connected. “I love you, Angel.”
Tears hung on her heavy dark lashes when she said, “I love you, Clancy.”
“Now, let’s go out to my house and have a little reception. I’ve invited a few friends for cake and champagne,” Meredith said.
Angel giggled. “That means the whole town.”
She gathered up the tail of her white satin wedding dress but hadn’t even taken one step when Clancy scooped her up and carried her to her car. “I hope you don’t mind if I drive this thing.”
“Do you know how to drive a stick shift?” she asked.
“Honey, I can drive anything that’s got a steering wheel, and with you beside me, I could even drive it over a high bridge,” he said.
“With you beside me, I could ride with you over those high spots.” She smiled. “Let’s get this reception done with and go home to the farm. We’ve got a three-day weekend to enjoy our honeymoon.”
***
Later that night, in the privacy of their bedroom at the farmhouse, they ate the cheese and fruit left by Hilda and tasted the sweetness of a bottle of champagne that Tom handed them when they drove away from Tishomingo. Then Clancy undressed her slowly in the moonlight and carried her to the bed, where he gently laid her down.
“I love you, Mrs. Morgan, and I hope we have a dozen children,” he whispered into her ear.
“I love you, too, Clancy. There’s no time like right now to get started on that big family, now, is there?”
Love sultrexy, small-town romance? You’re in for a real treat! Read on for a look at the first book in the Welcome to Magnolia Bay series from Babette de Jongh.
Chapter 1
“I hate people.” Abby Curtis wadded up the hem of her yellow bathrobe and dropped to her knees in the ditch. A pair of green eyes stared at her from the middle of the culvert. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she called.
The eyes blinked, but the kitten stayed put. Another stray dumped in front of Aunt Reva’s house, and it wasn’t going to trust humans again anytime soon. For a nanosecond, Abby thought about running back to the house to get Reva, but something told her the kitten would skedaddle the moment Abby turned her back.
Reva’s dog, Georgia, a Jack Russell terrier/cattle dog mix, peered through the other side of the culvert and whined. The kitten spun around to face the dog and hissed.
“Georgia.” Abby snapped her fingers. “Stay.”
The frightened kitten puffed up and growled at Georgia. Abby didn’t have Reva’s way with animals. But with the little dog’s expert help, she might be able to catch the kitten without bothering her aunt, who was in the house packing for a long-postponed trip.
Georgia whined again and the kitten backed up farther, her full attention on the dog.
Thankful the ditch had been mowed and recently treated for fire ants, Abby eased forward onto her belly in the damp grass. She reached into the culvert, ignoring the cool, muddy water that seeped through her robe and soaked her T-shirt and panties. Shutting out images of snakes and spiders, she scooted closer and stretched out farther.
Just a little bit more…
Georgia seemed to know exactly what to do. She fake-lunged toward the kitten, who spat and hopped backward into Abby’s outstretched hand. “Gotcha!” Abby grabbed the kitten’s scruff.
The kitten whirled and spun and scratched, but Abby held on, even when it sank needlelike teeth into Abby’s hand.
“Shh. Shh.” Abby got to her knees and stroked the kitten’s dark tortoiseshell fur. A girl, then. Like calicos, tortoiseshell cats were almost always female. “You’re okay, little girl. You’re all right.”
Abby’s robe had come open in the front, and the kitten pedaled all four feet with claws extended, scratching gouges in Abby’s exposed skin. She held on to the scruff of the kitten’s neck, crooning and humming. “You’re okay, baby.”
Georgia leaped with excitement, begging to see the kitten, who continued to struggle and scratch and bite.
“No, Georgia.” Abby wrapped the kitten in the folds of her robe and held it close. It calmed, but Abby could feel its body heaving with every desperate breath. “Not yet. She’s too scared.”
If this catch didn’t stick, Abby wouldn’t get another chance. Her fingers touched a raw, bloody patch on the kitten’s back: road rash from being thrown out of a moving vehicle.
God, Abby hated people. No wonder Aunt Reva had all but turned into a hermit, living out here in the boondocks alongside the kind of people who would do this. But then, Abby had learned that evil lived everywhere—north and south, city and country. She cuddled the kitten close, even while it tried to flay her skin with its desperate claws.
“Nobody’s going to hurt you, I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you, not ever again.” She could make that promise, because she knew Reva would keep the kitten or find it an even better home. All strays were welcome at Bayside Barn.
