Returning Home (12 page)

Startled
, Hope noted Charlene’s pursed lips. “Is something wrong?”

Pulling out a chair across from Hope, Charlene sat. “Is there something you might be forgetting to tell me?”

Dumbfounded, Hope could only stare. Did Jeff’s sister somehow know what had transpired between them that morning?

If so, how?

“Forgetting?” Cautiously, Hope poked her fork in the fluffy eggs. Even though she was nearly thirty, she felt like a guilty child caught by her former best friend.

“As in, not telling me something.” Shaking her head, hurt shone in Charlene’s eyes, so like her broth
er’s. “Whose idea was it to go fishing this morning? You and Jeff used to do that all the time. Was it yours, or did Jeff
remember something?”

It dawned on Hope that Charlene felt left out. Jeff hadn’t told his sister about his sudden flashes of memory. He hadn’t wanted to get her excited over so little. It really wasn’t fair, Hope decided. After all, Charlene had been the one who’d asked her to come.

“It isn’t much,” Hope began, taking a bite of the crisp bacon. “Bits and pieces, as he says. He remem
bers fighting with me though not what we fought about. He remembered fishing. That’s why we went to the lake this morning.” She leaned over and placed a hand on the other woman’s arm. “In time, I believe your brother will be himself again.”

Tears shimmered in Charlene’s eyes, though she kept her chin up, her expression steady. “Thank you,” she whispered, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. “Thank you for coming here, for caring for Jeff. I knew you loved him.”

Flabbergasted, Hope tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Loved,” she reiter
ated, forcing a laugh. “If you can call what a teenager feels for her first boyfriend love.”

Wiping her eyes, Charlene pinned Hope with a fierce glare. “Oh, no, you don’t” She waved a slice of bacon at Hope. “You can lie to yourself, but not to me. I know you. You care about Jeff. I can tell. I think you still love him.”

About to protest, Hope opened her mouth, closed it, then looked away. She couldn’t lie, not to this woman who’d been one of her best f
r
iends for so many years. “I care for him, yes,” she said firmly. “He’s an old friend, an important part of my past. Like you. I’m glad I was able to come and help out” From the expression on Charlene’s face, Hope saw she wasn’t fooled for a moment. Bracing herself, Hope felt relieved when all Charlene did was nod and dig into her eggs with gusto.

In an hour the storm blew over and raced off to the east By noon, brilliant sunshine dried the wet earth, turning the air steamy and hot Hope strolled outside, enjoying the humid air. She’d always loved the way the world looked after a storm: so clean, so fresh, so new. It was like starting over.

She began to relax, enjoying the feeling. Suddenly, she heard the rumble of a truck—-Jeff’s big Dodge— and her pulse began to race. She didn’t know if she could face him so soon after the disaster that morn
ing, but there was nowhere in Charlene’s small back
yard to hide.

Jeff burst out the back door like a quarterback running the last ten yards to touchdown, a worried Charlene close on his heels. One look at his vibrant green eyes told Hope that he’d remembered some
thing else, something important. Though she pasted a smile on her face, her heart sank. Any moment now she expected the questions to begin, questions she couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand,
gently
tugging her towards him. Feet dragging, she let him, shaking her head at Charlene’s almost comical puzzled ex
pression.

“What on earth is going on?” Hands on her hips, Charlene stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “Jeff, tell me. What is it?”

His mouth curved into a smile so beautiful it knocked the wind from Hope.

“They’ve started rebuilding the hardware store,” he said, beaming. “The lumber was delivered yester
day and the framing crew is there now.”

Charlene’s expression brightened. “That’s won
derful.”

Relieved, Hope let her breath out,
startled
to realize she’d been holding it. They were rebuilding the hard
ware store, that’s all. It wasn’t something pertaining to the past,
something that might make Jeff demand answers she wasn’t prepared to give.

“Great,” she echoed. “I want to go see it.” With her eyes she begged him to pretend that morning, and the explosive heat of their kiss, had never hap
pened.

He dipped his head, understanding her without words,
exactly
as he used to back in the days when they’d been so close. He continued to watch her. “Let’s go.”

Still, Hope hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to be alone again with Jeff. “Would you like to come along, Charlene?” She hoped Charlene would hear the desperation in her voice and agree.

