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  She came close enough for him to capture her, his arms like bands of steel around her back. “No, you don’t” His voice was a murmur against her hair. “Stay with me. You belong here.”

  She belonged nowhere, though she couldn’t tell him that. But she wanted him to believe she had a vibrant exciting life waiting for her in Dallas. “I don’t,” she told him. To her surprise she sounded cool and dispassionate. “I have a life in Dallas, a great job, friends.”

  As she’d known it would, her words made him pull back, though he still held her, his large fingers biting into her shoulder.

  With infinite patience he searched her face. The tenderness and love in his expression brought a hot ache to the back of her throat “Then I’ll go with you. I can live there. Marry me, Hope. Marry me and stay with me forever. I—”

  “No.” she said, cutting him off before he could say the words that would shatter her into a million pieces. She must be ruthless, must sever any ties he tried to forge. With all her heart, with every fiber of her being, she wished she could marry him, stay in Dalhart, and bear his children.

  It was an impossible dream. The secret she carried would always stand between them. Always. He would hate her if he knew.

  And knowing his love, having his love, how could she bear his hate?

  Better to do this now, before it went any further. Better to make him hate her now, so she would be free to leave, return to her empty life in Dallas, and mourn the inevitable loss of the only man she would ever love.

  “Jeff,” she sighed, wishing she were a better actress. She shifted, moving away from him, both glad and dismayed when he dropped his hands.

  Silently, he waited. Because she couldn’t bear it any longer, she got up and went to the window. She cleared her throat “I can’t marry you. This time we had together was ... nice. It was a pleasant but brief interlude between old friends.”

  Taking care not to look at him, she spread her hands. “Please don’t make more of it than it was. I came here to help you get your memory back. Nothing more. You’ve done that and—”

  “Tell me you don’t love me.”

  She nearly choked. It seemed she was doomed to do nothing but lie to him. Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath. “I don’t love you.” The words hung between them. Hope wondered if she was the only one who could hear the falseness of them. She wondered, too, how deeply they hurt Jeff and if he would now find it in him to hate her. “Hope—”

  “No. Please.” Blinking back tears, Hope squared her shoulders, imposing the iron control on her emotions that she had learned during her daughter’s long illness. “Don’t make it worse. I would like you to remember me as your ... friend. Remember me as your old high school sweetheart.”

  She wished she could summon up enough strength to boldly meet his eyes, but even she had her limits. “I won’t be coming back this way again.” To her horror, her voice broke. Desperate, she racked her brain for something to say, something that would lighten the moment. “At least until our next high school reunion. Maybe then I could be persuaded—” “Enough,” he shouted, his voice like steel, cold and icy. “You’ve made your point.”

  Without another word, he turned his back leaving Hope to stare at him and wonder why victory felt so hollow.

  Chapter Eleven

  She was lying. She had to be. Unclenching his fists, Jeff tried to calm the rage that still coursed through him at her words. She’d forgotten just how well he knew her. Even with ten years between them, he could hear the lie in her voice.

  She was hiding something, but damned if he knew what it could be. She couldn’t even look him in the eye when she spoke her lies. He wondered if she’d known how her voice trembled, how ghostly pale she’d gone, how her beautiful eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  He couldn’t lose Hope. He had no intention of letting her go, not when he knew she loved him as deeply and as permanently as he loved her. He loved her no matter what secret she was hiding.

  The answer was simple—find out the secret. He needed to show her that it didn’t matter, that it couldn’t come between them.

  Nothing would come between them ever again.

  * * *

  How she would bear the drive, confined with him in the cab of his pickup, she didn’t know. But she would survive—she always did, even when she didn’t want to. When she’d prayed for heaven to take her instead of her sweet little girl, and Alisha had died anyway, she’d somehow survived. She’d been broken and shattered, but alive. The dark times that had followed were a blur to her now, something she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, bear to remember.

  If she could live through that, she could live through anything.

