PROLOGUE

May 1979

Graymont County, Northern Virginia

 “Oh, my God. Wake up, Nick. Hurry! You’ve got to go.”

Shaking the motionless naked male form sprawled beside her amidst rumpled bedclothes, the woman repeated, a note of urgency straining her voice: “Nick! Get up, it’s almost six o’clock! You’ve got to leave now; his shift ends in five minutes. If he catches you here, he’ll kill you. Nick, please, wake up!”

Still no response. Frantic, the woman, whose name was Luanne, grabbed for the other’s crotch and squeezed, hard.

“Oww! Whassamatter? You trying to sterilize me? Geez, Luanne, that hurt.” The young man tenderly massaged his bruised privates. “I feel like warmed-over death,” he moaned, curling into a fetal ball. “Drank too much. Again.” He grimaced. “What time is it, anyway?”

Luanne pointed at the red numerals of a cheap clock radio atop a dresser: 5:57. “See? You should’ve been gone an hour ago. Listen to me! Usually Jay-Bo hangs out at the police barracks for a while but sometimes he comes straight home. Get dressed, please. You don’t know what he’s like!” Luanne’s pretty features were scored with lines of fear. She hopped off the bed and hurried about the dark room, gathering up scattered pieces of clothing and tossing them at Nick, who pulled himself upright, groaning and rubbing his eyes.

Struggling into a black t-shirt with ‘WINDFIELD’ blazoned across the front in pink block letters, he mumbled, “That’d be picturesque, wouldn’t it? Getting my brains blown out by a psychotic state cop.” He pulled on his blue jeans, began buttoning the fly. “Almost sounds like a plot line on my father’s soap opera. Why’d you marry such a savage creep, Luanne? You had to know he was insane. What sort of a nut case would volunteer for two Vietnam tours?” Nick’s long ginger hair fell forward as he leaned over to pull on worn Frye boots. “Screw him. He doesn’t scare me.”

“Don’t be crazy, Nick,” Luanne fretted. “Jay-Bo Skinner scares everybody. Everybody with a lick of sense, anyway. Hurry up,” she begged.

Nick donned a weathered black denim jacket. A conspicuous American flag patch sewn on one sleeve might’ve looked menacing on a motorcycle outlaw but contrasted strangely with Nick’s delicate frame and almost girlish looks. Ever since meeting him at the Knights Inn Tavern two months ago Luanne had wondered why her gentle sensitive lover tried so hard to project himself as a hard-edged tough guy, but there was no time to think about that now. “Here,” she handed Nick his keys and wallet. “Have you got everything? Let’s go.”

She pulled Nick out of the bedroom, urging him along the hall toward the front door. As they passed the small extra bedroom that served as a nursery for Luanne’s twins, Nick hung back, digging in his heels. He grinned and pointed. The two toddlers were standing side by side in their crib, grasping the rails and blinking large baby eyes at them. “Good morning, Lissa and Lloyd!” Nick waggled his fingers. “How’s it goin’, tiny people?”

Lissa’s expression crinkled into a smile, but her brother returned a truculent stare, refusing to be charmed. Luanne’s face softened. “Hey, guys. Mommy will be right back to feed you. Come on, Nick. There’s no time.”

By the front door, Nick gathered Luanne into his arms and kissed her softly with the odd tenderness she had never before experienced from a man. It was the same way he made love; not with the imperative thrusts of a male in heat, but patiently, with an unhurried sensual languor that felt almost musical. He hugged her close, nuzzling her neck. “I love being with you,” he whispered. “I wish I didn’t have to go.”

“Me, too,” Luanne hugged him back. “But you must. Please. It’s too dangerous.”

“Won’t you at least think about coming to my graduation? I’ll make sure you don’t run into my family or friends. I don’t care about them, anyway. It would mean everything to me if you could be there. Nobody will ever know, I promise.”

“Oh, honey,” Luanne sighed. It was impossible. Even if she hadn’t been a mother and wife, married to a Virginia State Police trooper, local girls like her didn’t dare set foot on the forbidden Windfield College campus. Nick knew that as well as she did. Time had finally run out on their glorious, reckless, mad love affair. By this time next week it would only be a memory. Luanne raised her hand and stroked his smooth cheek. “I’ll try,” she forced herself to fib. “If I can.”

