Returning Home

by Karen Whiddon

  “Fascinating.” Setting aside a romance novel that was from Hope’s own stack, Charlene got up and began rummaging in a drawer next to the sink. “Ah, here it is.”

  Curiosity outweighing her hunger, Hope turned to see Charlene holding a faded spiral-bound book. “What is it?”

  “Your old yearbook.”

  Hope froze. “Does Jeff know?”

  “About this?” Charlene gave a self-conscious laugh. “No. I just found it the day before you came. I was getting the guest bedroom ready. I so seldom have guests, you know, and I decided to turn the mattress. There it was, tucked in between the mattress and the box springs.”

  Hope closed her eyes. The image of Jeff, the Jeff he’d been, haunted her. She could picture him shoving the yearbook in its hiding place because he couldn’t bear to throw it away—especially knowing what came after.

  “Here.” Charlene slid it across the counter to Hope. “Maybe you two can look at it together sometime.”

  Staring at the familiar book, Hope balked. “I don’t know. Maybe he should look at this on his own.”

  “Too simple.” Waving her hand, Charlene grimaced. “You look at it with him, point out pictures, tell him what happened in each one. He should live it with you. That way, he’ll know exactly what happened and where.”

  Slowly, Hope ran her finger along the spiral binding. Jeff’s sister truly didn’t know, didn’t understand, what she was asking. How could she? Hope hadn’t even told her best friend what had happened all those years ago. For all Charlene knew, Hope and Jeff had been only teenage sweethearts, their romance fizzled out years ago, forgotten. She couldn’t know the truth.

  She couldn’t know that Hope still ached from a wound ten years old. A wound that felt as fresh and new as if it were yesterday.

  Conscious of Charlene’s steady regard, Hope reluc- tantly nodded. “I’ll try.”

  With a soft sigh, Charlene covered Hope’s hand with hers. “That’s all you can do, honey. That’s all you can do.”

  “What does—” Hope lost her train of thought as Jeff appeared in the kitchen. Even now, the mere sight of him made her knees go weak. Locking gazes with him, her heart began to pound. She noticed he’d changed his sneakers for a pair of scuffed boots. He carried a battered black Stetson in one hand. Self-consciously, she slid the yearbook behind her. “I’m going home now.” He turned away, unsmiling.

  Hope watched out the window over the sink as he strode away. “Where does he live?”

  “He bought the old Webb place. They’d parceled it out over the years. He got the house and the last forty acres.”

  Thoughtful, Hope watched as Jeff climbed into his battered old truck. It had been a cherished dream of his, one that he’d realized. He’d always wanted a ranch of his own, horses, and a place to raise a family.

  She wondered why he didn’t have one or two young children by now.

  “He never married.” As if she’d read Hope’s mind, Charlene came to stand beside her. Together they watched the truck pull out of the drive and head north. “Never found the right girl, I guess.” She gave a laugh and patted Hope’s shoulder before returning to the kitchen table and her book.

  Though her appetite seemed to have vanished, Hope carried her salad over to the table and sat down in the red vinyl chair across from Charlene. She placed the old yearbook on the table to her right, itching to turn the pages and look at it just a little. She forced herself to eat salad instead.

  It tasted like ashes in her mouth.

  She thought of Jeff, alone at his ranch, his mind a curious blank. “Will he be safe?”

  Charlene’s laughter contained no humor. “He’ll be fine. The foreman lives there full time. Ted will watch over him. He has, ever since the accident.”

  Startled, Hope raised her head. “So he never stays here?”

  “Sometimes,” Charlene said. “Mostly when he has to go to the doctor down in Amarillo. His place is a good half an hour north of here.”

  How could she help him if he wasn’t around? From Jeff’s attitude that morning, she didn’t imagine he would be around all that much. He sensed something, enough to tell him that he didn’t want to spend much time with Hope. Guilt stabbed her; even though he was the one who’d done the hurt, she was the one who’d left without even a goodbye, hugging her secret close.

  Instinctively, Jeff would not want to be with her.

