Easter was a few Sundays away, and David and Anna Kixmiller Moore were moving back to their hometown of Mapleton, Indiana. David and Anna hadn't lived there in almost forty years, since leaving to attend out-of-state colleges.

As they drove along the county road, they were transported back in time. They passed fields that now lay barren, and David remembered the farmer and his wife who had tilled that land. David spotted their faded red tractor parked by the barn. He thought of their son, Eddie, who used to bully him in second grade.

As they rounded Harper's Corner, David and Anna saw Clarence and Clara Harrison's restaurant, The Hen House. In its day, it was the hot spot in the community, the place to go and be seen. Their motel adjacent to the restaurant had been known as the "love motel" because while the rates were per day, the rooms were mostly used by the hour.

Now, however, a large, shabbily painted and heavily weathered sign: CLOSED — dangled by one big rusty hook in the middle of the parking lot. Seeing these once-thriving businesses now closed and dilapidated added to David's heavy spirit.

As they continued down County Road 1700W, Anna said to her husband, "Are you sure we ought to be moving back home? Everything from my youth is starting to come back. What do you think?" Anna's voice trailed off to a whisper.

David stared at the road as if at any moment it was going to take him over a cliff. He gripped the steering wheel as if it might jump out of his hands. At first he pretended not to hear her and pressed down on the accelerator.

* * *

They sat in silence. David stared at the road, and Anna suddenly found her sterling-silver bracelet very interesting as she examined every link, gemstone, and charm. Anna had not realized that returning to their hometown would be so hard. Uncertainty and fear gripped her heart and spirit. David's face reflected his doubt about their decision to move back to Mapleton.

The quietness seemed to make the voices in Anna's head grow louder and louder, and the memories grew increasingly vivid. She reached over and turned on the radio, hoping the voices of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett, and Blossom Dearie would soothe her troubled spirit.

* * *

When a commercial blared from the radio in stark contrast to Tony Bennett's mellow voice, David was yanked back to the present. His palms were sweaty and his neck was frozen. He rubbed it as he tried to move his head.

David kept going over the question Anna had asked: "Are you sure we ought to be moving back home?" He thought of several ways to answer her, yet none seemed right. Internal voices and pictures were competing for his attention. Should we be going back home? David knew very well what Anna's psychiatrist had emphatically told him, so he said, "Yes. Yes. We must return home."

A traffic signal ahead, one of a handful in Mapleton, was turning from green to yellow, so David eased off the accelerator. The Chevy Tahoe slowed. David looked to his left, and there it was: the cemetery.

It had glorious names for the different sections: Little Lambs Cemetery, Eternal Hope Resting Place, Memorial Park, and Peaceful Acres. David didn't know how well the names reflected the quality of rest those buried there were experiencing, but most residents took pride in the names and sections of the cemetery where one day they would be buried. They wanted all who viewed their graves to know they had had money, status, and power. They were somebody, after all, whether they were living or dead. Some families erected private mausoleums with glass doors and windows guarded with iron bars, while others had large gravestones with angels or eagles on the top. They all stood like jagged teeth against the horizon.

The traffic light changed to green, and David drove past a sign that read Mapleton City Limit: Population 21,703. David thought, That's the same population Mapleton was when Anna and I left here almost forty years ago. He saw from the style of the sign and the dullness of the paint that it had never been updated. He wondered what the actual population was.

A smile crossed David's face. I wonder if an unchanged population is any indication of an unchanged thought process ... or unchanged morals and ethics of these people.

His smile broadened as he remembered that citizens of nearby towns referred to Mapleton as "Peyton Place," from the novel that told of unsavory scandals and vile skeletons hidden in the closets of small towns. Sure haven't thought of that in years. I wonder what they based the nickname on — rumor, speculation, or fact?

David once again tightly gripped the steering wheel because the name Peyton Place chilled his spirit. The low-fuel light with its accompanying chime came on. He glanced at the fuel gauge and noticed it was just below one-quarter.

"There used to be a gas station down the road. Remember? It was called Pleasin' Pete's, and its motto was, 'We give you full-service and more!' Let's fill up there."

He soon saw the sign for the gas station in the distance, but it was unlit. The entire place was deserted and eerie. Ivy crawled up the walls, and the pumps had been removed.

Anna remembered where two bright red gas pumps decorated with chrome decals on the sides and glass flames on top had once stood. They had been like soldiers ready to obey the customer's order of, "Fill her up, please," with either regular or ethyl.

