Читать книгу Confessions - Lisa Jackson - Страница 13

Chapter Four

“DON’T YOU EVER think of the children? Of me?” Donna Powell’s voice carried up the stairs and Nadine squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she couldn’t hear the snatches of conversation that filtered into her room. Though her door was closed and she was lying on her bed on the opposite side of her small room, the argument seemed to pulse around her, rising like heat to the rafters and ricocheting off the sloped, papered ceilings. She’d waited for two hours, hoping her parents would climb up the stairs and go to bed so that she could safely sneak out, but their argument had started a few minutes ago and had quickly escalated into a horrible fight.

“What about all the promises?” Donna went on. “All the dreams you’ve put into the kids’ heads?”

Nadine barely dared breathe and put her hands over her ears, praying that they would stop, that this war that had been going on for the past few years would just end. But she knew it wouldn’t, and her stomach knotted at the thought that someday soon her mother would file for divorce.

“Please, God, no,” she whispered, fighting back tears. The room seemed stuffy and close and she had to get away. Away from the accusations. Away from the anger. Away from a house where love had died a long time ago.

To Hayden.

If he would still have her. If he wasn’t tied to Wynona Galveston.

Still lying on the bed, she reached for her denim cutoffs, slung carelessly over the bedpost, and she heard her mother’s sobs, broken only by well-worn phrases.

“How could you...everything we ever worked for... the kids...did you ever think once about them?”

Her father’s reply was muffled and sounded apologetic. Nadine couldn’t just lie on her sagging mattress, staring up at yellowed wallpaper, wondering if this would be the time her parents would wander up the stairs and tell their children that they were splitting up.

Besides, Hayden was waiting for her. He had to be.

She slipped out of bed, slid into the cutoffs and found a beat-up pair of Nikes her brother Ben had worn three years ago. Yanking a T-shirt over her head, she silently prayed her mother wouldn’t come up and check on her.

As she had when she was still a student at Gold Creek Elementary, she opened the bedroom window and hopped onto the wide sill. The heavy branch of the maple tree was less than a foot away. Nimbly Nadine swung onto the smooth limb, crawled to the trunk and shimmied to the ground.

Though it was late, summer heat was still rising from the earth. The moon was full, but partially obscured by clouds, and far in the distance the lights of Monroe Sawmill winked through the trees. She cast a look over her shoulder at the two-storied frame house her family rented. The only light glowed from the kitchen, and through the gauzy curtains, Nadine saw her mother, shoulders slumped, hips propped against the counter. Her father sat at the table, nursing a beer and scowling as he peeled the label from the bottle. For the first time in her life Nadine thought George Powell looked old.

He’d been cranky ever since they’d returned from the company picnic, and Nadine couldn’t help speculating if Hayden’s father was to blame. Garreth had cornered George Powell just before the festivities ended, and instead of seeming buoyed by his employer’s attention, George had been tight-mouthed and silent all the way home.

Biting her lip, Nadine turned and started walking through the sultry night, away from the anger, the hatred, the lying and heartache of that little house where once there had been so much love.

Dear God, what had gone wrong? She could still remember her mother and father in their younger years, while she and her two brothers were in elementary school. There had been hope and laughter and songs in their house on Larch Street in Gold Creek. Every Friday night, her mother had laughingly told her children she was “taking the day off.” Her father had come home from working the day shift at the mill and the family had eaten sandwiches at the big, round kitchen table. As Mom had cleaned up, Dad had dragged out the cards and taught the kids how to play go fish, rummy, pinochle and even poker. Later in the evening, after the cards had been shoved back into the drawer, Mom had played the piano. The whole family had sat in the living room singing familiar old songs, everything from ragtime and big band music to soft rock. Even their father had joined in, his rich baritone contrasting to Mom’s sweet soprano.

So when had it changed? Nadine kept walking. Fast. Her brow puckered and she bit hard on her lower lip. She began to sweat. A few cars passed, but, by instinct, she ducked into the shadows, waiting until the taillights, as two glowing red specks, disappeared in the distance.

Life had been good when the Powell family had lived in town, in their own house—a small ranch with three tiny bedrooms and a family room. It had been small, but cozy. Then, a few years ago, her father had decided that his family should sell their house in town and move to the rented place less than two miles from the lake.

Nadine’s feet crunched on the gravel strewn between the asphalt road and the ditch. The night was humid and thick, but she kept walking. Soon she’d be at the lake. It would be cooler near the water. And Hayden. He’d be there. He had to be. She crossed her fingers.

The first indication that something wasn’t right in her parents’ marriage had happened soon after they’d moved.

