much.
Hayden’s eyes were hidden by sunglasses again, but Nadine felt the power of his gaze. Somehow she managed to make a few sentences of small talk before spying Mary Beth. “Look, nice to meet you, but I’ve got to run,” she said, hoping to stop the awkward conversation.
“Nice meeting you, too,” Wynona sang out as Nadine hurried past them. In the brief seconds Hayden had restrained her, Nadine had felt his fingers tighten possessively against the soft flesh of her upper arm, reminding her that they were supposed to meet.
Or was she just fantasizing? He was with Wynona, for God’s sake, and though he didn’t appear to be having the time of his life, that was easily enough explained. Considering his feelings for his father, he was probably looking for a way to escape this charade of a celebration.
She rammed her fists into the pockets of her shorts and decided there was only one way to find out how Hayden felt. Tonight. She’d meet him at the lake tonight as they’d planned. If he stood her up, then she’d understand that he was just using her for idle sport.
But if he showed up... Oh, Lord, what would she do then?
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
