Page 9 of Conail

"I missed you," she whispered, almost to herself. "Every day."

"Doesn't change what you did," he finally muttered, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. The journey home was going to be a long one, and she wasn't sure if the wounds she'd inflicted could ever be healed.

Settling back, she closed her eyes, relishing the heat on her skin. Glancing over at her, he felt himself relenting. She had no idea what was in store for her when she got to the farm and would be in for a rude awakening. With that in mind, he decided to put aside his anger. He was tired of being bad tempered. Ever since Madeline had paid him a visit, he was in a state of acute despair. It had not helped that his mother was determined to get them back together.

"It's good to have you back."

Her eyes flew open, and she turned her head to stare at him.

"Is it?"

He shrugged and turned his attention to the road. "Madeline is back."

"Oh." She felt a quick tug of sympathy. They had both gone through hell in their relationships, but she had a feeling he had never gotten over Maddy. What was worse was the fact that she still considered the girl to be a friend.

"For good?"

He shrugged again. "So, she said."

"You have spoken to her?"

"Yes," he clipped. "She wanted to apologize."

"I see." She turned sideways to get a better look at him. "And you told her to go to hell."

A smile tugged at his lips. "Something like that."

"You still love her."

His expression closed up instantly. "Here we are." He drove through the wide-open gate. Immediately, Yasmine felt the tug of nostalgia invading her. Sitting up, she leaned out the window and inhaled the scent of hay and flowers blooming.

Despite the heat, the air was crisp and heady. A hint of rain and the scent of animals filled the nostrils. They drove past the wooden shed where she had scraped her knees climbing over jagged edges and past the tree swing moving drunkenly in the breeze.

"It has not changed a bit." She felt the smile curving her lips as the old rambling farmhouse came into view.

"It has."

Refusing to allow her brother's disgruntled mood to sour her coming home, she stepped out as soon as he came to a stop at the front porch.

Her mother was waiting. Maeve Smith had her apron tied around her still trim waist and a wide smile on her face. Nostalgia bloomed inside her chest and Yasmine found herself running up the steps to meet her halfway. It had been too long, she thought as tight arms came around her waist to hang on.

"Here she is. Let me look at you." Putting her at arm's length, Maeve studied her daughter's face for any sign of suffering. "Still as beautiful as ever. Come along, honey, your brother will get the cases. I have refreshments waiting for you."

Slinging an arm around her mother's waist, she walked inside the cool and comfortable foyer.

"Where's dad?"

"Taking a nap."

A frown touched her brow as they made their way into the cozy blue and cream kitchen.

"Is he ill?"

Letting go of her daughter, Maeve went to the fridge to take out the pitcher of ice-cold lemonade she had made earlier.

"Just tuckered out. He insisted on milking Bessy, and it took a lot out of him." Shaking her head, she poured the drink into two glasses, looking up as Colin stood just inside the doorway. "Where are you off to now?"

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