Page 21 of Ghosts From Christmas Past

Dylan parked in front and turned to her. “This is it.”

Her attention swung from him to the house. Several motion-detection lights had come on as they approached, allowing her to see the house. It was beautiful—a massive log home sprawling out in front of her.

Single-storied, several wooden rockers sat out front. The outdoor fireplace would be welcomed on a cold night like tonight.

Dylan jumped out and came around to her door. He opened it and she climbed out while he grabbed the bag containing her meager possessions.

She stood beside him as he unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. Charlie stepped across the threshold in front of him.

The second she was inside, a sense of familiarity swept over Charlie that stopped her in her tracks.

Dylan touched her arm. “What is it?”

She tilted her head, peering at the ceiling above him. “I know this place. I’ve been here before.”

He slowly smiled and nodded. “Yes, you have. Many times, in fact. You and I practically lived at each other’s homes.”

She studied his face. There was something important he wasn’t telling her. Charlie looked around at the beautiful home, and a sense of sadness came out of nowhere, eliciting tears. Almost as if something important had gotten lost through the years. Would she ever get it back? She had no idea.

???

“Can I get you some more coffee?” Dylan cleared away the plates from the meal they’d shared. Odd. . . this was the way he’d envisioned his and Charlie’s future. A married couple sharing their day over a meal. Yet nothing about this was anything as he’d imagined.

Charlie shook her head. “No thanks, I shouldn’t.” She stifled a yawn and he chuckled.

“You look tired. It’s been a stressful day. I’ll show you to your room.”

He started for the living room, but she clasped his hand and he turned. The same curious eyes of the woman he loved peered up at him.

“Not yet. Is it okay if we just sit and talk for a bit?”

Dylan knew he should be keeping his distance until she regained her memories. He needed to let her figure out the past before they could hope to move on to a future, and yet that was the last thing he wanted to do. “Sure. Come into the living room. I’ll make a fire.”

She trailed behind him and sat down on the sofa while he piled wood in the fireplace and struck a match to the kindling. When the fire caught, he sat on the opposite end of the sofa.

Charlie picked up a family photo taken a few years before his parents moved to Texas. She held it up with a question on her face.

He chuckled. “That’s me and my sister, Molly. Her husband, Tim. And my parents, Carl and Viola.”

She swallowed repeatedly as she studied the photo. “I remember them.” She said the words so softly that he almost didn’t hear her.

But he did. “You do?”

Charlie faced him. “They were always so nice to me, and Molly was the sister I always wanted.”

Dylan couldn’t believe it. She remembered his family. Her memory was returning. How long before she remembered their wedding? “Yeah, you and Molly were always ganging up on me.”

She laughed and studied the photo. “That’s because you deserved it,” she said and her eyes widened as she looked at him. He realized it too. The memories were coming back at a rapid pace now.

“How are they doing?” she asked a little unsteady.

He resisted the urge to push her, but Paul had warned him against forcing the memories. “They are doing well. Tim got a job at a ranch in Texas, and he and Molly moved there a few years back. They recently had a baby. A little girl. Mom and Dad moved to be close to the baby. Mom said she wanted to help out, but I suspect she wants to spoil the girl.”

Charlie laughed again, and he liked the sound of it. “I bet they’re wonderful grandparents.” She stared at the fire. “They were mad at us.”

His smile froze in place. “I beg your pardon?”

She looked at him and shook her head with a confused look on her face. “Nothing, I’m not sure. I remember. . . that they were mad at us about something.”

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