Nadine remembered the day vividly. It had been one of those hot, lazy summer Sundays when the whole family had planned to be together. In the past those days had been wonderful. The entire family picnicked in the backyard and feasted on Mom’s fried chicken, potato salad, berry pie and watermelon.

But that particular Sunday things had started out wrong. Ben and Kevin had been fighting, wrestling in their room across the hallway, and Ben, in an attempt to restrain his older brother, had thrown a punch that landed through plasterboard separating the boys’ room from the staircase.

Dad had been furious and threatened the boys with his belt. Her mother, horrified, had blanched at the size of the hole in the wall and had fought a losing battle with tears. Nadine had stood and stared at the wall, while her father had rounded up the boys, forcing them downstairs. “We may as well go get that firewood today anyway,” he’d said to his wife, as he’d herded Ben and Kevin to the pickup.

Mom hadn’t said a word, just watched from the back porch as the old truck had rolled backward down the lane. Then, without glancing in her daughter’s direction, had said, “You’d better get ready for church, Nadine.”

Nadine, staring longingly after the plume of dust in the drive, had been about to protest, but her mother’s eyes had narrowed quickly. “Now, don’t give me any back talk. I’m not in the mood. I’ve got a headache coming on and we’re late as it is, so hurry on upstairs!”

Nadine hadn’t argued. She’d thrown on her one good dress and had pulled her wild red-brown curls into a ponytail. Her mother had hardly said a word as she’d driven into town. Her thoughts had obviously been miles away, but as she’d parked the old Buick wagon in the church lot, she’d turned her head suddenly and stared at Nadine so intently that Nadine had wiped her cheek, sure there was a smudge on her face.

Donna’s eyes had been moist and red. She’d forced a trembling smile and touched Nadine’s hair. “Take my advice,” she’d said, fighting tears, “be careful who you marry. Don’t believe in fairy tales.”

Nadine had wanted to ask why, but had known from her mother’s expression that the question was better left unspoken. Later, after listening to the Reverend Osgood’s blistering sermon on the wages of sin, and catching a few curious looks from Mrs. Nelson, Donna had driven home without bothering to switch on the radio. She’d been so lost in thought, Nadine had been certain that she hadn’t even seen the road in front of them.

At home, after changing into faded slacks, Donna had baked a strawberry pie and started frying chicken, but she’d cooked as if with a vengeance, ordering Nadine to fetch her the oil, and the flour and whatever else she’d needed. Worst of all, she hadn’t sung. Not one solitary note. As long as Nadine could remember, Mom had sung while she worked in the kitchen. Just as she’d sung in the church choir, she’d sung while she’d hung up the clothes on the back porch, she’d sung with the radio when she drove to her part-time job at the town library and she’d hummed while flipping through magazines and dreaming. Music had always been a part of their lives. But that horrible Sunday, while prodding the sizzling pieces of chicken, Donna’s lips had been tightly compressed and deep lines had furrowed her usually smooth brow.

Later, when her father and brothers had returned, Mom’s grim expression hadn’t changed. The chicken had simmered in the frying pan on the stove, the pies had cooled on the kitchen counter and Donna, frowning, had swept the back porch as if she’d thought her life depended upon it, only looking up when she’d heard the familiar crunch of gravel under the battered old pickup’s tires.

The lines around her mouth had become firm and set, but she hadn’t stopped sweeping. Nadine, whose job it had been to take the potato peels to the compost pile, had stopped dead in her tracks.

George Powell had seemed to have forgotten his sons’ bad behavior. He had whistled as he’d parked the old pickup near the carport. His thick red hair had been wet with sweat, his face flushed. Kevin and Ben had torn out of the cab of the truck and found the hose. After taking long drinks, they’d taken delight in spraying each other and even casting a shot or two in Nadine’s direction.

“Smells good,” George had told his wife as he’d mounted the stairs and brushed her cheek with his lips. “Lord, am I hungry.” He’d tried to wrap his grimy arms around his wife, but she’d sidestepped his embrace.

“Supper’ll be ready in an hour.”

Rebuffed, Nadine’s father had rubbed a sore spot in his back and rotated his neck until it creaked. He’d caught sight of his daughter and winked. “You’re the lucky one, gal! You won’t have to work with your back, ever!”

“Don’t talk nonsense to the children—”

With a wide grin, he’d grabbed hold of his daughter and scooped her into his strong arms. “You, missy, might just be the first woman president.”

“I said, ‘Don’t talk nonsense to the children.’”

“Your ma’s no fun,” George had whispered into Nadine’s ear before setting her on her feet. “We’ve all got us a little investment plan.”

“With Garreth Monroe,” his wife had pointed out, scowling as she’d swept the floor so hard, Nadine had wondered if the broom handle might snap.