  Something must have shown in her face because Charlene frowned. “He wants his memory back, honey. He wants it back bad. You’re the only one who can help.”

  Stunned, Hope caught herself chewing on her thumbnail. It was an old habit from adolescence, one she’d beaten years ago. She spoke slowly, thinking how blank Jeff’s eyes were every time they met hers, “Even though he doesn’t remember me?”

  “Part of him does,” Charlene hastened to assure her. “Having you here is stirring him up already. I can see the life in his eyes when he looks at you.” “What do you think will happen when he remembers?”

  If Charlene was surprised at the question, she didn’t show it “What do you mean?”

  Reminding herself that Jeff’s sister didn’t know the details of their breakup ten years ago, Hope searched for the right words. “Jeff might not like me too much when he remembers who I am. Things weren’t real good when I left here.”

  Charlene watched her with a steady gaze and a slight smile. “That was ten years ago. A lifetime.” Hope spread her hands, noticing that she had managed to chew off a big chunk of polish on her thumbnail. “I know, but—”

  “Jeff went into a rage after you left.” Speaking in a pleasant, conversational tone, Charlene continued. “He got drunk and stayed drunk for two days. Clay had to carry him home one weekend.”

  Clay. There was another name from the past Clay had been Jeff’s best friend, way back then.

  “He planned to go look for you. Packed up to do it, as a matter of fact”

  Hope found herself holding her breath. She’d often wondered why Jeff had never come after her. “What happened?”

  “Dad died. He had a massive heart attack while driving in his car on 16th Street.”

  Charlene had mentioned that both their parents were gone now, but hadn’t given any details. Shocked, Hope stared. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “No way you could have known.” Her tanned face serene, Charlene glanced at the clock, then back at her book. “Jeff couldn’t go after you or do anything else he wanted to do. Mother was a mess, I was getting ready to get married and couldn’t help her as much as she needed. Jeff stayed.”

  The significance of her words hit Hope hard. “He didn’t go to college?” she breathed. “He didn’t play football for the Aggies?”

  “No.”

  This was terrible. This was worse than terrible. Not once, in her wildest imagination, had she dreamed this had happened. Jeff had lived for football. The thought of him never playing it again made her insides knot and tear.

  Suddenly, Hope realized she didn’t want to know any more. Pushing herself up from the table, she rinsed out her bowl. Her hands were shaking. “I’m going to run up to the store,” she said, striving to sound cheerful. “I need to buy a few odds and ends.” As if she understood, Charlene picked up her book and waved her away.

  Her mind whirling, Hope let herself out.

  Chapter Three

  In the morning, sitting down to a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, they heard the rumble of Jeff’s truck pulling into the driveway. Only mild surprise registered on Charlene’s face.

  “Well,” she said, arching her eyebrows, “here he is.”

  Hope forced herself to keep buttering her toast, even though her hands were shaking.

  Jeff burst through the kitchen door like a tornado, reminding Hope of how fiercely he used to play football. He caught sight of her, sitting still next to his sister. His gaze raked over her, taking in her shorts, sandals, and long, slender legs, before returning to her face. She felt herself flush.
<
br />   “How quick can you change?” he growled, folding his arms across his massive chest

  Hope’s heartbeat picked up. “Change?”

  Charlene shook her head and took another bite of egg.

  Jeff grinned, a slow, spreading grin that hit Hope

  like a punch to the stomach. “I want to show you my ranch. You’ll need jeans and a pair of boots.” Again, his lazy gaze traveled to her feet. “That is, if you still own a pair of boots.”

  A challenge. Jeff had always known she couldn’t resist one. Hope stared at him for a full heartbeat or two. Was it possible that he remembered? But his intent expression was still curiously impersonal, and gave no hint of the reckless, passionate boy he’d been.

  She smiled, the light of battle in her eyes. “Boots? I brought a pair of working Ropers and a dress-up pair.”

  Silently, he waited.

  She waited, too. The old Jeff would have responded with a wisecrack or a joke. Inanely, she was reminded of how he’d also loved to tickle her, making her giggle. They’d been little more than kids then. Those days were long gone.

