Returning Home (8 page)

“Soon,” Hope hastened to reassure him. “But
why don’t you sit and talk to me. I miss being around children. School’s out for the summer, so I don’t have any students to spend time with.”

This caught Clay’s attention. “So you went to col
lege and became a teacher. Good for you.”

Hope nodded, regretting that they’d lost touch so long ago. It had been a necessity because of Alisha. “I teach third grade. I love it”

With the directness that he’d been famous for back in high school, Clay reached for her arm. Taking her hand, he held it up and examined it “No ring.” Embarrassed, Hope shook her head. “I’ve never married.”

“Never?”

“No,” Hope said softly, summoning up what she hoped was a carefree smile. “I never wanted to.” “Why
not?” Clay cocked his big head expectan
tl
y, waiting for her answer.

Proud that her smile never wavered, Hope leaned over and squeezed his arm. “I never married because I couldn’t find the right man.”

“Couldn’t get over Jeff is more likely,” Clay mut
tered, loud enough for her to hear.

“Clay,” Hope exclaimed, feeling her face heat. “I can’t believe you said that”

With a shrug, Clay turned to look out the window. “It’s true. Well, speak of the devil.” His deep voice lightened. “Here’s Jeff, now.”

Immediately, Hope felt her insides turn to jelly. While she struggled for something to say, Clay moved to the front door and pulled it open. Derek
barreled
past him, shouting out Jeff’s name.

“Unca Jeff,” Derek cried. “Carry me, Unca Jeff. Carry me.”

When Jeff came through the doorway, he had the towheaded boy cradled in his strong arms.

Closing her eyes, Hope tried not to think about how he never got to hold Alisha that way.

“Are you all right?” Charlene whispered. “You look
awfully
pale all of a sudden.”

“I’m fine.” If she could forget the past and stay focused on the present, she would be. “Hi, Jeff.” He searched her face for a moment before he nod
ded. He set Derek down, placing him
gently
on the ground. “How are you?”

Though he didn’t remember it, Jeff had always been attuned to her mood. Hope shook her head and said, “Fine.”

“Good,” Charlene’s cheerful voice cut through the awkward silence. “Did you bring the yearbook, Hope?”

Her insides churning, Hope held it up. “Here it is. Our senior yearbook.” It was the same one Char
lene had given her to look through with Jeff. She’d never opened it. And,
though she still had hers at home, she hadn’t looked at it since the year after she’d left Dalhart. It was tucked away in a closet some
where.

In unison, they all looked at Jeff.

“What is this, old home week?” he joked. His smile didn’t reach his beautiful, blank eyes.

For no reason, Hope found herself blinking back tears.

“Hey, buddy,” Clay’s too jovial voice seemed loud in the quiet room, “we’re only trying to help.”

A look of intense weariness crossed Jeff’s handsome face. “I know, I’m sorry.” He held out his hand to take the yearbook. “I’ll bet we had some good times, didn’t we?”

“We did,” Hope managed to say.

With a wry grimace, Jeff started to open the year
book.

“Wait!” Charlene cried. “Let’s all look together. We can all fit on the couch.”

Derek scooted up next to Hope. “Me, too,” he insisted. Clay scooped him up on his big lap and nodded.

When everyone was situated, Jeff on Hope’s left, Clay on her right, with Charlene next, Jeff traced the year emblazoned on the front of the book—1988.

“Is everyone ready?” Jeff looked at each one of them in turn.

“Yep,” Charlene and Clay said in unison. Hope simply gave him an encouraging nod.

“All right then.” With a grimace, he proceeded to turn the page.

Oddly enough, the first thing that assaulted him when he saw die black and white photos was scent When they showed him the page devoted to the foot
ball team, a page in which he was featured prominen
tl
y, he fancied he could somehow smell the long forgotten bite of morning air. He remembered— yes, remembered—the way his every breath had been visible in the chill, the sense of
camaraderie, the jokes, the feel of the cold, smooth football clutched securely in his hands. He could remember the thrill of a pass completed, his favorite receiver, Bobby ... The last name eluded him. The Wolves had been a force to be reckoned with, and he had been an integral part of it all.

Careful not to show his elation at the fragmented memories, Jeff nodded. Watching him expectan
tl
y, Hope turned the page.

This page was devoted to the Dalhart High cheer
leaders. This was Hope’s page. As head cheerleader, they’d placed a large, grainy photo of a smiling Hope in her uniform in the center of the page.

Jeff stared at the photos, examining them closely, and waited to see what he remembered. He was con
scious of holding his breath.

Nothing came.

“Go on.” Impatient now, he waved Hope on. He heard the small sigh she gave and sensed the sudden tension in her. She flipped past photos of the fresh
man class, the sophomores, then die juniors, stopping at last on the larger photos of the Dalhart High senior class of 1988.

“Our class,” she murmured.

He felt an irrational flash of anger. “I realize that,” he drawled, his voice tight Charlene and Clay both shot him looks of surprise.

“Take it easy, buddy.” Clay shifted his massive bulk in the chair. “There’s no pressure here. We’re just having fun reliving our past, that’s all.”

Jeff wished that were the case, wished he could laugh and cut up and make crude jokes about things they’d all once done. He knew, too, that they were holding back, keeping their silence in the hopes that something would come to him, some memory that would make him speak out.

And he said nothing. How could he speak, when he
didn’t want to give anyone, especially the woman who watched with big, sad eyes, false hope?

“Look,” Hope pointed at the photos of a blond girl with a narrow face, “Misty Chalmers. I wonder what happened to her.”

“She went to California.” Charlene’s dry tone con
tained a hint of laughter. “Last I heard she was waiting tables, still trying to break into the movies.”