  But when Jeff climbed into the truck, his big shoulders brushing against hers, she knew a moment of doubt.

  With trembling fingers, she buckled her seatbelt

  He started the truck and put it into gear. In silence, they bounced along the rutted road.

  Hope wished he would turn on the radio. It was so quiet that she could hear his unsteady breaths, quick like her own. She wondered if he could hear her heart thumping loudly in her chest

  He drove slowly, carefully negotiating the dirt road. Before he reached the highway, Jeff slowed the truck to a crawl, then stopped. His face etched in lines of pain, he stared at her, anger warring with hurt in his beautiful green eyes. “What happened to you, Hope?”

  Panic fluttering in her breast, Hope averted her eyes. “I ... I don’t know what you mean.”

  He sighed, the sound of it filling her with dread. With one hand he gently stroked her cheek, the soft move hurting her as much as a blow. “Sunshine, I know you are there, somewhere. You may be buried deep, so deep you’ve nearly forgotten, but you are there.”

  Hope bit her lip, shaking her head before he even finished speaking. “You’re not making any sense.”

  Jeff cursed, the savage sound at odds with his gentle touch. “Don’t do this. I want the Hope I used to know, my sunshine, the lighthearted girl who lit up a room by merely entering it I want the Hope who laughed and talked and hugged everyone and everything.”

  Because she could think of no reply, because his words cut her to the heart, she grimaced and said, “You don’t want much, do you?”

  She’d meant it as a joke, but the minute she said the words, she realized he wouldn’t take them that way. He had no way of knowing what life had done to her, how it had beaten her down until all she could do those first few months after Alisha’s death was barely survive. If she didn’t laugh as much, if she didn’t view life with the naive optimism of a teenager, it was because she knew better. She’d lost her daughter and her sunny outlook on life at the same time.

  But Jeff didn’t know and wouldn’t know—not now, not ever.

  “Take me back to your sister’s house,” she said, keeping her tone even and emotionless. No sense in letting him see how much her wounds bled. “I’ve got a long drive before I get home.”

  “What is it?” Charlene’s smile faded as she studied her brother’s face.

  Jeff hated having to give such good news along with bad, all in the same breath, but he had no choice; he needed Charlene’s help.

  “I’ve got my memory back.”

  She gasped, “All of it?”

  “All of it No gaps, no holes. I remember everything.”

  With a glad cry she hugged him.

  Stepping out of her arms, he held her at arms’ length and looked at her. “Hope is leaving.”

  Slowly, Charlene nodded. “I figured that out when she ran past me on her way in.”

  “I can’t, that is ...” He found himself stumbling over the words. “I don’t want her to go.”

  Charlene gave him a sad little smile. “Me either. I had so hoped ...”

  “I love her.” Warily, Jeff waited.

  After a moment of stunned silence, Charlene’s face broke out into a bright smile. “You always have,” she reminded him, a hint of teasing in her voice. Her
smile faded as she remembered Hope was leaving. “And I could have sworn that she would always love you.”

  “She does.” Raking an unsteady hand through his hair, Jeff turned to stare blindly down the hall in the direction of Hope’s room. “She’s got some secret, something she’s not telling me. Whatever it is, she thinks it is enough to keep us apart.”

  He could have sworn his sister paled.

  “Maybe she just misses her life in Dallas.”

  “I even offered to go there with her, to live there.” “I see. What did she say?”

  “No. She said no.”

  With sad eyes, Charlene watched him. “I won’t deny that I’d rather the two of you lived here, in Dalhart, but if you two can somehow work it out, I’ll understand if you move.”

  Glancing at his watch, Jeff saw that it was nearly noon. Any minute, Hope would come strolling down the hall, suitcases in hand. She would climb in that little car of hers and vanish from his life forever.

  “Help me stop her.” Unable to keep the anguish from his voice, Jeff dragged his gaze back to his sister’s face. “If she would just stay a few more days, I could figure this out. Maybe if I confront her with this secret, whatever it is, I can make her understand that nothing is horrible enough to come between us.”