  The silence stretched on. Jeff said nothing.

  Rolling her eyes, Charlene sighed.

  Finally, Hope gave him a curt nod. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  Watching Hope dart out of the kitchen, her heavy dark hair swinging behind her, Jeff cursed under his breath. The heady scent of some exotic perfume went with her.

  He didn’t remember her. Hell, he didn’t remember anyone, but his body reacted to her as if they were lovers. Every time he looked at her, he found himself in a state of arousal. He could imagine how uncomfortable that might be after a few weeks. Unless she might be amenable to ...

  Shaking his head, he almost laughed out loud. He couldn’t remember much, but he somehow knew

  Hope Glidewell wouldn’t be so easy. There was something in the way she moved, going stiff and nervous whenever he got too close.

  At the table, Charlene pretended to ignore him, studiously breaking her toast into neat, even pieces. But he knew better. She was listening and watching for some sign, some hint that he remembered something, anything.

  He wished he could tell her he did. But he didn’t

  Any normal man would never forget a woman like Hope. Her long, ebony hair swung thick and heavy past her waist. Huge caramel eyes watched him with a nervous anticipation that she wasn’t entirely successful in hiding. Her creamy skin made him want to touch her and see if it felt as silky soft as it looked.

  He found it hard to believe they had shared a past together. Why, he wondered, had he let her go?

  A tantalizing flash of memory, like heat lightning in the western sky, teased him. He and Hope ... something had happened between them, something painful, something deep, all those years ago. What it was, he had no idea. His broken memory was like that letting him know just enough to torment him.

  They had a past he and Hope, but ten long years had gone by. What he wondered, had caused the shadows he saw in her eyes?

  If things worked out he guessed he would know soon enough. Right now, he had a thousand other questions that swirled around ceaselessly in his head. Who was he? What was he? Where was his life going? What were his favorite foods? Did he have a hobby? Did he love someone? Did he have plans, hopes, and dreams? Had they once included Hope?

  Eying Charlene again, he cleared his throat, knowing that would get her attention. He was right She raised her head expectantly, her eyes suspiciously bright.

  “Yes?”

  “How well did Hope and I know each other back in high school? Were we close?”

  To his amazement Charlene laughed. “You were high school sweethearts, Jeff. She told you that. Hope was my best friend, too.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you any more than that. Ask Hope.” Still smiling, she returned to her book.

  Dumbfounded, he looked away, feeling too big, too ungainly, and too damn old even though he knew he was only twenty-eight Ask Hope. Right How do you ask someone if you had ever been lovers?

  An image struck him. Hope, her dark hair spread wantonly over a pillow, her skin damp with the sheen of desire. She was holding out her arms to him, drawing him down to kiss her lovely face.

  His blood rushed lower. Once again, he was aroused, hungry, and hard. He turned away, in case Charlene looked up, to try and get himself under control.

  Jeff nearly laughed out loud, knowing that if he did, it would be a bitter sound. Somehow, he felt deep inside that if he had ever made love to Hope Glidewell, he would never have forgotten it.

  “Ready.” Smiling brightly, Hope stepped into the kitchen. Immediately, she noticed the way Jeff’s gaze swung deliberately away, towards the window and the brilliant sunlight. She wondered if he regretted his impulsive offer.

  “Let’s go,” he growled, unfolding his arms and yanking open the kitchen door. One steel-tipped toe tapped impatiently as he waited for her to walk past.

  She dawdled, unable to resist the challenge he probably didn’t even know he’d issued. “Bye, Charlene.” She touched the other woman’s shoulder. “Let me know how you like that romance I saw you reading yesterday. I brought lots of others to read.” She rolled her eyes. “In my spare time.”

  Jeff made a sound of impatience.

  Charlene grinned, approval shining in her face. “Good luck,” she whispered, giving Hope a quick hug. “If you can bring him out of that shell, things will be fine.”

  Not sure what to say, Hope gave a quick nod before turning to face Jeff. “Let’s go,” she said.

  There were no paved roads leading to Jeff’s place. Once they turned off Route 40, the dirt road became pitted and rough. The land was flat and dry; the oddly twisted pinon trees stunted by the ever present wind.