Jeff turned the page.

“There’s Randy West,” Charlene sighed. “He was so fine.”

Clay laughed. “Last time I saw him he wasn’t fine.

He was on his second divorce. He works at a used car lot down in Amarillo.”

Jeff tried to appear interested, but he hated the way they all kept shooting hopeful looks at him, hoping he would comment. He found himself studying Hope while she pored over the yearbook. It seemed this wasn’t easy for her either.

“Say,” Clay punched him
lightly
on the arm, “are you two going to the reunion? Did Charlene tell you about it?”

“I did,” Charlene spoke
quietly
. “They’ve agreed to go.”

“Good.” Clay seemed relieved. “Did you tell him that we—”

To
J
eff’s amazement, Charlene flushed a deep red. “Clay and I are going to the reunion together,” she blurted. “For moral support, just in case Diane and my ex show up.”

“Hey,” Jeff said slowly, trying to be tactful, “you don’t have to explain it to me.”

“Unca
J
eff”—Derek tugged on Jeff’s sleeve, break
ing his train of thought—“do you have any ice cream? I’m hungry.”

Clay gave him a playful swat. “We just ate.”

“So?” He patted his daddy’s big stomach. “You got room.”

“I’ll look.” Charlene got up gracefully, holding her hand for Derek to take. “Come with me.”

With a sheepish grin, Clay rose also. “I want to go, too. I’ll be right back, guys.”

“Well he hasn’t changed,” Hope said wistfully. Jeff started to shrug, then saw the frustration in her liquid eyes. A flash of anger went through him. He was getting damn tired of disappointing them all. Did they think he liked living in the black hole that

was his mind? “I guess not,” he muttered, glancing away.

Hope shook her head. “You are hopeless, you know that?” She punched him on the shoulder, bringing back a glimmer of times when they’d been close. He struggled to hold onto the memory, to expand it, but it vanished as quickly as it had come.

Searching Hope’s face, he saw only friendly amuse
ment and a genuine desire to help. No deep emotions here, not this time.

“Yeah.” He couldn’t help it, he smiled. “But I’m trying.”

Charlene and Clay returned, each holding one of Derek’s hands. They looked, Jeff thought, awfully pleased about something.

“Sit,” Hope ordered. “I want to finish looking at this yearbook.”

Everyone resumed their places.

“You haven’t got your dress yet for the reunion, have you?” Charlene asked.

Hope shook her head no. For the first time, Jeff found himself wondering if she really wanted to go.

Charlene beamed. “Then we’ll go shopping together. Do you want to drive down to Amarillo?”

Clay gave Jeff a look that said “women and their shopping.”

Jeff found himself grinning.

Hope leaned forward and ran a hand through her silky, thick hair. Watching her, Jeff found himself wishing he too could thread his fingers through it.

“Sure, when do you want to go?”

“How about we try for next Saturday?”

“Okay.”

Jeff heard the lack of enthusiasm in Hope’s voice. He felt a sudden urge to go buy the dress for her. With startling clarity, he envisioned the exact dress

he would purchase: deep green, form-fitting, with a low back. His thoughts stunned him. How did he know this?

“Turn the page,” he said, his voice savage and curt. They all looked at him, their faces registering individual degrees of surprise. Without another word, Hope did as he’d requested, her long slender fingers trembling.

The next page had been devoted to the Homecom
ing Dance. In the center of the page was a photograph of the King and Queen, arms around each other, beaming into the camera.

He and Hope.

Hope made a sound, a small gasp. Immediately, Charlene patted her shoulder. Clay squirmed in his seat, looking away.

Jeff grabbed the book away from Hope, holding it closer to study it. The photograph showed him beam
ing proudly down at the petite girl under his arm. She’d worn her black hair up, her shimmery gown hugging her sleek curves. The emotions she’d felt at that moment showed clearly in her lovely face: pride mixed with love, delight, and sheer joy. In the next instant, the instant after the photographer had snapped the picture, once the flash had blinded them, she’d laughed and hugged him. Somehow, he remembered that.

She’d worn a form-fitting dress of deep, mysterious green.

“You were beautiful,” he told Hope slowly, his gaze
lingering on her downcast head. Her hair, still as black, still as shiny, barely touched her shoulders now. Back then it had hung nearly to her waist

“Thank you.” Her chin came up. Clear and guile
less, her amber eyes hinted at a deep, deep sorrow.

For him? He felt an instant’s confusion. He didn’t

need to understand, after all, she’d been the one who ...

He drew a blank. She’d been the one who .. . what? Like smoke, the thought vanished.

Clay and Charlene watched him with unabashed curiosity.

“Did you remember something?” His sister’s voice sounded overly bright and eager.

After a moment, Jeff shook his head. The tiny flashback of memory he’d experienced seemed hardly worth mentioning.

“Man, I’m sorry.” Clay stretched a bit and got up. “You look like you’ve had enough for one day. I think it’s time I head home.”

Charlene stood, too. “Before you do, come into the kitchen. I need to talk to you and this munchkin here.” She gave Derek a loud kiss.

Jeff started to stand. Hope waved him back down. “Sit, please. I’d like to finish looking at the year
book.”

With a start, he realized he was still holding the damn thing. “I don’t—”

“Come on,” Hope gave him a wan smile. “We haven’t finished our trip down memory lane.”

Was that sarcasm he heard in her voice?

Why?

Reluctantly
, he sat down beside her, his weight on the cushions causing her hip to brush against his. Muttering an apology, he handed her the book.

They looked at more pictures, some occasionally bringing a smile to her pale face. Watching her, Jeff found himself wishing she would smile more often.