Pieces of Hope

by Carter, Carolyn

  “Hope,” he whispered, his breath near my mouth. “Try to remember.”

  For a fleeting instant, I wished for a breath mint (or two) but every ounce of self-consciousness faded when I remembered that this was happening solely in my mind. Wasn’t it? But why did it feel so real? He kissed me in such a way that it left me in a state of total unthinkingness. I drifted this way and that, following my thoughts wherever they chose to go and, soon, something began to happen.

  Images—mostly fuzzy and dark—buzzed past me. I only had the sensation that they were there; I couldn’t actually see them. But the feelings stuck—joyful, loving—and they seemed to revolve around one person in particular, one person I thought very much of . . .

  A name was surfacing, reaching for me out of the darkness. And I thought I could hear my mother whispering encouragement . . . Listen to your heart . . . It was a beautiful name, I suspected. It was there. It was right there in front of me . . .

  I opened my eyes and drew in a breath. He was leaning in a little from where he stood, but not so much that anyone else would have noticed. Even so, I was vaguely aware that my father was watching us with curiosity, and I could sense everyone else’s eyes upon us, too.

  “Ethan?” I questioned.

  I knew you’d remember. His voice was deep and silky in my head. I just knew you would. There was a broad smile on his exquisite face that reached up to his eyes. And he looked happy. Deliriously so. I could tell he thought I had more to say, something that would keep that smile stuck there forever.

  I grimaced. How could I destroy his happiness and tell him?

  His name . . . Ethan Reid. His name was all I remembered.