Part 1

Damn, it was hot. Wishing once again that I'd been born in Alaska instead of Oregon, I strolled around the practice rings and holding pens. The rodeo was in full swing as the July heat rose in waves from the dry, dusty earth. I'd been looking for an hour now and still hadn't found man nor beast. I decided my best shot at locating Curt was the field where the pick-ups and horse trailers were parked.

I searched the field methodically until I came across the truck I would know anywhere. A dark gray Ford with an eight foot bed, meticulously and lovingly maintained. A two-horse trailer, painted the same dark gray was parked just behind the truck. I checked the trailer and found it empty. They'd be back at some point, all I had to do was wait. I leaned against the side of the truck and looked into the bed as the memories, unbidden, began to roll over me.

Wraith-like images, figments of my memory, seemed to spring to life. A slim young girl with hair the color of wheat and a slightly older boy, darkly tanned, whipcord lean came together in a powerful kiss, their ghostly silhouettes merging into one as they explored each other for the first time. I watched them in a detached manner, trying not to remember what it felt like to be that young girl, my first lover showing me the way as his body brought me to one delicious orgasm after another. Curt had promised me forever that night under the star-filled sky.

I turned away from the images in the truck and saw him approaching. The man, still lean but with an aura of strength and power, rode a palomino gelding that was the best cow-horse in the state. The horse came to stop in front of me as Curt swung down from the saddle. He studied me for a moment, his intent gaze missing nothing.

"You took that job, didn't you?"

I didn't bother to reply. We both knew it was true and that it meant I was leaving.

"Your leaving won't change the way I feel about you. You know where to find me if things don't work out."

"It's over, Curt. I'm not coming back."

"Some things change, some don't. It all depends on your point of view."

I left him there, brushing down his horse. There was nothing more to say. Only time would tell which was correct, his point of view-- or mine.

Part 2: Amy's Return

At first, life in San Francisco had been different and exciting. The Golden Gate Bridge, cable cars, museums, shopping around Union Square; I explored it all eagerly. I even enjoyed the fog, if you can believe it -- growing up in the desert makes fog pretty rare. I loved sitting in Golden Gate Park with my favorite book and watching the world go by. Little by little, that all changed as reality started to set in.

My dream job was a joke. What was supposed to have been the opportunity of a lifetime was in actual fact little more than modern-day slavery. A work day that never ended, a salary that was pitiful when compared to the cost-of-living and a boss without a personal life who expected the same from me; I was miserable.

More and more, I found my thoughts returning to Bend, Oregon, and the people I had left behind. I missed my family and my friends. Fourteen months and I still hadn't gone home for a visit. I knew when I went home it would be for good and my pride wasn't ready to admit defeat yet.

But that wasn't the only reason.

I was afraid of running into Curt. How could I face him again after the way I had treated him? Afraid he was with me for the wrong reasons, I had given up the only man I had ever loved. It was my own fault. I was the one who ended it. I didn't think I could stand to go home and see Curt with someone else. It was just easier to hide in San Francisco, lonely and miserable.

I was eating lunch at my desk when my telephone started ringing. I looked at the caller ID and smiled.

"Hi, Mom."

"Hello, Baby Girl. How are you today?"

I grimaced at my mother's pet name for me. At 24, I was a little old to be called 'Baby Girl' but Mom would never change. I listened with half an ear as I continued to eat my lunch while she rambled about home and caught me up on the local gossip.

"Mom, I've got to go. My lunch break is almost over. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Amy, wait! Don't hang up, I need to talk to you." Something in her tone warned me I wasn't going to like what she had to say.

"Curt's house is on the market and his truck is for sale."

The phone dropped from my suddenly nerveless fingers and hit my desk with a loud thud. The truck had been a gift to Curt from his parents on his sixteenth birthday. Curt and I made love for the first time in that truck. There was no way he would ever sell it unless he had given up on me.

"Amy? Amy! Are you there?"

I could hear my mom's voice coming from the handset lying on the desk. It took me two tries to pick it up and speak.

"Mom, is there someone else?"

"I don't know sweetheart. I haven't seen him with anyone around town, but it's obvious he's moving so I don't know."

Still reeling, I couldn't get my mind to focus on anything except Curt. I had to tell him how I felt and pride be damned.

"I'm coming home, Mom. I'll be on the road by 4 o'clock."

