Returning Home by Karen Whiddon Page B

relived it all, the endearments he loved to whisper into her hair and the way he held her tight up against his broad chest as if he never meant to let her go. Then, green eyes blazing, he would watch her, as hungry for the sight of her as he was for the touch of her, the taste of her, the feel of her.
    Only once in her life had she ever felt the way he had made her feel, and only with one man—Jeff.
    Now, with the blessed magic granted only in dreams, she experienced it again.
    In the morning, Hope made her unsteady way into the kitchen. The dreams of the night before had shaken her. She needed to decide what to do. The scent of coffee beckoned to her. She found Charlene in the den, watching some game show on TV.
    The closing music swelled as Hope came into the room.
    Immediately, Charlene clicked the television off. “Mo rn in’,” she grinned. “Do you have a busy day planned?”
    “No, I’m not sure what I’ll do today.”
    “Jeff called.” Charlene’s gaze, so like her brother’s, was serious. “I mentioned the yearbook to him. He wants to give it a try. He’s invited Clay Forrester over, too.” Charlene blushed. “They’re still good friends.” “Really?” Hope tried for a smile and failed. “Did Clay and Diane ever—”
    “Divorced.” Suddenly, Charlene got busy. She straightened up the placemats and began brushing imaginary crumbs into her hand. “This is Clay’s week end to have his son.”
    A son. Hope had to fight back a sudden surge of jealously. Diane and Clay had a child, just as she and Jeff had once, though Jeff didn’t—and wouldn’t— know. Alisha would be nine now, if she had lived.
    “Hope, what is it?” Concern darkened Charlene’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”
    Hope felt the prick of tears in the back of her own eyes. Since she’d come here, she’d felt like a veritable fountain of tears. “Charlene, I don’t know if I can do this,” she gestured wildly. “It hurts too much.” Confusion clouded Charlene’s face. “Hurts? I don’t ...” Sudden understanding showed in her expressive eyes. “You still care for my brother.” Hope didn’t bother to deny it “I have no business caring for him,” die said bluntly . “What happened between us was a long time ago. It’s over.”
    “If you only knew—”
    “No.” Beseeching, Hope laid a trembling hand on Charlene’s arm. “If only you knew. If Jeff had his memory back, he wouldn’t want me here.”
    “I think you’re wrong.”
    “I know I’m not” Hope searched for words to help Jeff’s sister, her friend, understand. “Once Jeff remembers—everything—he will hate me.”
    “You’re wrong,” Charlene told her in a no- nonsense tone. “Jeff never stopped loving you.” Hope gasped. “You don’t know what you’re say ing,” she said miserably. “Believe me,” she stared down at her hands, clenched in her lap, “he wouldn’t want me here if he remembered.”
    “Hope—”
    “No.” Holding up her hand, she stood. “I’ll do what I can, because I still care for both of you. But what was in the past can never be again, so please don’t get your hopes up.”
    With a doubtful smile, Charlene inclined her head. “If that’s what you believe. I only want to help.”
    “I know you do,” Hope said as she leaned over and lightly touched the other woman’s arm, “and I love you for it.”
    How she wished it could be different. If only she believed her presence in Dalhart would actually help Jeff, perhaps then she would have some measure of relief from the constant guilt that plagued her. With her debt discharged, maybe she could return home with a clear conscience and try to go on with her life.
    Clay and his son drove up in a new, red Suburban shortly before seven. Jeff hadn’t returned, so Char lene showed them into the den where Hope nervously waited.
    “Hey, girl.” Clay hustled over, looking much the same as he had in their high school days. He bent over her for a hug, taking care not