Returning Home by Karen Whiddon Page B

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 broth er’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 who’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 remem bers 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 reiter ated, 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 f r iends 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 morn ing, but there was nowhere in Charlene’s small back yard to hide.
    Jeff burst out the back door like a quarterback running the last ten yards to touchdown, a worried Charlene close on his heels. One look at his vibrant green eyes told Hope that he’d remembered some thing else, something important. Though she pasted a smile on her face, her heart sank. Any moment now she expected the questions to begin, questions she couldn’t and wouldn’t answer.
    “Come on.” He grabbed her hand, gently tugging her towards him. Feet dragging, she let him, shaking her head at Charlene’s almost comical puzzled ex pression.
    “What on earth is going on?” Hands on her hips, Charlene stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “Jeff, tell me. What is it?”
    His mouth curved into a smile so beautiful it knocked the wind from Hope.
    “They’ve started rebuilding the hardware store,” he said, beaming. “The lumber was delivered yester day and the framing crew is there now.”
    Charlene’s expression brightened. “That’s won derful.”
    Relieved, Hope let her breath out, startled to realize she’d been holding it. They were rebuilding the hard ware store, that’s all. It wasn’t something pertaining to the past, something that might make Jeff demand answers she