Wildflower Bride in Dry Creek. Janet Tronstad
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She sat down on the seat in the cab. And that’s when she saw the photo.
“You’ve got my picture,” she said, pointing to it. “Right there.”
She hated that picture. Her father’s secretary had taken the shot, and Angelina thought it made her look like a porcelain doll. No one needed a wedding dress with that much netting. But when she complained, her father had merely sent the garment back for adjustments.
“Ah—” Tyler stopped with his hand on the door. “It was for identification purposes.”
“You needed a picture to identify me! We spent my whole senior year together.”
“Well, of course, I know what you look like,” Tyler said as he put his right hand up and ran his fingers through his hair. She remembered that gesture. It meant he didn’t want to admit something.
“Then why did you have the picture?” she asked, some of her pride soothed.
“I was trying to figure out why you were marrying that Daryl guy.”
“Derrick,” she corrected him automatically. “His name is Derrick. And I’m not marrying him.”
“Your father said the wedding was all set and is just postponed.”
“There is no wedding.”
“I have a feeling that will change,” Tyler said gloomily and with that he shut her door.
She watched him walk around the pickup toward his own door. Strangely enough, she kind of liked that he was curious about her and Derrick. She had confided in Tyler when she was in high school, but that was a long time ago. She wondered if he might be just a little bit jealous.
The truth was she didn’t have good radar when it came to men. Mrs. Hargrove was helping her correct that and, when she had gotten to know the older woman, Angelina could see that Mrs. Hargrove and her husband were deeply in love with each other and with God. They had given her hope that she might find someone special like that, too, someday.
All of her life Angelina had felt like she was on the outskirts of something warm and cozy because she was not important to anyone’s happiness. Maybe if her mother hadn’t died when she was young, she would have more of a sense of being part of a family. But it had just been her and her father for as long as she could remember and he had been preoccupied with building his empire. What he had was never enough for him.
Tyler opened his door and climbed into the driver’s seat of the pickup.
Of course, Tyler never needed anyone or anything but himself, either.
Her big problem, she told herself still looking at him out of the corner of her eye, was that she always fell for the bad boys. She liked to believe one of them would draw her so close that his life would be empty without her. Unfortunately, good girls with trust funds should never go for the bad boys. Her father hadn’t given her much advice, or attention, over the years, but he had drilled that one lesson into her teenage head.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought her father had Tyler in mind when he gave her that lecture.
Of course, she doubted Mrs. Hargrove would think Tyler was the one for her, either. It’d be hard for him to claim he was a godly man and that was number one on the older woman’s qualities for a husband.
“Don’t you ever pray?” she asked him now, her voice quiet.
Tyler looked at her and shook his head.
Well, she knew that, she told herself. There was no need for disappointment. She just needed to press forward with the memorial tonight. Maybe that would help her say a final goodbye to Tyler.
Chapter Two
Tyler kept his eyes on the road as he drove. The afternoon sun was low in the sky, but it was behind him so he could see clearly without squinting. His window was down a little and the faint smell of sage drifted in. He was trying to keep things between him and Angelina in perspective. Her tears hadn’t been for him personally. It had been unsettling for her to see someone she thought was dead, but that would pass.
Her feelings had always been delicate.
Besides, her father was right to warn him away from her. If he ever married, Tyler told himself he should marry someone who knew what it was like to survive with little money. Someone who’d grown up in the country like he had. He might still think about Angelina, but that was probably just because that year guarding her had been the happiest one of his life. He hadn’t had many friends in his life and no one bubbled over with happiness like she did.
He tried to relax the muscles on his shoulders. The more he thought about it, the more likely he decided it was that Angelina was going to marry that man. She always was skittish about serious relationships. All of her worry about having the man investigated was probably a stalling tactic, just something to allow her some breathing room. It was hard for her to trust men. Her father might not have spent much time with her when she was growing up, but he was unerring in his understanding of her.
Tyler unclenched his teeth and smiled at her. He’d call her bluff on this one and contact Clyde.
“I forgot how dry it can be this time of year,” Tyler said, feeling the slight movement of air on his face. “It’s nice though.”
He glanced over at Angelina and she was looking straight ahead.
Clumps of scrub grass covered the ground on both sides of his pickup and the prairie spread out into the distance with a few weeds and some tiny wildflowers showing up here and there. He’d guess they were bluebells. Back down the road a piece, he had seen a desert cottontail rabbit, its brown body crouched low beside a fence post. The blue sky faded to white in the heat of the day.
“There’s not too much breeze coming in for you, is there?” he asked her, suddenly realizing he hadn’t found out if she minded if he kept his window open a little. He might not be in her social class, but he had always tried to have common courtesy. And women worried about their hair no matter how much money they had. “I know it can be dusty.”
“I drive a convertible,” she replied, turning to him with a quiet smile. Her hair had fallen into place after her ride to town and he hadn’t even seen her pull out a comb.
“Oh.” He looked down to see if she had a purse with her that might hold a brush of some kind. That’s when he saw she was tapping one foot on the floorboard. It wasn’t loud enough to be heard above the engine, but he knew her well enough to know that any kind of foot tapping was a sure sign she was nervous.
“I see someone worked on the road out here,” he said as he looked up again. He didn’t know what could be wrong. Maybe she was worried he might misinterpret the funeral she was planning for him. He should assure her that he understood she had done it because she remembered him from the past.
Before Tyler could say anything, his eyes were drawn down again. He’d always worn cowboy boots, but he marveled at the sparkly footwear Angelina seemed to find. She had tiny leather straps running over her feet and the largest rhinestones he’d ever seen were cinching the pieces together. At least, he hoped they were rhinestones. With her money, he wasn’t sure that they weren’t some kind of rare jewel.
He reigned in his thoughts and tried to focus. “My father kept calling the county officials about the road before—”
Angelina’s tapping stopped. Tyler winced. He should have known better than to bring up his father. Not everyone was comfortable being reminded of a man who had been murdered.
“Not everyone knows that the gravel needs to be just right for these roads,” Tyler pressed on, turning his eyes completely away from her feet and trying to salvage the conversation.
He could feel Angelina looking at him even though he kept staring ahead.
“For the road to be bladed,” he continued, set in his course, “it needs at least four inches