“And Thomas Fitzpatrick,” her father had defended, wiping the sweat from his ruddy face.

“With the money we had from that house of ours.” Her lips had turned white. “Rich people don’t make a habit of sharing their wealth.”

“Well, you might be surprised.” George had ignored his wife’s disapproval and managed to wrestle the hose from his sons. “You’ll see,” he’d told them all with a conspiratorial smile as he’d twisted off the faucet and sauntered into the carport where he kept a case of beer in a rattling old refrigerator. “When you kids are famous lawyers and surgeons, we’ll just see. Why, I might even buy your mother a new house or take her on a cruise.”

The lines around Donna Powell’s mouth had deepened. “That’ll be the day,” she’d mumbled under her breath, and Nadine had wondered why her mother was so cruel, why she didn’t believe in Daddy’s dreams. “I’ve never yet seen a Monroe or a Fitzpatrick doing a favor for anyone.”

“Garreth Monroe’s my boss. He wouldn’t sell me short.” George had wrenched the cap off his beer, set his boot on the fender of the family’s old Buick and taken a long swallow. “Yes sir,” he’d said, squinting at the small backyard. “We’ll move out of here...maybe get one of those fancy houses on the lake. How’d ya like that, honey?”

Donna had stopped sweeping for a moment. She’d leaned on the handle of her broom and the lines around her eyes had softened a little. A smile had teased her lips, and Nadine had been taken with how beautiful her mother was when she wasn’t worried.

“You’d have fancy dresses and jewelry and you wouldn’t have to run around in this rattletrap of a station wagon.” He’d kicked on the bumper to add emphasis to his words. “No way. We’d buy ourselves a fancy sports car. A BMW or a Mercedes.”

“A Cadillac,” she’d said. “One with leather seats, air-conditioning and a sunroof.”

“You got it!” George had said.

As if she’d been caught being frivolous, Donna had scowled suddenly and shoved the broom over her head and into the corner of the porch roof, jabbing at a mud-dauber’s nest. The wasp had buzzed frantically around its attacker’s head, but Donna hadn’t given up, she’d just kept poking the worn straw of the broom into the rafters until the dried mud nest had fallen to the floor. Grimacing, Donna had swept the remains, baby wasps, larvae and all under the porch rail and into the rhododendron bushes.

“You’ll be the richest woman in three counties,” George had predicted as he’d finished his beer.

“That’ll be the day,” Nadine’s mother had muttered, and her voice had rung with such bitter disappointment, Nadine’s stomach had tightened into a hot little knot.

“Come on, Kev. Ben, we’ve got work to do. You two unload the truck and I’ll split the wood. Nadine, you can bundle up the kindling.”

As Nadine had walked to the back of the woodshed where her father’s ax was planted on a scarred stump, she’d glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who had tucked the broom into a corner of the porch and walked stiffly through the screen door.

If only Mom believed she’d thought then as she’d thought oftentimes since. If only she trusted Dad!

Five years had gone by since that day. Five years of watching as the happiness the small family had once shared had begun to disintegrate, argument by argument. But the fighting wasn’t the worst part. It was the long, protracted silences Nadine found the most painful, when, for days, her mother wouldn’t speak to anyone in the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” her father had advised his children. “She’s just in one of her moods.” Or he’d blame his wife’s sour disposition on “her time of the month.” But Nadine knew that the problems ran much deeper. She was no longer a child, not quite so naive and realized that the root of her mother’s discontent had more to do with her husband than her menstrual cycle.

Her father’s dreams had begun to fade as, year after year, they still lived in the rented house outside of town. Now, not only did her father still work in the mill, but her oldest brother, Kevin, did, as well. Kevin had dropped out of college and returned to Gold Creek—a fatal mistake in Nadine’s opinion. A mistake she’d never make.

She walked so quickly, her legs began to ache. Her skin was damp with perspiration. The forest around the road grew thick, and the only sounds in the night were the thump of her shoes on the pavement and the noise of her own breathing. She thought of Hayden and rubbed her sweaty palms on the front of her cutoffs. Was she on a fool’s mission? What if he wasn’t waiting for her?

The smell of water carried on the wind, and Nadine hurried unerringly to the sandy shore of Whitefire Lake. She grimaced as she considered the old Indian legend that every now and then was whispered in the streets of Gold Creek and wondered if she should stay here until morning, sip from the lake and hope the God of the Sun would bless her. Her lips twisted when she thought about the reverend and what he would say about her blasphemous thoughts.

Following the shore to a dock, she recognized Ben’s boat. Ben had traded a summer’s worth of work as a handyman and yard boy for the boat and he paid a moorage to the owner of the dock, the father of a friend of his. Nadine had no qualms about using the craft. She climbed into the boat and rowed, watching as moonlight ribboned the water and fish rose to the calm surface.