“No, no.” Lifting a hand to her hair, Charlene shook her head. “I have things to do here. I’ll go by and look at it some other time.”

“Come on,” Jeff repeated, impatience rippling through his voice.
Gundy
steering her towards the door, he lifted a hand in goodbye to his sister. The picture of detached solicitousness, he opened the truck door for Hope, helped her up, and closed it behind her. When he slid behind the wheel, his affa
ble air vanished. He turned in his seat, his eyes hot and hungry.

Despite her resolve not to let him affect her, Hope felt a tremor begin inside. “Don’t,” she told him, forcing herself to look away.

“I want to kiss you.”

It was frightening how such a simple statement could knock the breath from her. Clenching her hands into fists so
tightly
her nails dug into her palm, Hope shook her head. “No.”

Saying nothing further, he started the engine, shifted into drive, and headed downtown.

What the hell had possessed him? Furious at him
self, Jeff concentrated on driving, trying not to think of the beautiful, sensual woman in the seat beside him. But he couldn’t help it. She’d melted into him like warm honey
when he had kissed her and aroused him to such a fevered pitch he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Even though she said she didn’t want him, her body gave lie to her words. Even now, her hardened nipples showed her desire. He clenched the steering wheel, controlling the fierce urge to touch her.

When he’d gone home that morning, he’d tamped down the desire easily enough. He’d made some cof
fee and taken a seat in his favorite easy chair. Like a fool, he’d sat there, waiting, trusting that the rest of his memory would come.

Instead, he’d been tormented by sensual images of Hope, whether remembered or imagined, he didn’t know. He’d been hard and throbbing all day, despite the cold shower he had taken.

He made a right turn onto Second Street. “There,” he said, pointing, “they’ve got the basic framework up.”

She flashed him a quick look, no doubt wondering at the gruffness of his voice, then turned to see where he pointed. “Just like before,” she said, and her soft, throaty voice was nearly his undoing.

Fumbling with the door handle, he got out of the truck. This time, he didn’t bother to open her door, knowing that if he got too close to her, his body would be too hard—too hard to walk. He strode to the construction foreman, knowing his smile looked more like a grimace.

“Looking good.” He gave a thumbs up to the fore
man. Behind him, he heard the quiet slam of Hope’s door. The foreman glanced at Jeff, then past him, his widened eyes and broad smile telling plainly as words what he thought of Hope.

Jeff ignored the strange urge he had to punch the man in the face. He couldn’t really blame the man; if memory served, he’d had much the same reaction himself.

He felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as Hope came up beside him. His temperature went up two
degrees when she touched his arm.

“This is wonderful.” Her earnest tone told him she meant it. “It’ll be
exactly
the same, only new.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Jeff stared at her hand and nodded. Suddenly, the image of her hand blurred and instead he saw a ring—a beautiful, dainty ring, of sparkling gold entwined in a lover’s knot. Set in die middle was one perfect marquis diamond.

He saw the ring he’d bought ten years ago, when he’d planned to place it on her finger. The gold band she’d worn on a chain around her neck had only been a hint of what was to come. He’d personally designed it after hours spent scribbling and doodling' with paper and pencil.

He saw the ring he’d never given her, because she’d left town without giving them a chance to patch things up.

He saw the ring he still had, tucked away in his closet, still in the box.

“Jeff?” Hope’s voice, concerned and anxious, broke through his haze. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head to clear it, conscious of the clean, light scent of her, and of her hand, still resting casually on his arm.

“Fine.” Though it cost him, he moved away, pre
tending not to care if she followed.

“Look!” Her voice, high with excitement, came from over to his left

“Be careful there, ma’am.” The foreman sounded anxious.

Jeff turned, his heart jumping into his throat as he spied Hope helping two workers raise a section of wall. He forced himself to hold silent while watching her laugh and joke with the workers, finally releasing the wall to be nailed into place. When she turned to Jeff, her color was high, her eyes sparkled.

“This is going to be wonderful!” With a sweeping arm, she indicated the area that would be the main floor
of the store.

He tried to catch some of her enthusiasm, but all he could seem to concentrate on was her vibrant, sensual beauty. He felt his body stir, and he shifted his weight while cursing under his breath.

“Let’s go.” Crossing the space between them in a few strides, he grabbed her arm.

