By
RD Larson
Built in 1850 St. Mary's Cemetery sat there, gray as the dead, and just as dismal in the rain. Many of the old graves had sunken. I stumbled. The tangle of weeds threatened to pitch me against a leaning headstone. It was beyond me to find a sane reason for Tino to insist that I meet him here.
I am such a fool; I ragged on myself. No, I am a guilty sinner. Here I am, traipsing around in a dark after a married man who had no future to offer me. I knew how stupid it was to get "involved" as they say with a man like Tino. I knew better. He simply seduced me with charm.
I stumbled and dropped my purse. As I bent to pick it up, I read the headstone. The black letters against the wet marble that caught my sudden choking attention. I gasped out loud.
Tino grabbed me by the arm as I slipped in the grass and muck. I could smell his cologne and felt the rough wool of his damp jacket. In stark fear, I collapsed against him.
"There, there, darling, don't worry." His voice swept over me. I relaxed as he could calm me as only he could.
"Look, look at that headstone," I cried out, pointing in the glare of the flashlight.
"Oh, I know. Isn't it funny? I knew you'd laugh. That's why I wanted you to meet me here." Tino's hand closed on my arm. He tilted my rain-stained face up to meet his laughing face.
"Why is my name on that headstone?" I demanded, arching back to look up into his dark Gypsy eyes
end