There was no cooling breeze off the lake. The waters were still and calm; the only noises were the lap of her oars as they dipped into the water, and the nervous beat of her heart. Somewhere, in the far distant hills, thunder rumbled ominously.

She rowed toward the middle of the lake, and once she’d put a hundred yards between herself and the shore, she started the engine. The old motor coughed and died before roaring to life. With the partially blocked moon as her guide, and help from a powerful flashlight Ben kept in the boat, she steered the craft toward the north shore.

Three times she passed the entrance to the cove before she found the break in the shoreline that led to the lagoon. Her hands were oily on the helm. Turning inland, she steered through the narrow straight and, as the lake widened again, cut the boat’s engine. Slinging the mooring rope over her shoulder, she hopped over the side and anchored Ben’s craft. If her brother guessed what she was doing, he’d kill her, she thought uneasily, but closed her mind to her family and her problems at home. For now, she had to worry about Hayden. If he didn’t show up, she’d try to take Ben’s advice and forget him; if he did appear, her life would become even more complicated.

Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t. One of her father’s favorite sayings suddenly held a lot more meaning.

Listening to the sounds of the night, she recognized the soft hoot of an owl, the rustle of undergrowth as some night creature passed, the sigh of a gust of sudden wind as it shifted and turned, moving the branches overhead. Nervously she checked the luminous dial of her watch every three minutes.

As the first half hour passed, her reservations grew. How long would she wait? An hour? Two? Until dawn? The first few drops of rain began to fall from the sky.

The snapping of a twig caused her to jump to her feet. Heart pounding in her throat, she whirled, facing the noise. What if it wasn’t Hayden? What if his father...or some criminal escaping justice were hiding in the—

“Nadine?”

His voice made her knees go weak. “Over here.”

She saw him then. His dark profile emerged from a path between two trees. Relief chased away her apprehension and she walked quickly to him.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said as she approached, and before she could answer, he swept her into his arms and his lips claimed hers with such hunger, she melted inside. She kissed him eagerly, her arms wrapping around him, her heart thundering. He’d come for her!

His kiss was hot and demanding, his tongue anxious as it parted her lips and easily pried her teeth apart. Together they tumbled to the ground, hands and arms holding each other close. “Nadine, Nadine,” he whispered hoarsely over and over again.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t show up,” she whispered, tears suddenly filling her eyes.

“I said I would.”

“But you were with—”

“Shh.” He kissed her again. More tenderly. “I couldn’t have not come here if I’d wanted to,” he admitted, sighing as if his fate were sealed and he had no way to change it. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

“I told myself I’d wait until dawn.”

“And then?”

“Then I’d figure that you didn’t want to be with me.”

“If you only knew,” he whispered against her ear, his fingers twining in her hair.

He touched her chin, cupping her face, his eyes dark as a raindrop slid down his nose. “Nothing could have stopped me from being here. Not God. Not the devil. And not even my father.”

She thrilled as his lips found hers again and she kissed him feverishly. He moaned into her mouth as the kiss deepened, touching her very soul. His hands were gentle, but firm, and one of his legs wedged between hers. Her fingers curled over his shoulders and her breath was hot and trapped in her lungs. An uncoiling warmth started deep within her, spinning in hot circles, and caused her to press against him.

His hands found the hem of her T-shirt and explored the firm flesh of her abdomen, searching and probing, moving ever so slightly upward, scaling her ribs. She thought she would go mad with want and her own fingers tugged his shirt free of his jeans and felt the hard muscles of his chest, the light springy hair, the flat nipples that seemed to move beneath her hands. Groaning, he reached into her bra, drawing out breasts that ached for his touch.

Nadine’s nipples reacted and she wanted more. He yanked her T-shirt over her head and gazed down at her. Within seconds he’d disposed of the lacy scrap of cloth and was kneading her gently, his tanned hands dark against her white, veined skin, rain beginning to splash against the ground.

She moaned, and when he dipped his head to suckle, a shock wave caused her to buck against him, her hips instinctively pressing against his.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, his breath fanning her wet, taut nipple and causing an ache between her legs. She writhed as his tongue flicked across the hard tip. She wrenched off his shirt and her fingers dug into the sinewy muscles of his shoulders.

He took her hand and placed it on his fly. She reacted as if burned, her arm jerking backward. “It’s okay,” he insisted, and placed her palm squarely on the apex of his legs again. Her throat felt dry as a barren desert; her heartbeat thundered in her ears. Beneath his jeans, she felt him, hard and anxious. “That’s what you do to me,” he admitted, and she felt suddenly powerful.

