She shouted for Mirielle to get out. She called me a whore and said I wasn't her daughter. I'd never seen anything like this. Emily, who'd returned to...the doorway, started to cry.Mirielle ran from the house and escaped. I ran to Emily and hugged her. "Please forgive me," I muttered into her ear. I shielded her from mother, covering her eyes. She clung to me. For that, at least, I was glad.We retreated upstairs to her room and closed the door, while the storm raged below."What happened?" Look,. I left the Bluebird Diner somewhat lighter in heart, wondering if she was the angel who would save me.The St. Andrews Cemetery is very old, the earliest tombstones bearing 18th century dates when they can be read at all. I could not find the sexton, so I roamed the place looking for my father's grave. I stopped a moment to look at a hulking mausoleum. In the stone lintel was carved "CLEAVER". Here lay the eponymous founder of the town and his family. Graveyards give you the pleasure of thinking. Oh, they're still married. She delivers before graduation day at school. She's pregnant, big-time.She's not the only one, either, although there's another married couple. And several that I know are pregnant because they show in various degrees. And then there are the rumors of 'so-and-so got knocked up but she got an abortion'.Then there's me. A month ago I'd never seen a man's private parts other than the sterilized pictures in reference and text books, and Lane came along. It's strange,. "She's happy now. At least, that's what she says." It didn't answer the question-- but in a way, it said everything I needed to know."Anyway, when a girl like her gets it in her head that she wants something, she gets it. Sooner or later. I should know..." Carrie smiled her seductive smile again. Given the context, it made me nervous-- weakened my willpower. I sipped my whiskey again.Noticing the silence, her tone changed. "Give me a sec," she said-- then did a lap around the bar, asking if any.