Table Of Content“It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone so lone,” Chas said.
Letter to Reader
Title Page
Books by Marilyn Tracy
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Teaser chapter
Copyright
“It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone so lone,”
Chas said.
“Fifteen years,” Allison said softly.
“A long time.”
“Whatever was between us, Chas, is in the past. And that past is fifteen
years old.”
She leveled a look at him that would have reduced a lesser man to jelly.
She’d had heads of state cower beneath such a hard look.
Not Chas. And somehow, in some indefinable way, he’d turned the tables
on her and taken control of the situation. She didn’t want to touch him, yet she
wanted nothing more than to place her hand in that broad, callused palm, to feel
his fingers wrap around hers once again....
Don’t miss book #3 of ALMOST, TEXAS: Where a hazard-free happily-
ever-after is almost always guaranteed!
Dear Reader,
This is it, the final month of our wonderful three-month celebration of
Intimate Moments’ fifteenth anniversary. It’s been quite a ride, but it’s not over
yet. For one thing, look who’s leading off the month: Rachel Lee, with Cowboy
Comes Home. the latest fabulous title in her irresistible CONARD COUNTY
miniseries. This one has everything you could possibly want in a book, including
all the deep emotion Rachel is known for. Don’t miss it.
And the rest of the month lives up to that wonderful beginning, with books
from both old favorites and new names sure to become favorites. Merline
Lovelace’s Return to Sender will have you longing to work at the post office
(I’m not kidding!), while Marilyn Tracy returns to the wonderful (but fictional,
dam it!) town of Almost, Texas, with Almost Remembered. Look for our TRY
TO REMEMBER flash to guide you to Leann Harris’s Trusting a Texan, a
terrific amnesia book, and the EXPECTANTLY YOURS flash marking Raina
Lynn’s second book, Partners in Parenthood. And finally, don’t miss A Hard-
Hearted Man, by brand-new author Melanie Craft. Your heart will melt
guaranteed.
And that’s not all. Because we’re not stopping with the fifteen years behind
us. There are that many—and more!—in our future, and I know you’ll want to
be here for every one. So come back next month, when the excitement and the
passion continue, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.
Yours,
Leslie J. Wainger Executive Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
ALMOST REMEMBERED
MARILYN TRACY
Books by Marilyn Tracy
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Magic in the Air #311
Blue Ice #362
Echoes of the Garden #387
Too Good To Forget #399
No Place To Run #427
The Fundamental Things Apply #479
Extreme Justice #532
Code Name: Daddy #736
*Almost Perfect #766
*Almost a Family #815
*Almost Remembered #867
*Almost, Texas
Silhouette Shadows
Sharing the Darkness #34
Memory’s Lamp #41
Something Beautiful #51
MARILYN TRACY
lives in Portales, New Mexico, in a ramshackle turn-of-the-century house with
her son, two dogs, three cats and a poltergeist. Between remodeling the house to
its original Victorian-cum-Deco state, writing full-time and finishing a forty-foot
cement dragon in the backyard, Marilyn composes full soundtracks to go with
each of her novels.
After having lived in both Tel Aviv and Moscow in conjunction with the
U.S. State Department, Marilyn enjoys writing about the cultures she’s explored
and the people she’s grown to love. She likes to hear from people who enjoy her
books and always has a pot of coffee on or a glass of wine ready for anyone
dropping by, especially if they don’t mind chaos and know how to wield a
paintbrush.
To Melissa Jeglinski,
for all her help and faith in this series.
Prologue
If you haven’t visited Almost, Texas, before, you’ll probably be struck by
how well kept the town appears. In this desert-dry section of the Panhandle, in
this time of drought and wind, most towns appear as dried-up as the shriveled
crops. Not in Almost. Every house sports freshly painted porches, neatly
trimmed yards and gardens, newly scrubbed mailboxes and, as often as not,
recently swept sidewalks. Almost’s pristine condition is due to a set of triplets
performing “community service.”
And now, if you’re searching for any of the people in Almost, look for a big
two-story Midwest-style house with the yellow trim and the broad front porch.
That’s Taylor Leary Smithton’s house—soon to be known as the Kessler place.
Just walk on up the steps and ring the bell. It’ll seem like the whole town’s there
—Homer Chalmers, Delbert Franklin, Steve Kessler, Carolyn, Taylor, the girls,
the triplets, Alva Lu Harrigan, Fredda Schooler and Marilyn Huber from over at
the alternative school in Pep—and you can sip some iced tea or lemonade while
rocking in one of Taylor’s back-porch chairs.
You’ll probably feel the excitement of Taylor’s soon-to-be wedding. And
you’ll probably also feel the tension in the air because, after fifteen years,
Allison Leary is coming back to Almost.
Chapter 1
Through the date on Allison Leary’s tickets read February, the light
afternoon breeze in the Texas Panhandle city spelled late spring. A clear, pale
blue sky arced from horizon to horizon, and the few skyscrapers in Lubbock, a
full five miles away, stood in sharp relief against the skyline to the southeast.
Allison drew a deep breath of air and tasted west Texas on her tongue, a
flavor she would have thought she’d forgotten in fifteen years. Suddenly all the
nuances of the Panhandle came rushing back to her—cattle, cars, tractors, milo,
dust, baking asphalt, oil and gas wells and miles and miles of dry grasses.
Occasionally, hurrying down an avenue in New York City, she would pass
a specialty shop and stop a few paces away, snared by a memory of west Texas,
unable to understand why her hometown of Almost suddenly came to mind.
Now, outside the Lubbock Airport, swallowing the ash-dry Texas air, she knew
what had captured her on those busy streets: a faint memory of home.
Allison blinked.
Outside the terminal, she counted less than ten squinting people making for
cars, casually searching for vehicles. Allison cautiously made her way across the
loading-zone street and found her rental car without any difficulty. Her suitcase
felt heavier than usual and seemed unnaturally loud as it rolled and jolted beside
her across the macadam. Her right leg ached a little, a reminder of why she’d
chosen this of all times to come home. Something in nearly dying made her feel
a keen awareness of the fifteen years of time lost, of too many words left
unspoken.
That, and the growing fear she was losing her mind and shortly wouldn’t be
able to remember even her childhood.
She pressed on the rental-car signature key ring several times, waiting for
the dual-toned beep signaling the unlocking of the rental Buick, and when
nothing happened, she realized the car didn’t have an automatic-safety-lock
feature. It had been years since she’d been near a car without such devices. It
had been a couple of months since she’d been this near to driving a car at all.
She loaded her suitcase and carryall into the trunk of the car. After arching
her travel-stiffened back, she withdrew her pocket telephone and punched in the
code for her answering machine without bothering to glance at the number pad.
She’d called it so often her fingers knew the pattern.
Two messages played back for her, both from co-workers and both wishing
her a good holiday and a quick recovery.