“What’s wrong?” Her lovely eyes widened. She glanced pointedly at his fingers on her arm, making him realize that he might be hurting her.

“Sorry,” he muttered, ashamed and aching, wish
ing that this part of his memory, the part that knew her and desired her, had stayed away until he had the rest

She watched him expectan
tl
y, waiting for an answer to her question.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Jeff forced himself to smile, feeling like his face was cracking. “It’s time to go.”

He expected her to argue, or question him at the very least but instead she nodded once and led the way toward the truck.

When he climbed in beside her, she stared out the window, her chin jutting out in a gesture that told him she was sulking. Actually, he owed her an explanation. She had been kind enough to accompany him, even after he’d practically assaulted her that morning.

“I don’t
know...”
He let his voice trail off, search
ing for the words to explain. How could he tell her how much he wanted her, needed her, desired her?

How could he tell her that he remembered buying her a ring? How could he tell her he remembered the ring she used to wear on a chain around her neck, the promises they’d given one another?

How could he tell her any of these things, knowing that there was more to their story than he could remember? How could he tell her that he knew he’d somehow hurt her badly enough to cause her to leave?

So, instead of trying to explain, he let silence speak for him. When he dropped her off at his sister’s house, he politely declined her invitation to come inside, set
tl
ing instead for the clean loneliness of his farm.

Chapter Eight

The next week seemed to fly by. Each time she saw Jeff, which was always brief, he treated her with an impersonal civility. She responded in kind, avoiding Charlene’s puzzled gaze. For all Hope knew, Jeff had regained more of his memory, though he didn’t men
tion it and she didn’t ask.

Before she knew it, Saturday had rolled around. Charlene and Hope had plans to go shopping in Amarillo. Hope found herself looking forward to it. She hadn’t gone shopping with a woman friend in ages.

When they walked outside, Clay’s bright red Subur
ban sat in the driveway.

“Clay loaned it to me,” Charlene said, laughing at Hope’s
startled
look.

Hope
settled
back into the plush seat and buckled in. The car seat in the back was empty. She felt a pang, remembering her own daughter.

“Ready?” Fluffing her hair, Charlene pushed in a CD. The soulful voice of Vince Gill filled the cab. “I think we should have Mexican food for lunch, how about you?”

“It’s nine o’clock in the morning!” Hope groaned. “I can’t even think about lunch this early.”

“I can.” Laughing, Charlene cast Hope a sly glance and patted her tummy. “After two weeks of dieting, I plan to splurge. Clay says he likes me better plump, can you believe it?”

“Really?” Speaking
softly
, hoping her voice didn’t betray her inner turmoil, Hope eyed Charlene’s slen
der figure. “You look beautiful to me. Are you and Clay ... an item?”

“Well-11...” Charlene drew the word out, making it
into two long, soulful syllables. “He’s asked me to marry him.”

“Oh.” Once, she would have grilled Charlene for details. But ten years had passed, and she didn’t want to pry. “That’s great.” She knew she sounded lame and wished she could drum up more enthusiasm for her friend.

“Oh?” Charlene watched her with a wry puzzle
ment on her face. “That’s all you have to say?”

“I don’t want to be nosy.” Her explanation was weak, even to her own ears. “Knowing you, you’ll tell me anyway.”

“Damn straight,” Charlene laughed. “I decided to wait to give him an answer. I want to surprise him at the class reunion.” She spoke with the true confidence of a woman who knew she was loved. Charlene drummed her long, red nails on the steer
ing wheel in time to the music. “He wants to have a
little
brother or sister for Derek.”

Hope felt her heart break. “That’s great” Once Hope had wanted two or three kids, back when she’d thought she’d known what the future would hold, back when she’d been young and foolish and a dreamer. Before she’d had her beloved daughter snatched from her by a fate too cruel to imagine. She no longer allowed herself to dream.

“What about you?” Her curiosity casual, Charlene continued to watch the road. “Do you ever plan to have any kids?”

“No.” Hope’s answer came too quickly, she knew, the word slipping out as panic engulfed her. She forced herself to take a deep breath, then another, striving for calm. Charlene didn’t know, couldn’t know, wouldn’t ever know the truth.

Charlene glanced at her, her expression
startled
. “No?” she asked. “Just like that?”

