Returning Home (18 page)

He hadn’t been the only one to betray their love. Hope, his Hope, had betrayed that and more.

Every time he saw a small child, he found himself wondering. Had their daughter been petite or chubby, sweet or sassy? Had her eyes been the color of emeralds or the velvet brown of a newborn deer?

He mourned the child he’d never known and mourned the woman who’d stolen more than just his heart, and tried his best to turn his heart back to stone.

A week went by, then another. On a quiet Friday afternoon, he stopped on his way home to buy beer, intending to try and make himself numb. When he picked up his mail, he saw the bulky letter addressed in Hope’s
rounded handwriting. With shaking hands he held it, fighting the temptation to hold it up to his nose and inhale whatever trace of
fragrance
might linger on the paper.

In a brief moment of panic, he thought of ripping it to shreds, certain any words from Hope would only tear down any barriers he had been able to construct But he couldn’t damn it he couldn’t He drove up his long driveway with it cradled in one hand, silent tears trickling down his cheeks.

Uncertainty and doubt warred inside him. Ruth
less, he pushed them away. Nothing in this letter could hurt him, he wouldn’t let it After all, she’d already hurt him beyond belief.

Once inside, Jeff tossed down his truck keys and slit the envelope, turning the contents out onto the counter.

A photo of a small girl, delicate and bright-eyed, slipped out. Slowly, heart pounding, he picked it up, studying it. This was Alisha—his daughter.

She was golden blond, with a tiny heart-shaped face, and a happy smile. The picture must have been taken before her illness. He saw himself in her crooked smile, in the deep green sparkle of her eyes. The realization pained him beyond measure.

With the back of his hand, he wiped the tears from his cheeks. He’d never known her. He never would.

Studying her again, he tried to picture this child— this glowing, radiant elf, her beautiful hair gone.
111.
No. He would not think of it, and he was glad Hope hadn’t sent another picture, a picture of Alisha in the throes of her illness. This one thing he could be thankful for. He could only imagine what agony it would be to lose a beloved child. The loss he felt now, not knowing her, could only be a fraction of what Hope had gone through.

His hands trembled as he put the photo down, smoothed out the folded pages of Hope’s letter, and began to read.

Chapter Twelve

For the first time since she’d begun teaching, Hope got a summer job. Even though she had barely four weeks until school started, a friend of hers needed some help and didn’t mind if it was temporary. It was a simple job—working part time in Foley’s Department Store at the perfume counter. She needed to keep busy.

Soon she realized it wasn’t enough, and signed up for an evening Spanish class at the local junior col
lege. The class met on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. The rest of the time, she sat by the pool, socialized, and tried to fill every second of every day. If she kept busy, she wouldn’t have to think.

She longed for the end of summer, for school to start again. As July dragged into August and there was still no response from Jeff, she began to realize that she really would never see him again. Her letter had made no difference. She had written it much too late.

Before she’d gone to Dalhart, she’d made a sort of uneasy peace with the past. Now she felt wide open, exposed, everything raw and hurting again.

Because of Jeff. Because to him, his daughter’s birth, life, and early death had not happened years ago. Because she knew he felt the pain, the agony, as surely as if it were yesterday.

School started in mid-August. Hope gave her notice at Foley’s and abandoned her half-hearted attempt to learn Spanish. She made her annual shopping expedition for new clothes, readied her classroom, and began her lesson plans.

She ran to get her mail every day, unable to keep herself from searching through it for anything with a West Texas postmark. But nothing came. Perhaps it was a foolish wish to think he might forgive her. She couldn’t even forgive herself.

The first week of the new school year was the usual
jumble of confusion, frightened children, and adjust
ments to new routines. Hope made name tags for her new class of third-graders, a giant name tag for herself, and handed out lists of school supplies the children needed to purchase. By Friday, everyone was exhausted, including Hope, and she went into the weekend planning to catch up on some sleep.

Stopping at the video store, she rented two movies and grabbed a take-out pizza on the way home. When she got back to her apartment, she changed into her comfortable sweats, washed off her makeup, and put her hair up in a ponytail.

She only would be by herself tonight. .. like every night.

Suddenly the doorbell chimed and she looked through her peephole to see Jeff standing on her doorstep.

Her first thought was panic. Hand to her throat, she backed off from the door. In all her wildest imag
inings, she hadn’t conceived of this. She wasn’t pre
pared, she wasn’t ready.