Boldly she nuzzled his chest, her hand still in place against the soft fabric of his pants. She scraped her wet tongue across a nipple buried in downy hair and he made an animal sound.

She knew she was playing with fire, that soon this petting and kissing might get out of hand, but she didn’t care. Despite the rain, the night was hot, Hayden was hotter still and she wanted, more than anything, to kiss him forever. With him, her problems disappeared. All that mattered was Hayden.

His arms surrounded her and he found her lips again. Kissing her until she couldn’t breathe, crushing her naked breasts against his rock-solid chest, Hayden moved against her. His hardness, still encased in denim, pressed deep into her bare abdomen and he shivered, as if trying to restrain himself.

“I should never have asked you here,” he said, breaking off the kiss and breathing hard.

Nadine’s heart dropped. “Why?”

“Because I want to make love to you, Nadine.” He sighed against her hair and all his muscles grew tight and strident. “Nothing else in my life is working and you’re all I think about and I...I want you. In the worst possible way.” He said the words as if they were vile.

“Is that so wrong?” Tipping her face up to him, she blinked against the rain.

He laughed, but there was no mirth in the sound. “Not usually, but my intentions aren’t noble.”

Her heart began to break. “What do you mean?”

Gritting his teeth, he held her at arm’s length, his fingers digging into the flesh of her forearms, his eyes gazing deep into hers. “All I think about is making love to you. Here, on the beach, in my boat, in my bed, in some sleazy motel room. It doesn’t matter where, but I want you. More than I’ve ever wanted any girl. It’s driving me crazy. Right now, all I want to do is push you onto your back, kiss you until you can’t see straight and touch your body in places no one ever has. I want to pry your knees apart with my legs and I want to lie on top of you and make love to you until I can’t anymore.”

She knew she should be frightened, that his words were meant to scare her, but she wasn’t afraid. Even in the darkness she noticed the tortured expression on his face, the lines of self-loathing in the turn of his mouth. The wind lifted his hair from his forehead and blew across Nadine’s skin, but rather than cool her lust, the steamy breath of air seemed to further fan the flames of desire.

He rolled off her and sat on the ground, his arms slung over his knees, his muscular back to her. “I’ll take you home. Come back to the house and I’ll get the car and drive you—”

“I don’t want to leave.”

His muscles flexed. “Really, Nadine, this isn’t right—”

Reaching forward, she traced the outline of one wet muscled shoulder with her finger.

His breath whistled through his teeth. “Don’t!”

“I want to.”

Whirling, he grabbed her offending hand and held it tight in his. “This could go too far.”

“I don’t think it will—”

“Of course it will!” He dropped her hand and plowed ten fingers through his hair. “Are you a virgin?”

She felt as if she’d been slapped. “What’s that got to do with—”

“Are you a damned virgin?” His hands were suddenly on her shoulders and shaking her.

“Yes, but—”

He swore and shoved himself upright. “Get up.”

Suddenly embarrassed, she stood, but couldn’t hold her tongue. “Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a virgin?”

He rounded on her. His eyes were black as the breathless night. “I don’t see that it matters.”

“You started this.”

His mouth tightened. “No.”

“Good. Then I don’t have to worry about ruining your reputation, do I?” Standing on her tiptoe, she threw her arms around his neck and tilted her head upward. With a groan, he kissed her again, and lightning forked in the sky.

“This is wrong, Nadine.”

“Only if you think it is.”

He was already lowering himself to his knees, kissing her chin and neck, drawing her down and slowly dragging his wet tongue down her breasts as thunder cracked loudly through the hills. As they kneeled in the pooling moonlight, he cupped her breast and placed his mouth around the nipple. Slowly he drew on the dark bud, and Nadine shuddered to her very core.

“Is this what you want?” he asked.

“Mmm.” She couldn’t think or answer.

“Oh, Nadine.” Every muscle in his body went rigid and he drew in a long, ragged breath. His arms surrounded her again and he held her close, resting his chin upon her head. “I think we’d better take this slow...or at least slower. If it’s possible.” He found her T-shirt and tossed it to her. “Take me for a ride...in your boat.”

“My brother’s boat,” she corrected, feeling slightly wounded. Had she done something wrong? True, she didn’t know much about satisfying a man or even turning one on, but she’d thought, from Hayden’s response and her own, that everything was right.

She fumbled with her T-shirt, then waded to Ben’s boat. Hayden helped her guide the craft to the open water, and once in the middle of the lake, he reached over, turned off the ignition switch and let the boat drift. They kissed in the rain, lips touching as lightning sizzled through the air.

