Sudden tears filled her eyes. With a cry of anguish, she moved away, blindly walking.
“Hope?”
She ignored him and the concern in his deep voice. If he knew the truth, he would let her go.
“Hope?” he called her again, still standing where she’d left him. Any minute now, she knew he would come after her. Gulping back a sob, she waved him away. When she saw him move, she started running away from the lake and the tree. She ran from the memories and the man who filled her mind.
She found herself on the dirt road, the same one she’d walked that last night. The sun lit the sky a pearly shade of pre-dawn blue. Any moment now, it would come over the horizon, and the day would begin. The mournful calls of the mockingbirds told her it would be soon.
It wouldn’t be long until Jeff found her. She could already hear the muted rumble of his truck starting behind her. It seemed like history replaying itself; the bitter irony of it made her want to laugh instead of cry. She would be all right, she would be all right These words she repeated, a mantra of sorts, trying to convince herself that she was nearly thirty, an adult long past foolish crushes of teenage years. It would- have worked . .. except for Alisha.
Alisha. The child she’d borne, a living reminder of Hope and Jeff’s love. A child she’d nurtured, protected, and loved, only to watch her die a slow death, cancer eating up her vitality.
Alisha. Hope shook her head, forcing the thoughts away. She wouldn’t remember her child this way. Even over her pain, Alisha had still smiled Jeff’s same brilliant smile, her tired eyes seeming far older than her tender years. Hope wiped away a tear, forcing herself to remember Alisha before the leukemia, the laughing, happy child who’d been so eager to learn and so easy to love.
At least she had her memories. This, she supposed, was better than nothing.
Nothing was all she’d given Jeff. He’d never known his child even existed. She’d kept that hidden from him, wanting no further contact She had selfishly not wanted to share.
How she wished she hadn’t been so foolish. But she’d always thought she would have more time. She’d never imagined Alisha would die.
Now it was too late. Jeff would never know his daughter.
Chapter Seven
“Hope?” Exactly as he had so long ago, Jeff pulled up beside her. “Get in the truck. Please?”
This time, she would not be so foolish. This time she would not endure blistered feet and aching limbs. She had nothing left to prove, nothing to lose. Avoiding his eyes, she climbed into Jeff’s truck.
Letting the engine idle, he waited for her to speak, something she had no intention of doing. Folding her arms across her chest, Hope stared out the window and wished he would take her back to his sister’s house.
In a blaze of light, the sun rose over the horizon. As if on cue, a chorus of birds began to chirp their various songs, competing with the crickets.
“The fish are hitting the surface over there.” With a soft voice, Jeff touched her arm. “Let’s fish.” Without turning, she nodded, a jerky motion but the best she could manage.
Putting the truck in drive, he continued in the same bland, conversational tone, “You know, sometimes I wonder who needs healing worse, me or you.”
Hope had no ready answer. She stared blindly out the window, calling herself a fool. Jeff was right. These last few days she’d found herself wondering the same thing.
He couldn’t imagine what had made him say that, even if it was the truth. His words had wounded her, if wounding an already shattered soul was possible. If only he could remember ...
Climbing out again, he cast a sideways glance at her. She sat still, shoulders rigid, keeping her face averted from him. Why had his sister thought Hope could help him? She couldn’t even help herself. It just wasn’t possible that Charlene had known how badly hurt Hope still was. It was unusual that she hadn’t managed to get over it, even after ten years.
She must have loved him deeply. He must have hurt her equally deeply—but how? What in the name of heaven had he done to her?
This time, he went to the back of the truck and retrieved his poles and tackle box, taking care to stay away from her door. If she wanted to join him, she would. If not, he’d let her sit in the truck and try to compose herself.
The early morning breeze felt good against his skin. Jeff breathed deeply, glad that he had somehow remembered enough to come here and do this. Intuitively, he knew he hadn’t come here to fish lately.
He hadn’t come here since Hope had left. Stunned, he froze in the act of baiting his hook. This time, there had been no flash, no blinding sense of revelation. This time, the memory had crept up on him. At last he remembered the argument, Hope’s fury, her hurt. Now, too, he remembered the graduation ceremony itself, a time for celebration soured by an aching heart.
He had never believed it would end. There was too much love between them. But Hope had refused to take his calls, avoiding him the entire two weeks prior to the ceremony. He’d hung on to the ring she’d returned, planning to place it on her finger where it belonged once they’d made up.