The doorbell chimed again.

Hope rushed to the peephole, squinting through it again. Jeff stared at the door, dragging his hand through his already disheveled hair. He looked, she realized, every bit as bad as she felt

Slowly, every nerve on fire, Hope shot back the dead bolt and opened the door.

They faced each other for a moment. In worn jeans and a faded flannel shirt, Jeff looked huge and con
fused and too damn wonderful, all at once. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked them back, willing them away.

“Come in,” she said, her voice sounding husky and nervous even to her own ears. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “Please. Come in.”

Inclining his head, he stepped inside her small apartment. Careful not to brush against him, Hope closed the door. He brought with him the wild scent of the plains,
of wind and sun and endless fields of hay. Smiling
faintly
at her own imagination, Hope swallowed, trying to still her pounding heart

For the first time in weeks, she felt alive—suddenly, painfully, alive.

“How have you been?” Jeff asked, without looking at her, his attention focused on his hands.

His deep voice sent shivers up her spine.

“Fine,” she answered automatically, before she even realized she was going to say it “No,” she whis
pered. “That’s a lie. I’m not fine, not fine at all.” He sighed. When he finally looked at her, his face was an expressionless mask. “We need to talk. And you can’t run away this time.”

More frightened, more elated than she’d ever been in her life, Hope nodded. “I won’t,” she said simply.

When he took her hand, she felt her knees buckle. Somehow, she managed to curl her fingers around his and calmly, though her insides still jangled, follow him to the couch.

They sat, side by side; then he took her other hand and turned her to face him. Heart pounding, she caught her breath and watched his sensual lips twist, his beautiful eyes turn dark and stormy.

“What was she like, Hope? What was our
little
girl like?”

Though he’d asked the question in a mild tone, she felt his words like a knife, turning and twisting in her heart. She closed her eyes for a moment, closed her eyes and ached, then got up and went to get the photo albums she kept in her bedroom.

There were only three, all covered in the same cheery sunflower pattern. The bright colors seemed almost jarring in her emotional state. Three photo albums were a sad testimony to the decline of a beloved child.

Cautiously, she sat beside him on the couch, plac
ing two of the albums on the table. One, the first of the three,
she kept clutched to her chest. She was careful to keep a safe distance between them, even though it meant Jeff would have to lean over to see the pictures.

“I have these.” Again her voice, full of sorrow and apology, cracked. With shaking hands she opened the album, so intimately familiar with the contents that she could tell him what photos were on each and every page. “They—the pictures—comforted me a bit after she died.” She didn’t tell him that she hadn’t been able to bear looking at them for nearly a year after losing Alisha.

Jeff scooted closer until their knees were touching. She felt the contact with a keen sort of agony. It took every ounce of her willpower not to flinch or move away.

“Our daughter,” he said, his voice reverent He took the book from her and began to leaf slowly through the pages, studying each photo intensely.

“Her first birthday,” Hope said and smiled, re
membering. “She stuck her chubby
little
fists right into the cake, then smeared it all over herself.”

Jeff glanced up at her, the crooked smile on his handsome face tugging at her heartstrings. She’d had years to come to terms with her loss, time to grieve, and had accepted the fact that, in this world at least, she would never see her
little
Alisha again. For Jeff it was all fresh, raw, and difficult He’d gained and lost a daughter, all in the same breath.

Acting out of impulse, she put a hand on his shoul
der and squeezed. After a moment’s hesitation, he reached up and covered her hand with his.

Eyes riveted on the photos, Jeff swallowed hard. “Hope ... Did you ever tell her about me?”

She had to tell him the truth. He deserved this much at least “Yes, I did.” Suddenly
restless
, Hope stood, unable to look at him. “I, uh, told her you were in the army.”

The antique clock on her mantel chimed the half hour. She wondered why she had never noticed how loudly it
ticked.

“The army,” Jeff broke the silence. Hope couldn’t tell from his voice if he was furious or simply resigned. “Yes. I had to explain why you didn’t live with us.” “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her I was dead.” Hope ached for him. In the letter she’d written him, she’d tried to explain all the reasons why she’d done what she’d done.
Evidently
it hadn’t been

enough. She didn’t blame him. Mere words could never make up for her mistakes in the past

“You
were
dead, at least to me.”
Quietly
she told him, remembering all too clearly the horrible sense of betrayal, “You slept with Heather.”