“I’m too busy to have kids.” Hope’s voice sounded
even, unruffled. “Besides, I teach third grade. I am with kids all day during the week.”

“I heard it’s different when they’re your own,” Charlene said softly. “My friends say they can’t begin to describe the bond, the trust and sense of depen
dence.”

Though Hope was intimately familiar with all of those things, and more, she couldn’t let her friend know. “Hmmm.”

The CD ended. Charlene replaced it with another. They rode in silence for a while, both of them hum
ming along to the familiar tunes.

“How’s Jeff?” Charlene finally broke the silence, as Hope had known she would. “Is he remembering anything else?”

Relieved at the change of subject, Hope nodded. “This and that.” Her face heated as she realized exactly
what
Jeff had remembered.

“Like what?”

Hope swallowed, trying to think of something to relate that wasn’t emotionally charged. “He remem
bered things that morning when we went fishing. Things we used to, um, do.”

“Really?” Charlene raised one eyebrow, a trick Hope used to envy when they’d been in high school. “Does he remember what else you used to do at the lake?”

Hope felt her blush deepen.

Seeing this, Charlene laughed. “I see that he does. I still remember all those stories you used to tell me. That stuff used to make for a scorching diary. Do you still have yours?”

“Somewhere,” Hope shrugged, as if she didn’t know that her diary was in a box on a shelf in her closet “It’s been years since I looked at it”

“I looked at mine yesterday.” Giggling, Charlene shook her head. “The stuff we used to do. Without a
single thought for the consequences.”

Wishing there was some way she could avoid having the past dredged up, Hope leaned forward and pointed. “Isn’t that the exit to Amarillo?”

“Yep.” Charlene flipped on her blinker, grinning. “And if that’s meant to change the subject I won’t. I like reminiscing with you.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve Jeff.”

Evidently
believing Hope was joking, Charlene laughed again. “Honey,
everything
you did in those days involved Jeff.”

Knowing she was right, Hope closed her eyes. “I know,” she sighed. “But I’d rather not talk about him.”

After exiting, Charlene stopped the Suburban at a red light. Turning in her seat to face Hope, she sighed. “Are you still hung up on him?”

Hope started to shake her head, tempted at first to lie. “I don’t know,” she heard herself saying instead. “I do know that being with him now hurts nearly as much as it did ten years ago.”

“You’ve never forgiven him!” Charlene exclaimed. “Hope, what he did was a typical, stupid teenager’s mistake. He was drunk, for Pete’s sake. You need to let it go.”

Let it go?
The urge to spill it all suddenly seemed overwhelming. Charlene wouldn’t tell anyone; after all, they’d been best friends for years. Once they’d shared everything. Everything. And Charlene had never told.

“I had a—” Hope’s voice came out hoarse, raw. Swallowing, she cleared her throat and tried again. “I had a baby. His baby. A daughter. A
little
girl. Alisha.” There. She’d said it. Trembling, heart pounding, Hope twisted her hands in her lap and waited to hear Charlene’s response.

It came immediately. The big Suburban swerved as
Charlene muttered unladylike curses under her breath. Hope gulped and waited for her life to flash before her eyes. When Charlene finally got the vehicle under control, she pulled over to the shoulder and slammed on her brakes.

“You what?”

To her dismay, Hope’s eyes filled with tears. “I had a
little
girl.” She couldn’t look at her friend. “She would have been ten next March.”

“A little girl,” Charlene mused. She turned huge, round eyes on Hope. “Ten years old,” she echoed. Her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, would have been?”

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Hope made no effort to wipe them away. “She died, Charlene. My
little
girl died.”

Charlene reached for her and pulled her close in a hug. “My God, I’m sorry. So sorry. How ... what ... why?”

It took a moment while Hope
wrestle
d with her emotions. Though it had been nearly five years, time had not blunted the anguish. Sniffling, she pulled back. Charlene handed her a tissue and she swiped at her eyes.

“My mascara is ruined now.” Hope gave Charlene a watery smile. “I’ll need to fix it before we go shop
ping.”

Charlene nodded slowly.

“When I left here, I was a month pregnant,” Hope began. “I didn’t know it yet, though. All I knew was that the boy I loved had betrayed me and I needed to get away from him, from this place, as quickly as possible. I was accepted at U.T. Austin and I arrived at College Station before the ink dried on my high school diploma.”