No longer would they have had to keep it a secret. They’d planned to announce their engagement right after graduation. Instead, Hope had vanished.
Even after ten years, the memory was painful. Now, he realized, glancing over his shoulder at his truck and Hope inside, he could understand why it still haunted her.
Love like theirs didn’t come along every day—or even every lifetime.
He’d never stopped loving Hope.
That was why he’d never married, never had a serious relationship in the past ten years. His sister somehow realized this and knew it without him ever speaking the words.
“Hope?” Standing, Jeff wiped his damp palms on his shorts and stared at the truck. “Do you want to bait your own hook?” Stupid, he knew, but it was all he could think of. If she came to fish with him, how could he look her in the eye?
Now he remembered what he had done to hurt her. He had, in a moment of foolishness, betrayed the only woman he’d ever loved.
The truck door creaked opened slowly. Jeff bent his head, pretending to be engrossed in his fishing pole. Her slow, soft footsteps told of her reluctance, but he had to admire her pluck. The mere fact that she’d come back, ten years after she’d ended their relationship gave him cause to believe . . . what?
He nearly laughed out loud. They had no future together, not now with so much water under the bridge. She had her life in Dallas, while he had made a life here in this little town.
Then there was the matter of his bleak, empty past Until he had all of his memory back, he was only a shell of a man.
“Let me.” Her emotionless voice startled him, causing him to prick his finger with the sharp edge of the hook. Blood welled up and he stuck his finger in his mouth, feeling foolish. He handed her the pole, grabbed the two he’d already baited, and stalked to the water’s edge.
After a moment she joined him. She nudged his shoulder with hers, leaving him no choice but to turn and look at her. Meeting her somber gaze, he realized she knew. Somehow, she knew that he’d remembered.
“I’m sorry,” he said, because he was, even if it was all ancient history now. “I never meant to hurt you.”
Pain mingled with what he could have sworn was guilt flashed across her face. Immediately he discounted the thought; after all, Hope had nothing to feel guilty about.
“Forget about it,” she told him, casting her line out over the lake in a perfect arc. He felt a surge of pride that he’d been the one to teach that to her. It was another memory, proving that it wouldn’t be long now until he had his past again.
He hoped he remembered it all before the high school reunion. He didn’t think he could take seeing any more looks of veiled pity in the eyes of people he’d known his entire life.
“Did you remember more?” Hope warred with regret in her expressive voice.
He nodded, keeping his face averted. Suddenly, he re
alized one more thing. When he had all of his memory back, Hope would leave—this time forever.
Stomach clenched, Jeff cast his line over the sparkling water. For once he was glad he had time to think, to decide how he felt about her leaving. He needed to try and figure out what part, if any, she had played in his life these past ten years.
By the time they caught two fish, large-mouth bass that would be mighty tasty on the supper table that night, the sky had changed. Roiling clouds blotted the northwestern horizon, promising a storm.
“Well, the farmers will be glad for the rain,” Hope said, following his gaze. She was close, too close. He let his gaze sweep over her lush figure and the sweet perfection of her face, trying to feign friendly interest.
He failed.
Desire flared, thickening his blood, his body. He wanted her. He wanted to taste her mouth and feel her smooth skin under his hand.
He wanted to see if he could make her remember how he used to make her feel. He wanted to see if she still melted under his touch.
Jeff reached for her. She met him halfway. Greedily, he let his hands roam. The curve of her hips was so tantalizingly familiar. Her lips were moist and warm as she opened her mouth to his. He drank deeply of the taste of her, sweet and earthy—erotic. In that instant, he was lost.
Past and present melded into one. He cupped her breast, pushing aside her T-shirt, the lacy edge of her bra. Her nipples hardened, ready, begging for his mouth.
Intending to be gentle, he rolled her nipple between his lips. She gasped, arching her back, passion darkening her eyes to black.
He couldn’t rationalize, couldn’t even think. In just another moment he would unbutton her shorts, slide them down her sweet hips, and touch the warm wetness between her legs.
Tentatively, she reached out, stroking his arousal, rubbing the palm of her hand up and down the outside of his shorts. Helpless, he groaned, pressing into her hand, feeling his willpower dissolving.
He tried to gain control of himself. His breathing was harsh, his heart pounded loud in his ears.