Once again voices and pictures passed through Anna's mind. She'd had concerns about returning home, but she always dismissed them, thinking, We'll never go back there. We'll never move back to Mapleton.

But now they were sitting in the Tahoe with Frank Sinatra singing "Born Free" at the very gas station where the chrome-decorated gas pumps with the glass flames on top had once stood. Dare she look at the door? The door! Her heart pounded harder and harder as memories played in her head. She felt trapped by her memories and the emotions they invoked. "'Born Free,'" Anna mumbled. "A nice idea, but it hasn't happened in my lifetime."

Anna's mumbling brought David back from wondering how long the station had been closed. The rusted metal sign read Regular 99.9.

He turned to Anna. "Well, if we can't get any gas, maybe we can get some food. Let's drive into town and get a couple of tenderloin sandwiches and some french fries at BJ's. Okay?"

Anna nodded. Her stomach was churning — not from hunger but from the emotions trigged by the revolting memories the gas station had aroused. The last thing she wanted was food. However, going to BJ's would get her away from the station and maybe away from some of her wretched and imprisoning memories.

Her stomach churned even more as she said, "Yes, BJ's will be fine." And then she wondered, Will I continue to be haunted by memories? Will my psychiatrist's suggestion to move back heal my troubled mind and spirit?

As they drove from the closed gas station to BJ's, Anna's thoughts took her back to their school days in Mapleton.

Anna was a year older than her husband David. She had known him all her life. They had attended the same high school and were both members of Christ Community Church (CCC). Then again, a town of 21,703 people wasn't that big. You ran into the same people over and over — at the Piggly Wiggly, Woolworth's, Osco Drug, and Pleasin' Pete's gas station.

David Moore was tall and had a shock of bright-red hair. He had been shy and stuck around his home working on projects his dad had left for him. Unfortunately for Anna, David was smart and had been able to skip eighth grade. That put him in her class, and she didn't like it. This boy from her church was no catch, that was for sure. He wore his hair in a flattop, but much longer than most guys did, and a flattop on a boy with bright-red hair looked weird!

Anna kept clear of him. She didn't want him to talk to her for fear her friends at school would know that she and David knew each other well. When he sat in the back of the classroom, she sat in the front, and vice versa. She also made sure her locker at school was as far away from his as possible. They had to speak at CCC, and some of her school friends knew they went to the same church, but at school, they didn't speak or act as if they knew each other. David took the college prep academic track, just as Anna did, but Anna always sat at the opposite end of every class they were in.

David played sports. He wore a forest-green letter jacket with a big, vibrant yellow M on the front. They were hideous colors, but they had been the colors of Mapleton High School since the beginning of time. The founding fathers had chosen them, and no true and loyal Mapletonian would ever think of changing them.

On game days, David and the other members of the team would leave school early. Anna would think, What a crock. You have a game. Big deal! Why does that mean you're excused from school early and the rest of us have to sit through several more hours of boring classes? Like Dad says, "They built a five-million-dollar gym so ten guys can play in it."

David read ahead in every course and aced every pop quiz. Nothing was going to catch him off guard. He was liked by most but wasn't popular. He was an athlete but not a jock. Nevertheless, every PE teacher had him lead their gym classes while they sat in their offices and smoked their Camels or Lucky Strikes.

The other teachers liked him too. They liked him because he was smart and because his mother was a well-known, highly respected, tenured elementary-school teacher in the same school district.

He didn't date. Girls talked to him and passed him notes in class and between periods, but his only response was a shy, red-faced smile. He had other things on his mind. Among studying, teaching the gym classes, and working in the principal's office during his study hall periods, he had no time to spend on lesser things — at least lesser things according to his priorities.

* * *

Anna had been startled one day when David suddenly passed by her desk in trig class and flipped her open book off her desk. It crashed to the floor just when Mr. Hildebrand was making a key point about sines, cosines, and tangents.

Theresa, in the back of the room, yelled as if someone had just attacked her. Doug, who had as usual fallen asleep, was jarred awake. He lunged out of his seat with drool stringing out of the corner of his mouth, and crashed into Nancy's desk. She screamed, and Mr. H spun around so fast that the piece of chalk in his hand went flying. Everyone in the class stared at Anna.

Anna was shocked. Everything had happened so fast that she didn't know what to do. Her face turned bright red. She ducked down to pick up her book and would have preferred staying down until the bell rang.