  Charlene averted her gaze.

  “Charlene,” he groaned, thoroughly exasperated and feeling more desperate every moment. “Help me. I’ve got to stop her from leaving. I ... I can’t live without her.”

  Charlene gave a nervous laugh. “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Help me. Please?”

  “How?”

  “This secret. Did she tell you what it is?” Charlene’s gasp was nearly imperceptible, but that tiny sound told him what he needed to know. “She’s told you, hasn’t she?”

  “Told me what?” her voice trembled.

  Jeff knew he must be relentless. It was either that or lose Hope forever. “Come on, Charlene. Help me out. I won’t—can’t—let Hope go. You know the secret. Tell me what it is.”

  She turned her back to him and he heard a muffled sob. With a shock, he realized Charlene was crying.

  “Don’t ask me to do this,” she whispered. “I can’t I promised Hope.”

  “Hope loves me.”

  The answer came back, a single word, strangled by tears. “Yes.”

  He should have felt triumphant, or even relief, but Jeff felt nothing but a ruthless urgency. Any minute now Hope could emerge from the guest bedroom, load up her car, and drive away. He had to stop her. Whatever this secret was, it couldn’t be that bad. Nothing could be bad enough to come between them.

  “Tell me,” he urged again, keeping his voice low. “For my sake, for Hope’s sake, for old time’s sake, tell me what she’s hiding, Charlene. Help me heal her.”

  He waited.

  Charlene sniffled. “You’ll hate her.”

  “I won’t. Nothing could make me do that.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure.”

  Surprised, Jeff paused. Charlene’s voice was heavy with grief and doubt. “Tell me, Charlene. If you don’t, she’s going to leave. None of us will ever see her again.”

  Silence, while Charlene thought about it. When she spoke again, her voice shaky, weak, and clouded with tears, he knew he had won.

  “I’m only telling you this because you really do have a right to know.” Charlene sounded unutterably sad. “Hope will hate me for the rest of my life for this.”

  He didn’t have time to worry about that now. Casting a quick glance down the hall, towards the closed door, he sighed and said, “I won’t tell her you told me.”

  “She’ll know.”

  “No. I won’t tell her.”

  “I want your word on that”

  “You have it.” Again he raked his hand through his hair, forcing himself to calm his racing heart. “Now tell me.”

  When Charlene began speaking, Jeff felt his knees buckle. A child—his and Hope’s. And the child had died. God, not this; he hadn’t been prepared for this. Somehow he stumbled to the nearest chair and finished listening to Charlene. He managed to croak out a thank you when she was through. Shoulders shaking, she went out the back door, leaving him alone in the house with Hope.

  When Hope came out of her bedroom, staggering under the weight of her two suitcases, he didn’t even get up. He couldn’t He sat there, immobile as Hope walked past him, refusing to look at her lest she see the pain stark in his eyes.

  He couldn’t believe it of her, not this.

  Without making a single move to stop her, without even saying goodbye, Jeff sat in the chair, fighting with his rage and anguish, and let Hope drive away, out of his life.

  “Jeff?”

  With a shock, Jeff realized Charlene stood in front of his chair, hands on hips, a look of accusation in her red-rimmed eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to go after her?”

  Still feeling oddly disconnected, he shook his head. “No.” He pushed himself up out of the chair. “I’m going back to the ranch.”

  Charlene’s mouth opened and closed without a sound. She knew him well enough to realize when his tone told her not to argue with him.

  One last time, he looked across the room, as if he expected to find Hope still there. Unable to resist he moved past his sister, down the hall. He ran by the room he’d slept in as a boy and paused at the room beside it—the old guest bedroom. This was the room where he and Hope had made love for the first time.

  Pushing open the door, he stopped and inhaled the elusive fragrance of her, aching. The bed had been neatly made and it seemed as if she might never have slept there. The room looked much the same as it had before she’d come back to Dalhart, yet it seemed subtly different somehow.

