When Angel had turned eighteen, her great-grandpa Poppa John had died, and left his twenty acres to his only child—Angel’s grandmother. After his estate had been settled, she and her granny had left Tishomingo and gone back to Kemp. And it hadn’t happened a minute too soon, in anyone’s opinion. Memories flooded her mind.
* * *
“Don’t stay out late, Angela. We’ve got to pack in the morning,” her granny had reminded her. “Got to be out of the house before midnight or pay more rent, you know.”
“I know.” Angela had gone out the front door and walked west toward the dam. All summer she’d gone swimming every evening in Pennington Creek, and it was a good thing August had arrived, because her bikini was beginning to look as worn-out as her jeans. Most times it seemed like just a hop, skip, and a jump from her house to the swimming hole, but that evening the walk seemed to take forever.
Angel had shimmied out of her shorts and shirt, tugged the top of her bikini down and the bottoms up before she sat down on the sand bar and waited for Clancy. She picked up a twig and drew an interlocking heart in the sand. She put her initial in one heart, Clancy’s in the second one, and wrote baby in the part that interlocked. She loved him, and he loved her. The secret that they had been hiding all summer would come out as soon as she told him her news. Sure, they were young, but she had a scholarship, and he didn’t have to go to Oklahoma University. The important thing was that they would be together.
She soaked her feet in the lukewarm water while she waited. Clancy wouldn’t be there for another half-hour so she thought about all the scenarios lying ahead. She’d known the first time they’d accidentally met each other in this very place that she was flirting with big trouble, but she’d been in love with Clancy Morgan since kindergarten. If he would just touch her hand or kiss her one time before she moved away, she could survive forever on the memories. That he didn’t want anyone to know they were dating stung a little, but now their secret would be out in the public. Clancy was a good guy. He would do the right thing.
She was so deep in her thoughts that she barely heard the car tires crunching on gravel when he drove up close to the sand bar. She quickly ran a hand over the heart she had drawn. He was a smart guy. If he saw the secret in the sand, he would know immediately why she was smiling so big. She wanted to tell him and then feel his arms around her, and hear him telling her that everything would be fine.
Clancy plopped down on the sandbar beside her. Usually he drew her into his arms and kissed her the minute he arrived, but not that night. “We need to talk, Angela.”
“Yes, we do,” she said as she scooted over closer to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’ll go first. I’m pregnant.”
Her heart broke when he pushed her away. There had been a big fight. And her heart shattered into a million pieces when he said, “I can’t marry you or even live with you. Billy Joe has been in love with you since first grade. He won’t care if the baby isn’t really his.”
“Go to hell, Clancy,” she’d found enough courage to say. “I don’t need you anyway. I can take care of myself. They don’t stone women for being single mamas, so just go.”
With a shrug, he had turned and jogged up the bank to his car. She had watched the trail of dust follow him all the way to where he turned left to cross the bridge, and when it was out of sight, Angela had buried her face in her hands and sobbed, heartbroken and alone.
* * *
Angel pulled her thoughts back to the present and wiped away the tears. She returned to the newsletter and flipped through until she found Billy Joe’s bio. He was living in San Francisco where he was working as a computer technician. Under Comments he had written: I want to tell Angela Conrad hello wherever she is. She was the only person who treated me like an equal, and I have often thought of her. She was the one who told me to stop drinking years ago and got me on the road to recovery. Since then, I have come out of the closet and have a wonderful companion, Stephen. We are both very active in the gay rights movement and have had articles published in several papers and magazines.
Her amused response started as a weak giggle, grew into a chuckle, and then a full-fledged roar. So Billy Joe had finally come out with the news. She hoped Clancy Morgan had read Billy Joe’s contribution to the alumni newsletter. Perhaps it would help him remember his asinine remark to her that long-ago night beside Pennington Creek.
* * *
Clancy let himself into the house where he had grown up. His father had died while he was in Virginia with the Air Force and now his mother lived there alone. She was already sleeping and he tiptoed to the dining room, where he turned on the light above the table and set his newsletter down.
He put on a pot of coffee, and when it finished dripping, he poured himself a mug, sat down at the table, and turned to Angela Conrad’s brief bio. His heart fluttered softly, then dropped to a dull ache when he read what she’d written. He still didn’t know anything, except that she probably lived in Denison, since she gave a box number there. She’d given no personal information and Clancy wondered if she was married, single, or divorced. She didn’t mention it