Abby herself was proof of that.
Disgusted with all of humanity, Abby struggled up out of the ditch, her mud-caked barn boots slipping on the dew-wet grass. She had just scrambled onto solid ground when a Harley blasted past, turned in at the drive next door, and stopped just past the ditch.
Uncomfortably aware that her bathrobe gaped open indecently and her hair hadn’t seen a hairbrush since yesterday afternoon, Abby hid behind the tall hedge between Aunt Reva’s place and the abandoned estate next door. Georgia clawed Abby’s legs in a “Help, pick me up” gesture.
“Lord, Georgia, I can’t hold both of you.”
Determined, Georgia scrabbled at Abby’s legs. One-handed, Abby scooped up all thirty pounds of the scaredy-cat dog. “It’s only a motorcycle.”
The sound of garbage trucks in the distance promised an even more terrifying situation if she didn’t get the kitten into the house soon. She held Georgia in one hand and clutched the covered-up kitten with the other, jiggling both of them in a hopefully soothing motion. “You’re okay. You’re both okay.”
The loud motorbike idled near the estate’s rusted-out mailbox. The rider put both booted feet down on the gravel drive. Tall, broad-shouldered, he wore motorcycle leathers and a black helmet with a tinted visor.
Georgia licked Abby’s chin, a plea to hurry back to the house before the garbage trucks ravaging the next block over ushered in the apocalypse.
“Shh. I want to go home, too, but…” If she fled from her hiding place, the motorcycle dude would notice a flash of movement when Abby’s yellow robe flapped behind her like a flag. What was this guy doing before 8:00 a.m. parking his motorcycle in a lonely driveway on this dead-end country road?
The rider got off the motorcycle and removed his helmet. His light-brown hair stood on end, then feathered down to cover his jacket collar.
His hair was the only soft thing about him. From his tanned skin to his angular face to his rigid jaw, from his wide shoulders to his bulging thighs to his scuffed black boots, the guy looked hard.
He waded through the tall weeds to the center of the easement and pulled up the moldy For Sale sign that had stood there for years. He tossed the sign into the weed-filled ditch and stalked back to his motorcycle. The beast roared down the potholed driveway to the old abandoned house, scattering gravel.
***
Quinn Lockhart sped down the long drive, a list of obstacles spinning through his head:
Cracked brick facade: Possible foundation problems.
Swimming pool: Green with algae and full of tadpoles, f
rogs—probably snakes too.
Overgrown acreage: Ten acres of out-of-control shrubs choked with vines and weeds.
He’d seen all this on his first and only inspection; he knew what he was getting into. Though he had never attempted to renovate and flip a long-abandoned house before, he knew he possessed the necessary skills to do it successfully. Hell. Even JP—the ex-business-partner and ex-friend he’d known since high school—had made a fricking fortune flipping houses. If all-talk, no-action JP could do it, Quinn could roll up his sleeves and do it ten times better. The sale of this polished-up diamond would provide the seed money he needed to start his own construction business in Magnolia Bay and, maybe even more important, prove his talent to future clients.
When his lowball offer was accepted, he hadn’t known whether to whoop or moan. The hidden gem of this dilapidated estate could only go up in value. Located on a remote back road several miles outside Magnolia Bay and an easy hour to New Orleans, the place was a rare find he wouldn’t have known about if he hadn’t been dating the local real estate agent who helped him find an apartment here after his divorce. But the next-to-nothing price and a small stash of cash for renovations had consumed every penny of the equity he’d received in the divorce. And he still hadn’t quite convinced himself that leaving New Orleans to follow his ex and their son to her hometown was the best decision he’d ever made.
He reminded himself that moving to Magnolia Bay was the only way he could spend enough time with his teenage son. After years of working more than he should and leaving Sean’s raising to Melissa, Quinn knew this was his last chance to rebuild the relationship between him and his son. Quinn was hoping they’d bond over the renovation, if he could convince Sean that helping out would be fun. So it wasn’t just a business decision; it was a last-ditch effort to be the kind of father Sean deserved.
When Delia Simmons, his real estate agent, showed him this estate, a thrill of excitement and hope had skittered through him. This old place had good bones. Putting it back together would be the first step toward putting his life back together.
Secrets in the Sand Page 16
