Laid Out and Candle Lit by Ann Everett Page B

you.”
    A whispered laugh escaped her lips. “This from a man who keeps telling me to trust him. ”
    He smiled. “Well, the smart ass in you is still intact, so I guess you’re all right. You said your head filled with thoughts. What were they?”
    “I couldn’t understand them because they were all coming so fast. I asked about Marlene and I think they were trying to tell me something, but nothing was clear.”
    He cupped her elbow with his hand. “Do you feel like you can stand up?”
    “Sure.” She attempted to stand, but wobbled and reached back for the tree. Ridge caught her around her waist and pulled her to him.
    “I’m sorry. I need another minute.” She rested her head on his chest. She liked the way her body fit against his. In his arms, she felt safe and as if nothing could happen to her. Neither of them spoke and she could hear the rhythm of his heartbeat. It was pounding, the same as hers. Finally, her head stopped spinning and she pushed away from him. “I’m better,” she said.
    “You look a little better. You’re beginning to get some color back in your cheeks. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you think you can walk?”
    “I think so. Where do you want to walk?”
    “I thought you might introduce me to some of your friends and family.” He gestured with his hand toward the graves.
    “Are you serious?”
    “Absolutely,” he said.
    “Okay.” She hooked her arm in his and they walked to Boone’s grave. “Well, you’ve met Boone, but over here is my Grandma and Poppa Perry.” Making their way up two rows, she stopped in front of a large polished black headstone. “This is Paw McAlister.”
    She gestured with her hand as if making a presentation. “Everyone, this is Ridge Cooper. The Ranger I was telling you about.”
    “You’ve told them about me?”
    “I mentioned you were investigating Marlene’s murder.”
    He scanned the graves from one side to the other. “You said everyone has a story, so pick somebody and tell me theirs.”
    She smiled with a twinkle in her eyes, pleased he was interested. “You choose someone.”
    “Okay.” He took her hand and led her up and down the rows, then stopped at two stones with the same last name. “What about these?”
    “Stanley and Leo Watkins. Bless their hearts. They were both simple. Couldn’t read, write, or tell time, but cussed like sailors. The men in town teased them unmercifully. All in fun, of course, but kinda cruel when you think about it. Anyway, Stan and Leo had an older brother who got killed in World War Two, and since he wasn’t married, they received his benefits.”
    She laughed, and noticed Ridge was smiling. “It was probably more money than they’d seen at one time. Anyway, they took the cash to an auction, and spent every penny on phonograph records. Understand, they didn’t own a record player. Well, they pulled into town with the back of their pick-up full of the records and parked in front of the grocery store.”
    Tizzy stepped from side to side as she told the story, now in full-swing. “The men congregated in front of the store, jokingly asked Stan and Leo for some of the records, since they had so many. Of course, they refused. But the men wouldn’t give up and kept badgering them until the brothers became agitated. Finally, Stan couldn’t take anymore and shouted, ‘If you want some records, let your own goddamn brother get killed in the war!’”
    Ridge laughed. “How do you know that story?”
    “My daddy. All the men in my family are good storytellers.”
    Ridge pulled his brows together, and his voice took a serious tone. “Most people think a cemetery is depressing, but the whole idea of death doesn’t seem to bother you. Why not?”
    “I think there are things worse than death,” she said.
    He cocked his head to one side. “Like what?”
    “Lots of things.” She shrugged. “Fear. Loneliness. Suffering. Torture.”
    Tizzy gazed out over the graves. “Have you ever thought someday,