In another moment he would lay her back against the ground and bury himself in her welcoming body.
In another moment.... With a curse, he pushed himself off her, rolling away.
Hurt flashed across her face, her swollen lips trembling. He couldn’t look at her without losing the last remnant of his control.
“You don’t want me.” Her voice shook.
He knew how much it had cost her to say that When he didn’t answer, keeping his back to her, he could imagine her gathering up the tattered shreds of her pride and wrapping them around her like a cloak.
“Oh, I want you.” He didn’t recognize his own voice. Guttural and harsh, it was the voice of a man in great pain. “Too much. Too damn much.”
She gave a short laugh that turned into a sob. “Yeah, I can tell.”
Guilt mingled with his anger. He had hurt her, again. It was the last thing he’d intended. “You don’t understand.”
“No.” Behind him, she scrambled to her feet. “I guess I don’t. I’m not sure it matters.”
It did matter. It mattered more than she could imagine. Jeff struggled to find the words that would make her understand. “I don’t know who I am,” he told her, his back stiff and unyielding. “I can’t come to you like that, don’t you see? I’m only half a man, Hope. You deserve more.”
He wouldn’t have blamed her if she walked away. To his surprise, she didn’t.
“Don’t, Jeff.” She came closer, so close that if he turned around, she’d be in his arms again. With difficulty, he controlled the urge to move away. He was only human, after all.
“Don’t beat yourself up about this.” Tenderness made her voice soft with a note of regret that scared the hell out of him. “I understand.”
“You understand.” Trying for the blessed numbness he’d felt as recently as the day before, he turned and headed for his truck. “I can’t remember most of my past, can’t even remember much about you, other than the fact that you’re so damn desirable I want to make love to you every time I see you, but you say you understand.” Hoping it wasn’t a mistake, he glanced back at her over his shoulder.
She stood where he’d left her, arms folded across her chest. Head up, a high color on her cheeks, she glared at him. “You did the right thing.” Though her tone still sounded sweet, he could have sworn she forced the words out through clenched teeth. “I’m glad we didn’t make love.”
That stopped him. Though he knew it wouldn’t have been die right thing to do, he sure as hell wasn’t glad about it. His body still ached with wanting her. “Glad?”
“Yes. I don’t have any protection.”
“Protection,” he repeated, starting to feel like a parrot. Something about her words bothered him, something he instinctively knew was important, though it eluded him. No doubt he would remember later.
Thunder boomed in the west. Far off, lightning flashed on the horizon. An expectant hush had settled over the area. The air seemed charged and dangerous. Even the birds had gone silent, waiting.
“We’d better go.” Tossing their poles and the tackle box in the back of his truck, he held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, Hope took it “Looks like this storm is gonna be a bad one.” Hope took her place in the truck by the door and gripped the handle. Neither of them spoke the entire way back to the house.
He dropped her off just as the sky opened up. The rain came down in sheets, the wind gusted. Without a backward look at him, Hope made a dash for the house. Instantly, she was soaked. As she fumbled for her key, the back door swung open.
“Come in,” Charlene said as she waved her past “You two were sure out and about early. The coffee just finished brewing.”
Jeff’s headlights swept the window as he backed out of the drive.
“We went fishing,” Hope muttered, squeezing the water out of her hair and into the sink. “At least, until the storm hit.”
“Jeff didn’t want to come in?”
“He had things to do,” Hope lied. She felt transparent, somehow, as though Jeff’s sister could see the desire on her face. “I think I’ll go change out of these wet clothes.”
Nodding, Charlene continued to watch out the window until the rain obscured Jeff's truck from view.
Hope grabbed some dry clothes and took a quick, hot shower. Running her hands over her body, she bit her lip, wishing she could push away her body’s sensitivity, the pulsing arousal that still remained with her, the sharp bite of her need. Unknowingly, if Jeff had made love to her, he would have touched more than merely her body. He would have touched her soul.
When she emerged from the shower, the smell of bacon frying made Hope’s stomach growl. She wandered into the kitchen, trying not to look too eager.
“Scrambled eggs?” Charlene asked, a full plate already in hand.
Mouth watering, Hope nodded. Charlene dumped the plate in front of Hope, dropping it so hard eggs bounced off onto the table.
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 brother’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 wh
o’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 remembers 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 reiterated, 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 friends 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 morning, but there was nowhere in Charlene’s small backyard to hide.
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