Throwing his jacket over her shoulders, he said, “We’ve got to get home. This isn’t safe.”

“I don’t care—”

“You will.” He guided the boat to the landing and cut the engine again. Helping her out of the boat, he slung an arm around her shoulders. As they walked to the county road, he shoved a lock of wet hair from her cheek. “Aren’t you going to ask me about Wynona?”

“Do you want to talk about her?”

“Not particularly.”

Nadine wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about the other girls in his life and yet she was curious, about everything that touched him. Especially the women.

“She’s the one my parents have chosen to be my wife.”

Nadine’s heart did a free-fall and hit rock bottom. “Your wife?” She was suddenly sick inside. He was going to marry someone else? Oh, God, how could she have behaved as she did? How could he have nearly made love to her?

“That’s what the old man wants. That’s what the car was all about. He gave me the Mercedes as an ‘engagement present.’ Trouble is, I’m not engaged.”

“Yet.”

He touched her arm. “Ever. At least not to Wynona.”

“She’s pretty.”

He snorted. “Do you think so?”

“Mmm.” She shivered. What was she doing out here alone with him discussing the physical attributes of the woman he was supposed to marry?

“Well, so does she.”

“Does...does she think you’re getting married?”

He scowled. “It’s hard to know what Wynona thinks, but I have a feeling that she’d do just about anything to get a piece of the old man’s fortune. Marrying me would be the easy way.”

Nadine’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Hayden talked about marriage as if it were a prize with which to bargain. She considered her parents’ union and knew that wedded bliss was something straight out of fairy tales. Yet she was enough of a romantic to believe that somewhere true love had to exist. It just had to!

She thought of Hayden kissing Wynona, touching her as he’d caressed Nadine, and her stomach roiled painfully. A question loomed between them and she told herself not to ask it, yet she had to know the truth. “You said you weren’t a virgin.”

He didn’t respond.

“Have you...did you...with Wynona?”

Clearing his throat, he grabbed her arm, causing her to stop walking. “Never.”

“But—”

“There was another girl.”

“Trish London,” Nadine guessed.

“So the word got around.” He started walking again, his fingers linked with hers. “Don’t believe everything you hear, Nadine. At least in Gold Creek. People like to stretch the truth.”

She knew instinctively that the subject was closed.

* * *

HAYDEN WALKED HER home. Over her protests, he insisted on seeing that she was safely on her back porch where he kissed her gently, then jogged back toward the road. She watched until he disappeared into the night. After assuring herself that he was really gone, she ran through the drizzle to the tree and climbed to the branch near her window. Carefully, so as not to make any noise, she slipped over the ledge and landed softly on the bare floor.

Letting out her breath, she began yanking off her soaked Nikes, but stopped short when she heard the click of a lighter and watched in horror as her mother, leaning against the bureau, lit a cigarette. The tiny flame gave Donna’s face a yellow, haggard appearance, and her lips were pulled into a deep frown as she drew in on the first smoke she’d inhaled in over five years.

Nadine’s heart nearly stopped. She was caught. There was no way around it.

“Want to tell me where you’ve been?” Donna asked, white smoke drifting from her mouth and nostrils as she clicked the lighter shut.

“At the lake.”

“With?”

“I went by myself,” Nadine said, sidestepping the lie.

“What did you do there?”

“Took a ride in Ben’s boat.”

“Hmm.” Another long, lung-burning drag on the cigarette. The tip glowed red, the only light in the room. The smell of burning tobacco mixed with rainwater. “Where?”

Shrugging, Nadine replied, “I just drove it around.”

“Alone?”

Obviously her mother didn’t believe her. “I...I overheard you and Dad. The fight. I...I had to get out.” Nadine tossed her sodden hair over her shoulders.

“So you walked nearly two miles in the middle of a thunderstorm and then spent the next three hours cruising around Whitefire Lake in the dark. Is that what you expect me to believe?”

“Yes.”

Sighing, her mother rested her forehead in her hand. “Of all my children, Nadine, you’ve given me the least amount of grief. Kevin...well, he’s got his problems. When he couldn’t play basketball anymore, he quit school and checked out—thought his life was over and took a job at that damned mill. As for Ben...we all know what a hothead he is. He thinks all problems can be solved with his fists or...in the case of girls, by opening his fly.” At Nadine’s swift intake of breath, she added, “I hate to admit it, but Ben’s girl-crazy. As for you... Oh, Nadine...” Her voice trailed off and she drew long on her cigarette again.

Nadine felt miserable. She’d never intended to disappoint her mother.

“So, now, tell me. My guess is that you were meeting a boy. Was it Sam?”

Nadine shook her head wretchedly.

“Then who?”

“I...I can’t say.”

