Free Heather Graham by Hold Close the Memory

“don’t you think we should talk? You’ve hardly said anything—”
    “Kim,” he interrupted her patiently, “I’m not going to say anything. I do not want to talk about it. You know the basics. That’s all you’ll ever need to know.”
    “No, Brian, no, that’s not right! You should talk—”
    She broke off as his brow lifted in an annoying and patronizing manner. “Kim, I assure you I’m quite sane. I’ve had my mind prodded and probed by the best shrinks the Air Force could offer. I simply do not care to discuss the past, and as for the future, well, we both have things to think about, don’t we? I’m tired as all hell, and I want to get some sleep. And as I told the boys, I won’t be disappearing again.”
    “But, Brian—”
    “Good night, Kim.”
    He continued out of the kitchen.
    She wasn’t sure if she wanted to drag him back by the hair or throw a cup after him. He had waltzed in off the street after having been gone for twelve years and been buried for eight, and he didn’t want to talk. He just wanted to go to bed.
    She could have screamed with unbridled rage and frustration. Go easy on him, Kim, she cautioned herself, think of what it must have been….
    But what did he think it had been like for her? Didn’t he care? If he didn’t have anything to say, maybe she did. But that wasn’t right, either. He’d had a few things to say. Pop. Flashback—instant return to marriage…But she didn’t know if she could do that. What could she do? She had to tread carefully with him. She had to stay with him until he at least got his feet back on the ground, even though she suspected his feet were a little more secure than hers at the moment.
    She heard the click as the front door quietly closed, then the rattle of the chain as he locked the bolt. In the silent house she could even hear his light footsteps on the carpeted stairway. And then came the sound of another door closing. He had done it. He’d gone to bed, just like that.
    In a jumble of confusion, Kim finally moved, straightening out the kitchen. She stretched out the task, feeling that if she were moving, she wouldn’t be thinking so much. It didn’t really help, but she tried to convince herself that it did. And there was another benefit. She hadn’t gone to bed with the kitchen so spotless in months.
    It was past midnight when she finally walked up the stairway. She was completely exhausted. If she could only go to sleep, she could wake up with a clearer head.
    But once in bed, she lay awake, staring at the night patterns on the molded ceiling. Every time she closed her eyes, they popped back open. After two hours she was fervently wishing she kept sleeping pills in the house.
    When she did finally drift into the release offered her by sheer exhaustion, it was not an easy sleep. She would wake with a start, dreaming that she had let a lunatic loose in her house. Then she would wake again, and she had been dreaming that time had washed away, and Brian was beside her, his arm around her as she slept, comfortable, giving, secure.
    Tears sprang to her eyes. Dear God, how she had missed him. She had forgotten, purposely forgotten how unique his touch was, how wonderful things had been between them, how they had discovered, explored, shared boundless intimacies….
    But did she still love him? Could she? She had always kept a place in her heart for his memory, but life was hard, and it was lonely, and Keith had come along and she had fallen in love with him. It was never what it had been with Brian and her. It was much quieter, but never so complete. Never, and oh, how she had missed Brian.
    But he was different now. He had always been strong, but now he was hard like a rock. She guessed he had to be, but where did that leave her? She couldn’t reach him, and if she couldn’t reach him, she’d never know him. When she had believed and accepted his death, she could forget what she had been missing, but now that he was back, she