“Great.” The young man smiled, and Luanne again experienced the delicious disorientation which had initially captivated her. Nick had two different-colored eyes; his left iris was a warm brown color, and the right was a gorgeous topaz blue. The discrepancy was caused by a genetic anomaly, he’d explained, and showed up more often in white cats than humans. Luanne found it irresistibly mysterious and sexy; so much so that upon first seeing those enthralling mismatched eyes she’d resolved to seduce the young Windfield prince to whom they belonged. And so she had; but now their time together was at an end.

“Goodbye, Nick.” Refusing to cry, she opened the front door.

“Now, shoo! I have to feed my babies.”

“Wait,” he said. “I want to give you something.” Nick ran to his blue Pontiac GTO and retrieved something from the seat. He hurried back and handed Luanne a slim bound booklet. “Here. It’s our senior class almanac, what we call the ‘Face Book’. You keep it. That way you’ll never forget what I look like.”

Luanne clasped the book to her heart and stared at him with moist eyes. “I could never forget you, Nick. God, don’t you know that?”

“Just making sure. Don’t forget about graduation. I’ll keep an eye out for you.” He gave her one last quick kiss and went back to the car. With a rumble of heavy exhaust, he drove down the rutted dirt driveway and disappeared into the surrounding trees.

Luanne stood for a moment watching a faint cloud of dust slowly dissipate into the morning air. All around the little cottage bushes and trees were bursting with springtime color: dogwoods, redbud, forsythia, and lilac. She loved this time of year; everything seemed so alive, so full of possibility. Luanne breathed in the clean country scent. She heard the piercing whistle of a cardinal and spotted the bird sitting in a sun-dappled sycamore, singing his scarlet head off for the pure joy of it. Hugging Nick’s senior class book she smiled to herself, secretly reviewing the passionate night they’d just spent together.

At that moment, the growl of an approaching car engine became audible. Luanne’s serene expression melted into one of guilt and fear. She darted inside and closed the door scant seconds before a sleek blue-and-gray Virginia State Police cruiser pulled to a stop in the exact spot where Nick’s Pontiac had been parked. Bristling with antennae, the patrol car was spotless. A multicolored light bar on top projected on both sides like a shark’s pectoral fins. In front of the grille, heavy push rods jutted up in a chrome snarl. The blue-tinted windows were flat, cold and merciless. It was a vehicle designed from the wheels up to intimidate and terrorize.

In her bedroom Luanne buried the class book at the bottom of her sweater drawer. As she hastily straightened the bedclothes she heard the heavy k-chunk of a car door. Smoothing the bedspread with her palm, she fluffed a last pillow and scurried into the bathroom. Quickly she moistened a cotton square and wiped smeared traces of mascara from her lids. Dropping the square into the wastebasket, Luanne looked down and barely managed to stifle a scream. She heard the front door open and close, then the heavy tread of boots.

“Luanne!” A curt bark. “You up? I’m hungry. Where are you, woman?”

Kicking the bathroom door shut with her heel like a mule, Luanne fished a used condom out of the wastebasket and gazed at it in horror. It had obviously broken. There was no seminal fluid in the torn tip. Feeling ill, she dropped the condom into the toilet and flushed just as a pounding came on the bathroom door.

“Hey! You gonna piss away the whole goddamn day in there, or can I get somethin’ to eat?”

“I’ll be right out, Sugar,” Luanne answered, trying not to sound sick. “Go say hello to the twins, they miss their daddy.”

“Yeah, like hell,” she heard a growl as the boots clomped off toward the kitchen.

Luanne stared into the mirror. Impossible. She couldn’t be pregnant. What were the odds? A hundred to one. Less. It wasn’t even a fertile time; her period had only recently ended. But...?

Well, she’d cross that bridge if and when she came to it. One thing she knew for absolute certain: she’d never terminate any pregnancy, let alone this one. Abort Nick’s child? She’d die first. No, if she became pregnant with her lover’s baby then that was God’s will for her and she would carry it out no matter the consequences. Somehow she’d have to find a way to let him know about it.

Or would she? Luanne inspected her face, noticing how spidery worry lines were beginning to erode the fresh-faced youthful beauty that had once made her the high school sweetheart. After all, she thought, why on earth would Nick ever want to know that he had fathered some bastard kid? He was young, free, with a rich father, and could do anything or go anywhere he pleased. The last thing he’d need would be a squalling reminder of his drunken fling with an ignorant redneck adulteress. It would completely ruin his life, and he’d end up hating and blaming her forever. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t let that happen. If necessary, the secret would accompany her to the grave.

So resolving, Luanne ran a brush through her hair, took a deep calming breath, and went out to make breakfast for her family.

She never set eyes on Nick Farrington again.