  Inside, he closed the door. Without thinking, he found himself searching the room for some hint of her. Despite himself, despite the quiet, rational part of him that knew he was a fool, Jeff struggled against the urge to go after her and bring her back. He struggled not to tell her that a life without her would be untenable, unimaginable and bleak.

  He struggled not to tell her that he—

  He wasn’t sure how he felt about her now that he knew what she had done.

  Biting back a savage curse, he pushed the thought away, forcing himself to think of the child he’d never known, his own flesh and blood. He’d had a daughter that he would have loved, had he been given a chance to know her.

  Hope’s betrayal staggered him. He left her room, knowing he could not stand another moment near anything that reminded him of her.

  Numb and cold, he managed to give Charlene a quick hug before heading out the door. He would go home, back to the ranch.

  He cursed softly, all alone in the cab of his old truck. The ranch reminded him of her, their old dreams and broken promises. Sentimental fool that he was, he’d bought the place because it fit so perfectly with her description of where she wanted to live and raise their children.

  Children. He could hardly believe it. He’d had a child. He’d had a daughter he’d never known. And never would. Now he could begin to understand the quiet sadness in Hope’s eyes.

  How could she do this to him? He couldn’t reconcile the Hope he knew and loved with such a bitter, vengeful act. She knew how much he’d wanted children; they’d talked of nothing else when they made their naive plans for the future. She’d known how he felt and still saw fit to keep his daughter’s existence hidden from him.

  It was all because of his one stupid mistake. It was all because of one drunken, foolish act of betrayal.

  This then, had been her revenge. She’d never let him explain, never let him apologize, never gave him a chance to tell her that it had meant nothing, that all he’d ever wanted was her. Losing Hope had felt like part of his heart had been cut out. Finding out she’d done this turned what was left to stone.

  She’d kept his daughter from him. He didn’t even know the child’s name or whether she’d been dark or
fair, lively or quiet He knew nothing about the child conceived in love and born in betrayal, nothing except the fact that she’d died.

  He felt a stab of anguish. Leukemia, Charlene had said. Why hadn’t Hope contacted him when Alisha first got sick? Why had she denied him even that?

  He supposed he would never know.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

  The only thing he knew with certainty was that he’d better exorcise Hope Glidewell from his heart forever. Even he couldn’t love a woman who had wreaked such vengeance on an innocent child.

  Two days went by. Two miserable, isolated days. Glad she didn’t have to work, Hope stayed in her apartment, going outside only to check the mail. She missed Jeff with an intensity that cut to her soul.

  She hungered for the feel of his strong arms around her, the gentle way he touched her right before lowering his mouth to hers. She missed the laughter that sparkled in his emerald eyes and the deep throaty sound of his voice.

  As the following days crept by, Hope realized she had no choice. Trembling, she realized she would have to tell him the truth about Alisha and what she’d done. She needed to open the door to the barrier that stood between them and see if their love was strong enough to knock it down.

  On the eighth day, she took pen and paper and began to write. As she set down the truth, everything that she had felt and done since she’d found out about Jeff and Heather, she felt a sense of relief.

  Weeping softly, she told him about his daughter’s birth, about walking the floors night after night, trying to soothe her colic. She wrote about her first birthday and how Alisha had smashed her tiny fist into the cake, then smeared it all over her grinning face. She told of the shiny red tricycle Santa had brought for her second Christmas and what a happy, joyful child Alisha had been.

  Then she wrote about the illness and how she’d noticed bruises on her daughter’s perfect, pale skin. She cried as she described the weight loss and the pain of the awful diagnosis. She told of how she’d wept in the dark, hunched under the blankets, afraid to let Alisha know how the dangerous illness—leukemia—terrified her. Finally, she wrote of the hope when Alisha responded well to the treatments and the overwhelming despair when the little girl relapsed.