“Jeff was gonna go to A&M.” Charlene murmured. “I never told Jeff.” Hope lifted her chin, pleading with her friend to understand. “He never came after me, you see, so I figured he didn’t care. After all, he’d been wooed by
at least six universities. What guy looking at a possible career in pro football wants to be saddled with a wife and baby?”

“Oh, honey. You’re wrong. He would have—”

“I know.” Holding up her hand as if to ward off blows, Hope sighed. “I was wrong. I know that now. By the way,” she tilted her head, looking curiously at her friend, “even though you told me what happened with your dad, I don’t understand why Jeff didn’t go on to college.”

Charlene looked at her strangely. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jeff’s entire life changed. You know how he had all those offers for football scholarships?”

Hope nodded.

“He couldn’t take them. Any of them. Mom fell apart, I was stuck in an unhappy marriage, so it was up to Jeff.” Voice bleak, Charlene continued. “He stepped right in and ran that hardware store like it was all he ever wanted out of life.”

“He gave up his dreams?” Hope could scarcely fathom it. All Jeff had ever wanted to do was play football. He’d had more than a fighting chance, too. To this day, he still held the state record for com
pleted passes.

“He kept saying you would be back, that it was just a misunderstanding.” Ruthless, Charlene leaned closer. “He kept that up for maybe six months. One day, he stopped saying it. He never mentioned your name after that.”

Odd, Hope thought with a strange sense of detach
ment. Knowing that, even though it was ten years in the past, still cut her to the quick.

“I never stopped loving him.” There, another truth revealed, tossed out in the air where it hovered, wait
ing to be judged. “I thought about calling him when Alisha was
born
, I even picked up the phone a couple times, but couldn’t. I couldn’t do it, couldn’t make myself.”

“If
J
eff had only known,” Charlene whispered, cov
ering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Lord.” Though she knew Charlene wasn’t the person who deserved an apology, Hope felt compelled to offer it anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Charlene lifted her head, her eyes full of sorrow. “Me too.”

Biting back a sob, Hope turned her head to gaze out the window. She wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t allow herself to dredge up all the memories, the anguish. Despite her resolve, tears continued to trickle down her cheeks. “I still miss my daughter,” she whispered, brokenly. “With every breath I take, I miss her.” “Honey
...”
Again Charlene reached out and gathered Hope into a comforting embrace. Unre
sisting, Hope let her. “I can’t even imagine how losing your child must have felt It must be awful. I think I would die.”

“No, you wouldn’t” Hope met her friend’s gaze. “You’d wish you could, but somehow, inconceivably, life goes on.”

Her own eyes tearing, Charlene jerked her head in a short nod. Cars whizzed past them, heading into Amarillo.

“Come on.” Trying to inte
r
ject a cheerful note, Hope pointed toward the road. “Let’s go shopping.” They didn’t speak of it again until lunch time. Though Hope would have been just as happy eating fast food, Charlene insisted on a sit down meal in an informal Mexican restaurant

“I want to buy you a margarita,” Charlene said. “Since I’m driving, I can’t have one, but I’ll watch you and pretend.”

Hope had to laugh. Though she still hadn’t found a dress for the reunion, she’d bought quite a few other
things.

Over chips and salsa, Charlene leaned forward, her expression serious. “Have you told Jeff?”

Hope choked. Grabbing her water glass, she took several large gulps. When she could speak again, she kept her voice low. “No, and I need you to promise me you won’t tell him either. I don’t want him to know.”

“But—”

“No.” Speaking ea
rn
es
tl
y, Hope tapped her fingers on the table to make her point. “There’s no reason. Alisha is dead. Jeff would hate me—absolutely hate me—if he knew what I did.”

“Is that important to you?”

Blankly, Hope stared at her friend. ‘ ‘Jeff not finding out is very important to me.”

Charlene smiled
faintly
. “I understand that. I meant Jeff not hating you. Is that important to you?” Fidgeting in her seat, Hope used the arrival of the waiter with her drink to gather her thoughts. “Yes,” she said finally. “I don’t know why, since I won’t ever see him again once I leave here, but I don’t want him to hate me.”

A faint smile hovered around Charlene’s lips. “I see.”