And there, said so plainly, was the crux of it. She’d been eighteen, in love, and so certain that he loved her. Finding out he’d been with someone else had been devastating. It had been enough to make her vow never to see him again.

Jef
f
said nothing. He merely lowered his head and resumed his intent study of the photographs.

Hope wondered why he had come here. Though she had long ago forgiven his drunken indiscretion, he hadn’t forgiven her. That much was plain. She opened her mouth to ask why, then closed it If he had something to say, she would let him say it in his own time.

When he finished with the first photo album, he placed it on the coffee table and began on the second. Unable to bear watching him any longer, she hurried into the kitchen and put on water for tea. Behind her, she heard Jef
f
put the second album down and start on the third.

She knew she should go out there now. Jeff might need her. The third photo album was the most diffi
cult, the most painful and raw. Inside were pictures of Alisha, bald head shiny, valian
tl
y grinning for the camera. They were the pictures of Alisha, lying in the hospital bed, the same sweet smile on her angelic face. These were the pictures of Alisha
with her too- thin arms wrapped around her mother’s neck, both of them trying not to cry.

“Hope.” From behind her, she heard Jeff’s voice
softly
call her name.

Startled
, she raised her head, suddenly conscious

of the tears streaming down her face. “Just a minute,” she cried as she grabbed a napkin to wipe at her,, cheeks, wondering if the hurt would ever go away. \' “Hope.” He was right behind her. She turned as he \ reached out and drew her to him, his arms wrapping
tightly
around her, her head on his chest.

“Jeff.” To her dismay, she felt the tears start up again. “I’m sorry. So sorry.”

He let her weep, cradling her close, one big hand smoothing her hair away from her face. She wept for Alisha. She wept for Jeff. Finally, she wept for herself. She’d been so stubborn, so proud, and so foolish. She’d lost her daughter and she’d lost the only man she would ever love.

“I’m here,” he murmured. “I’m here, Hope. I understand now—about everything.”

With dawning wonder, she realized the truth of his words. He
was
here, holding her, comforting her, despite what she’d done. There could only be one reason why he had come so far to be with her.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he said,
gently
lifting her chin with one big hand. With a tenderness that sent ripples to her heart, he touched her mouth with his, a powerful kiss of quiet possession. “We belong to
gether. No matter what happened in the past, our future is with each other.”

She could only stand there, frozen and afraid. She was afraid to hope, to believe. “Our future?” she stammered. “I haven’t even let myself think of. ..” Jeff kissed her again, quieting her. “Think of it, then believe it I love you, Hope Glidewell. You are the other half of me. I love you with everything I am, everything I will ever be. I have always
loved you, and I always will.”

Epilogue

“She looks like Alisha.” Jeff slipped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. Together they watched their laughing
little
daughter romp on the floor with the new puppy.

“Yes,” Hope said and leaned back into him, mov
ing his hand to place it on her very pregnant belly. “A
little
of you, a
little
of me.”

Laughing, he corrected her. “A
lot
of you, a
little
of me.”

Hope glanced up, flashing him a proud smile. “Okay, I admit it Bonnie looks just like me, except she has your golden hair.”

“Maybe our son will have your hair.” Jeff patted her belly
gently
. “You never know.”

“A raven-haired son,” she mused, stretching and rubbing the small of her back. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

The baby was due any day.

“Mama, mama.” Bonnie dashed up, the wiggling puppy in her arms. “I can’t wait ’til Auntie Charlene sees our new baby.”

Hope crouched down, opening her arms for a big hug. Bonnie squirmed free in two seconds, still clutch
ing the hapless puppy tight

“Our new baby isn’t born yet sweetheart” Bonnie stopped her bouncing long enough to hold the puppy carefully up in the air. “Yes, he is,” she said importantly. “He’s right here.”

After exchanging an amused glance with Hope, Jeff ruffled Bonnie’s curly blond hair. “You’re right darlin’. You’d better think of a name for him.”

The child’s bright green eyes widened.
“I
get to pick it?”

“You do.” Clutching Jeff’s hand, Hope pushed herself to her feet “Something
...”

A stab of fear shot through Jeff as he saw pain flash
across Hope’s face. “What is it?”