  This was the Texas Panhandle, and its odd beauty, harsh and challenging. Eying the big man driving silently, his tanned, capable hands on the wheel, Hope wondered if Jeff was happy.

  He’d turned the radio to a country station, and the sweet crooning of Vince Gill filled the cab. The old truck rattled and groaned, even though Jeff did his best to avoid the really deep ruts.

  Hope couldn’t help it, swaying and bouncing made her want to laugh. Finally, after the front tire hit a deep pothole, which, despite the seatbelt, sent her crashing into Jeff’s shoulder, she met Jeff’s eyes, her mouth twitching. When he didn’t even smile, just patted her clumsily on the shoulder and went back to watching the road, it was too much.

  She laughed, and laughed, until tears ran down her cheeks. Even then, wiping them away with her

  hand, she couldn’t stop. Sniffling and chuckling, she held her stomach and laughed.

  It was, even if Jeff didn’t think so, absolutely hilarious. In a strange sort of way, of course. Her parents had always teased her about her warped sense of humor.

  Though he did his best to ignore her, Jeff finally slowed the truck to a crawl, then stopped.

  “Hope?” His deep voice was tentative, the voice of a man not sure if he was dealing with someone mentally sane or not. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head, still laughing. Suddenly, her chuckles became sobs, the tears became a torrent, and she found herself crying.

  Glancing from Hope to die road, back to Hope, Jeff looked horrified.

  Miserable, Hope held on to her seat belt, turned her face towards the window, away from him, and let the tears come.

  Dimly, she heard the sound of Jeff unbuckling his seat belt.

  Then his arms were around her as he pulled her close. She buried her face against his shirt and sobbed. Somehow, Jeff holding her made it worse. It reminded her of all that they’d lost, so long ago.

  And Jeff didn’t even know it He didn’t even remember.

  She didn’t know if she was crying for herself or for him. She didn’t even care.

  He patted her back, holding himself stiffly, awkwardly.

  She hiccupped and scooted closer.

  He made a sound, a m
uffled curse.

  Hope looked up and wiped her eyes.

  Jeff looked down, his green eyes tormented. With

  a groan, he lowered his head and covered her mouth with his.

  She melted against him, suddenly weak. He moved his mouth over hers, exploring, tasting. She responded in kind.

  He tasted like coffee and mint. Hope sighed, remembering the feel of the boy, loving the feel of the man. His arms tightened around her like cords of steel. A slow, languid heat coursed through her blood, and she moaned softly.

  In a flash, the kiss changed.

  From exploratory to possessive, his kiss became demanding. Wordless, he asked; wordless, she gave. It had been years since she had felt like this. Ten years, to be exact Giving herself wholeheartedly into the moment she wound her hands around his neck, dragging them through his hair, across his impossibly broad shoulders. Time ceased. The past present and future all melded into one.

  She wanted to be closer—inside his skin. He too, seemed to want the same, for his hands caressed her passionately, demanding a response—and then he pulled away.

  Jeff simply stared at her, a look of puzzled fascination in his magnificent eyes.

  He gently lifted her off his lap and set her in the seat beside him and smoothed her ruffled hair.

  It hurt, damn it. Yes, it hurt.

  She should know better, she of all people should know where this kind of thing could lead. Their time together had been in the past and would stay in the past—forever and always. Jeff had no memory, for God’s sake.

  And if he did, she told herself silently, closing her eyes and trying to bury the ache, he would want her gone. He certainly wouldn’t let her kiss him.

  She’d wanted him almost since the moment she’d seen him again, and she’d given in to temptation.

  “I’m sorry.” Low-Voiced, keeping her anger under control, Hope extended a shaking hand. “So sorry.” Eyes blazing, he ignored her outstretched arm. Stunned, Hope lowered her hand and looked at him warily. She hadn’t expected him to be angry.

  Without a word, he put the truck into drive and stomped the pedal. The truck skidded on the dirt road, kicking up a cloud of rocks and dirt and dust “Jeff—”