“Why not? Won’t I approve?” When she didn’t answer, Donna made a quick waving motion in the air. “Well, no, I suppose I won’t. Meeting any boy this late at night is begging for trouble, Nadine.” She sat on the edge of Nadine’s bed, and the old mattress creaked. “I...I guess I should have told you this a long time ago. Maybe you’ve already figured it out, but Kevin wasn’t premature. I got pregnant and had to marry your father.” She worked the fingers of her free hand through her hair. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I probably would’ve married George anyway. But faced with having a baby, well, I just didn’t have any options. So there was no way out. I was stuck.” Blinking hard, she added, “I just don’t want the same thing to happen to you.”

“It won’t,” Nadine said, though her tongue tripped a bit when she realized how close she’d come to losing her virginity this very night. If Hayden had pushed her, seduced her, she wouldn’t have argued the point. Contrarily, she wanted to make love to him.

“So who’s the boy?”

“Mom, please, don’t ask.”

Stubbing her cigarette angrily in a dish on the bureau, Donna set her jaw. “Are you going to see him again?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“I’ll make it easy for you. Don’t see him again—ever.” Her mother stood and advanced on Nadine. “I’ll find out, you know. This is one helluva small town and someone will figure out who you’ve been sneaking around with. The truth will come out, Nadine, so don’t protect him. He’s probably not worth it.”

Nadine’s mind spun with thoughts of Ben.... No, he would never rat on her, but Patty Osgood would and so would Mary Beth Carter. A lot of people had seen her climb into Hayden’s speedboat at the lake. Her mother was right. It wouldn’t be long. But she wouldn’t be the person to name him. No. Instead she’d warn him that her mother was on the warpath.

“Well?”

“I can’t, Mom.”

Her mother’s lips drew into a disgusted line. “Well, whoever he is, I hope he’s as noble as you are.” She walked to the door, but stopped, her hands resting on the knob. “It goes without saying that you’re grounded. For the next two weeks. And if I ever catch you sneaking out of this room again, I’ll put a lock on the door and bar the windows.”

“Mom—”

“Don’t argue with me, Nadine. And believe this,” she said, turning, her face a study in determination. “I’ll do anything, anything I can to prevent you from making the same mistake I did.”

She slipped through the door and slammed it, her warning echoing through the room.

* * *

“THE BASTARD!” DONNA threw her dish towel into the sink and tears began to run from her eyes. Her husband tried to comfort her, to place his big hands upon her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. “How could you, George? How could you believe Garreth Monroe?”

Nadine reached for the screen door, but let her hand drop as she heard the tail end of the argument. Ben was running up the back steps, Bonanza leaping and barking at his heels. Nadine’s finger flew to her mouth. “Shh!” she ordered, but it was too late, her parents both turned and saw them huddled on the porch.

Nadine wanted to drop through the dusty floorboards, but Ben, oblivious to the argument still simmering in the kitchen, yanked open the door.

“You may as well both come in,” their father said, and Nadine noticed that his normally ruddy complexion was ashen. He gnawed on his lower lip and his hands fidgeted along the dirty red-and-black elastic of his suspenders. Sawdust was sprinkled in his hair and his broad shoulders looked as if they were weighted by invisible bricks. “As this concerns everyone in the family, we’d better talk it out. Sit down.” He kicked a chair away from the dining room table and, without a word, Nadine and Ben slumped into the worn wooden seats. “I’ll tell Kevin when he gets home.

“You all know that I’ve been promisin’ everyone in this family a whole lot of money. Education for you kids, a new house and car for your mother...everything.” His jaw wobbled slightly, and he paused to clear his throat. No one in the room dared breathe. “Well, it’s not gonna happen. The money I gave Mr. Monroe to invest is gone.”

“Gone?” Ben cried. “Gone where?”

George shrugged. “The investment didn’t pan out.”

“What do you mean, ‘didn’t pan out’?” Ben demanded, and Nadine’s stomach squeezed so hard, it hurt. “Where did it go? To old man Monroe’s pockets? To pay for one of his mistresses? To send his son to a private school?” Ben’s face was flushed, his eyes flashing fire.

“Now, hold on. I knew the investment was risky,” their father admitted, and Donna made a small whimpering sound. She leaned against the sink for support. “That’s the only way to make money—big money. The bigger the payoff, the riskier the investment.”

“What investment?”

“Oil wells.”

“Oh, God,” Donna whispered.

“You mean dry wells?” Ben demanded.

Nadine felt sorry for her father as he nodded curtly and said, “It appears that way.”

“But who says so? Monroe?”

“I saw the geological survey,” their father replied. “There’s nothin’ there but an empty hole.”