"Amy, you can't. It's a 10 hour drive, minimum. Why don't you wait and come home tomorrow?"

"I've already waited too long. I have to talk to Curt."

I hung up on my mother's protests and started making plans. My first task was to get rid of this miserable job. I cleaned out my desk and told my boss I was done. He was pissed, but I walked out of his office while he was still ranting. Time was slipping through my fingers and I wasn't waiting for him to stop yelling. My next stop was the bank and then my apartment.

The bank was relatively fast, not that I had much to withdraw. Traffic in the city made the drive back to my apartment feel endless. Parking was the usual nightmare. Now that I was leaving, everything bad about San Francisco seemed to grate on my nerves and I couldn't wait to be gone.

Once I got home I threw my clothes into bags haphazardly and tried to gather the few belongings I had collected in the last year and a half. My roommate wandered in just as I was taking the last load to my car. I explained the situation as I handed her two months rent and my keys. Technically, I should have put it in writing, but since I was handing over the rent, she decided to let me slide and wished me well.

I rolled out of the city, headed for I-5 around 4:30 p.m. Cursing the traffic one last time, I headed north and prayed for an easy drive. I turned on the radio and started to sing along, remembering how Curt had come into my life.

His family moved to Bend when I was 11. His sister, Heather, was the new girl in my class when I started sixth grade. She had short, black hair, emerald green eyes and a smile that was infectious. She sat next to me and started talking; I don't think she ever shut up. She kept up a running monologue under her breath even while the teacher was explaining something. She cracked me up and I got sent to the Principal's office. Heather met me at the door when I came out and told him it was her fault. That sealed the deal. We were best friends from that moment on.

The next weekend she invited me for a sleepover where I met her parents and her older brother, Curt. He was 14, and a freshman in high school, with the same black hair and green eyes that made Heather stand out. Most 14 year old boys wouldn't be caught dead hanging around their 11 year old sisters, but Curt doted on Heather and she worshipped him.

He spent most of the night with us, joking around and playing Monopoly while we watched movies on TV. Before the end of the night, I had my first case of puppy love and he had adopted me as another little sister. We spent the next few years just being kids, messing around, talking, and getting into trouble. I got over my crush on Curt pretty quickly and we settled into a comfortable friendship. On the other hand, Heather and I were always together. My dad called us 'The Twins' even though nothing could be further from the truth. With my straight, blonde hair and blue eyes I looked nothing like Heather, but the name stuck and soon everyone called us that.

On his 16th birthday, Curt's parents gave him a used Ford pickup. He loved that truck and worked on it endlessly until it was in perfect condition. Heather and I begged him to take us everywhere and like a good sport, he did. It didn't hurt that he started working part-time with my dad on our ranch. He'd just bring Heather along and we'd do our own thing while he was working.

When he graduated from high-school, Curt came to work with my dad full-time while taking some classes at the local community. At 15, Heather and I were just discovering boys, clothes, and makeup. It was only natural that we didn't spend as much time with Curt anymore. After Heather got a car for her 16th birthday, I hardly saw him at all. She'd come pick me up and we'd go to the movies, the library, and just cruise around for hours.

But that all changed shortly after I turned 17.

We were headed home after seeing a movie. It was dark and Heather wasn't feeling well. I offered to drive us home but she said it was just a headache and refused to let me drive. We were halfway home when the world exploded.

I pulled off the road in Redding. I needed a break before driving through the Siskiyou Pass. Thinking about the accident that killed Heather always upset me. That had been seven years ago and there wasn't a day that went by when I didn't think of her. It was just in the past few years that I could remember Heather and not cry. Glancing at my watch only increased my sense of urgency to get home. I drained my coffee and got back on the highway.

I couldn't remember anything of the accident. My parents told me an elderly man had a heart attack and crossed into our lane, hitting the driver's side of Heather's car head on. She was killed instantly.

Something inside me died when they told me about Heather. I didn't cry. I couldn't. Everything inside of me was frozen solid. I stopped talking, simply nodding yes or no to questions and ignoring anything I couldn't answer that way. I didn't want to talk to anyone but Heather and that was impossible.

My parents forced me to go back to school, hoping that would snap me out of my depression. Instead I only withdrew further into my shell. My parents yelled, they cajoled, they ordered, they begged, but nothing they did made any difference.