As she turned to sit, she shot an "I'm going to kill you!" look at David with cold blue eyes that were normally warm, dreamy, and inviting. David had just casually watched the chain of events triggered by his flipping Anna's book on the floor, but when Anna shot him that deadly look and their eyes met, he looked at her with innocence written all over his face and shrugged. Her face turned several shades redder.

Mr. H retrieved his chalk that had broken in several pieces, Theresa got over her panic attack, Nancy moved her desk back where it was supposed to be, and Doug wiped the saliva from his mouth and chin. But all eyes were still on Anna. She hated to be stared at for the wrong reason.

She said, "Sorry about that. It was an accident."

Mr. H continued his dull lesson. The class was now awake and alert but stealing glances at Anna. She kept her nose about six inches from her notebook, furiously recording every word Mr. H said.

David sat at the back of the classroom. His expression was serious and even studious, but on the inside, his spirit was rocking and rolling with laughter. He thought, This may take some of the prissiness out of Anna and slow down her sexy walk. This is turning out to be a better day than I had even hoped for. David one, Anna zero.

David thought she deserved his little prank. Anna — little Miss Prim and Proper. Anna — the girl with the shiny blonde hair, who wore the latest fashions that showed off her cute and sexy figure. Anna — the one who would be a Christian to the max at church, all friendly and nice, yet away from church, she pretended not to know David, let alone speak to him. Perhaps that little event would bring her a little more down to earth and put a small blemish on her picture-perfect image.

Anna was special in many ways beside her looks. She could sing. Many people in Mapleton thought she was bound for a career as a professional entertainer. Even in elementary school she sounded like a twenty-year-old with a mature, trained voice. She had been asked to sing at church events, at county and state fairs, and even at the governor's reelection campaign rallies.

People wanted to be around Anna, if only to have a Coke with her at the soda fountain shop across the street from the high school. She wasn't class president, but she could have been if she had let her name appear on the ballot. She headed the Latin and French clubs at school, and she was editor of the yearbook.

* * *

Her parents, Steve and Janet Kixmiller, were among the five richest people in town. They had moved to Mapleton nearly thirty years ago when the energy company Steve worked for had transferred him there. The company had built a new plant on reclaimed strip-mining land about ten miles from Mapleton, and Steve was in charge of its construction. When he agreed to become plant manager, they decided to buy a house in Mapleton.

Steve was raised on a farm in Minnesota. He helped his parents and brother work the land. He had a superb work ethic and also played sports in high school and hunted in the woods. He graduated from a state university with an engineering degree. He met Janet at college. They fell in love, and shortly after graduation they got married.

He took a job with a national mining company, and he and Janet moved to Kentucky. He was promoted from an outside on-the-ground engineer to an inside behind-the-desk engineer. Steve enjoyed the extra money, but on some days while sitting behind his desk, he missed getting his hands dirty down in a mine.

Another promotion and raise took Janet and Steve to Mapleton.

Steve was attractive in a tall, rugged, squared-jawed way. He lifted weights twice a week and jogged when his schedule allowed. He was comfortable doing physical labor or sitting behind a desk.

Janet was a youthful-looking natural blonde, and sometimes people mistook her and Anna for sisters. She had a passion for hats, the bigger the better. She was friendly and never met a person she didn't like. Unlike Steve, she wasn't from the Midwest but was a southerner through and through. She went to a northern college, where she met Steve, and got a degree in business administration.

The Kixmillers mingled with the moneyed upper class of Mapleton, but they were never officially accepted. They were welcome on front porches but not invited into living rooms. They belonged to the Sandy Springs Country Club but not to any of the elite men's or women's golf foursomes. During these rounds of golf, deals were made. Some people's careers were made and others were destroyed. Steve and Janet were outsiders. They weren't from "our" neck of the woods. Janet especially was a "rebel" from the wrong side of the Mason-Dixon line.

Steve had made a good living for his family, and Janet fit in well enough to have a relatively good life. Their position in the pecking order of the community kept them out of some things they were glad they weren't involved with — like running for city or county offices, or being appointed to the notorious zoning board, the public defender board, or the planning board.

The Kixmillers were active members of Christ Community Church (CCC). They were spiritually devout but not pious. They served on different committees in the church. Janet belonged to the choir and occasionally sang a solo. They faithfully tithed their income to the church.