“Oh, it’s not empty,” Donna said bitterly. “It’s filled with every dollar we ever saved! It’s filled with the house we used to own, and it’s filled with our dreams, George, our damned, beautiful, foolish dreams!” Tears were tracking freely down her face, and Nadine wanted to run anywhere to get away from the awful truth and the doom she saw in her mother’s eyes.

“How could you trust a Monroe?” Ben demanded. “Everyone in town knows old Garreth’s as greedy and crooked as his brother-in-law. He was in on it, too, wasn’t he? I’ll bet it was Thomas Fitzpatrick’s idea. Monroe doesn’t have the brains to pull off a scam like this!”

“It wasn’t a scam.”

“Like hell!” Ben said, standing and kicking the table.

“Ben!” Donna’s back stiffened, but he didn’t listen to his mother.

He whirled, and planting his flat hands on the table, glared at Nadine. “Now you know what the Monroes are like, little sister,” he snarled. “All of them. Cut from the same cloth. And your precious Hayden is no different than his old man.”

“Oh, God,” Donna whispered. “Nadine. Not Hayden Monroe!” The lines of her face carved deep into her once beautiful skin, and Ben, realizing what he’d done, gritted his teeth.

Nadine’s spine stiffened, and though her eyes burned hot with unshed tears, she wouldn’t break down. She cared for Hayden, probably even loved him. And, deep down, he felt the same for her. She knew it.

“He’s the boy you were sneaking out with?” Donna demanded.

“Oh, hell,” Ben grumbled, apparently sick with himself.

“Who’s been sneaking out?” Kevin wanted to know as he shoved open the screen door.

“Nadine. With Hayden Monroe.” Donna’s condemning stare landed full force on her daughter. Her fingers curled around the edge of the table. “There’s just one thing I want to know,” she said, her voice trembling, and Nadine braced herself for the blow. “Tell me the truth, Nadine. If you lie I’ll find out anyway.”

Nadine lifted her gaze to meet her mother’s. “What?”

“Are you pregnant?”

“Pregnant?” Kevin repeated, shaking his head. “What’s going on here?”

Their father eyed his firstborn. “What’re you doing home so early?”

“I’m home for good, Dad,” Kevin replied as he flopped into a chair. “I got laid off today.”

“Laid off?” Donna said, and Nadine hated the disappointment in her parents’ eyes.

“Don’t you know? They’re cutting back shifts. The newest guys like me got pink slips.”

Nadine felt the doom settle over the roof of the little frame house.

“If you ask me,” Kevin said, “old man Monroe has lost it. And it’s probably because of his son. The kid’s gone ’round the bend, I guess.”

“Hayden?” Nadine whispered.

“You don’t know?” Kevin’s eyes scanned everyone in the room. “Hayden Monroe is in the hospital. He wrecked the old man’s boat this afternoon and the girl he was with, his fiancée, she’s been life-flighted to San Francisco. There’s a question whether she’ll make it or not.”

Nadine’s life splintered into a million pieces. “And Hayden...is he...?”

“Oh, he’ll be all right. Those Monroes are lucky bastards. The way I hear it, he broke a couple of ribs and tore up his leg, but he’ll survive.”

Donna was already reaching for the telephone, no doubt to confirm the story. Nadine crouched lower in her chair, her eyes hot with unshed tears.

The kitchen seemed to disappear, but she could still hear her mother’s quick questions to a friend of hers who worked at County Hospital. It was true enough; Hayden was lying in the hospital emergency room, in pain, perhaps more seriously hurt than Kevin knew.

She heard the receiver click and slowly raised her eyes to meet her mother’s. Donna nodded. “The Galveston girl is critical—crushed pelvis, possible internal injuries, but Hayden Monroe will be fine. There’s a question about him ever walking without a limp, but he’ll survive.”

“He’s at County?” Nadine asked, involuntarily reaching for her purse.

“That’s right.”

She felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. “I hate to do this, missy,” he said, his voice rasping with regret, “but you’re not going anywhere.”

“I’ve got to go....” She felt everyone’s eyes on her.

“You’re grounded,” her father said. “Don’t even ask me for how long ’cause I can’t begin to tell you. Now you listen hear, young lady. There’ll be no more sneaking out. Until Hayden Monroe is transferred to a hospital in San Francisco to be with his own doctors, you aren’t going anywhere.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me, Nadine. Believe me, I know best.” His faded eyes held hers. “I’ve learned my lesson about the Monroes the hard way, and I’m not going to stand by and see you get hurt.”

Panic surged through her. “I won’t—”

“You heard me. That’s it. We won’t speak of it again. As far as I’m concerned, you’re to forget you ever met Hayden Monroe.”